Chapter 994: Spies and the Broadcast Station
On Ethereal’s official forums and WCC Radio’s livestream, two screens sat side by side, broadcasting the events unfolding in-game.
One showed the coalition’s massive advance, nearly ten million players moving forward in an endless tide. The other focused on the Alliance’s army, the giant war machine at its center and the Alliance members gathered beneath it.
The commentator was so excited he could barely contain himself, and when Ethan glanced up at the hovering drone, the man was still shouting into the microphone.
"Look! The Druid God is looking at us! Let’s switch to a closer view and see exactly how he plans to stop nearly ten million coalition troops with just four hundred thousand men and a broken-down old tank!"
His voice was filled with anticipation.
Then the screen suddenly flashed white, static crackled across the broadcast, and the Alliance’s feed went dark.
"What happened? Where’s the feed? Check the backend!"
"What? The drone was destroyed?"
"How is that possible? System-issued drones aren’t supposed to be attackable by players! Are you sure?"
"The Alliance says we didn’t pay, so we don’t get to watch?"
"This is ridiculous..."
The commentator was so caught up in the situation that he hadn’t realized his microphone was still live, and every word of the discussion behind the scenes went straight out to the audience.
A moment later, the audio cut off as well, but the damage had already been done. The chat exploded, viewers flooded the screen with messages: many were laughing, others openly praised the Renegade Alliance, and quite a few mocked WCC for finally running into someone who wasn’t willing to tolerate their behavior.
Foreign players were confused, but Dragonspire’s players understood exactly why everyone found the situation so satisfying.
In the past, WCC had always requested permission and paid fees before broadcasting guild activities.
Lately, however, they had stopped bothering, simply launching their system-issued drones and livestreaming whatever they wanted, exposing guild operations and battle plans without consent.
"Serves them right. They finally got what was coming."
"Hahaha! WCC deserves this."
"Karma hit them fast. WCC? Might as well call them WC. Better yet, Toilet Stream."
Guilds and teams whose operations had previously been exposed were enjoying every second of it; for once, WCC was the target of the ridicule.
Inside WCC’s headquarters, management was dealing with a growing headache. Their earlier behavior had already damaged their reputation, and when they tried reaching out to the Alliance to negotiate, the Honorary Leader didn’t even bother replying.
The broadcast itself had become a disaster. It had originally been a dual-feed livestream, but now one side of the screen was completely black, the only thing left being footage of the coalition army slowly marching forward.
The entire appeal of the broadcast had been watching the Druid God lead four hundred thousand players against an enemy force twenty-four times larger. Without the Alliance’s perspective, most viewers immediately lost interest, and the audience count began falling.
Everyone assumed Ethan had destroyed the drones to prevent his strategy from being exposed, but none of them knew the real reason: for Ethan, it was personal.
In his previous life, WCC had gone through a major internal shake-up around this time. One of its founders, a woman named Trina Starr, had been forced out after a conflict with her partners.
After she left, WCC changed completely, chasing profit at any cost, ignoring basic principles, and becoming notorious throughout the game.
Once, while Ethan was hiding in a mountain hollow to avoid pursuit, a WCC drone accidentally revealed his location during a livestream. His enemies swarmed him, and he died more than ten times that day, while several of his closest companions suffered the same fate, losing equipment, levels, and hard-earned progress.
Until now, Ethan had never specifically targeted WCC. Part of the reason was Trina; he had respected her. But judging by WCC’s recent behavior, she was probably already gone, and the organization standing before him looked exactly like the one he remembered from his previous life.
In that case, why should he show them any courtesy?
Even if the first incident had technically been an accident, he wasn’t interested in debating it.
He wanted those drones gone, so he destroyed them. System-issued drones weren’t cheap, and he had taken out nine in a single strike. Hopefully that hurt.
Meanwhile, the march continued, steady and uninterrupted.
Ethan led the Alliance in a straight line across the wilderness without attempting to hide their movements or change course.
With the Alliance gone from the Northern Frontier Region, countless independent players and smaller guilds finally crossed the border and followed behind.
Two hours after the Alliance’s departure, even more forces appeared along the route, and then Blade Syndicate arrived, with Marcus Skeiner personally leading the army.
Half a day later, another force of roughly five hundred thousand players emerged after marching from Springhaven.
The Harmony City region was nearly empty by then; along the way, they encountered very few people, and it seemed most of the region had already headed in the same direction.
An hour later, an even larger force entered the scene: a coalition army from Blackridge numbering nearly four million players, the guild alliance led by Xandria.
The size of the force was impressive, but its overall quality was noticeably lower. The reason was simple: in Blackridge, almost every guild, large or small, belonged to Xandria’s alliance, and the enormous numbers came from sheer participation rather than elite strength.
Xandria herself rode at the front. Like Ethan, she possessed a flying mount, but unlike him, she kept hers on the ground.
Half a day passed before the Alliance’s column finally stopped. Players took turns logging out for meals and rest; not everyone owned premium VR capsules equipped with advanced nutrient systems, and many still needed to eat normally.
Two hours later, the march resumed, and by then, several kilometers behind the Alliance’s main force, a large gathering had formed.
Guilds and independent teams from Harmony City had assembled there, but none of them pushed forward. Among them were Whispering Bamboo, Misty Cloud, Dawnbreaker Assembly, and numerous other guilds that maintained friendly relations with the Renegade Alliance.
In fact, most of Harmony City’s guilds fell into that category, and although they had never signed any formal agreements with the Alliance, they had long benefited from its protection.
The Renegade Alliance’s influence over Harmony City was undeniable, but they had never ruled through intimidation.
They controlled more than fifty-nine percent of the city’s economy, yet they also ensured smaller guilds had room to survive and prosper, and the remaining share of the market was more than enough for everyone else to earn a comfortable living.
Because of that, relations between the Alliance and the other guilds had always remained surprisingly good.
That was precisely why so many people were confused now, and no one understood why the Alliance had chosen such a reckless course of action.
There had been no discussions, no consultations, no requests for support; they had simply made the decision on their own and marched out.
Were they really planning to face three entire regions by themselves?
No one doubted the Alliance’s strength; any member of the Renegade Alliance could easily serve as a core elite in another guild.
Rumors even claimed that the Alliance held regular internal PvP tournaments with rewards valuable enough to make top players jealous, and because of that, Alliance members were constantly fighting, practicing, and refining their skills.
PvP awareness was far more difficult to develop than dungeon mechanics, and once someone mastered player combat, most PvE content felt significantly easier by comparison.
Many players throughout the Northern Frontier Region had experienced this firsthand; they had entered dungeons alongside Alliance members, and the difference in skill was obvious.
Sometimes, adding just one or two Alliance players to a party made a difficult dungeon feel almost effortless.
Yet despite all that, many still couldn’t understand the Alliance’s confidence.
Then they remembered something: the Druid God had returned. He had reached Level 125 and become the first player in the world to do so, claimed the title of First Warrior, and even been personally summoned by the Dragon City Lord.
Surely Ethan wouldn’t gamble everything without a plan.
Whatever was about to happen, the Druid God clearly knew something that nobody else did.