Mages Are Too OP

As soon as the oversized darkness of the sky emerged, almost all of the players in the enclosed range immediately took the field of view.

Only a handful of players with ‘dark vision' or ‘night warfare' expertise have a few meters of field of view.

And then the commanders of the guilds and the squadrons screamed, "Light me up, light me up without lighting. ”

Similar sounds fluctuate.

Soon a light ball, a bunch of torches lifted up.

There are at least hundreds of light balls, and there should be three or four hundred torches.

According to theory, this number of light sources should be able to illuminate the entire valley basin, but these light sources in the dark, like a match seedling, have a light source, but it is too weak, it does not seem to penetrate at all, even hundreds of light sources, the range of illumination is not very large, barely forming a feeling of dusk in the evening.

“The dark magic of the enemy can absorb light.” A commander reacted immediately and shouted, “Is there a minister of light, see if the sun shines brightly on this group? “

Soon a few small suns were at the bottom of the valley, and a few also appeared on the hillside.

It brightens up the whole valley basin, but it's just brighter, and it's not even daylight.

At this time, the sky sometime came out of the roundabout.

The surrounding environment seemed strange, as if everything was covered in dark fog.

But the players were excited, and a lot of people screamed, "Look at this, BOSS is coming out! ”

Turns out they just fell, and a bunch of dense, numb bats flew out.

Unlike the little bats that we've seen before, these bats are at least three times larger than they were before, and each bat's wings are almost one meter apart.

As the bats flew out, they followed a myriad of dense, numb little bats, looking like a long black smoke coming out of the castle.

“Developed, so many bats, sure a lot of vampires. ”

Many players shouted surprisingly, as well as some players subconsciously wiped the saliva in the corner of their mouths.

The large bats flying in front of them joined together and turned into an elderly man with pale skin and black aristocratic clothing.

Bruce glanced around and opened his eyes and drank: "You goddamn golden sons, we lived here for hundreds of years, you dared to break into our land, this is self-seeking...”

Bruce didn't finish his speech. A dozen nets came up from below, followed by countless crossbows, bows and arrows, and colorful magic missiles.

In the distance, it's like a circle of clutter halos contracting.

“BOSS, the BOSS is on. Anyway, if you output a wave first, whoever kills him will get 50 points. ”

Remote careers thrive on the output, while melee careers look at the BOSS hanging in the sky and are in a hurry.

“Get it down, get it down. Let's rub the knife. ”

A wave of remote strikes hit Bruce all over, but all attacks stopped three centimeters outside his body.

Brief decay, magic fails.

“A bunch of ants!” Bruce waved, and the dense, numb bat group behind him turned into a vampire and began the magical suppression of the air.

The magic of dense rain dropped from the air, typical carpet-type bombardment, not much, and the players in the dark sky died and were injured half the time, and, even more dramatically, Bruce did.

He rubbed a black ball of dark energy in his hands, and finally threw it down, falling into the middle of the sky. The circle rotated, causing a black tornado, circling at an extremely fast speed, sucking everything in a range into the middle of the bleed, and then spilling a piece of flesh.

The players hurried back a limited number of bad luck vampires, and then the living players didn't have to jump over and burn the vampires to the ground with fire or magic flames.

Bone powder with a flame red residue is then fed into your system backpack.

Because monks have little meat, some can suck a few taels, some can only suck a dozen grams.

But even if it's just a few grams, it's all small money.

Bruce looked at these golden sons who were desperate to rob the ashes, and his emotions grew more angry, but in this rage he gave birth to a little coolness.

As Roland stood on the hill, he was not covered by the dark sky, so he could only see a giant black sphere and not the environment in it.

But there are more and more players around.

Some players are also starting to build the Temple of Improvised Life altar nearby.

Then a green light flashed, and many players resurrected from the altar table and followed the later players, rushing into the black sphere like crazy again.

Yelia stood beside Roland, looking at the golden son who went to his successor, with some fear in his eyes, looked down the hill behind him and found many others riding from afar.

It must also be the son of gold.

He roughly estimated that there should be over 3,000 golden sons here.

“Are all your people crazy? ”

Jeria looked at a player resurrected from the altar table with red eyes and a screamer, 'Leave me some ashes’, and rushed wildly into the dark sky again, unable to help but say this.

“They want to make money, a vampire might be 50 gold coins, dark creatures, kill your heart, why not? ”

As Jeria watched the golden son of dense numbness rush into the dark sky, feeling some dry tongue, he could not help but loosen his collar at his throat: "But there is no need for such madness. ”

“Don't be crazy, you're not a vampire opponent.” Roland said softly.

“So you won't do it? ”

Roland grinned and said, "I'm waiting for the right moment. ”

And then in the dark sky, the vampires found something wrong.

They've killed so many golden sons, at least two or three thousand, why are there so many rushing in!

In the trance, another vampire or two was pulled down by a fishing net, or hit by an arrow, or hit by a magic missile.

Though these Golden Sons fight back against them, the response appears to be weak.

But every once in a while, there's always a trick, falling to the ground, and a whole bunch of prepared golden sons pouring their red eyes on it, burning it, grilling it with magic... in less than a minute, they can turn their own people into a pile of ashes.

And then they grab ashes, like starving dogs grabbing shit to eat.

When the robbery is over, they will look up at them with a pair of red eyes, like a hungry dog looking at a piece of shit they want to swallow in their stomach.

Though nearly two hundred blood tribes still maintain fire suppression in mid-air, the slaughter of the Golden Son continues.

But all the bloodlines, their hearts felt bad.

Including Elder Bruce.