The Godsfall Chronicles

Three or four hundred heavily armed sweepers are enough to cross the wilderness and crush any enemy who dares to stand in front of them, and the dire situation facing the Black Flag camp is far worse than encountering a tide of beasts.

Camp fighters do not have any advantage over mutants in terms of individual combat power. Besides, everyone is exhausted. Most fighters are injured. How can they continue to fight?

The cloud hawk was more worried than the sweeper, but only he knew about the entire camp, and it was no coincidence that there had just been a sandstorm.

This is most likely a masterpiece of someone or a weapon.

It's hard to imagine, or dare to imagine, what could create this supernatural force. Faced with the mystery of the unknown and unable to explain things, the cloud hawk is certainly no exception, so he finds this sweeper's motives and background unpredictable.

The two sides confronted each other a hundred or two metres apart.

The sweepers do not appear to be in a hurry to attack immediately.

A man walked out of the car covered in a wrecked cloak, with a big hood covering his face, unable to see his face and face, but rather than a murderous and agitated mutant, he appeared rather weird and calm.

This calm can't even feel the ups and downs of breathing. If you can't move, it's like a sculpture in a cloak!

The cloudhawk found a particular detail.

Even the most horrible and powerful ogres, when the mystery walks past them, they immediately take the initiative to give way and let the mystery pass by, as if fear would stop him.

These troublesome thinking abilities are long gone, and even so, they clearly distinguish between strength and weakness, are conscious of who the real leader is, and are more profoundly aware of the price that a rebellious leader will pay.

This memory has been deeply embedded in the soul in the simplest and most brutal way.

That's why it's almost instinctive to do this!

The atmosphere was as heavy as falling into a bunch of cement, like walking on dangerous wires, everyone had to breathe carefully, afraid that a slight change might upset the fragile balance.

The man in the cloak walked slowly ahead.

The cloud eagle stared at this guy dead trying to find a difference.

No matter how hard you try, you can't feel the strange fluctuations. Not him, not him!

Why has this power never been heard of before when such a man, dressed in steel armor, carrying heavy blunt instruments, various machete axes, bow guns, even forming a convoy, armed to a sweep group of teeth, could never have emerged empty-handed?

The two captains of the camp elite were very confused.

Why didn't the sweepers attack the wall and shoot in? Now the confrontation leaves camp fighters breathing time. Why do you do this? Absolutely powerful confidence? What are they waiting for? Or worried about what?

Bow is full of strings.

Bullets loaded.

Whatever the sweepers think, the camp guards spontaneously restructure their defenses, but it is clear to everyone that there is no advantage on the camp side right now. If such a battle is fought, whoever wins or loses, at least half of those who participate in the battle will be killed, and even the entire camp will be bloodbathed!

The atmosphere was so heavy that it was about to suffocate.

The figure in a cloak like a sculpture twitched slightly, lifting a pale, paper-like face from the hood, that kind of miserable white skin like plaster sculpture is not angry, dark eyes like endless night, when he winks, the eyelid is not the upper and lower eyelids, but the left and right layer of dark red film quickly closed and contracted, so it gives a very strange feeling.

The mystery man reached out to the camp: “This camp is ours. ”

His mouth was very casual, as if making a decision that didn't seem too difficult, like eating a piece of bread in front of him, or picking up a wildflower on the side of the road, his voice sharp and shady, weird and shady.

The camp didn't look very good on either side.

The mystery continues: "Surrender! ”

The cloud hawk's face also became strange, and the sweepers were all slaughtered and looted, sweeping around like locusts. Now these sweepers are trying to occupy this camp? Isn't that weird?

How could someone say yes to such a request? Those big cannibals can eat one big living man every meal without even throwing up bones!

You'll never be stupid enough to make your own food for the sweepers!

In front of this clear provocation, a skinny young man stood up and was the second captain of the elite regiment, a man nicknamed Wolf, whose eyes exhaled with anger: "Ask my knife if I agree first! Come get it if you have the balls! ”

There was a curse in the camp.

People are not provoked by this guy's arrogance, it's just that this is the only way to raise their morale to the bottom of the valley.

“There's no other way. ”

The cloak lifted his hand gently and the whole movement was very casual, as if greeting the neighbor on a sunny morning, but before making a final decision, he swept around and seemed to be waiting for something.

After glancing around, the mystery man paused for several seconds, wanting to wait for things not to appear as they had hoped, his gaze revealed disappointment, his voice was as cold as ice and full of death, clearly echoing back to everyone's ears.

“Okay, let's kill you all! ”

So casual.

So direct.

This does not seem like a daunting task, ordering people to drink a glass of water in front of them, simple and indisputable.

In front of the mysterious sweepers, perhaps these camps are packed with bugs that can be pinched to death!

“Ho, ho, ho! ”

The sweepers have waited too long for this order!

More than a dozen ogres began to move forward. At least a hundred thugs followed the ogres closely behind them. Their rough, simple but very thick iron armor made a rugged friction sound, like a rusty old train head. Each step shook the ground slightly, but they were firm and strong, blocking the flesh and blood in front of them, and were destined to be crushed.

The Black Flag Camp Guards had a frightened and frightened look.

Starting so soon? Who knew these bloody squadrons could say they were going to fight for a while, at least replenishing the depleted arrows and ammunition without a little mud and water?

The bear screamed, “Arrow! Fire!”

Camp warrior crossbow guns were fired, but the formation was too messy to concentrate.

A dozen giant cannibals lifted their arms to protect their eyes, and their thick steel armor was sufficient to cover all critical areas. These ordinary arrows or bullets had no way of causing fatal damage.

“Careful! ”

“Here they come! ”

A dozen trolls rush into the crowd at an alarming pace.

A large iron hammer weighing several hundred kilograms in the hands of a cannibal demon is no different from a small wooden stick. They lifted a heavy hammer high enough to smash five or six cows into the middle of the crowd in a rare amount of violent force.

Boom!

Two men crushed like broken glass into splattered flesh!

When that fierce force bombarded the ground, it seemed as if the earth itself was trembling, making people feel a shock on the bottom of their feet, the furious atmosphere and power caused the mood wave, and actually knocked everyone around them to the ground.

The camp warrior's long gun stabbed through it, making it difficult to pierce the ogre's skin even through the armor gap.

Cannibal hammers sweep away, and the human body flies away like a baseball.

Second, third, fourth...

These trolls march wildly, covered in thick steel armor, fearless of any attack, and every time they wield the hammer, they crush all the bodies they can touch, all to a blend of flesh and blood.

Every bulky ogre surrounds a group of homemade steel shields with huge axes in their hands.

These wilderness thugs, though not as stunning as the ogres, are also the warts of this wilderness sweeper, approaching two metres in size, twice as big as ordinary humans, with the left iron shield blocking any attack, and the right hand battle axe ripping the human body like a vegetable.

A group of light and moderate mutants with crossbow guns were behind their backs.

These mutants do not possess the first two powerful melee capabilities, but the slightly moderately mutated have smarter and clearer heads than the highly mutated sweepers, so they are responsible for sniping and intercepting with distant weapons and therefore specialize in sniping dangerous targets.

The sweep group's bows are special, each arrow fires a tremendous amount of power, and the accuracy is also creepy, all penetrating directly from the brain to the back of the brain, almost none of the people who are shot are spared.

Some wild moments on lizards or motorcycles, carrying sickles or long weapons are responsible for clearing both sides.

Such a complex team, such a powerful army formation, the strength of this troupe is beyond doubt, almost a one-sided massacre!

There's no room for camp fighters!

Warriors are dying screaming and screaming, as well as the sound of bone fragmentation and muscle deformation, as well as arrow bullets and torn air tsunamis, which flutter and interweave together, eventually becoming an unforgettable concerto that can be forever transformed into a sea of fear that can submerge any strong warrior and render his fighting ambitions inviolable.

The cloud hawk had seen and experienced a number of brutal killings, and he was well aware that the power gap between the two sides was so great that even the desperate resistance of the camp fighters was useless, and that their resistance was of no value.

The sweeper's relentless attack shatters all hope!

Both sides don't seem to be fighting at the same level!

This war is even worse than last night's beast tide was ten times worse!

The white mystery man in the hood quietly watched the massacre unfolding in front of him, as if watching a good show after a tea meal, he himself seemed to have no idea what to do.

Cloud eagles have a hunch.

Ten cannibals are no more dangerous than this guy. There is also a huge gap in front of him, and the reason why he doesn't do it now is simply that he doesn't need to do it.

How does this war end?

Where should we go to the Black Flag Camp?

The cloud hawk deeply experienced the grief of the weak, and he found that nothing could be done in the face of such a situation!