Floating Fortress—Anvil No. 9, inside the observation cabin.
Observer Martina’s pupils suddenly contracted.
She saw the bodies of the Ratn ignited by sulfur incendiaries, twisting in eerie postures, the rotting flesh seemingly alive, slithering across the ground.
Her fingers had just touched the alarm crystal when, in an instant, the entire wasteland suddenly erupted with countless pustules, numbering in the thousands.
"What the hell is that? It’s unlike ordinary plagues, could it be another combination of so evil forces?"
Martina was startled at heart.
These damn Evil Gods, after all, couldn’t tolerate the swift advance of the United Army.
Even knowing they can’t gain much benefit, they still spare no expense in pouring in power to obstruct.
Then, each tumor split into Abyssal mouths filled with sharp fangs, from which demons carried by sulfur storms spewed forth.
"That’s a damn Gate of Abyss! Damn Blood God!"
Soone shouted in shock.
It was actually a bizarre combination of plagues and Gates of Abyss, these Evil Gods truly play with various evil forces to perfection.
"Concentrate fire! Open fire!"
The commander decisively ordered, those Abyssal mouths instantly beca the focus of their attacks.
Although most of the demons spewing from these Abyssal mouths were weak, their sheer numbers were still a troubleso adversary.
The twelve floating fortresses simultaneously turned their main cannons, the dark muzzles aiming at the target.
At this mont, the lookout saw a horrifying scene from the sky: a certain Ratman Shaman was viciously slicing open his own belly with a bone knife, his intestines entwined with a summoning array, floating in mid-air.
Clearly, the Apostle’s sacrificial descent ritual had begun again, and these Evil Gods were recklessly pouring in their power.
"Huh, expected this." Soone whispered calmly.
"Children of the Earth, it’s our turn!"
With a loud shout, the earth trembled violently, and rock flying dragons burst out of the ground, soaring into the sky.
Their massive and proud bodies descended from the sky, mud-rock beca their wings, and heavy rocks their weapons.
The entire earth seed to beco the territory of these earth dragons.
"I am the Child of the Earth!"
"For my father!"
These flying dragons had long been unable to restrain their battle spirit, and the intense battlefield thoroughly activated their warlike genes.
"Kill!"
The warriors of the United Army roared in unison, their morale high.
With the earth dragons as the spearhead, the United Army’s assault was unstoppable.
Dwarf war machine—Skull Crusher, between the tracks.
chanic Druk spat out a blood-tinged lump.
At the mont, his repair arm was burning with all its might, scorching the demon claw caught in the transmission shaft, while outside the vehicle, the unsettling wails of seven different demon frequencies echoed chaotically.
Suddenly, thick black liquid seeped through the observation slit.
The onboard purification runes emitted a piercing explosion—corroded by an Abyssal Corroder!
"Demon! Get lost!"
One-eyed dwarf Druk roared, quickly drawing a shotgun from his waist and fired five consecutive holy silver shells at the seeping point.
From beneath the vehicle ca the crisp sound of demons being incinerated to cinders.
This is a sacred dwarf war machine, not to be violated by demons at will.
"My poor steel darling."
Druk mumbled in distress.
As he restarted the war machine’s engine, the entire chassis suddenly lifted from one side, seemingly crushing sothing beneath it.
Under the tracks of the war machine, the demon’s body, head, and nurous Ratn were ruthlessly crushed into at paste.
The dwarf war machine was like an unyielding machine of war, pressing forward relentlessly.
In the ranks of the United Army, besides the veteran soldiers with rich experience, so elite new recruits were also integrated into this hidden unit.
After all, if only veterans were used, the enemy could easily spot the flaws.
The Night Watchers’ recruits’ alchemical guns had already turned red-hot. Since having these advanced alchemical weapons, the growth and mortality rate of recruits in battle had significantly decreased.
The recruits looked at the alchemical wristwatch in their hands, a gift from a friend to congratulate him on becoming a Night Watcher recruit.
At the mont, the watch continuously refreshed the kill data: 17 Plague Ratn, 3 Abyssal hounds, 1 two-headed demon.
This indicates how popular this piece of alchemical equipnt is within the Night Watchers.
It not only records kill counts but also allows recruits to clearly know who is "snatching the kills."
In fact, many Night Watchers are equipped with similar gear, though their appearances vary.
However, just as the new recruit was changing magazines, danger suddenly descended.
Over a hundred blood vines burst from the ground — living weapons cultivated from the spines of Evil God Followers.
The new recruit had learned about these terrifying weapons during cultural courses at the training camp.
He just hadn’t expected them to appear so abruptly.
For a mont, the new recruit found them difficult to resist.
So many blood vines were lashing down like rain; if he didn’t evade in ti, his blood volu would be drained instantly, with no chance of recovery.
The enemy, having long battled with the Night Watchers, had already developed a variety of highly targeted attack thods against them.
Although these thods were unlikely to change the tide of battle, they could at least cause a certain amount of casualties among the Night Watchers.
At this critical mont, Commander Laura swiftly hurled a shock thunderbolt, blasting an opening in the vine swarm.
However, at this ti, the strange gear armor jetpack behind her overloaded.
The new recruit unhesitatingly dove over, using his body as a human shield.
In his heart, the commander was far more important than a new recruit like himself.
Twelve blood vines pierced through his shoulder armor, with more poisonous thorns stopping just three centiters from Laura’s throat.
A shield shimring with holy light appeared in ti, enveloping them both.
The battlefield was ever-changing; an accident could claim the life of a warrior at any mont, but in tis of danger, rescue might co through the intervention of comrades and the randomness of battle.
"Boom!" A deafening roar split the sky like a thunderbolt.
The battlefield above suddenly ripped open with nurous rifts, through which various distorted and bizarre eyes peered down, sending shivers down the spine.
"Ah!"
"Get off!"
"Get out of my head!"
"Stop shouting in my ears!"
So soldiers in the United Army began rambling incoherently, clearly severely ntally impacted.
In each of the space rifts exceeding a hundred ters in diater, enormous sli-coated eyeballs slowly turned.
The Evil God’s malevolent gaze exerted a heavy psychological burden on the United Army soldiers.
A thick tentacle suddenly extended, striking with overwhelming force, sending a floating fortress crashing down.
The United Army’s first floating fortress thus suffered a loss.
Under the gaze of the Evil God, the previously fearful and cowardly ratn troops, who had tried to flee, seed injected with a frenzy.
The remaining ratn frantically tore at their kin’s corpses, piecing together sacrilege runes from the broken bones. Strangely, these runes caused the fallen United Army soldiers’ bodies to start twitching.
The ratn descended completely into madness.
"Attack! All evil will be destroyed!"
An old man with a white beard raised his holy light magic staff and shouted aloud.
A holy figure streaked across the sky like lightning — it was Vionasha, the Saint Blade Saintess, who also plunged into the intense battlefield.
Holy light gathered on her Saint Blade, fiercely slashing at the wicked tentacles stretching from the sky.
The combat strength of the legendary warrior fully engaged the battlefield, injecting massive strength into the United Army.
The Rock Flying Dragons streaked across the sky without pause.
Iron battle tanks rumbled forward on the battlefield, unfaltering.
The torrent of United Army troops rolled over the mutating flesh carpet.
The Dwarf tank group collectively activated backup energy, the rotating holy emblem saw blade popping out of the battering ram, exuding a sacred and powerful aura.
One tank courageously charged with four stitched demons, the onboard speakers blaring rousing dwarf battle songs at maximum volu.
The surrounding dwarves sang in unison, their morale soaring.
The purification flas roared from the tracks, burning the tentacles attempting to cling to the vehicle with sizzles and pops.
When the tank charged into the ratn’s sacrificial circle, sixteen onboard incinerators simultaneously operated at overload, forcibly dragging everything within a five-hundred-ter radius into a high-temperature purgatory, reducing it all to ashes.
Nobody knew how many incredible abilities these alchemical war tanks, privately modified by the dwarves and alchemists with Kana’s permission, hid.
The Night Watchers moved nimbly among the enemy, led by the Soul Reavers team — [The Slaughter Blades].
These squads, regarded as killing machines, entered an even more efficient slaughter mode.
Squad mber Hassanil plunged his Saint Blade into the ground, activating area purification mode, then drew two bizarrely large daggers and charged into the demon horde like a ferocious tiger.
Notifications from teammates’ channels continuously flashed in the corner of his vision.
When Hassanil precisely stabbed his dagger into the sixth demon heart, he suddenly realized the surrounding area had beco eerily silent.
It turned out no enemy was left standing within a three-hundred-ter radius.
Even with the Evil God’s intervention, this powerful assault legion’s advance was only slightly slowed, their montum not truly halted.
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