PGVCW 55

 

Playing God in Various Catastrophic Worlds

Chapter 55: The Arrival of the Expeditionary Force

At that moment, hearing the sudden roar of activity, Shaw and the surrounding crowd scramble to higher perches to catch a glimpse of the spectacle unfolding below.

"By the Light God..."

Though the Maca Continent boasts an overwhelming indigenous population, eight out of ten inhabitants remain commoners or serfs. Marred by chronic famine and pestilence, their combat capacity falls short of even a ten-year-old child from Blue Star. Assembling them into an army yields no synergy; at best, a force of ten thousand operates with the effectiveness of a hundred.

Consequently, military doctrines across the realm prioritize elite order formations and specialized knightly brotherhoods. Though sparse in numbers, these refined combatants possess formidable physical constitutions, each capable of vanquishing a hundred common foes. Above them sit the royal core legions belonging to sovereign nations, maintaining even stricter recruitment quotas.

In contrast to Earth's medieval warfare—where victories hinged primarily on overwhelming troop numbers—the armies of this magical world compete on a completely different metric: overall physical vitality.

It sounds utterly absurd, yet anyone who has endured debilitating sickness understands the reality. No matter how robust a warrior's physical constitution or how unyielding his spirit, the moment a malignant plague strikes his frame, his physical strength vanishes, leaving his sword-arm completely powerless. His sharp vision blurs into darkness. He might survive the affliction, but he certainly cannot pass a basic physical fitness test.

Thus, royal core armies assemble only the healthiest individuals selected from thousands of candidates—warriors untouched by plague or physical frailty, clad in impenetrable plate armor, mounted on pristine warhorses, and wield expensive magical armaments. Because deploying these core forces consumes staggering quantities of magic stones and wealth, sovereign nations refrain from mobilizing them except during moments of existential peril.

The nobility across the Kingdom of Miki are acutely aware that their sovereign expended a fortune in treasury reserves and high-grade magic stones to carefully assemble his royal core: the Lion Eagle Legion, comprising a grand total of merely ten elite knights.

This stark reality explains why everyone remains deeply convinced of Xia Wang'an's imperial princess status. After all, maintaining a vast retinue of pristine, physically flawless knights requires the backing of an entire sovereign empire.

Yet within a brief span, at least five thousand fully equipped personnel emerge from the spatial gateway—a portal bearing striking resemblance to a spatial teleportation array.

From a distance, discerning the exact cultivation realms or warrior ranks of these soldiers is impossible, yet the radiant aura of physical vitality emanating from their ranks is undeniable—to say nothing of the colossal, exotic armaments they carry. As orderly formations continue to pour forth from the threshold in unbroken ranks, a wave of visceral awe and terror ripples through every native onlooker present.

A suffocating silence descends across the plateau. Though thousands stand gathered across the hills, no sound remains save for the synchronized, thunderous cadence of the Xia Kingdom army marching forward. The local populace can scarcely fathom that any nation could field an army so vibrant, healthy, and overwhelmingly powerful.

"So the reality is that the local armies in this magical realm have been thoroughly crippled by systemic pestilence, making our standard infantry look like divine warriors descending from the heavens," Fan Aimi remarks with a raised eyebrow as she listens to the surrounding chatter. "Why does it feel like we're rolling into a kindergarten to flex our muscles?"

Her adjutant inquires, "Do they not utilize spellcasting or arcane combat techniques? Logically, their battle prowess shouldn't be this abysmal."

A staff member monitoring global intelligence clarifies: "Local mages and high-tier warriors suffer far worse corruption under the plague. When their afflictions flare up, they lose cognitive control, launching indiscriminate attacks against allies or detonating their own mana cores in violent self-destructions. Consequently, nations across this world strictly ban spellcasters and volatile warriors from joining standing military units. Mages are generally restricted to operating within isolated magic towers, while select warriors join knightly orders."

The adjutant realizes: "Are warriors permitted in knightly orders because commanders can easily suppress or neutralize them if they suffer cognitive collapse?"

"Oh, no," the staff member replies calmly, referencing the background records. "It's simply because knightly orders consist of a few dozen members at most. Even if an entire unit perishes in a chain-reaction self-destruction, the state can easily absorb the loss."

Adjutant: "......"

"Because out-of-control flare-ups and self-destructions occur with alarming frequency, dwarf artisans have crafted vast quantities of protective and escape scrolls designed specifically to dampen self-destruction shockwaves, vending them to various knightly orders. Sales are exceptionally lucrative."

"The mental deterioration observed when local mages lose control mirrors the cognitive pollution vectors back on Blue Star. Therefore, our current mandate includes acquiring local spellbooks and arcane manuscripts. Director Fan, you can position my team near the commercial quarter—that is where the merchants have gathered."

Closing her notebook, she gazes ahead: "Since our automated automaton units do not engage in respiration, local observers classify them as advanced high-tier warriors. Merchants will undoubtedly approach to hawk protective scrolls."

The Commercial Quarter and the Merchant Pitch

Sure enough, amidst the crowd standing as quiet as a chicken coop, a cluster of dwarf artisans and human merchants step forward eagerly, waving colorful scrolls in their hands.

Dwarf merchants begin unrolling compact scrolls, releasing streams of shimmering azure-gold quicksand that drift toward the Blue Star army formation. This represents the most elementary form of magical telepathic broadcasting. Observing that officers refrained from activating spiritual barriers to block the signals, the acoustic impulses reach everyone's ears smoothly.

Fragmented, pitch-shifted voices echo through the air.

Several military officers, completely unfamiliar with the local dialect, exchange bewildered glances: "This..." What are they blabbering about?

Linguistic translators—who had already mastered the general tongue of the Maca Continent through intensive self-study—immediately begin translating aloud in clear, booming voices:

"Attention! Advanced Defensive Barrier Scroll now priced at only 9,999 gold pieces! Deployable to absorb self-destruction shockwaves from advanced high-tier warriors, yielding a 32% probability of survival! What? You ask about the remaining 68% mortality rate? Rest easy! Every purchase includes a complimentary transport stretcher and a pre-formatted final testament scroll!"

"Final clearance sale! Our establishment is relocating due to Her Highness Wang'an's domain health decree! Closing down today! Today is truly our absolute final day!"

"Aikang Emporium! Aikang Emporium has gone bankrupt! The human product tester contracted pestilence, defaulted on 20,000 gold pieces in debt, and absconded with the store's prized mutated beast! He ran away! We have no choice but to liquidate inventory to settle hospital bills! Premium artifacts formerly priced at 8,888 or 9,999 are now slashed to 999 or 991! Step right up and browse!"

Adjutant: "...This sounds suspiciously like a classic liquidation scam."

The local merchants enthusiastically welcome the thirty-member procurement delegation—which includes two official translators holding extensive purchasing requisitions—and launch into heated negotiations.

As dwarf artisans eagerly display various enchanted wares—some even setting up portable anvils to forge items on the spot when procurement officers question structural integrity—passing Blue Star soldiers glance over curiously beneath their tactical visors. Observing non-human species on a display monitor is an entirely different experience from witnessing them in the flesh.

These dwarf manufacturers are as short as human children, yet every single one features the weathered countenance of an elderly grandfather or grandmother, hopping about dynamically. The beastkin bodyguards stand tall and imposing—some sporting furry tails, others possessing human torsos with beastly heads, and one individual exhibiting a human right side paired with a lapine left side.

Surrounding them is lush, waist-high greenery, warm sunlight, and a gently murmuring stream. The scenery is breathtakingly serene. Even knowing that a malignant pestilence plagues this world—an affliction rooted in environmental pollution—soldiers who spent their entire lives beneath subterranean shelters without witnessing natural sunlight or sweeping grasslands experience a profound sense of relaxation.

It almost makes one wonder: Is this truly an apocalyptic realm?

An elderly dwarf dragging a oversized burlap sack approaches the encampment perimeter, offering homemade sweets for sale. Though fascinated, the soldiers maintain strict discipline, refraining from breaking formation. The squad leader simply waves his hand to signal they are not purchasing. Dragging his heavy sack, the long-bearded dwarf shuffling away with a disappointed sigh.

"Are elderly individuals the only ones operating as vendors here? Every dwarf merchant in sight appears advanced in age," a soldier remarks.

A research analyst passing by with a digital tablet overhears the query and clarifies: "Their biological systems are severely compromised by pestilence, compressing their lifespan to merely five years while accelerating cellular aging. The dwarf artisan you just observed is approximately three years old."

The soldiers—who had been conversing casually in the tranquil surroundings—freeze in sheer disbelief.

In other words, that elderly-looking dwarf was actually a three-year-old child?!

"Then what was the natural lifespan of the dwarf race prior to the plague?"

"Exceeding a century under normal conditions," the analyst replies. "Historical records indicate dwarves routinely lived to 120 years. Three hundred years ago, they reigned as master blacksmiths capable of forging divine artifacts. But systemic corruption ruined their growth biology, causing them to perish by age five. Their forging craftsmanship is severely constrained by their brief lifespans, restricting them to fashioning minor novelties."

Integrating Cultivation with Magic

Inside Xia Wang'an's palatial residence atop the cliff, headquarters personnel assembled in the alternate dimension convene their inaugural strategic conference.

Projecting digital displays onto a massive central screen, experts present analytical data and visual intelligence to the seated audience:

"Historically, beastkin represented the most martial race across the Maca Continent, endowed with an indomitable spirit that preferred death over surrender. One thousand years ago, during the necrotic invasions, beastkin legions held the vanguard, ultimately repelling the undead hordes."

"However, pestilence destroyed their neurological equilibrium, causing their primal beastly instincts to overpower their rational humanity. Presently, numerous beastkin can no longer revert to human form. Projections indicate that within a decade, the entire beastkin populace will degenerate into unreasoning wild beasts."

"Data regarding elves remains limited, though records provided by Count Albert confirm they were originally blessed stewards of the ancient forests, capable of communing with flora. Presently, increasing numbers of elves are losing this divine gift, falling into corruption as dark elves."

"As for humanity, the current rate of disease progression speaks for itself."

The presenting expert powers down the display screen: "Which brings us to our primary objective: How do we seamlessly integrate the Immortal Cultivation system into this world's existing Magical framework?"

Xia Wang'an instantly raises her hand with eager enthusiasm.

The expert hurriedly adds: "—Excluding the option of beating everyone into submission until they acknowledge Immortal Cultivation."

Xia Wang'an lowers her hand with a subtle expression of disappointment.

"I have a proposal," Colton speaks up, raising his hand. Having demonstrated exceptional proficiency in controlling multiple automated automaton units simultaneously, his clearance level has risen, earning him a seat at the strategy table.

"The primary hurdle in introducing Immortal Cultivation to a magical world stems from zero prior exposure. Prior to arriving in the Xia Kingdom, I had no concept of what cultivation entailed."

Drawing from personal experience, he continues: "However, upon arriving in the Xia Kingdom, I began consuming various cultivation cinematic works and web novels. Through continuous immersion, I gained a comprehensive understanding. As a foreigner myself, I believe we should leverage cultural export."

The head of the World Background Division nods in agreement: "Our team previously explored that exact strategy, but encountered a major obstacle: the vast majority of the indigenous population is illiterate. Consequently, transmission must rely on audiovisual media, which brings us right back to the dilemma of whether or not to construct an electronic tech-tree in this realm."

T/N: Yo besties! Just pushed Chapter 55 out! 😭 Imagine finding out the "elderly" dwarf selling candy is actually a 3-year-old toddler because the local pestilence speedruns aging—absolute emotional damage! 💀 Also Xia Wang'an being told she CANNOT just beat up the entire continent to make them learn cultivation is pure gold. My neck is still recovering from this translation grind, but we keep pushing forward! Thanks for reading and sticking around! ✨

 

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