"All Troops, Battle Stations!!"

"All troops, prepare for battle!!"

"Shields up front! Archers, second rank—hold!!"

"Fire!!"

"Hold the line!!"

"Archers fall back! Full charge!!"

"Knights, follow me!!"

The massive clash in the swamp had its twists, but the overall flow of the great battle remained unchanged from before. Lizardmen launched guerrilla raids at every turn to thwart the terrain alterations, but the humans were ready—they repelled them thoroughly, reshaping the land and carving out paths.

Knowing they couldn't flatten the entire swamp in one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠go, they pushed forward steadily, maximizing changes to the landscape. Even when the lizardmen rebuilt paths they'd cleared, new routes opened up immediately, prompting swift redeployments. Leaving only engineers and a light escort behind to continue the work, the bulk of the forces advanced toward the open plains where the lizardmen's main army lay in wait.

The final battleground of the great war.

Without the supply woes from the swamp, they could press even further—but the lizardmen's relentless rear ambushes at the start of every frontal clash made prolonged fights impossible. Thus, humans typically viewed this as the war's decisive showdown.

"Any word from the rear?"

"Nothing yet! Scouts are out in force, but no reports means either no raids or minimal damage!"

But this time was different. The heavy-hitting lizardmen ambushes—always popping up from who-knows-where—were nowhere to be found. Even after the frontal battle had raged for some time, only safety flares rose from the rear. General Dorian's eyes sharpened at the sight.

It deviated from their usual tactics, but they couldn't afford to hesitate. If true, this was the chance to smash those pests for good.

"All forces!!!"

Infusing his voice with mana, he rallied the elites. His gaze pierced the desperately charging lizardmen with chilling intensity.

"Annihilate the enemy!!!!"

"Waaaaah!!!!"

Today, they would rout the core of their forces. With that resolve, they charged head-on.

Yeah. No way we'd pass up this shot. Time to really cut loose today.

Vulcan heard the roar from the rear. He grinned at Dorian's embrace of the shift he'd engineered.

He'd cleared every last ambush in the swamp.

The lizardmen's stealth and patience were top-notch, but they couldn't evade the Dragon Eye. Countless foes died mid-ambush, sliced and pierced before they could react.

Exhausted from nonstop fighting and movement—mana drained, even his massive mana batteries empty—Vulcan recovered swiftly under the sun's light, mana and vitality replenishing fast. Using that window, he'd farmed contribution points his way.

"Come on, bring it here! Five seconds—full repair in exactly five!!"

He'd set up a field workshop in the rear for real-time gear fixes. As support and craftsman in this great battle, repairs counted toward contributions.

Fierce combat raged nearby, but pure durability restores took just five seconds. Machine-like, he racked up gains.

His original squad helped out, keeping things smooth.

"Prepare for battle!"

Well, a tad over five seconds, actually. He'd tacked on Battle Prep for good measure.

It sharpened weapons, polished armor—temporary buffs for gear. But its true value?

A buff-based support method meant he siphoned a share of the recipient's EXP while it lasted. Just like healers and buffers.

Without this, support classes could barely level. Vulcan, a producer, exploited it masterfully.

Not everyone could. Outside support units, gains were squad-only—NPC buffs yielded zilch. Even in support, rear duties limited profits.

- Tough bastard. Sucking 'em dry.

But Vulcan farmed EXP sitting down. Every 10-ish seconds, one repair-plus-buff. Thousands clashing meant massive shares, even diluted.

Plus, he hadn't hit the battle's recommended level. The gap slashed EXP needs, so level-ups flashed nonstop—more than frontline grinding.

Can't loot spoils, so gotta milk this at least.

Slight gripe over no loot, though.

The gap's widening, huh?

Humans overwhelmed the lizardmen. No rear worries, Vulcan's Battle Prep boosting attack 10%, full durability restores—dominance set in.

Dorian's frontline fury helped too. Usually commanding or rear-guarding retreats, now he swept lizardmen ruthlessly. Power shift.

- End's near. Gonna keep lounging?

Battle tipped fast. Lizardmen resisted with possession arts, but Dorian's elite charge crushed them.

No way.

Their line buckled. Not huge, but everyone knew: in chaotic melees, cracks explode fast.

Vulcan shut shop. Buffs done, EXP/contributions maxed. Time for the sweetest prize.

"Zamoyef!!"

Dorian's roar named the foe: lizardman commander Zamoyef, leading their horde like him. Over Lv 300 powerhouse, rarely frontline—until conditions aligned.

Leaders clashing needed stable fronts; war trumped skirmishes. Today was the day. Both knew.

"Dorian!!"

Zamoyef leaped out. Frontlines shredded—possession no help. Without him, collapse inevitable.

Maybe waiting for rear raid news. Won't happen, though.

Vulcan pondered if calculated. Their turf, ambushes likely alive. Late strike could flip it—bind humans, seize momentum.

- What's the play?

Perfect timing for this.