Monsters: Evolving from Titans to Ancient Gods

The storm of spirit remains swept across the battlefield, obscuring most of the activity, but the voices of the Skywing race still reached the two of them clearly, sending chills down their spines.

"They actually buried so many of these little gadgets here; were they trying to deflect certain attacks?"

Jibril tossed the traffic control device in her hand lightly, her colorful eyes revealing mockery, her tone leisurely, revealing a malice that was difficult to describe in words.

"It's hard not to suspect that you started this sudden war."

Rick and Shubi fell silent upon hearing this. Under immense pressure, they didn't even dare to exchange glances, fearing they might be killed on the spot in a moment of distraction.

Jibril looked at the two tense people with a mocking expression, her tone contemptuous: "Don't you realize how much attention the human race attracts these days? We're watching your every move."

"Once we find your trail, a little thought will reveal your route, and then..."

"This technique..." She smiled as she looked at the two of them, tossed the access control device at their feet, shook her head, and showed just the right amount of regret.

"A one-way movement restraint spell. There are about nine thousand similar devices buried here. Judging from the angle, you're trying to divert the attacks from the forest elves and goblins to the... no, the elven corridor?"

"I see, I understand now."

Jibril seemed to suddenly realize something, crossed one arm over her chest, and tapped her chin with her long index finger: "Are you trying to make the Star Cup appear through this method?"

"A very good plan, but..."

Jibril gently raised her hand, and the purplish-black elven energy gathered into a long-handled scythe. The smile on her face gradually twisted, becoming as deranged as a yandere.

"Don't you know... that doing this will cause the Star Grail to appear before Lord Artshu?"

"Hehehe..."

As the offspring and weapon of the strongest god, Jibril clearly understood the power of the god of war.

The reason why the war has not ended and the Star Cup has not found a master is simply because the God of War does not want to end the war and has no interest in the Star Cup.

She has never forgotten the question she asked Azriel after realizing this conclusion.

"If He's so strong, why doesn't He get his hands on the Star Cup? Is it because He doesn't want to?"

In response, Azriel, the initial prototype of the Skywing race, said, "Yes, He doesn't want to."

He hasn't had enough fun yet; he's still waiting for a worthy opponent.

He was unwilling to even destroy the Elf Corridor, for once the Elf Corridor was breached, the Star Cup would appear before Him first.

It is precisely because of this that even though other gods and many races fought wars for tens of thousands of years, the wars never reached a truly heated state.

Revealing the Star Grail to this world rashly is merely to help the God of War seize the Star Grail and become the only god.

Even the God of War disliked it.

The existence of the God of War is the real reason why war has raged in this world for tens of thousands of years.

Barring unforeseen circumstances, before the God of War's death, none of the other deities had any intention of bringing forth the Star Grail or initiating a final battle.

Jibril stared at the two of them, her mockery evident in her eyes. Clearly, neither of them knew this, which was why they had come up with this method.

"Although I don't know how the machine race and the human race ended up together, your heads must be quite valuable collectibles, so I'll accept them!"

She wore a sickly smile, white wings extending from her lower back, and her whole body was surrounded by a surging, almost tangible, elven power.

Shubi immediately assumed a fighting stance, her body adorned with various machine-type combat gear, and her emotionless voice fell.

"warn…"

However, before she could finish speaking, Jibril interrupted her, "Hehehe, I've already scouted the area. There are no other machine races within hundreds of kilometers. Don't try to fool me by saying that the machine races have joined forces with humans. We know far more than you think."

Thanks to the birth of the new god, the entire Skywing race, under Azriel's command, changed its previous laissez-faire attitude and began to pay attention to and monitor the movements of some races.

The machine race and the human race are among them.

The Skywing race was aware of the alliance between humans and the Dragon Spirit race, and at the same time, they knew that the Machine race still showed no sign of wanting to participate in the war.

Jibril vanished instantly, and when she reappeared, the scythe in her hand was reflected in Shubi's eyes, accompanied by chilling killing intent and words.

"Go in peace. I will clean your heads and place them in a prominent position."

With a single, lightning-fast strike, Shubi, who was fully prepared for battle, was caught off guard. Although she quickly dodged, the sharp scythe still managed to sever one of her steel wings.

Shubi quickly raised the weapon materialized on her right arm and launched a counterattack against the Skywing in front of her. At the same time, Riku cast a protective spell on Shubi that originated from the Forest Elf.

"..."

The battle officially began, and the burst of elven power swept across the entire battlefield, raising a sky full of black and gray storms. The scattered fluctuations were accurately captured by the three forces in the distance, who all went to investigate in that direction.

"Spirits are fluctuating! Quickly, someone check what's going on!" Crimson Nilbaren issued the order amidst the tense standoff.

Opposite her, the goblin simultaneously issued the same command downwards: "Find out the situation immediately. If you really can't figure it out, then destroy that area!"

The two massive fleets broke free from their standoff and dispatched smaller warships to explore that direction almost simultaneously.

At the same time, inside the fantasy species in the sky, the first individual with emerald green hair put away its lazy and boring posture and looked in the direction from which the fluctuations were coming out.

"This is... Little Lucky Cat?"

"Wasn't she just going for a stroll? Why did she get into a conflict with someone in that direction? This is so reckless."

Azriel stared with dead fish eyes, and as she was about to see clearly, she ordered Raphael beside her, "Raphael, send all the sisters out."

"Now that Little Ji has started fighting, there's no need for us to wait any longer, meow."

As Azriel's voice faded, her address to Jibril sounded exceptionally intimate, even accompanied by a strange verbal tic. According to unreliable sources within the Skywing race, the source of this verbal tic was suspected to be the God of War himself.

Raphael didn't dwell on it, calmly nodding. Just to be on the safe side, she asked Azriel, "Which side should we attack?"

"Of course..." Azriel's smile gradually turned cruel, her eyes gleaming with a bloodthirsty light, her voice unusually chilling: "All of it..."

As she gave her command, Raphael nodded again, the command flowing through the air with elven power swirling around her fingertips, spreading throughout Abandheim.

Almost instantly, the Skywing species, who had been laughing and joking around every corner of the Fantasy Species and killing time, cheered and flew out from all directions, falling into the dark and silent world, their laughter echoing in the air.

At the same time, both fleets detected a dense array of high-energy sensors in the sky. Alarms echoed continuously on the bridge and deck, and everyone's expression changed.

In their observation, both sides were still moving closer to each other, so at this moment only one force could launch an attack: the Skywing race.

Only a bunch of lunatics would abandon their fantasy nature as warships and charge fearlessly at warships equipped with various defensive and counter-attack techniques and weapons, relying solely on their physical bodies.

The goblins and forest elves didn't have time to think too much and decisively issued orders for the entire fleet to defend and counterattack.

The battle taking place in the distance gradually intensified, with bright flames and shockwaves from explosions spreading far and wide.

Beautiful "angels" streaked across the dark, desolate sky; the dark clouds could not conceal the eerie ethereal energy emanating from them, and intertwined lightning illuminated their pure white wings.

As they stormed into the battlefield, the already heavy atmosphere instantly became even more oppressive. The powerful strength of the higher races instilled instinctive fear in many personnel of both fleets, causing their faces to turn pale and their bodies to gradually stiffen.

To them, it was as if they were facing not some beautiful angel, but a terrifying demon.

In a mere instant, the Skywing race burst onto the battlefield using one of their signature abilities, "Sky Shift".

Pairs of pure white wings stretched out, and various complex halos, like geometric patterns, intersected in the sky like arcs. Occasionally, one could see the terrifying eyes beneath those delicate faces, revealing chilling smiles.

The battle began at this moment. The Skywing race wielded weapons forged from elven power, and countless energies converged into dark energy pillars that crashed against the warships of both sides.

Each strike powerful enough to cleave the ocean landed on the shield constructed from magic, creating visible ripples. Surging energy dissipated into the air, sweeping across the battlefield along with the bursting shockwaves, and a massive storm of spirit remains gradually took shape.

The first wave of attacks failed to break through the shield, but the Skywings did not stop their offensive. They continued to frolic and soar through the sky, skillfully dodging the warships' defenses and counterattacks, and launching attacks again in the gaps between counterattacks.

The various energy torrents flickered with eerie colors, like clusters of deadly fireworks containing destructive fluctuations, illuminating this world.

The stray bullets and stray strikes scattered across this extremely solid world, creating countless explosions like nuclear blasts, and raising a sky full of black skeletal remains that converged into the brewing storm.

The surface rock layers gradually The land, already riddled with holes and ravines over the long years, has gradually gained new scars.

For tens of thousands of years, this has been repeated time and time again, with the various forces in the battle changing one after another, and the scars on this battlefield constantly increasing.

Crimson Nilbaren stood at the front of the deck, manipulating spells for defense and counterattack with both hands. The feedback from the spells displayed the data of the entire fleet's constantly being consumed by the spirits before her eyes.

The rapidly depleting energy alarmed her, even though the Forest Elves' magic was far more sophisticated than that of the Winged Elves who could only fly with their bare hands.

However, this intensity of warfare leads to an exponential increase in the consumption of warships. This is the Skywing race's combat strategy against warships: to move at high speed, continuously deplete the shields with low-power attacks, and then destroy the warship with a powerful blow when the energy is exhausted.

Throughout history, this simple and effective tactic has proven successful time and again.

As Crimson Neilbara stared at the sky, at the streaks of shadow that flew by and the countless torrents of energy, his spirits plummeted.

Just as she was hesitating whether to use the attack meant for the gods to kill a group of Skywings, a violent explosion came from the distant goblin fleet.

Several small and medium-sized warships burst into flames and crashed to the edge of the canyon while burning, causing a terrible explosion.

Burning debris fell to the bottom of the valley, the flames illuminating the deep canyon walls and igniting the miasma. The scorching debris landed on the long-dead wreckage of warships. The goblin warships had finally returned to their graves, and similar wreckage was scattered everywhere.

Among them were the wreckage of warships from goblins, forest elves, moonlit creatures, and many other long-extinct races.

Seeing the enemy's warship crash, Mori Seizu felt no joy whatsoever; on the contrary, he was even more horrified. No one knew the enemy's warship's power better than Mori Seizu.

This almost certainly foreshadows the fate of the Forest Elf warships.

Seeing this, Crimson no longer hesitated, gritting her teeth as she prepared to use the spell originally reserved for the God of War and the God of Vengeance; opposite her, the leader of the goblin race also nodded and made his choice, and a huge missile was poised to be launched.

The two races' supreme leaders lowered their fingers toward the terminals that controlled deadly weapons and spells, pressing them lightly, but were disrupted by a sudden spatial turbulence.

Thousands of Skywing creatures were blown away by the turbulent currents, the enormous warships tilted wildly in the sky, and dozens of colossal creatures appeared out of thin air, coming into everyone's view.

The dragon spirits burst into the battlefield, their dragon wings extending, their lofty dragon eyes sweeping across the battlefield.

Regin Levi, with his dragon wings outstretched, stood atop the mountain, his long tail swaying with his wings, intently gazing at the fantasy creature in the distant sky, as if waiting for something to arrive.

Amidst the goblin fleet, a soft sigh emanated from an empty throne, and the form of a god gradually materialized, eliciting cheers from everyone inside the warship.

In the sky, the blown-away Skywing creatures quickly gathered together, their eyes fixed on the dozens of Dragon Spirit creatures, their longing undisguised.

The moment they saw the Dragon Spirits, their goals shifted from the fleet to the more powerful and valuable Dragon Spirits.

But just as they were about to launch their attack, a green figure blocked their way. Azriel looked down indifferently at the gods and dragon king, making no attempt to hide the contempt and disdain in her eyes.

In the sky, the fantasy creature named Avantheim hovered above Skywing's head, strands of elven energy falling like chains and connecting to Azriel's back.

At this moment, she was no longer the silly, spoiled girl her sisters knew. Instead, she had reverted to the cold, ruthless war machine of war, willing to use her sisters as shields to pierce through them in the pursuit of victory, coldly ordering them to their deaths.

But the Skywing races preferred the cold-blooded leader before them at this moment, rather than the foolish thing who acted like a madman, ordering all the Skywing races to call her "sister."

The Dragon King, the Divine Race, and the Winged Race are all authorized to act as agents.

The war was temporarily suspended, and the three forces formed a triangle and began a new round of confrontation. Several forces that had accumulated hatred for tens of thousands of years gathered here, while the forest elves, who had no gods, were left out in a corner, looking out of place.

Meanwhile, in a corner of another continent, an area where almost all orc races gathered had been turned into a sea of ​​fire.

The flames of vengeance ignited the settlement, and figures seemingly composed of bones and flames strolled through the sea of ​​fire. No matter how the orcs tried to stop them, they could not be made to pause, and the orcs felt a deadly chill.

As the war raged, the revenge that had been shelved for tens of thousands of years also came forth, turning into a raging inferno that devoured the orcs one by one.

We have all the fantasy novel genres you like. Welcome to visit our site.