Chapter 5: Overwhelming Them with Sheer Numbers!

At the same time, another patch of fog on the map was pushed back.

A tiny dark-gold spot appeared on the holographic map.

Beside it, a small countdown timer was ticking away.

John swept a finger across the golden marker.

Its information immediately popped up.

[Small Gold Mine]

[Reserves: 100/100 units]

[Maximum Miners: 10]

[Standard Mining Efficiency: 1 unit/person/hour]

[Respawn Cycle: Regenerates 24 hours after depletion]

This was a standard basic resource node on Godfall Continent.

An ordinary Lord would need ten full hours to mine it dry.

John only needed a single breath.

He hadn’t even finished reading the description when a crisp chime sounded from the Gold counter in the upper-right corner of his vision.

Ding!

His total Gold jumped from 100 to 200.

Another squad had found a gold mine.

"Splitting them into multiple squads was definitely the right call."

John muttered to himself.

Before he could even zoom in on the southeastern portion of the map, flashes of gold began appearing one after another through the fog to the east, northeast, and south.

Ten scouting squads.

Fifty Undead Spearmen each.

Within a twenty-kilometer radius, whenever one of the squads encountered a gold mine, ten soldiers only needed to stop for a few seconds.

The entire vein would be stripped clean.

And the Gold would be credited instantly.

Ding! Gold +100!

Ding! Gold +100!

Ding! Gold +100!

The resource counter in the upper-right corner began climbing so fast it almost looked like it was malfunctioning.

700...

In less than three minutes—

John’s Gold total stopped at exactly:

1,000.

He didn’t hesitate for even half a second.

John immediately walked over to the bone altar and slapped his palm against the cold stone platform.

"Recruit Undead Spearmen."

"Quantity: 1,000."

"1,000 Gold deducted."

"10,000× Acceleration activated..."

BOOM!

Eerie green flames erupted from the previously calm formation beneath the altar.

Violent currents swept across the hilltop, carrying with them a chilling gust of death energy.

The runes at the center of the formation spun so fast they blurred into afterimages.

Rapid bursts of displaced air cracked through the surroundings.

Six minutes later—

another thousand 1-Star Undead Spearmen stood on the hilltop.

If the first five hundred had only been enough for basic reconnaissance...

then this thousand-strong formation was a true expeditionary force.

An army capable of sweeping across the wasteland by sheer numbers alone.

Just as John was thinking that—

a sharp warning suddenly flashed through his mind.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Five kilometers directly south, Shared Vision from Squad Seven transmitted an alert.

John closed his eyes.

His consciousness instantly connected to the senses of the lead spearman.

His vision passed through the dense Blackiron Forest ahead.

About five kilometers south of his territory stood a crude encampment surrounded by thick wooden logs.

Several enormous bonfires burned at the center of the camp.

Unidentifiable chunks of meat roasted over the flames.

Filth and waste littered the ground around them.

But the most eye-catching sight was in one corner of the camp.

Seven or eight rusted iron cages.

Dozens of ragged humans were packed inside.

Every one of them looked pale and emaciated.

They huddled together in the mud, trembling.

Around the camp wandered more than thirty creatures resembling oversized wild boars.

They were fat, broad, and heavily built, each carrying a crude wooden club.

John focused on one of them.

A status panel appeared.

[Wild Monster: Wasteland Boarfolk]

[Faction: Beastkin]

[Tier: 1-Star]

[Level: Lv.3]

[HP: 500]

[Attack: 100]

[Defense: 10]

[Skill: Heavy Strike — Lv.1]

[Swings a heavy weapon with full force, dealing 150% Physical Damage with a chance to inflict Stun.]

John raised an eyebrow.

The first monster settlement closest to his territory was filled with Level 3 enemies.

Their HP alone was ten times that of a Level 1 Spearman.

And their Attack had reached a full one hundred points.

What did that mean?

A Level 1 Spearman only had fifty HP and two Defense.

If one of those Boarfolk landed a clean hit with its club...

the Spearman would be smashed apart on the spot.

If an ordinary novice Lord stumbled across a settlement like this, their first choice would be obvious.

Avoid it.

At this stage, most players only had a handful of basic 1-Star units.

Those units still had to scout the surrounding area.

Losing them here would cripple their development.

But...

John opened his eyes.

His gaze swept across the one thousand undead warriors standing in perfect formation atop the hill.

There were only a little over thirty Boarfolk.

Sure, each of them might be able to smash one Spearman apart with a single swing.

But could they smash a thousand?

Even if every Spearman only landed one hit...

that would still be enough to grind them to death.

And what interested John even more were the dozens of villagers locked inside those cages.

On Godfall Continent, people like them were considered native inhabitants.

Building structures.

Maintaining territory facilities.

Cultivating specialized farmland.

All of those tasks required basic civilian labor.

And later on, those same residents could be sent to academies for training.

They could become scholars.

Craftsmen.

Alchemists.

All of them could contribute enormously to the development of a territory.

"Save them."

John’s eyes sharpened.

"We absolutely have to save them."

He swept his right hand forward.

"Entire army, move out!"

"Head south and wipe out that camp!"

This time, John decided to move with the army himself.

Clack!

One thousand bone spears rose into the air at the same time in response.

A distance of five kilometers meant nothing to an undead army that never tired and never ran out of stamina.

Ten minutes later—

the edge of the Blackiron Forest was smashed open by brute force.

Bushes, stones, and dead branches were crushed beneath countless armored boots.

Inside the camp, the Boarfolk guards chewing on slabs of raw meat heard the disturbance.

They raised their heads and let out sharp, guttural snorts.

"ROAR!"

More than thirty Boarfolk grabbed the massive wooden clubs beside them.

Bloodshot eyes filled with savage aggression.

Their heavy hooves pounded the ground as they charged toward the camp entrance.

John stood on a rise some distance away.

As the Boarfolk rushed out, his expression remained completely calm.

His lips moved.

"Piercing Thrust."

Hum!

Gray-black death light flared simultaneously at the spear tips of the two hundred Undead Spearmen in the front ranks.

Skill Activated: Piercing Thrust!

A wave of gray surged toward the defensive line formed by the Boarfolk.

Pshk! Pshk! Pshk!

The sounds of blades tearing through thick flesh rang out one after another.

With Piercing Thrust ignoring ten percent of armor, the Boarfolk’s thick hides were pierced with ease.

Dense white damage numbers erupted above their heads like a waterfall.

-10!

-12!

-10!

-11!

In only moments, one Boarfolk with five hundred HP had already been turned into a pincushion before it could even swing its club a second time.

More than fifty spears pierced through its body at once.

The combined force lifted it straight off the ground.

Its HP bar vanished in the blink of an eye.

THUD!

The remaining Boarfolk were immediately swallowed by the undead tide.

A club smashed three skeletons apart.

But before the shattered bones even hit the ground—

twenty more Spearmen surged forward to replace them.

Pale bone spears rained down without mercy.

Less than thirty seconds later...

not a single Boarfolk remained standing in the open space outside the camp.

The translucent system panel in front of John began refreshing wildly.

[Your unit has slain Wasteland Boarfolk Lv.3.]

[EXP +500]

[Gold +15]

[Your unit has slain Wasteland Boarfolk Lv.3.]

[EXP +500]

[Gold +15]

[Your unit has slain Wasteland Boarfolk Lv.3.]

[EXP +500]

[Gold +15]

...