Re: Apocalypse Game

Chapter 164 Brittania

Mentioning their leader’s name, Artorios, had a noticeable effect on the knight Dagonet, successfully quelling his anger to some extent. Drawing from his memories of the previous game, Alan hatched a plan to meet with this legendary character, hoping that their collaboration could help them clear the game. It was a risky move, but one he was willing to take.

“You’ve witnessed the undead, and I possess knowledge of what’s happening. Please, take me to see your leader,” Alan urged, knowing that this was their best course of action.

With that, all 35 survivors were bound together with ropes, forming a single line, and they were led southward.

“Alan, are you sure about this?” Bill, the CEO, asked, his apprehension palpable.

Alan wasn’t entirely certain either. Being captured was a gamble he would rather avoid, but considering the number of players taken captive, the presence of the Roman cavalry, and the potential opportunity to meet the Roman leader, it was the best card he had to play in their high-stakes game.

The group marched for an hour across the simulated Britannia landscape. Although it was crafted on a much smaller scale than the real thing, the attention to detail was striking. Many structures and landmarks appeared as if lifted from the pages of a history book, evoking a sense of authenticity.

One such structure awaited them on the horizon, a Roman garrison with imposing stone walls that reached a height of 5 meters and extended across the landscape.

It was the Hadrian’s Wall, a structure that had stood for over for centuries, marking the boundary between the Roman-occupied territory and the untamed wild to the north.

As they gazed upon this ancient wall, a Roman soldier exhibited a certain pride. One of them commented,

“You barbarians are fortunate. You get to see the city beyond the wall.” But another, with a cynical laugh, remarked that it might be the last thing they witnessed before meeting their demise.

The players once again felt a wave of concern wash over them, only Alan and Singdal remained composed. It was as though they were mentally preparing themselves for the inevitable challenges that lay ahead.

The garrison was protected by approximately fifty Roman soldiers, and as the group passed through, the first light of morning began to break, revealing lush green pastures. The stark contrast between the two lands was striking, yet Alan’s thoughts were preoccupied with the anticipated morning notification from the game.

[You have passed the first night]

[6 more nights to survive]

[Updating current players]

This time, the list of players was significantly longer, in contrast to the previous round:

[New York Server: 3,088]

[Paris Server: 1,462]

[Cairo Server: 1,125]

[Bangkok Server: 950]

The realization that more than 200 New York server players had perished within a mere 8 hours left Alan with a deep and lingering sigh. In contrast, the city that joined the game was the same and seemed to have a survival rate similar to his previous experience.

With about 10 miles left to traverse, equivalent to a two-hour walk, the group finally reached a vibrant town teeming with hundreds of people. The atmosphere was a tumultuous mix of cheers for the returning Roman knight and anger directed at the newcomers, whom they viewed as barbarian intruders. Among the crowd, some individuals went as far as to hurl rocks at the group.

“Go away!! we don’t want your kind in here!!”

Moments after, the group arrived at a grand citadel-like palace, its stone walls and architecture displaying the might and grandeur of the Roman Empire. Dozens of Roman soldiers, clad in shining armor and holding gleaming weapons, stood guard, ensuring security and order in this formidable stronghold.

As the prisoners entered the palace, the soldiers raised their voices in unison, announcing their arrival, “Knight Dagonet has returned with prisoners!”

The group was then led further inside and finally left to stand in the inner courtyard, where the sunlight bathed them in a bright, warm glow. They found themselves surrounded by a formidable gathering of Roman soldiers, their disciplined ranks extending in all directions. The soldiers’ armor glistened, and their military formation was impeccable.

Another knight, a champion of the Roman legion, approached Dagonet and engaged in a discussion about their arrival and the purpose of their capture. The topic of the conversation centered on the king’s sudden visit to the villagers living near the wall.

“All of you wait here!” the champion ordered, and the prisoners were left standing beneath the bright, unrelenting sun. The passing hour felt like an eternity, marked only by the sounds of the Roman soldiers moving about in disciplined order.

Then, a commotion broke the stillness as a group of even larger cavalry returned, and the announcement rang out, “The commander has returned.”

The commander in question was none other than Artorius himself. His presence was undeniable, clad in dark armor with a red cape that billowed behind him, giving off an aura of majestic authority. However, there was something about his expression that hinted at the ordeals he had faced, as if he had returned from the depths of hell itself.

Both Dagonet and the other knight approached Artorius, their faces etched with concern. Dagonet asked, “Commander, So few have returned.”

Artorius’s gaze fell upon Alan and the others, and his emotions seemed to surge as he questioned, “Why are there Saxons here?”

Dagonet quickly offered an explanation, recounting what he had witnessed and showing Artorius the group of captives.

Before Alan could offer his own explanation, a newcomer approached from behind the ranks of Artorius’s cavalry. It was a blond-haired man, To Alan’s astonishment, he recognized the man as a renowned French player from the Paris Server.

The man directed a stern and accusatory gaze at Alan and the others, declaring, “These people are not to be trusted” His words cast a shadow of doubt over the Romans, turning the situation into a dire and complicated predicament. It was a disaster that Alan had not foreseen.