Divine Glitch: I Regressed With Endgame Knowledge

When the resurrected Orc hunter returned to the spot where he had fallen, the Paladin who had killed him was already long gone. Still, the hunter prowled around the area, bouncing from one corner to the next, making sure there wasn't an ambush waiting for him.

Once he was satisfied the Paladin had moved on, an Undead Rogue slipped out of the shadows beside him. With a smirk in his voice, the Rogue said, "So what happened to that hundred-kill streak you were bragging about with your new technique? Looks to me like you were the first one to eat dirt."

"Damn it, don't even bring it up. Today's just not my day for PvP." The Orc hunter scowled, rolling his eyes. "That Paladin was stacked, popping Swiftness Potions right out the gate, and then my luck turned to trash. I was about to throw down a Freezing Trap, but before I could even move two steps, I stumbled into a trap myself. Even a god couldn't have saved that fight. Why's it such a shock that I lost? Even Cblack would've gone down in that mess."

"Whatever," the Rogue muttered, his annoyance plain. "Since he's gone, let's get back to leveling. If you weren't so fixated on your 'hundred-kill streak,' we'd already be thirty-one by now. The guild's not pouring resources into us so you can waste time chasing nonsense. And just so you know, the higher-ups have started evaluating teams. We're still in the top three, but the others are catching up fast."

"Alright, alright. Where to next?" The Orc hunter laughed, brushing off the scolding. He put on a deliberately innocent look. "You know me. I stick to main quests. I skip the side stuff and grind mobs for the experience."

"This time it's Nyman Cave," the Rogue said, pulling open his quest manager. "Over a hundred quests there. I'll share them with you." His expression shifted as a private message flashed across his screen, and when he spoke again his voice was low. "There are Alliance of Light players in the cave. Aside from Crimson Wake, who are off-limits, we're to kill every other guild member we find."

"Including that guy's guild?"

"Yes. Even his guild. He himself is untouchable, but his people are fair game. Keep their levels suppressed for a while. That'll give us room to catch up."

"Crimson Wake's playing by the same rules?"

"Exactly. Apart from our own Black Phantom, every Dark Horde guild is to cut them down unless our main forces show up." The Rogue's face hardened. "I don't know why the higher-ups picked us for this little game, but orders are orders. We aim for excellence everywhere else—why should the game be any different? Once we grind our levels back up, we'll still stand at the peak of the game world. Kings above all."

Not long after he said this, the entire Dreadful Mire erupted into chaos. Fierce battles broke out everywhere. Players who had pushed their way to level thirty with guild support were stunned to find themselves ambushed by specialized strike teams lying in wait.

In fact, it wasn't just any ambush—it was targeted. Only teams that had reached level thirty and entered the Mire were being attacked.

The newcomers were bewildered at first. Some thought they had unknowingly offended another faction and been marked for revenge. But before long, everyone realized the truth: the enemy's goal wasn't simply to kill them, it was to drain their stamina.

And when a player's stamina ran dry, it meant no dungeons, no grinding monsters, and every attribute dropping to rock bottom.

These ambushes weren't meant to rack up kills. They were meant to trap players in a state where they couldn't level at all.

The victims weren't tied to any single faction or guild. Their assailants had all disabled their real-time IDs, making their affiliations impossible to trace. On top of that, they were using system-generated appearances, erasing any visual clues to their identities.

Their coordination and skill were frightening. Two of them could overwhelm three opponents and still come out ahead. And it wasn't like they were fighting rookies—most players who had clawed their way to level thirty this early were considered elites. Yet even these elites were being forced back into safe zones, locked down by small strike teams that fought with brutal precision.

As the situation grew worse, the forums exploded. Arguments raged endlessly, but most of the player base was still in the level-twenty range, far from ever setting foot in the Dreadful Mire. For them, it was nothing but entertainment. They refreshed the boards constantly, watching the supposed elites cry out in frustration, and either offered hollow words of comfort or sharp jeers. The spectacle itself pushed the event into even greater notoriety.

Meanwhile, Ryan had already reached the Giant Insect Nest. The moment he stepped into the cavern mouth, attackers leapt out at him.

But the twisting tunnels inside the Nest were built for melee classes. Ryan cut down both ambushers without hesitation and moved deeper into the quest.

He released the pheromone as instructed. The Giant Insect Nest trembled with an unnatural vibration, and Ryan raised his guard. That was when a figure appeared behind him.

"Stranger," came a voice, cold and measured. "Who are you, and why do you carry this item?"

Ryan stiffened as control slipped from his hands. A cutscene had begun. Dimia, the mysterious woman, stood before him.

"Lord Malga has spoken," he said. "If you are truly only infiltrating the Twilight Cult, then in three days he will come for you. Wait patiently until then."

What followed was more than ten minutes of scripted dialogue and trials. Ryan sat there, wide-eyed, as he was dragged through test after test, deception after deception. By the time Dimia finally accepted him, he was shaken but impressed. Whoever had written this questline was a genius of intrigue.

"Await that day, Paladin," Dimia said at last. "And thank you for this good news. As a reward, I shall grant you a small token."

She raised her hand. A golden light poured over Ryan, and a clear chime rang in his ears. A notification popped up.

—

Congratulations, player! You have received Dimia's Blessing! Your movement speed in the Dreadful Mire has been restored, and you are now immune to its traps!

—

Ryan blinked, then groaned. "You've got to be kidding me. This was possible all along?"

In his past life, the Dreadful Mire had been infamous, feared by countless players who had suffered its traps and penalties. Yet here was a hidden way to walk freely through it.

But then Ryan shook his head. "What's the point now? I'm already overleveled for this place, and I'm not even doing gathering professions. The Mire doesn't matter to me anymore."

He pushed the thought aside almost immediately. "Forget it. Time to turn in the quest. The real reward is waiting for me there."

And just like that, Dimia's blessing faded to the back of his mind. His focus shifted to what lay ahead.