A melee.

Yet another unprecedentedly terrifying fight.

The initially wide and spacious flying deck became frighteningly chaotic the moment it turned into a battlefield of slaughter. Over two hundred individuals were simultaneously bathing in blood and fighting upon the bridge.

The only conclusion to so many fighters of two opposing factions was a bloody massacre.

The moment the elven army charged through the energy forcefield, runes of every color, shape, and size shone everywhere across the deck. Yellow, red, blue, green, faint golden, faint silver; a large patch of colorful lights filled every corner of the deck, brilliant and blinding.

The most eye-catching individuals on the deck were still the magical machines scattered around the sides of the ship and the entrance to the cabins.

They were all each four to five meters tall, and their towering bodies gleamed with a cold and chilling metallic light. Their thick torsos let out the grinding sound of gears unique to metallic constructs every time they turned. Their appearances were not uniform, but they were very clearly split into two different types of machines– ranged and melee fighters.

Groups of ten magical machines would be found guarding the sides of the ship with a distance of twenty to thirty steps between each group, and the ratio of ranged golems to melee golems was 8 to 2. That meant that every magical machine squad was composed of eight Archers and two Shield Swordsmen.

They each took up a corner and attacked the elves that approached them with a dense barrage of bullets. If any elf were not sufficiently quick on their feet, they would be trapped by the combined firepower of two to three magical machine squads.

The magical machines had turned themselves into affixed cannons under Greem's command, restricting and tearing apart the formation of the elven army to the best of their abilities. The elves had no choice but to scatter before these dispersed yet organized magical machines. They formed small groups of two to three and attempted to charge and dispose of these magical machines.

At this moment, the witches were completely spared any attention and were free to attack as they wished.

They gathered up in small groups and freely moved about the decks.

The moment they faced any difficult opponents among the elven ranks, they would instantly hide within the closest magical machine squad. In doing so, they neutralized the ferocious attacks from the enemy. On the other hand, any elves or summoned beasts that were isolated from their companions were beaten down by the witches the moment they were caught.

It was this tactic that allowed the severely outnumbered witches to fight off the savage attack of an enemy five times their number. They had finally started stabilizing the battle situation.

If there were anyone who could casually stroll upon the flying deck, they would be very honored to experience all sorts of attacks and mysterious spells personally.

In such a battlefield, even a dragon would have to hide, and even a tiger would have to crouch. If your ego got the better of you while you had yet to attain true invulnerability, then tragedy might greet you at the very next moment.

Take for example the powerful bird druid that was at First Grade peak level. He suddenly transformed into a terrifying Socrates Condor and wrapped himself in a layer of semi-translucent wind vortex. The druid then used his astounding speed and sharp wind blades to move through the air above the deck, almost as if there was nothing to stop his advance. He would occasionally toss a fearsome tornado down into the battlefield and flee after throwing the enemies there into chaos.

It was his arrogance and recklessness that drew the attention of many magical machine squads and witches.

When he once again flared his wings and dove down from above to drive away a Fate Witch with a sharp wind blade, something happened. His life froze at this very moment.

Three Spears of Darkness shot out from different angles, shooting straight for his massive eagle form.

This bird druid was indeed an elite-level druid. He flapped his wings rapidly in succession and just barely avoided the combined attacks of the dark witches. However, when he flew past a magical machine squad, a grey halo that seemed to have predicted his trajectory landed upon him.

Hold Monster!

If he was still in his human form, he would never have been affected by this oddly niche spell. Yet, he was the one who made himself a magical beast at this moment. The weak effects of Hold Monster caused his gliding body to stall for a brief instant.

This instant was no more than one-third of a second. It was only enough time for an ordinary person to blink. However, this was more than enough time for enemies that had been lying in wait.

The three closest magical machine squads turned their guns at the same time. The concentrated firepower shattered the wind vortex shields around the druid in that short time he was stunned. The very next second, the bird druid let out a cry of agony. Plenty of red spots spurted from his frail body just as he intended to move away from his current position.

When he finally struggled out of the ambush area, his blood-soaked body was hit by Poison Hag Endor's Poison Cloud and Icelady Snowlotus' Ice Blast.

This Socrates Condor with a wingspan of seven meters wobbled and crashed to the ground before it could fly much further. Soon, the area upon which he crashed rang out with the rumbling footsteps of razor boars, berserk apes, and Shield Swordsmen magical machines.

Naturally, his crippled body was turned into unrecognizable blood paste!

The sinister nature of the witches merged with the ferocity of the magical machines, turning the flying deck into a swamp of war filled with death traps at every corner. This horrendous flood engulfed all elves that charged up the deck. They stormed left and right and were knocked forward and backward, the confrontations bloodying them and placing them at death's door.

Of course, the elves still had the advantage in numbers!

That was why the magical machine squads were slowly being exterminated one by one under the elves' powerful and ferocious charge. The witches were sent packing and running across the deck. The battlefield was bloody and brutal!

Overall, the elves were far superior to the witches, be it in terms of number or quality. In particular, the number of Second Grade powerhouses they possessed crushed those of the adepts entirely.

Without anyone to restrain them, the Second Grade elves would only need to gather together to annihilate the magical machine squads on the flying deck easily.

The two terrifying Second Grade Druids of the Claw instantly transformed into a frightening Giant Raging Ape and an Iron Rhinoceros, respectively. They relied on their strong bodies to brave the barrage of bullets and charged into the magical machine groups to stampede them. The two Shield Swordsmen in one of the groups were smashed to pieces by the brute force of the druids before they could even do anything.

The remaining Second Grade elven deadshots then swarm forward and drew their bows to fire at the machines from a point-blank distance. They used their powerful elven archery skills to exterminate the Archers rapidly.

Meanwhile, the weapons master cut down the magical machines like chopping vegetables when they let their inner power erupt. However, they would enter a temporarily weakened state every time they allowed their inner power to flow in that manner. They wouldn't typically use such this powerful battle technique when they were fighting alone. Now that they had the protection and shielding from their companions, the weapons masters that were only good at melee turned into ferocious fighters.

In less than thirty minutes since the start of the battle, the elves had lost a dozen of their number, while over half of the witches' magical machines had been destroyed.

If the enemy was allowed to clear up the rest of the flying deck, then the witches were very likely to be forced into a direct confrontation next!

When that happened, it would be the real time for the weapons master and elven deadshots to put their powers on display fully. The witches, desperately in need of larger battlefields, would have their power severely limited.

At this moment, the only four Second Grades on the witches' side had no choice but to step onto the battlefield.

Greem had sent the severely wounded Dragonborn Zacha to Alice's side. He guarded the entrance to the ship's interior along with Alice. Greem had Tigule's Goblin Shredder stand by his side and act as his bodyguard.

Greem had no authority to command the Second Grade dark witch and could only let her do as she wished.

Once everything had been arranged, the two Flame Fiends pressed toward the elven army with heavy and slow steps, their fearsome and blazing bodies swinging as they moved.

The two Flame Fiends raised their magma hands and instantly erected a massive Ring of Fire on the deck. All elves caught in the Ring of Fire fled outward frantically. Those who were slightly slower to react or move found burn marks and sparks upon their bodies.

The combined blockade of two Second Grade Flame Fiends was apparently not something that First Grade elves like themselves could easily withstand.

All the elves were forced to retreat to the edges of the deck. There, they reorganized themselves into a combat formation. The magical machines that had suffered tremendous casualties took this chance to retreat. They gave up on the part of controlling the deck and restricted all of their forces to the vicinity of the ship's entrance.

In all seriousness, the appearance of Greem and the Flame Fiend had, to some extent, cleared the battlefield.

The center of the flying deck turned into a hazardous zone where only Second Grade powerhouses could set foot. As for First Grades? If they didn't want to die, then they had best stand by the sidelines!

Thus, eleven powerful elves of various shape and size emerged from the elven army, firmly taking up position on one side of the battlefield. Meanwhile, on the witch's side, there were only two extremely intimidating Flame Fiends and one incomparably powerful magical machine warrior.

The Dark Witch had utterly hidden herself in the darkness on the battlefield. There was no way of sensing her exact location.

It was eleven versus three!

It didn't matter how you looked at the situation. Greem's side was most definitely at a disadvantage.

Still, one had to admit that even though the elves had the superior numbers, the group of beasts and frail elves could hardly catch their breaths when pitted against these two towering Flame Fiends shrouded entirely in flames. That barbaric and dominant aura of destructiveness that sought to reduce everything to ashes was far too oppressive.

When a powerful fire adept that chose pure fire mastery and specialization stood upon the battlefield, his aura and manner were simply too imposing and dominant!

All the elves that stood before the two Flame Fiends felt their hearts tremble.

These were the blasphemers. These were the enemies they needed to exterminate this time.

What was the price they needed to pay to obtain victory?

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