Athena in Tower Defense Game! [LitRPG]

Chapter 183 | Unfair Strategies

The sky blazed crimson under the unrelenting bombardment, as countless shells descended with overwhelming force. Beneath this fiery onslaught stood the focus of today’s battle—the Dark Elves.

To those who had encountered them, the Dark Elves were grotesque beings cloaked in darkness. Their charcoal-black skin was cracked and arid, resembling scorched earth. Slender, wiry limbs supported their diminutive frames. Their faces lacked refinement, featuring downward-slanted eyes and gaping mouths that oozed a sickly green saliva. Each held a crude wooden staff, exuding an aura of repulsion.

The sight of them was enough to evoke instinctive disgust.

But something felt off. Noticing this, Athena, the commanding officer, placed a firm hand on the shoulder of a nearby soldier.

“What are you seeing?” she asked, her tone laced with authority.

The soldier, jolted back to awareness by her touch, shook his head vigorously before describing what he’d witnessed.

“She… she was exquisite,” he stammered, his eyes glazed as if caught in a lingering trance.

The soldier’s voice trembled as he painted an enchanting picture: skin of deep amethyst, hair cascading like a luminous waterfall down her back, glimmering with a subtle violet sheen. Her eyes, enigmatic and fathomless, seemed to hold the cosmos. Clad in an elegant black robe that billowed like butterfly wings in the wind, she wielded a slender wand adorned with a radiant gemstone, pulsating with potent magical energy. Her presence was magnetic, commanding attention and reverence.

Yet the image was a lie.

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The Dark Elves lacked the elegance and allure of true elves. What they possessed was an illusionary ability to project such beauty. Their real strength lay not in formidable defense like the metallic monstrosities from the previous assault but in their agility and speed, coupled with a mastery of minor spells and potent illusions.

Below the city walls, an ethereal figure appeared—a vision of unparalleled beauty, tears streaming delicately down her face as she pleaded, her sorrow palpable.

Under the continuous barrage of cannon fire, she crumbled, shattering like a fragile jade figurine. Yet, even as her figure fell, another arose in her place. The visage was identical, a hauntingly beautiful apparition beseeching mercy under divine radiance.

Some soldiers faltered, trapped in the illusions. Guilt seeped into their hearts, gnawing at their resolve.

“Why are we doing this?” whispered one. “Why must we kill them? Are we truly justified?”

Their determination wavered. Thoughts spiraled, questioning why they deserved to live while these exquisite beings perished. The darkness in their hearts festered, urging them to lower their weapons and shut down the artillery.

Only the players remained immune, a grimace of revulsion on their faces.

“The prettier the illusion, the uglier the truth,” muttered one.

“Don’t look!” Athena’s voice boomed, augmented by a skill that made it irresistibly commanding.

Her words sliced through the illusion’s fog. Even those captivated found themselves instinctively obeying, clamping their eyes shut despite their lingering reluctance.

With their eyes closed, the soldiers continued firing. The Dark Elves were too numerous to miss. Yet, even as the illusions dissolved, cold sweat beaded on their foreheads. The temporary reprieve brought clarity, but the root problem persisted.

The illusion would seize them again the moment their eyes reopened.

“The only solution is to kill them,” Athena muttered grimly.

This ability was insidious. No matter how steely one’s will or robust one’s mental fortitude, the illusion targeted the core of human emotions. It didn’t simply seduce; it presented an irresistible reality, leaving the rest to human weakness.

The situation was dire. Athena devised a desperate strategy: soldiers would open their eyes for only three seconds to aim and fire before cycling to the next group. Any soldier ensnared by the illusion would be shaken awake by the players.

As the artillery barrage continued, Athena observed the battlefield. Though the Dark Elves’ physical frailty made them vulnerable to explosions, they compensated with their relentless numbers. Each shell claimed dozens, but more emerged, spilling forth like a tide. Their hypnotic illusions remained a thorn in her side, but the army was managing—for now.

After nearly an hour of combat, Athena began to feel a glimmer of hope. The defense was holding better than expected. She reasoned this wave might be deliberately weaker, preparing them for an even greater challenge ahead.

Then, the ground shifted. Her optimism shattered as she noticed something alarming.

The number of Dark Elves was increasing.

“What’s going on?” she muttered, quickly activating the tactical map. The previously obstructed pathways hadn’t been cleared. Instead, the creatures had begun to fill the trenches with the bodies of their fallen comrades, creating makeshift bridges of flesh and bone.

“They… they’re using their own dead?” she exclaimed, a chill running down her spine.

Indeed, this wasn't tower defense game anymore but one without rules, and nastiest strategies reigns supreme!

As the pathways filled, the trickle of enemies grew into a deluge. The Dark Elves’ numbers surged, doubling the pressure on the defenders. Meanwhile, their illusions continued to hinder the soldiers, and the scales of battle tipped precariously.

To worsen matters, the Dark Elves began to wield their staves in earnest. What had seemed like decorative props now unleashed devastating power. They moved in unison, their motions weaving intricate patterns as they channeled energy. Small, pitch-black fireballs erupted from their staves, striking the ground with explosive force. Though diminutive in size, these projectiles left charred craters where they landed.

One, then two, and soon an unrelenting hail of fireballs bombarded the walls. The air grew thick with acrid smoke, and the earth beneath the defenders turned to scorched wasteland.