In the era of cold weapons, a war was often not as optimistic as imagined.
Before experiencing such face-to-face battles, it is hard for those living in peaceful times to speculate on the predatory gazes wandering the battlefield. Battle is a biting cold, a chilling severity, the gleaming blade piercing the throat, causing blood to spurt and blend into the night—the dying desperately struggle, with weakened and powerless gazes fixed on the last scene they could witness. It should be a picture gradually dimming and coming to a halt.
Then, as blood foam chokes the lungs, the injured cough strenuously, miserably curling up and dying.
But many still naively replaced the real battle scenes with those from novels, just like the first batch of players and later ones in 'Amber Sword.' Of course, back then, Brand still had an identity named 'Sophie.' He remembered his first real battle in that past game unfolded absurdly and amusingly.
There were no imagined formations, no armies facing off; it was in a similar wilderness—Delerta Forest. Brand still remembers that place, densely wooded, extending along a steep and rugged coastline, with opponents hidden among the cliffs, playing hide and seek with slave merchants and their private soldiers through interconnected caverns.
Because the true clash factually happened between elite scouts—the main force of players orderly spread a beautiful skirmish line in the forest, numbering about three times more than the private soldiers of the slave merchants. But the real battle's outcome doesn't necessarily depend on numbers; it began with overwhelming chaos among the players, which was natural—the members and organizers couldn't find each other, with most forming small teams fighting independently. Get full chapters from novel★fire.net
During several hours, both wings of the players were attacked, while the central force of thousands was just held back by a small cavalry squad.
Yes, most understood the wings were under attack.
Where were the scouts?
Where were the wings?
When you are in a vast, several-kilometer-wide battlefield of the cold weapon era, you'll find that overlooking the entire battlefield from a forty-five-degree angle is not just fortunate, but an unattainable luxury.
Brand vividly remembers being in a forest surrounded by his own people, with various banners fluttering everywhere—guilds', individuals', knights', attendants', Swallowtail Banners, square flags, yet no one understood what they meant.
Most, including him, could only be pushed forward, blindly following the crowd for several hours. Occasionally encountering small groups of private soldiers, they would all rush forward, in a vigorous sweep; initially, the players were excited, thinking they were close to victory. But later, if one were overlooking the battlefield, they would find the massive team had already fragmented.
Meanwhile, two to three professional mercenaries were interspersed in the fragmented cake, like worms hollowing it out internally.
As dusk fell, enemy flags were everywhere—
Recalling that war, which was later humorously termed the 'Delerta Massacre'—this name vividly described the situation of over seventeen hundred players gathered from three guilds back then. Undoubtedly, these players were extremely brave warriors, and even in the end, they formed small teams fighting desperately, yet the result was total annihilation.
Ironically, the morning and afternoon's battle results were less damaging to the slave traders than the individual fights after nightfall.
Brand remembered that battle, feeling not just an awkward smile, but also cold sweat. Until later in the Buch War (the Second Black Rose War), players gradually learned lessons on how to set up the battlefield—they needed which banners, how to recognize from various badges which banner belonged to which knight's noble army. Players also learned to place the battlefield on a flat slope below a high ground, allowing their commander to oversee a ten-kilometer radius.