The battlefield was divided into countless small sections by rigid spikes, with flas burning within.
Everyone was forced to face a clone of the Elderly, although just a clone, its strength was in no way inferior.
And the decayed flesh covering the entire field was fully activated, transforming into nurous arms at the adventurers’ foothold, grasping at people. A slight delay in dodging would result in being caught and subsequently dragged into the irretrievable Abyss.
Adventurers with slightly less mobility, like the Giant Gate Bara, were already pulled into the mass of decayed flesh.
The number of adventurers still holding on had dwindled down to single digits.
"Bang—"
The Great Calia descended, as Leon suddenly realized that using Combat Skills with a Magic Attribute against the Elderly dealt less damage than direct physical slashes.
The "Gwendolin" composed of decayed flesh wielded a long-handled sword and swung down with considerable force. Before Leon could counterattack, it burrowed underground only to reappear at the farthest corner from the adventurer, switching to the Dark Moon Longbow to start raining arrows.
Dodging countless attacks and running around for half a day, only to manage to injure the opponent once or twice—Leon found it truly torturous, feeling like he was back fighting the Crystal Elder.
But... don’t you, Elderly, have any other tricks besides controlling Gwendolin’s corpse?
Other than manipulating decayed flesh, I’ve never seen you use any other moves!
If there weren’t so much decayed flesh on the field to control, Leon felt they could have taken down the opponent by now!
With the prolonged fighting, it’s inevitable for one’s focus to waver, especially when you’re clueless about your allies’ status.
Even Leon montarily faltered in battle, imdiately taking an arrow to his knee and falling mid-run.
Spikes instantly surged from the decayed flesh, piercing his chest in a single strike—as if to humiliate him, they even lifted him high into the air, from where he could look down on other partitioned small battlefields.
Seeing others also struggling desperately, Leon could only sigh and remark:
"Thankfully, I didn’t agree to Lulu’s idea of streaming this battle."
Or else it would have been utterly embarrassing.
As the decayed flesh crept up along the spikes to envelop his entire body, it seed poised to strangle Leon to death by wrapping around his neck.
Leon was just mustering his strength to deliver a final desperate blow, his expression growing slightly ferocious.
At this critical mont—
"Boom!"
A pillar of fla erupted fiercely beside him, the roaring fire even singeing half of his golden hair!
"Ah!" Leon hadn’t been so startled in ages; the fla, seemingly conscious, incinerated the decayed flesh stuck in his chest, casting him into a rapid freefall towards the ground.
The ground’s decayed flesh writhed frantically as if provoked, with countless spikes poised to turn Leon into a porcupine!
However, the fla smashed through the rigid spikes and imdiately spread like wildfire across the decayed flesh on the ground, visibly slowing the flesh’s writhing pace as it was seared.
Leon plunged straight into the burning decayed flesh. Initially, he pondered which death would be more painful: being impaled by decayed flesh or burned alive, but when he landed, he discovered...
This new fla wasn’t scorching at all?
Not only did it not burn him, but the fire actively sealed the gaping wound in his chest. As the fire resided within him, he felt his energy replenishing rapidly, akin to consuming a whole batch of pleasurable drugs, so invigorating he felt like dancing on the spot!
In short, he was thoroughly thrilled.
Amidst the euphoric state, he didn’t forget to look for the source of the fire pillar.
It was a... person clad in pitch-black Armor?
Matilda?
No, though it looked quite similar, Matilda’s Armor was bronze, and the helt resembled a bull’s head.
But the person at the center of the flas—their Armor appeared charred black by fire, and the helt design wasn’t a bull but more similar to another beast... a wolf? or a canine?
When that person extracted a greatsword from the decayed flesh with a fla-ford arm, the already raging fire intensified massively, turning the enclosed hall into a blazing furnace, relentless in its burning of any foes!
Standing amidst the flas without suffering harm was an extraordinarily peculiar experience, and the mont Leon saw the greatsword, he recognized the identity of the armored figure.
It was Elsa!
Elongated red gleams flowed from the gaps of Hell’s March, and a scarf made of fire danced in the wind. The beast-shaped helt parted with a great maw, her body leaning forward, looking aggressively poised!
The state of the Armor seed highly unstable, a second pair of spike-covered arms grew under each armpit amid pulsations, countless red humanoid phantoms erged behind Elsa. In the blink of an eye, the phantoms filled the hall, each flickering image indistinct in features, yet each evoking a sense of sorrow.
In a blink, the phantoms seed to morph into flickering candles, scattering across the field, making this place resemble...
a morial hall for the deceased!
As the flas suppressed the decayed flesh’s activity, any adventurers who still had the strength struggled to erge after being dragged down earlier.
Matilda’s head surfaced, and upon witnessing Elsa’s frenzied figure, her expression was extrely complex.
It was like seeing one’s significant other having an unexpectedly wild ti with soone they’d only known a few days.
Fingerley appeared at her side, also stunned by the sight of the countless phantoms, murmuring:
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