The game has become a real alternate world

Chapter 1157 - 802: What Is a Blood Pit

Blood Battle Battlefield.Blood Pit Fortress.

The demon attacks again and again, like layers of waves crashing down.

Driven by the will of the Abyss, these demons will not tolerate the sudden emergence of a fortress on this Blood Battle Battlefield.

The initial exploration ended in a tragic defeat.

This comprehensive attack yielded no benefits either.

Whatever the case.

Afterwards, Blood Pit Fortress can be momentarily stable for a while, barely holding its ground.

Whether it can truly stand here depends on whether it can withstand the various tactics and intrigue of the demons.

The clamor of battle gradually fades away, leaving only the rustling sound of abyssal acid rain washing away blood, and distant demon roars of discontent.

The filth of the Abyss and the smell of Night Watcher’s Alchemy Potion mix together, forming a unique, nauseating yet slightly victorious air.

The Bard pounds the Totem Pole heavily onto the ground, wiping away the stench of black blood splattered on his face with his rough palm, panting heavily.

Damn it, demon, die!

He survives yet another battle with the demons, once again collecting debts for his homeland.

Every extra moment of survival, every demon slain, further dissolves a portion of his hatred.

No pleasure can match the solace of hatred being avenged and dissolved.

This solace is why he’s always persevered, even amidst this relentless Abyssal Blood Battle.

He exhales a breath.

His bulging eyes scan the mountain of demon corpses piled beneath the walls, his gaze suddenly sharpens.

"Hey! Elf! Old Stone! Look over there!"

He hoarsely points to an area beneath the wall with fewer piles.

There lie the remains of Frenzy Demons killed by a concentrated fire from the Night Watchers.

As Bard speaks, everyone watches in shock as those demon corpses, which should slowly dissipate and be reassembled by the Abyss’ will, now rot and disintegrate at a visible speed.

The dark purple tough demon skin quickly loses its shine, dries up, and cracks; the knotted muscles turn ashen and scatter like charred wood; finally, even the large demon horns turn to ash within moments, washed away by rain and filth into the earth, disappearing without a trace.

The whole process isn’t very fast, but it’s definitely beyond the normal speed.

"My money! No wait, I mean such good materials!" a short member of the race shouts madly.

A tall creature next to him kicks him flying away.

"Is that the focus?!"

Is now the time to focus on such matters?

"Longbeard..." Grom also witnesses the scene, forgetting to secure his burning "Forge Crusher," his mouth slightly agape. "What’s happening? I’ve fought in Blood War Fortress for thirty years, even a demon soaked in Holy Water doesn’t rot this fast!"

If a God were involved, that would be another story. In this battle, the legendary young savior did not directly participate.

The demons also cooperatively did not deploy combat forces at the Divine Level. After all, this is still the early stage of the conflict, deploying top-tier forces right away would clearly be inappropriate.

The Elf Ranger now removes her cold battle mask, revealing a delicate but deeply fatigued face, her pointed ears slightly twitching, brows furrowed, and her emerald eyes staring at the ground where demons are "evaporating."

She isn’t specialized in sensing corpse changes, but keenly perceives a... bizarre "flow."

Though this is no longer her former homeland.

Though this too has become a world beyond her once clear perception of environmental shifts.

But after fighting in the abyssal Blood Battle Battlefield for so long, she’s learned to detect different atmospheric nuances within the environment.

"It’s not just the corpses... I can feel..." her voice ethereal, carrying a hint of disbelief.

"Their existence itself is being forcibly extracted, shattered... not just their souls, but even a part of their physical essence is being... devoured by the ’land’ here? No... more like forcibly stripped away and digested!"

This sense of deprivation is more thorough and overbearing than any purification ceremony she knows. Certainly, it’s not the normal digestion by the Abyss.

"It’s the Night Watchers’ attack!"

Nearby, a bandaged humanoid mercenary leaning against the parapet speaks hoarsely.

He’s no youngster, face etched with knife-like wrinkles and old scars, eyes cloudy but filled with wisdom.

He’s "Old Dog" Roger, a veteran who struggled in Blood War Fortress for over twenty years, one of the first avengers to enlist in this "new battlefield."

He observed this phenomenon early on, though initially simply presumed it was due to the Night Watchers’ special attacks.

But this time, fighting closely alongside the Night Watchers, he’s confirmed that while their combat style differs, the attacks aren’t fundamentally distinct.

Not to mention, the Night Watchers have issued them many relevant weapons and equipment.

"From the very start, I felt something was off. Did you notice? The Night Watchers’ crossbow arrows, their muskets, even the retaliation from their shields... any demon ended by them, or a corpse being too close to this fortress, breaks particularly quickly."

"That double-headed commander the Elf blinded just now, and Bard hit with a totem pole, wouldn’t have stopped writhing without that nearby Night Watcher delivering the final stroke."