Building The First Adventurer Guild In Another World-Chapter 205: Guild War [ 2 ]

BANG!

The first impact shattered any remaining illusion of order in the Guild plaza.

Steel clashed with steel, boots pounded against stone, and the air erupted with the roars of unleashed auras as the Adventurers surged forward to confront the black-clad knights head-on.

Each fighter brought their own weapon, scars, and personal motivations. The only mana that flared came from bodies and blades, raw martial force and instinct honed through life-and-death struggles rather than polished training.

From above, the battlefield resembled a chaotic clash of two living tides. Figures surged into one another, colliding, breaking apart, reforming; each impact sent ripples through their formations.

Lines didn’t hold. They shattered instantly into dozens, hundreds of individual duels and desperate skirmishes. This was no soldier’s battlefield; it was a predator’s ground.

At its heart, the Adventurers fought as they lived, individually, fiercely, unpredictably.

A tall woman wielding a long-bladed glaive spun through two attackers, her weapon carving a wide arc that forced them apart. One knight attempted to close in but was met with a sudden reversal of her glaive that crushed into his throat.

As he staggered back, another Adventurer, a broad-shouldered man brandishing a brutal warhammer, charged in with a roar. His weapon came down with devastating force, shattering armor and bone alike as the black-clad knight crumpled to the ground in a spray of blood.

Nearby, two Adventurers moved in tandem despite their wildly different styles. One fought low and fast with twin blades, darting in to sever tendons before retreating; the other utilized a heavy shield and short sword to intercept attacks aimed at his partner.

When an enemy knight lunged at the smaller fighter, the shield-bearer stepped in to absorb the blow before ramming forward and driving the attacker back into range for a finishing strike.

The black-clad forces were far from overwhelmed. They responded with ruthless efficiency. Their formations adapted seamlessly; small clusters of knights rotated positions to cover one another while creating overlapping lines of attack that pressed against the Adventurers from multiple angles.

Whenever an Adventurer overextended themselves, they were punished immediately, blades flashed as coordinated strikes landed with brutal precision.

A young adventurer charged recklessly into battle, his blade raised high, but he quickly paid the price. Two black-clad knights moved in perfect harmony; one deflected the strike while the other slipped beneath his guard. Steel pierced through his side, and he fell hard, breath ripped from his lungs as blood soaked the ground beneath him.

Yet, the black-clad knight didn’t have time to follow up on his advantage. Another adventurer barreled into him from the side, tackling him to the ground and driving a sword repeatedly into his chest until armor caved in and the body went limp.

Without missing a beat, the attacker wrenched his weapon free and turned immediately toward his next opponent.

Death was relentless for both sides. From above, it looked like chaos, black figures clashed with steel ones, separating only when one fell. Every few seconds, another body crumpled to the ground, sometimes an adventurer, sometimes a black-clad knight. The balance of power was brutal and unforgiving.

Mina stood near the front line with her shield raised high. Golden mana coursed through its surface as it absorbed blow after blow. Each impact rang like a bell, sending tremors through her arms, but she held firm, planting her feet and bracing her stance so that other adventurers could slip behind her and strike through the gaps she created.

To her right fought a veteran knight wielding a greatsword with controlled ferocity; every swing was calculated and deliberate.

When an enemy knight lunged at him, he twisted just enough to avoid the thrust and brought his blade down in a diagonal cut that split armor and flesh alike. Blood sprayed as the fallen knight hit the ground before another attacker could arrive.

Across the plaza, chaos erupted in every direction. An Adventurer twirled a chain-blade overhead before snapping it outward, ensnaring an enemy’s leg. With a fierce yank, he pulled the knight off balance and finished him off with a thrust through the chest.

As he turned, another warrior clad in black slammed into him, and they crashed together, rolling across the ground in a brutal grapple that only ended when one blade found its mark at a throat.

The black-clad knights, despite their discipline, faced a grim fate. They could not predict the fierce, instinctive fighting style of the Adventurers, individuals who fought like cornered animals, driven by survival.

While the black-clad forces depended on formation, the Adventurers thrived on improvisation and ruthless creativity born from countless battles fought alone.

A section of the Adventurer line suddenly collapsed inward. A single black-clad figure moved through it, not with speed, but with implacable force. Every swing of his mace didn’t just kill, it sent bodies flying, clearing a path of gore.

An Adventurer ducked under a spear thrust, seized the shaft, and pulled his attacker forward, delivering a headbutt powerful enough to crack the enemy’s mask. He then ended the struggle with a knife plunged into the exposed neck.

Another Adventurer leapt from a crumbling pillar, landing directly on an adversary and driving both into the ground with the force of his descent. His sword inclined downward, creating a thunderous impact that echoed through the plaza.

From above, the battle swirled like a tempest. The golden barrier hummed overhead, trapping everyone beneath it, turning the clash into a battleground where every movement counted and each life held significance. The golden dome didn’t just trap them, it compressed the sound of battle into a deafening, constant roar. The air grew thick with spent mana and the iron scent of blood, with nowhere for it to escape

Sage positioned himself slightly behind the frontline, staff in hand. His spells weren’t the stars of the show, rather, they provided crucial support, quick bursts of force to dislodge attackers, barriers raised just long enough to shield a wounded Adventurer, and precise strikes that opened opportunities for the Knights to capitalize on.

His gaze darted around, constantly tracking the battle, analyzing the ebb and flow like a commander would, but without issuing commands, there was no formation to direct.

The Adventurers acted on instinct, flowing into one another’s moves, capitalizing on openings as they emerged. Slowly, a realization settled in: they weren’t losing, but they weren’t winning either. The black-clad knights surged forward again, dozens of them converging at the center, their auras flaring as their blades cut through the air in coordinated arcs aimed at breaching the Guild’s defenses.

The Adventurers replied with equal ferocity. A burly woman wielding a massive hammer charged ahead, smashing her weapon into the ground with such force that it cracked the stone and sent multiple foes staggering back.

Before they could regroup, two Knights surged in, their blades flashing in a flurry of strikes that cut down the disoriented attackers.

Elsewhere, a lean Adventurer with a long spear danced through three opponents, weaving effortlessly as he deflected, countered, and struck. He pierced one enemy’s shoulder, then swept low to break another’s knee, finishing with a thrust that drove through a chestplate.

But he too took a hit, a blade slicing across his side, causing him to stagger and blood to spill. Another Adventurer rushed in to shield him, forcing the attackers back.

From above, the plaza was a scene of chaos, bodies strewn across the ground, both black-clad warriors and Adventurers alike. Neither side showed any signs of backing down or retreating.

The Guild had transformed into a crucible where survival hinged on relentless forward momentum, regardless of the cost.

And that cost was escalating. A Knight fell, swiftly followed by another. One black-clad fighter dropped to one knee before being struck down.

An Adventurer let out a piercing scream as a blade found its mark, collapsing under the weight of his injuries. The plaza erupted with violence, steel clashing, blood spilling, breaths heaving in rage.

Yet they continued to fight because this was no mere skirmish; it had evolved into a declaration, a battle for existence. And neither side intended to leave it unresolved.