Divine Glitch: I Regressed With Endgame Knowledge

"Poison Marrow is a lunatic. Best to steer clear if you can."

In the One-Sword Mountain party, one of the players was quietly briefing their leader on the infamous Undead rogue ahead. "He once got into a petty argument with someone and corpse-camped them for seven hours straight. Anyone who tried to help just got cut down too."

They lowered their voice, though everyone nearby could hear. "He's skilled enough on his own, but when he started teaching his techniques, he built himself a crew of rogues just like him. They run wild in the Bonegrave Battlefield. Among unaffiliated players, they're notorious."

One-Sword Mountain's expression hardened, his jaw tightening as he weighed the risk. If the rumors were even half true—and he suspected they were, there was no point picking a fight with someone ruthless enough to hunt you across the entire map, again and again, simply for the satisfaction of revenge. Better to turn away now before they got stuck in a feud.

But as he shifted his party to head in another direction, chaos struck.

An Undead rogue suddenly shimmered into existence behind Poison Marrow, stepping out of stealth with a devastating strike. Poison Marrow never saw it coming; one moment he was standing tall, and the next, a blade drove into him with surgical precision. The blow landed, sharp and merciless, dropping him with a strangled cry before the attacker had even fully materialized out of the shadows.

For a heartbeat, everyone froze. The sight of an Undead killing one of their own was almost unthinkable. Why would someone betray their own faction like that?

A few seconds later, the rogue's silhouette began to fade again, slipping back toward stealth. But before he vanished completely, his voice rang out:

"Take down these Undead bastards, Captain! The rest are yours!"

The words weren't in Orcish—they were in Common Tongue. Every player present recognized it instantly. This wasn't a real Undead at all. Somehow, an Alliance of Light player had taken on the form of one.

In this game, Common Tongue was the primary language of human players. Other Alliance of light races had their own tongues, but the system defaulted to Common Tongue unless you deliberately switched to your racial speech. For the Dark Horde, Orcish served the same purpose, and the two languages were mutually unintelligible. To a Horde player, hearing Common Tongue was like listening to a muffled foreign broadcast—clear that it wasn't your own, but meaningless all the same.

Which was why Poison Marrow's crew immediately realized the truth. The stranger wasn't one of them. And he had just humiliated their leader in full view of everyone.

Poison Marrow, still processing the fact that someone had dared kill him here, felt the heat of his own fury rise until it blurred his vision. To be taken down so suddenly—and in public, was like having his hard-earned reputation ground into the dirt.

"Kill him! Kill that One-Sword Mountain!"

His voice was raw with rage. The only people he'd been in conflict with were One-Sword Mountain's party, and they were backed by a major guild. Who else would have the gall to pull something like this?

Several Undead rogues hesitated for a fraction of a second before obeying, breaking into a sprint toward One-Sword Mountain's front line. Daggers flashed, catching a mage off guard.

Against multiple rogues, a cloth-wearer with paper-thin defenses didn't stand a chance. The mage barely got out a yelp before he dropped, his health bar erased in two seconds flat.

One-Sword Mountain's gut twisted. The moment he saw the rogues charge, he knew what was coming—but there had been no time to pull the mage back.

The death might have been just another casualty, but in this crowded space, the sight lit fuses all around them. One of One-Sword Mountain's backline mages threw out a wide-area spell to push back the attackers. The magic exploded in all directions… and clipped several nearby Orc players who hadn't even been part of the fight.

That was all it took. Those Orc players had already been inclined to side with the Undead in this mess. Now, having been hit by what they saw as a deliberate strike, they roared in anger and charged into the brawl.

From there, it snowballed. Neutral players, swept up in the moment, picked sides and swung weapons. Even some Alliance players who'd been keeping their distance decided they couldn't watch their own get hit without retaliation, launching spells into the largest clusters of enemies.

The Orcs who got caught in those attacks turned on them instantly, dragging friends into the fray. Soon, scattered skirmishes began to merge, feeding into exactly the kind of chaos Ryan and his group had been hoping for.

"The Horde's slaughtering Alliance players down below! Watch yourselves!"

The shout came from Nonsense, planted beside Ryan. It spread like wildfire. Players on the upper tier suddenly stepped away from any Horde members nearby, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Some of those Horde players had no idea what was going on. Just moments ago, they'd been questing alongside these people. Now, they were being glared at like they'd just stabbed someone in the back.

But then messages started trickling up from their own faction below: a group of unaligned Undead players had been killed by a large Alliance guild after blocking their path. Horde chat was lighting up with outrage, and rumors were spreading like oil on water.

The actual truth didn't matter anymore. Each side had already decided they were the victims, and the other side was fighting dirty.

The tension snapped when a wave of Alliance players from the lower level stormed up the ramps. They'd been overwhelmed down below by the Horde's greater numbers—but here, the top floor was thick with their own faction.

Freshly battered and eager for payback, they hurled themselves at the scattered Horde players like a pack of wolves.

Startled, the Horde struck back with everything they had been holding in reserve.

The entire top level players erupted into another brutal melee.