The foul wind carried rusted iron pieces, whistling across the battlefield.

This was a battlefield with a defensive line stretching for dozens of kilometers. As far as the eye could see, it was a scene of brutal war.

There were waves of magic power fluctuations all around, one after another, circle after circle, rising and falling, continuous and unending.

Some powerful large-scale magic left traces of magic power in the deep sky, lingering for a long time without dissipating.

The once clear blue sky and white clouds were tainted by the malicious chaos magic power of the Ratmen, and these magic traces ripped and scattered them wantonly.

Even as night fell, the battlefield did not plunge into darkness. The remnants of magic power traces in the sky illuminated the entire battlefield in a bizarre and terrifying manner, like a surreal and horrifying painting.

Underneath a rat fortress, the Holy Light Priest Evelyn stood in the midst of her team. A half-paw of a rat was stuck in the gap of her silver armor, swaying as she moved.

At her feet, three bodies of rat guards twisted and curled in Holy Fire, their charred bone claws still maintaining the posture of tearing at her cloak in life.

In the past, Evelyn would never have been so unrestrained.

As a devout follower and preacher of Holy Light, she had to pay attention to her demeanor at all times to demonstrate the sanctity and purity of the Holy Light to the world.

However, now, war had changed everything.

To hell with demeanor, all rats should die!

They followed the siege machinery, slowly advancing toward the fortress.

The hinges of the siege tower moaned like the dying. Fifty yards away, a dwarf engineer smeared with alchemical tar swung his warhammer, fiercely striking the jammed gears.

"Lift! Lift! You long-eared fools!"

The elves he cursed had no time to respond, their hands never pausing in drawing their bows.

His roaring voice mixed with the whistling sound of the catapults. A jar of liquid fire exploded on the left city wall, instantly turning over twenty ratmen cannon fodders into screaming fireballs.

The calls on the battlefield never ceased.

Evelyn’s prayer was ruthlessly interrupted. She saw the black figures of the Night Watcher raid squad flickering in the southeast corner, with Captain Laret leading twelve elite members, bravely advancing along a slope built of corpses.

This man who always held a dagger in his mouth, now held a poisoned short sword in each hand. The unique flexible joints of the snake-man allowed him to climb vertically along the wall like a spider.

He was a rare snake-man Night Watcher.

Three archer rats poked their poisoned crossbow arrows through the shooting holes, but in the blink of an eye, their throats were blooming with blood.

The Night Watcher assassins were not to be trifled with.

Of course, on the battlefield, they dared not frequently blend into the shadows, for that hateful Shadow God was always watching them.

For these assassins, without a doubt, the most hated god was the Shadow God.

"Oh Holy Light..."

Evelyn suddenly knelt on her knees, the gold-edged prayer box slipping from her trembling fingers.

Deep in the defensive line, the plague cloud was silently forming. In the dark green fog, countless twisted rat faces floated.

The chaos magic power surged like a raging tide, forming a strong pressure against the Holy Light. This spiritual pressure made Evelyn’s will nearly unbearable.

She forced herself to endure the discomfort, compelling herself to grip the cross scepter again, only to touch the still-wet blood at the end of the handle — the last trace left by the centaur knight pierced through the chest by a Ratman’s throwing spear three hours ago.

On the battlefield, although the number of dead Night Watchers was not high, they were not nonexistent. Even if they possessed the ability of datafication blessings, in the chaotic battlefield, there were inevitably times when recovery was not timely.

From above came the dull sound of steel tearing into flesh.

Twelve alchemical steam war vehicles finally broke through the outer defenses, their rotating chain saws slicing the rubbish-piled city walls into fragments.

"Hahaha, dead rats, taste the thrust of the dwarf grandpa’s long spear!"

The dwarves driving the vehicles laughed heartily.

However, the moment the first vehicle stepped into the inner city, the ground suddenly caved in, turning into a putrid swamp.

Six barbed fleshy tongues shot out from the ground, instantly ensnaring the three-meter tall steel war vehicle.

"Troll Rat!"

The dwarf engineer’s shout cracked with strain.

He hurriedly aimed the flamethrower filled with liquid fire at the flesh mountain devouring the armor, only to be horrified to find the fuel pipe had been cut by a Ratman assassin.

At this critical moment, Evelyn saw Captain Laret suddenly change his advance route, his black cloak sweeping over the burning ruins like a bat’s wings.

Behind him, a Night Watcher member used his body to block a plague stone hurled in pursuit.

Under such a heavy blow, that person was knocked to the ground, but merely gritted his teeth as he got back up and continued to fight.

When the third tertiary eye of the Troll Rat was pierced by the serpentine dagger, the entire battlefield suddenly fell into an eerie silence.

The cross scepter in Evelyn’s hand shone with unprecedented brilliance, and by this light, she finally saw the scene at the deepest part of the defensive line—twenty Ratmen mages frantically dancing around a bone altar, their plague Holy Grail filled with dark green blood.

"Mage Corps!"

The voice of the Holy Light Priest carried a tremor of fear for the first time, "They are summoning..."

The thunderous impact instantly swallowed her warning.

Before the final iron gate, three hundred heavy infantry pushed the siege hammer for one last ferocious assault.

The rotten oak gate collapsed with a boom, and in the dust settled a forest of crimson eyes.

"Plague Rat Swarm!!"

...

"The rats have started deploying suicide attacks within their defensive line, even if we break their fortress defenses, they will drag our soldiers down with them."

A commander roared angrily in the tent.

His rage was not without cause, these suicide attacks mostly linked with the plague put tremendous pressure on their side.

"This is the front line battlefield. When they resort to such means to slow our pace, it means they’re nearly at their limit." A staff officer reminded from the side.

Hearing this, the commander glared at him fiercely, "Those are my soldiers! Should I let them fill the gap with their lives? Their lives are much more valuable than those of the rats!"

"The soldiers’ morale has inevitably declined, even though the Night Watcher’s raids are brave, they still can’t turn the tide," another commander couldn’t help but say.

"Should I go boost the morale?"

Raelia asked, carrying her weapon.

She had just withdrawn from the battlefield less than a day earlier.

Her fighting style was aggressive and wild, capable of effectively boosting morale to some extent.

However, Blake, seated at the head, shook his head.

"No, I will go personally."

These words caused an immediate silence in the tent.

All eyes focused on him, then looked at each other.

"No, you are the general."

"Yes, it’s too reckless."

"The front lines will surely target you."

They were already stretched thin with their high-end combat power, able to barely manage in camp defense, but on the front line amidst chaotic warfare, if the enemy conducted a beheading operation, they were uncertain of having an effective response.

After all, they truly had few Legendary combat power assets.

"I have crossed that step."