"How... how is this possible! Gravity Field and the Scatter Profundity? The intelligence clearly stated that these weren't your abilities!"
The Shadow Tiger bared its fangs in disbelief, staring at the figure before it. Before coming here, it had been confident in its knowledge of the opponent, believing it had an assured victory. But now, witnessing this power firsthand, the air was filled with an overwhelming sense of mystery.
In truth, it was a reinforcement from the Glacier Frontline.
It had only been on this battlefield for less than a month and knew the deputy commander only through intelligence reports, having never seen him in person.
And now, having finally seen him, it seemed this would be the last time...
Despair tightened its grip on the Shadow Tiger's heart like vines. Despite the hopelessness, it still summoned all its strength, trying to break free from the constraints of the Gravity Field.
Based on his past experience fighting orcs, Rhett remained calm and composed, estimating that it would take several seconds for the Shadow Tiger to break free.
However, just a second later, the smile on Rhett's lips froze—the stability of the Gravity Field was rapidly deteriorating.
"Something's wrong. The strength this Shadow Tiger is unleashing is far greater than expected. In reality, I've dealt with ninth-level Shadow Tigers before. I even fought a peak-level one on the Coldstream Frontline, but none were as powerful as this one." Rhett narrowed his eyes, his mind filled with doubt.
The force with which this Shadow Tiger was breaking free was about one-third stronger than the peak Shadow Tigers he had encountered in reality. In other words, this Shadow Tiger was far stronger than those of the future.
Considering the information he had gathered recently, although he didn't fully understand, Rhett was almost certain: the orcs of ten thousand years ago were generally stronger than their future counterparts.
Combining this with certain historical knowledge, it wasn't hard to conclude that over time, the orcs had weakened as they adapted to the human world.
A dangerous glint flashed in Rhett's eyes.
Given the circumstances, he needed to finish the fight quickly. Delaying would only introduce more uncertainty.
A single spike rained down from the sky, infused with the Profundity of Vibration, glowing with a twisted and blurred light, descending like the Sword of Damocles to announce the inevitable death of the Shadow Tiger.
The spike pierced its head, and after the light rain vanished, darkness returned. The ninth-level Shadow Tiger collapsed into a pile of mush under the force of the vibration.
At that moment, the battle wasn't over yet.
The leader of the medical team was still struggling under the Shadow Tiger's assault—without the aid of a Profundity, fighting a royal-blooded orc one-on-one was a losing battle.
His white robes were torn to shreds, his body covered in claw marks. If not for the constant use of healing magic to restore his wounds, he would have long since died at the Shadow Tiger's hands.
The elder's brow furrowed as he continuously cast spell after spell, but it was nearly impossible to hit the Shadow Tiger.
Thankfully, reinforcements arrived just in time. Just as the Shadow Tiger's claws were about to plunge into the elder's skull, a spike pierced through space, stabbing straight into the Shadow Tiger's chest.
The Profundity of Vibration spread, rippling out in faint waves. The body of the Shadow Tiger, shrouded in black-purple mist, exploded into a mass of shattered flesh.
Blood splattered across the elder's face, making the scene particularly gruesome. Staring at the vanishing Shadow Tiger, the elder stood frozen in place.
Quickly regaining his composure, he turned around to see that the other Shadow Tiger had also been reduced to black-purple chunks of flesh scattered across the ground. His pupils widened in shock.
Water elements swirled around, cleansing the blood from his body.
Light elements enveloped him, rapidly healing his injuries.
After checking that there were no more gravely injured soldiers, the elder approached Rhett.
"General Dagula, was that the Profundity of Vibration you just used?" The elder looked at Rhett with an incredulous expression, his shock no less than when he had witnessed the terrifying power of the Shadow Tiger.
"As you saw, what other power could create such destruction?" Rhett shrugged.
"When... when did you gain insight into such power?" The elder hesitated, but finally couldn't resist asking.
Rhett fell silent for a moment before replying, "I had a strange feeling some time ago. In a moment between life and death, I had a sudden epiphany and grasped the Profundity. After a few days of refinement, I was able to use it proficiently in combat."
"You're saying... you comprehended three Profundities all at once in a moment of life and death?" The elder swallowed hard, looking at Rhett with astonishment, as if seeing a miracle before him. "That's simply unbelievable. And that spell you used earlier... I've never seen anything like it before. The one that covered the entire sky—was that a completely new earth-element spell?"
"Exactly!"
Rhett decisively nodded, understanding what had happened.
The elder was shocked by his mastery of the Profundities, but Rhett wasn't surprised at all. It was indeed something quite remarkable.
However, he couldn't hide his true power, especially in a crisis like the one they had just faced. Without using the Profundities, he wasn't sure he could have defeated that Shadow Tiger.
More importantly, this was a simulated world. The main objective was efficiency in pursuing the primary mission. Even if there were some risks, there was no need to worry too much!
At worst, he could always start over.
But what surprised Rhett was the elder's final comment—had no one invented the Rain of Spikes spell in this era?
Upon further thought, it made sense. Nothing comes into existence out of nowhere; everything has a developmental process.
Though magic systems in the future were refined, it took countless efforts throughout history to perfect them.
After all, this was ten thousand years ago. It was only natural that some of the most optimal magical techniques had yet to emerge.
"This explains why the human army in this era is much weaker than the orcs. Not only are the orcs themselves stronger, but the magic system is not yet fully developed. Given that imbalance, it's no wonder humans are lagging behind orcs..."
A flash of realization passed through Rhett's mind. Experiencing this time firsthand had given him a deeper understanding of why, in history, humans were continuously pushed back by the orc onslaught.
"However... if the orcs had been eradicated at the very beginning, so many tragedies could have been avoided."
Every time he thought of this, Rhett couldn't help but feel a sense of regret.
But given that historical records from the future were incomplete, this journey to ten thousand years ago was a perfect opportunity for him to investigate the origin of the orcs.
At this time, both humans and orcs were at the peak of their power. The understanding of orcs here was undoubtedly clearer than in the future.
After some thought, Rhett explained to the elder, "That spell also came to me during a life-or-death moment. It was inspired by the most basic magical pathway—the Earth Spike spell. During the crisis, flashes of insight kept appearing in my mind, as if I saw countless trajectories moving through the sky. Ultimately, that led to the creation of the Rain of Spikes spell."
Rhett wasn't worried about revealing his extraordinary talent and drawing attention. After all, with the simulation as a safety net, he had no fear of death.
Moreover, showcasing his strength would make it easier for him to act.
The main goal of this simulation was to find the genius alchemist. If he kept a low profile and hid his power, it would only waste time and delay his plans.
The elder gazed at Rhett with envy and admiration, sighing, "To be reborn through death like a phoenix—General Dagula, you've turned misfortune into a blessing. I believe… you have the potential to become a Saint!"
Cough! Rhett almost choked, recalling certain well-known jokes from his past life. He humbly replied, "The future is always uncertain. Who can say what will happen?"
"Back to the point—what's the casualty count from this battle? Have the injured been treated?" Rhett habitually asked.
"One man died on the spot. The rest of the injured have been treated and are now safe," the elder replied with a hint of sorrow.
Rhett sighed, "Let's mourn for our fallen comrade."
He approached the body of the deceased soldier, seeing that the heart and head had been thoroughly destroyed. There was no hope of survival. With a heavy heart, Rhett led the troops in mourning before continuing their march.
Along the way, many soldiers followed Rhett with different looks in their eyes.
Aside from being astonished by their deputy commander's rebirth and newfound strength, there was also a sense of regret. If their commander had had this level of power during the battle against the peak Bearman, would the outcome have been different?
The rest of the journey passed without incident.
Three days later.
After crossing a frozen pass between two mountains and wading through waters scattered with floating ice, the group arrived at the foot of a snow-covered mountain, where the Glacier Frontline's camp was located.
The sentries at the entrance wore white armor that blended perfectly with the surroundings, their faces solemn as they stood vigil.
But when their eyes swept the area, they were shocked to see the deputy commander returning with only a few hundred soldiers.
As curious gazes followed them, Rhett led the troops past the checkpoint. One of the sentries couldn't help but ask, "Deputy Commander, what happened at the front line? Your troops..."
Rhett glanced at the sentry, who had an owl perched on his shoulder, and spoke in a low voice, "The battle was lost. The responsibility is mine. Is the chief commander in the camp?"
The sentries gasped in unison—battle lost? Did that mean thousands of soldiers had perished on the front line?
Their eyes filled with sorrow. The sentry with the owl clenched his fists, as if the sky had collapsed, and asked with a sliver of hope, "My brother…"
Rhett's gaze softened, immediately understanding the sentry's deep concern. He fell silent, carefully choosing his words.
Before Rhett could reply, one of the soldiers with a missing arm angrily spoke up, "It was the Bearmen! We encountered an elite force of Bearmen, and their main bloodline, the White Bears, were far more numerous than we expected. Their roars were like thunder, and many of our brave warriors were killed before they could even regain their senses."
"Oh my god, White Bears?" the sentries gasped, murmuring among themselves. "Aren't White Bears incredibly rare? For the past thousand years, their numbers have dwindled. How could there suddenly be so many of them?"
Normal Bearmen typically have brown or dark fur. While there are individual variations in shade, this is generally considered normal.
Only the highest bloodline Bearmen have pure white fur, and their physical prowess and innate abilities far surpass those of their kin.
Rhett was also taken aback by this revelation. He hadn't come across this basic knowledge in the past few days.
Hearing this now, combined with the white Bearmen corpses he had seen on the battlefield, reminded him of the Bearman King of the future, who also had snow-white fur—almost one of a kind among Bearmen.
He even recalled what the Peace Dove from the Beast God World had mentioned—that the future Bearman King had awakened the essence of the Ice Bear God.
At the time, someone had inquired further, but the Peace Dove had only said that this Ice Bear God was a powerful deity on the side of the Savage Blood War God. Rhett hadn't learned much more.
But now, it seemed that the number of Bearmen who had awakened the essence of the Ice Bear God ten thousand years ago was not so small?
Rhett felt a headache coming on. He had witnessed firsthand the strength of the Bearman chieftains, and although they were no match for him, defeating them hadn't been easy.
If their numbers increased, it would be a terrifying force, one that Rhett would rather avoid.
Sighing inwardly, Rhett thought, "It seems that the original commander's defeat wasn't undeserved. I underestimated him…"
Suddenly, Rhett noticed that the soldiers' eyes were once again fixed on him, their commander. With a heavy sigh, he carefully considered his words before saying:
"This situation is indeed strange. Once we return, I plan to report everything to the higher-ups."
The sentries saluted solemnly. "General Dagula, please proceed."
"Hmm…" Rhett gave the sentries a quick glance, nodded, and without further words, led his troops through the checkpoint.
As he entered the camp, Rhett examined the familiar yet unfamiliar architectural style, silently heightening his vigilance.
He dismissed the troops to rest and instructed his three sons to mingle with others and gather more information.
Meanwhile, Rhett wandered through the camp, familiarizing himself with the layout and the military regulations.
Along the way, he kept his words to a minimum, maintaining a stern demeanor. Whenever someone greeted him, he responded with a slight nod but no smile.
The camp was vast, no smaller than the Coldstream Frontline of the future. Rhett circled the castles and streets a few times, observing the commanders gathering soldiers and distributing supplies. He gradually formed a clear picture of how the camp operated.
Finally, after familiarizing himself with the communication style of the camp, Rhett headed toward a castle halfway up the mountain. The entire area was draped in silver, with ice and stone visible everywhere.
As he ascended, fewer soldiers appeared, but those guarding the key pathways were all elite warriors.
Given Rhett's rank, he passed through every checkpoint without issue, eventually arriving at the castle, which was built entirely of solid ice. The air around it was frigid.
Anyone without proper protection wouldn't last long in such a cold place.
Focusing his gaze, Rhett saw a figure standing there, holding a broken helmet in one hand. His cloak was tattered, reduced to ragged strips, and his armor was covered in cracks.