Divine Glitch: I Regressed With Endgame Knowledge-Chapter 65: One Man Turns the Tide

At this point, only a handful of Orc faction players remained. The once-formidable Ironblood Covenant had been reduced to a ragged squad—just Ironblood Warlord, Ironblood Falcon, and a few others. Most of their allies had already fallen under Guardian Isdal’s blade, forced to release their souls and begin the corpse run.

Ryan led his squad carefully, weaving through trees and ruined buildings. They moved in silence, cloaked in shadow, until they reached a position not far behind the remaining Ironblood players.

The Ironblood members still had their real-time IDs displayed—an oversight that made Ryan’s job much easier. He could clearly see who was who and plan accordingly.

"That Ironblood Warlord and Ironblood Falcon are both warriors," Ryan said, gesturing toward the two heavily armored figures. "No healers with them. They’re not a real threat. Riverbank—just keep healing whoever they focus on."

He spoke casually, even smiling a little. Warrior classes relied on coordination and support. Without it, they were nothing special.

"Ironblood Enchantress is a warlock," he continued, glancing toward a slender figure in crimson robes. "Watch out for her fear spells. As long as Riverbank doesn’t get feared away, we’ll be fine. Nightwalker—you’re on her. Keep her locked down."

He assigned the warlock to Nightwalker, the rogue destined to become a legend. Ryan was curious to see what the guy could do at this stage of the game.

"Ironblood Phantom and Ironblood Sixgod are both rogues," he added, his tone tightening. "Moonlight—make sure they don’t disrupt Riverbank. If they get to her, we’re screwed. Priority one is killing those two first. The rest comes down to awareness—play smart."

That was all the instruction he gave.

In the distance, the Ironblood players were still shouting and venting their frustration, completely unaware of what was about to hit them. Ryan smiled faintly.

"Alright then. We go in five seconds. Wait for my signal."

He began to count down.

Five... four... three... two... one—

"Go!"

The squad burst forward like wild horses breaking from their pen, surging toward the Ironblood Covenant with deadly intent.

They were a little too far from the enemy’s position. The moment they broke from cover, Ironblood Phantom’s sharp eyes caught the movement. His voice rang out across the battlefield.

"Alliance players incoming! Everyone get ready!"

The warning snapped the scattered Ironblood players back to their senses. They whirled around, weapons raised, just in time to see the Alliance squad bearing down on them.

"Damn bastards! Striking now of all times?" Ironblood Warlord cursed under his breath, then shouted orders. "Regroup! Focus fire on their priest first! Drop the priest, then the paladin—ignore their warrior!"

"Enchantress! Keep fearing that paladin! Don’t let him heal the priest!"

Even as he barked the last command, Ironblood Warlord saw the enemy had closed the distance. He raised his weapon and charged.

"Riverbank, fall back a few steps," Ryan said quickly. He’d already read the enemy’s intentions. They were gunning for the priest. "Hold position until we engage."

Riverbank Grass slowed her advance, letting the others push forward. Ryan stepped into the path of the oncoming Ironblood players.

As the two groups clashed, a golden shield shot from Ryan’s hand. It struck Ironblood Warlord square in the chest, then ricocheted off Ironblood Falcon. The others were just out of range, or it might’ve hit a third.

Warriors had to be out of combat to use their charge ability. Ryan’s preemptive strike robbed them of that mobility, pinning them in place.

Without their charge, the two warriors were forced to slow to a halt in front of Ryan—immobile and exposed.

"It’s you again!" Ironblood Falcon shouted, eyes narrowing in recognition. He yanked a dark, round object from his belt and raised it high, voice tinged with alarm.

Unfortunately for Ironblood Falcon, Ryan was Alliance—and couldn’t understand a word of Orcish. Whatever threat or insult the Orc had shouted, it made no difference. Calmly, Ryan tossed a crude grenade right between Ironblood Falcon and Ironblood Warlord.

Boom—!

The blast stunned them both.

"It’s that bastard Featherlight!" Ironblood Falcon growled in team chat, even though his character was frozen in place. The name alone was enough to whip the Ironblood squad into a frenzy.

"Featherlight?! Focus fire on him—now! Forget the Guardian! If we can take him down, it’ll still be worth it!"

The strategy changed instantly. Ironblood Warlord dropped all previous orders and became hellbent on killing Ryan, even if it meant sacrificing the entire squad to do it.

The two rogues—Ironblood Phantom and Sixgod—who had been rushing toward Riverbank Grass screeched to a halt, pivoted mid-run, and sprinted straight at Featherlight.

Ryan didn’t flinch. He felt their eyes lock onto him the moment the grenade landed, but he stayed composed. With a flick of his wrist, he cast Judgment on Ironblood Falcon.

420 damage. A heavy hit.

Just as Falcon’s health dropped to a sliver, a green light pulsed from his body—he’d popped a healing potion. +180 HP.

"Tch." Ryan clicked his tongue in irritation. Then he followed up with a critical Fist of Light.

360 damage—clean kill.

Ironblood Falcon dropped dead before he could react, his freshly-restored health wiped out instantly.

"Shit!" Falcon’s soul was forced out of his body. He released immediately, teeth clenched in rage, wishing he could reach through the screen and strangle Featherlight in real life.

"Careful! His damage is insane!" Ironblood Warlord shouted, still recovering from the stun. He hadn’t even landed a hit yet and was already watching his comrade drop like a ragdoll.

This wasn’t a regular player. Featherlight’s burst damage was enough to make any frontline warrior sweat. If he died here—after failing to kill the Guardian and losing the entire squad—he didn’t even want to imagine how Ironblood Blade would react back at base.

"Damn it, the map’s too big! It’ll take ten minutes just to corpse run back here!" he cursed, scanning the battlefield in frustration. And there it was—Featherlight was already peeling off to intercept Phantom and Sixgod.

"Watch out! Phantom! Sixgod! He’s coming for you!"

Ironblood Warlord tried to charge after him—but none of the nearby Alliance players were targeting him. If he could just stay out of combat for a few more seconds, he could use Charge and get into the fray.

But Moonlight Beauty had seen this trick before.

She rushed forward, activating Charge first. Her shoulder slammed into him, knocking him back into combat. No escape now.

"Heh. Trying to use Charge? Keep dreaming," she muttered in Common—words Ironblood Warlord couldn’t understand. Her blade was already dancing, slashing him before he could recover from the stun.

"Damn bastards... every last one of you..." he roared, livid beyond reason. Everything had gone sideways from the start, and now the sky above Blood Gorge seemed to mirror his mood—dark, stormy, hopeless.

"AHHHH!" With a frustrated scream, Ironblood Warlord dropped his weapon and slumped forward, accepting his fate. He glanced around at the collapsing battlefield. Ironblood Enchantress had already fallen. The two rogues were on their last legs. Their squad was finished.

A soft glow bathed Moonlight Beauty as a healing spell brought her back to full health. Riverbank Grass smiled brightly in the distance, her job already done.

The battle was over—Featherlight had singlehandedly crushed them.