"We took the second floor, but we lost twenty people, and almost all our replacement recruits got wiped out. Is this level of difficulty for real? Is this really a dungeon we're supposed to tackle at this stage? Did the developers go crazy again because the overtime pressure got to them?"
On the plague-ridden town's defensive line, Brother Bang looked at the northern gate, sealed shut once more, with exhaustion and anger. The thick psychic barrier blocked his view of everything inside the town.
Happy Stick was seething with complaints, and his companions beside him, the ones who had made it out of the plague-ridden town alive, all looked just as helpless and frustrated.
Their armor was riddled with corrosion. A few unlucky players still bore ghastly scars from the poison, and they grimaced in pain, needing help from others just to hobble forward.
Lin Shou held a large handful of psychic dog tags. Those alone were proof enough of how difficult today's raid had been.
And that was already a good outcome.
At least they'd made it out alive and wouldn't have to endure the awful experience of three days without internet access.
Happy Stick glanced back at the warlock tower still standing in the plague-ridden town. It was probably five or six stories tall. There would surely be fewer people the higher they climbed, but they'd already been struggling to make headway on the second floor.
Whether in terms of equipment, strength, firepower, or tactics, they had too few options. Against this heavily armed psychic fortress, just as Orchid Blossom had said, there was no other way but to pile up bodies.
In fact, Brother Bang had tried contacting the Plantagenet Kingdom's vanguard and asked them to bombard the mage tower with field artillery. Colonel Fraser hadn't refused;