CHAPTER 608

【 OTHERWORLDLY MEDIA LIVE BROADCAST 】

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The holy statue of the Goddess shimmered with divine light as the Chosen Ones were summoned forth one after another.

Each time the teleportation was completed, the person would appeared dazed for a second or two, before quickly becoming excited and rushing after those who had been transported earlier into the swirling black vortex.

One after another, group after group, the players moved in perfect order as though following an unspoken rhythm.

There was no need for the High Pontiff to repeat his instructions, for the newly summoned Chosen Ones seemed to instinctively already knew what to do.

The dwarven warriors who had never witnessed such a spectacle looked on in astonishment, though the battle-hardened Greycloth and Tonglu remained unfazed.

These Chosen Ones were always like this, highly motivated and proactive.

Casting his gaze around, the High Pontiff casually stopped one particularly excited Chosen Ones that’s about to leap into the vortex.

“My elven friend, please wait a moment.”

The elf shuddered slightly at the call and immediately halted in his tracks. He hurried over to the Pontiff and said with great enthusiasm:

“Sir Dwarf! Do you have a task for me?”

The High Pontiff nodded.

“Enter the vortex, observe the situation, then return back here and report what you have seen inside.”

“Understood!”

The elf eagerly agreed and under the envious gaze of the others, he dashed into the black vortex.

While the stream of Chosen Ones continued arriving, the dwarves stood silently waiting.

About five minutes later, a tall figure suddenly shot out of the vortex, scattering the elven ranks and drawing a chorus of complaints.

The returnee, however, paid no heed to them. He excitedly rushed to the High Pontiff and declared:

“Sir Dwarf! I have returned!”

“How is the situation inside the vortex?” Greycloth asked quickly.

“Demons! There are so many demons inside it! They are currently battling those who were transported in before me!” the elf replied.

“And the environment?” the High Pontiff pressed further.

“The surroundings looks vast, with no visible boundaries. The atmosphere is gloomy, resembling the world of the undead. The corruption of the Abyss is quite severe in it,” the elf answered.

Upon hearing this, Greycloth and Tonglu exchanged glances.

“Seems like the interior is still manageable. I believe we can safely enter,” Tonglu said in a deep voice.

The High Pontiff considered briefly before declaring:

“Then let us prepare to enter as well. This will also prevent Barolte from closing the Gate of Siyōú.”

Although the teleportation could still be maintained from outside the vortex, matters would become troublesome if the Gate of Siyōú were closed. Thus, the best course was to follow the Chosen Ones into the vortex.

Once inside, there would be no turning back…

Either Barolte would perish, or they would!

Alas, the dwarves no longer had a choice.

This was their final and best chance at survival.

“Everyone, gather up your belongings and bring the statue of the Goddess. We too shall enter that black vortex. Stay within the statue’s radiance at all times, lest the power of the Abyss corrupt you!”

The High Pontiff gave his command, then turned to the elf who had brought back the report and smiled.

“You have done well.”

The elf scratched his head sheepishly, grinning at the praise.

Yet he did not leave. Instead, his bright, expectant eyes remained fixed upon the High Pontiff.

Realizing his intent, Greycloth glanced at Tonglu, who then took a precious gemstone from his robes, handed it to the elf, and said:

“This is your reward.”

These Chosen Ones seemed obedient, but they always needed some form of compensation afterward.

Otherwise, they would linger persistently, or worse, become visibly resentful, offering cold stares and grumbling in discontent.

This was something Greycloth and Tonglu had discovered through their interactions with them on the previous summonings.

The reward did not need to be great as mere acknowledgment was sufficient enough.

Of course, the more generous the reward, the better.

One could clearly see the change in their attitude: they would become friendlier, even vying to be assigned further tasks.

The elf’s face lit up with delight as he accepted the gemstone. After bowing respectfully to the High Pontiff and Tonglu, he then laughed joyously and sprinted back into the vortex.

Meanwhile, the other dwarves swiftly completed their battle preparations. Shields were locked together, weapons glinted under the faint light, and formation lines tightened as they gathered around the sacred statue of the Goddess. Under the leadership of Greycloth and Tonglu, they carefully advanced toward the black vortex that loomed ahead.

Sky Knight Tonglu strode at the very front.

As the strongest among them, it was his duty to lead the charge. His grip tightened on his weapon as he drew a deep breath, forcing himself into a state of complete vigilance. Then, without hesitation, he stepped into the swirling vortex.

Immediately, his vision was consumed by darkness.

It was as though he had plunged into a thick, viscous fluid. An unseen weight pressed down on him from every direction, whilst a suffocating force that sought to crush his body and spirit alike. For a fleeting moment, it felt endless. Yet just as swiftly as it had come, the sensation quickly faded away.

With a sudden clarity, Tonglu realized he had broken through some kind of hidden barrier.

His sense of hearing and smell was the next that returned to him.

The roars of demons mingled with the battle cries of elves, and the rancid stench of blood and corruption assaulted his senses. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the new surrounding, the darkness receded, revealing the scene before him.

What stretched before him was a world stripped of vitality. The heavens above were dim and lifeless, heavy black clouds swirling restlessly, lit now and again by jagged streaks of lightning.

The land itself lay as a barren, endless wasteland, cloaked in a suffocating darkness.

It was the unmistakable sign of the corruption of the Abyss.

Scattered across the ground were countless bones, worn and weathered by the passage of time. Fragments of armor and broken weapons lay buried in the dust, the silent remnants of warriors who had once fought to their bitter end. A heaviness settled in Tonglu’s chest as he realized these were most likely the remains of the dwarven army from the time when Barolte was first sealed.

The Chosen Ones who had arrived earlier were already in formation. They held their ground firmly and arranged themselves in a circular defensive line as they fought against wave after wave of demons.

“This is the heart of the Sealed Lands! It was once the divine kingdom of Barolte, and it is the very place where he was sealed!” declared the High Pontiff with solemn eyes.

The statue of the Goddess of Life had also been carried inside the vortex. Its golden radiance blazed like a beacon in the darkness, slowly pushing back the oppressive power of the Abyss that clung to the corrupted land.

Around the statue, teleportation arrays continued to flare one after another, summoning more and more of the Chosen Ones onto the battlefield.

Yet, not long after the dwarves themselves had crossed into the Gate of Siyōú, the black vortex behind them suddenly twisted with violent turbulence. The massive stone gate, which had remained open until then, slammed shut with a thunderous boom that echoed across the vicinity.

Moments later, the vortex collapsed in upon itself and disappeared, leaving not even a trace in the air.

Seeing it, a ripple of unease spread through the ranks of the dwarven warriors as they realized what had just happened.

Tonglu’s eyes grew grave.

“The spatial passageway has been closed.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth, the ground itself began to quake. The entire Sealed Land seemed to shuddered violently, as if awakened from a long and restless slumber.

From within the endless horde of demons came an earth-shaking chorus of monstrous roars. The air rippled with malevolent power as no fewer than twenty towering, grotesque figures pushed their way forward, their twisted forms radiating the oppressive power of the Abyss.

They were Demon Kings.

“Demon Kings! There are actually so many of them!” one of the dwarven warriors shouted, his voice trembling in disbelief.

Even Tonglu’s expression grew harsher, his battle-hardened features tightening with grim resolve.

“Heh… so it seems Barolte truly was waiting for us to enter,” the High Pontiff sneered, his tone laced with both scorn and bitter amusement.

With the appearance of the Demon Kings, the demon horde fell into a frenzy, howling with madness as they hurled themselves against the elves’ defensive formation.

The Chosen Ones suffered heavy losses in an instant. The defensive perimeter they erected, which had been steadily expanding with each new arrival, suddenly shrank rapidly under the demon’s relentless assault.

Yet the High Pontiff remained composed.

Whilst drawing a deep breath, he bowed reverently to the statue of the Goddess of Life and implored:

“Oʼ Gracious Goddess of Life, Mother of Nature, Sovereign of the Elves—Your Grace Eve! Please grant your divine blessing upon the Chosen Ones and purify those wicked evil beings!”

His fervent voice quivered, and even his rugged beard trembled with emotion. At his prayer, the holy statue blazed with dazzling radiance. Instantly, pillars of light descended upon more than a dozen Chosen Ones.

Excited voices rang out among them:

“Hahaha! I was chosen! I was finally chosen!”

“Damn! Lucky bastard!”

Bathed in holy light, the chosen elves erupted with newfound power. Their auras swelled as they swiftly ascended to Gold rank, their bodies shining like torches in the darkness.

Together with the dwarves’ own Gold-rank experts, the balance of high-level strength shifted dramatically in their favor.

With the tide slightly leaning on their favor, Tonglu’s spirit surged.

Raising his battle-axe high, he commanded the Chosen Ones:

“The Goddess of Life has given us her divine favor! Destroy these demons!”

“For the glory of the Goddess!” the elves roared, their cries loud though uneven, before charging into the demon horde.

༺⟐༻

“Kill them! Wipe them all out!”

“Oh God, how can you be so weak!? You’re in Godwarden State, for heaven’s sake!”

“Dumbass, has this guy never fought demons before? Stop aiming for their heads! Their helmets are the toughest part!”

“Ugh, idiots! You’re all hopeless!”

The sharp, rapid-fire voice rattled on like the crack of a machine gun, every word dripping with frustration and exasperation.

Evé, who had been quietly observing, could not help but turn her head toward the sound.

With a faint smile, she slid a wooden cup filled with fragrant floral tea across the table and said softly, her voice calm in contrast to the tirade:

“Relax. No matter how much you complain, they cannot hear you.”

A delicate hand reached forward to accept the cup. Moments later, the sound of eager gulps filled the air, followed by an exaggerated sigh of contentment.

“Tsk… every time I drink this, I’m reminded that the flower tea in this world is simply too delicious!”

Evé’s smile deepened as she replied warmly:

“It tastes even better in summer. Freshly picked blossoms are always superior to those that are artificially grown through magic.”

“Yeah, I completely agree!”

The speaker nodded vigorously, strands of her hair bouncing with the motion.

She was an elven girl garbed in an ornate spellcaster’s robe, its surface shimmering with complex runes that pulsed faintly with magical light. Beside her rested a staff so ostentatiously adorned that its enormous gemstone seemed to catch and scatter the glow of the room itself.

She was none other than the server’s most recognized rich whale, the player rumored to have achieved complete self-sufficiency in-game through her sprawling business enterprises—the ever-infamous Little Salty Cat.

Seated beside her was Evé herself, once again donning her long-unused player persona, “Féng.”

The two of them were seated in a bustling tavern, sipping flower tea while watching the ongoing battlefield mission unfold.

Yet oddly enough, they were not viewing it through the game’s system interface. Instead, it was projected onto a massive crystal screen hanging in the center of the tavern.

The screen displayed a live feed of the battle, shown through the first-person perspective of a particular player.

Flanking the display were large magical amplifiers etched with intricate arrays, their surfaces pulsing as they transmitted a spirited commentary that narrated each shift of the battle.

Just moments ago, Little Salty Cat had been venting her frustrations at the summoned players’ poor performance on the screen, her sharp words echoing across the bustling tavern.

Moreover, the tavern was not only crowded with players but also with native elves who had come to watch as well.

Everyone had gathered at this establishment specifically to watch this live broadcast.

Even Evé herself had stumbled upon this place purely by chance and decided to descend in her incarnation out of curiosity.

Her gaze swept across the tavern before finally resting upon the crystal screen. Unable to suppress her curiosity, she asked:

“That device… whose idea was it?”

“Of course, it was from Sister Hooty! But I also helped a little in figuring out the principles behind it. Honestly, Sister Féng, you gotta admit, watching the battle being broadcast publicly like this, with everyone gathered together, feels so much better than watching a livestream privately through the system. It’s just like watching a football match in a bar!”

Little Salty Cat replied with pride, eyes glued to the broadcast as she spoke.

Evé: “…”

The goddess gave the petite girl a peculiar look.

“Ah, so you’re the type who goes to bars to watch football matches live?”

“A-Ahem… not really. I only saw it in web dramas. I thought it looked kinda fun.”

Little Salty Cat’s ears reddened slightly as she answered, clearly flustered.

Evé: “…”

Which era of web dramas has this girl been watching?

The goddess in disguise could not help but feel a surge of exasperated complaints welling up inside her.

But Little Salty Cat only flashed her a sweet, triumphant smile, as though eager to show off her cleverness.

“Sister Féng, I bet you don’t know this, but the principle behind the live broadcast is actually pretty simple!”

“You know the Silver-class spell that lets you share another person’s field of vision? The one with a distance limitation… I forgot its exact name. Well, we discovered that the distance limit vanishes if you cast it on a party member. So with a two-player party, you can actually relay someone’s vision across any distance.”

“Then, you just use the Fourth-Circle Light spell, Projection, to display the vision on a crystal screen, add an amplification array, and voilà—we now have a working livestream device!”

“Hehe, and inventing projection device this was only the first step on our grand plans. The native elves seem absolutely fascinated by this device. Heck, even the Dark Dwarves and some human merchants in the underground are curious about it too. So Sister Hooty and I decided that we’re going to set up an Elven Media Company!”

“Once it takes off, we’ll be raking in piles of gold coins!”

She puffed out her chest proudly, rubbing her hands in anticipation.

Evé: “…”

The goddess in disguise gave her another strange look, silently marveling to herself:

As expected of the daughter of a business tycoon in the capital… her head is filled entirely with money-making schemes.

The spell Little Salty Cat had so casually brushed aside and forgotten the name, however, was no ordinary spell.

Evé knew it quite well.

It was the Eye of Scrying, a Fifth-Circle mental spell that could only be mastered after one reached lower Silver-rank.

The principle of the spell was straightforward yet profound: it directly touched upon the target’s soul, granting the caster access to another’s vision, hearing, smell, and even the subtle nuances of touch. It was, in essence, a perfect bridge between two senses of perception.

Its flaw, however, was its range was notoriously limited, tethered tightly to the caster’s location.

Yet the players had stumbled upon such a curious loophole.

So when the spell was cast between teammates, the restriction simply vanished, thereby allowing sensory sharing across any distance?

To Evé, this was not a clever exploit so much as an unintended gap in her own design.

After all, the players had all been drawn from Earth. Each of them entered this world solely through their consciousness, which was linked to the game system’s network. That system, in turn, was connected to their virtual gaming pods back on Earth, which ultimately enabled their actual souls to be transferred here.

In other words, through these convoluted links, the souls of players could, under certain circumstances, connect with one another via the game network—such as when they formed a party.

Once in a party, the system automatically registered the members as allies. They could not harm one another, and their bonds were instead strengthened.

At such times, the spell Eye of Scrying carried no distance limitations between them.

Glancing strangely at the massive screen, Evé could not help but mutter inwardly.

These guys had already managed to recreate live broadcasts within the game and were even planning to establish a media company…

These rascals… Would they also eventually attempt to spread the culture of cinemas here as well?

She did not doubt the creativity of the players in the slightest.

As more players reached the maximum level cap, their whimsical ideas multiplied, and more and more of them attempted to replicate earth’s technology in this world.

Yet the vast majority abandoned such pursuits.

In essence, Seigües was a world of magic, and in most cases, people quickly discovered that laboriously recreating scientific technological devices was far less practical than simply using the most basic of spells.

Firearms were a prime example of this.

After reaching Silver-rank, players skilled in fire magic and smithing spent tremendous effort to forge a magic firearms requiring no mana at all, only to find that its power was inferior even to that of a simple bow.

After all, archery skills in this world could be augmented with combat spells. In a magical realm like Seigües, purely scientific technological creations performed poorly—at least in the early stages.

Evé even suspected that this natural suppression of technology by supernatural forces was the very reason why this universe, despite millions of years of development, had never advanced science akin to that of Earth. It seems the cosmos itself has a natural inclination to push every sentient race that lives within this universe to pursue magic and personal strength instead.

Still, when magic and science combined, they occasionally yielded impressive results like this.

The magical firearm was one such example.

These sparks born from the collision of two worlds’ ideas appeared more and more frequently as the player base grew.

How far such innovations might ultimately develop, Evé did not yet know.

But she was genuinely curious to see it progress further.

In any case, the players could never escape her grasp anyway.

Everything remained firmly within her control.

As such, she had no reason to restrain them. Instead, she might as well let them indulge themselves freely in these endeavors.

Who knew?

Perhaps they would continue to deliver her even more pleasant surprises.

Just like this live broadcast, for instance.

And if Little Salty Cat truly succeeded in establishing some kind of media company, then Evé would gain not only a new source of amusement, but also yet another powerful tool for spreading her faith.

“Argh, there are still more than five hundred people ahead of me in the summoning queue! You idiots, hurry up and die already so I can take your place!”

Little Salty Cat sprawled across the table like a puddle, twisting and fidgeting in frustration, her ornate staff clattering against the wood beside her.

Evé: “…”

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