Divine Glitch: I Regressed With Endgame Knowledge

One-Sword Mountain stared down at the Undead players below him, irritation tightening his jaw. Moments ago, the stairway had been flowing smoothly, teams moving up and down in neat order. Now these people had stopped right in the middle, blocking the way entirely.

Were they seriously expected to jump from a height of over ten meters just to keep moving? What—throw themselves to their deaths because a bunch of rule-flouting idiots decided to clog the path? Absolutely not.

"Captain, just take them out! Damn it, they're too inconsiderate!" someone from behind shouted, voice edged with anger. The descending players were pressing into his team from the back, squeezing them uncomfortably against the blockade in front. Frustration rippled through the group, curses following.

One-Sword Mountain felt the temptation. But his Guild Leader's warning still rang in his ears.

"We said we'd avoid unnecessary fights. The major guilds already have an understanding. If we're the ones to make the first move, we'll just become everyone's target."

He exhaled sharply and shook his head, shutting down the calls for violence. Turning sideways, he tried to force his way through a small gap in the line.

The Undead players didn't budge. They stood shoulder to shoulder, deliberately sealing off the stairs. When One-Sword Mountain made his push, the man directly in front—Poison Marrow, had already been stewing in his own foul mood. The shove made him snap.

Being jostled wasn't the real issue. In this cramped, constant contact, his health bar was ticking down bit by bit. That, for Poison Marrow, was enough to ignite him.

"These bastards… Show your IDs! If they don't move, kill them!"

Among the Undead, Poison Marrow was infamous—an independent player who had fought his way out of the Bonegrave Battlefield alongside a handful of equally fierce companions. Those who knew him knew the streak of madness running through him, and because of it, most people didn't bother challenging him.

Now, in the neutral territory of the Arid Plains, Poison Marrow had told his crew to keep their IDs hidden, avoiding ambushes from old enemies so their leveling wouldn't be disrupted. But when it came to a standoff like this, intimidation worked better with a name.

A dozen of his people toggled their IDs on, standing out among the faceless crowd like bright flags on a battlefield. The message was clear: we're not nobodies.

One-Sword Mountain's expression tightened. He didn't recognize any of them. Leading squads through missions and dungeons had made him competent, but he didn't bother memorizing every famous name in the game.

Fortunately, one of his teammates leaned in. "Captain, Poison Marrow's an independent among the Undead. Strong one, too."

One-Sword Mountain's tension eased. An independent player? Strong or not, what gave him the right to act so high and mighty? Had the Undead run out of real talent?

With a low snort, he toggled his own ID into view. One by one, his team followed suit. The names hanging over their heads drew an audible stir from the crowd.

They were Ironstone Legion—a major Dwarf guild, well-known and well-respected.

The air between the two groups shifted instantly, the standoff now crackling with dangerous heat. Poison Marrow felt a twinge of unease; picking a fight with a powerhouse guild wasn't smart. But if he backed off now, the authority he had built among his crew would crumble.

His only choice was to double down. He bared his teeth and shouted back at One-Sword Mountain, the tension between them ready to shatter into open combat at any moment.

Just then, from his perch above the chaos, Ryan decided it was the perfect moment to stir the pot. His plan was simple: spark a fight between the independent players of different races and let the major guilds behind them get dragged into the mess.

"Guild Leader, you seem awfully interested," Moonlight Beauty said in the guild channel, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. "You wouldn't be cooking up some kind of trouble, would you?"

Her comment instantly caught the ear of most guild members, even those deep into their leveling runs. Mia, who was usually reserved, chimed in as well, amused.

Ryan didn't bother denying it. "Indeed, I am cooking up a mischievous plan," he said plainly. Everyone here had been carefully vetted before joining, so there was no point in hiding it. "I'm going to make those two groups fight, then pull in players from every race until the whole map is at war. Once it's chaos, no one will be leveling efficiently in the Arid Plains."

"And if that happens," he continued, "two days of disruption will be enough for the Human elites in Blood Gorge to catch up here. That'll stop the gap between the Alliance of Light and the Dark Horde from widening."

Before anyone could respond, a private message flashed across his interface. It was from Nightwalker, who had entered the Arid Plains earlier than Ryan and progressed further in his questline. He had since returned to the Eastern Summoning Circle, apparently with something interesting in hand.

"I've got something here that'll really light the fuse," Nightwalker said, a chuckle in his voice as he sent over the details.

—

Dapula's Undead Mask (Head)

Quality: Special

Effect: Disguises you as an Undead. While worn, grants access to a phantom ethereal plane. You will become visible if you enter combat.

Dapula's Undead Bane (Off-Hand)

Quality: Special

Effect: +100% damage against Undead. For each Undead killed, gain Dapula's Favor, increasing health and damage by 1%.

---

Ryan's eyes widened. He couldn't help but admire Nightwalker's luck—these were rare, time-limited quest rewards, perfectly tailored for hunting Undead.

He knew exactly where they came from. In the future, the Arid Plains would be plagued by a shadowy organization working to sabotage the Druidic Order and keep the land barren: the Twilight Cult, a demon-worshipping group. The cult's agents disguised themselves as NPCs of various races, giving out missions that pitted players against other factions. The rewards were generous, and aside from a small reputation loss with the Druidic Order, there were no real downsides.

Nightwalker's current quest was clearly one of these—and it targeted Undead specifically.

Inside the ethereal plane, Nightwalker was untouchable, like a ghost in a dungeon, slipping through the crowd unseen. He drifted into position directly behind Poison Marrow, dagger in hand, ready to strike.

"Guild Leader, I'm in place. Should I take him out?" Nightwalker's voice held an eager edge as he sent Ryan a live feed of his view.

"Take him out," Ryan replied with a slow, satisfied smile.

The next moment, there was a muted thud. A dagger punched into Poison Marrow's back, the blow landing clean and vicious. More than a thousand hit points vanished in an instant.

The man crumpled—health gone in a heartbeat, and the already simmering tension erupted like a powder keg.