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A mage in a constructed chariot noticed that his colleague's craft had crashed not far from him.

He looked out of the observation hole - but unfortunately the field of vision was really narrow, which was another thing that made him criticize in addition to the stuffy and hot inside the chariot, although it was to guard against the strange and terrifying archery skills of the night elves, but why couldn't he add a force field shield?

The wreckage of steel that flew over interrupted his thoughts, and the head of the pilot mage, who was still trapped inside the aircraft, hit the observation hole, and the squeezing between the steel and steel caused his head to immediately drill through the observation hole - not because the observation hole suddenly became larger, but because the head was squeezed into a red and white minced meat, and it was able to pour in through the small observation hole, which looked like the filling that had been wrung out of the mouth of a meat grinder.

The mages in the chariot were sprayed all over their faces, and the mages who had just observed outside were coughing vigorously until something the size of an eyeball choked out of their mouths—it was actually an eyeball.

The chariot sank violently, as if it had been hit by a boulder fired from a trebuchet, and a huge sound echoed in the small space inside the chariot, and the mages who shook their ears and noses were bleeding, and if they could go back alive, it was estimated that they would have jointly written a letter asking for more shock absorbing equipment.

Forty-seven was in no mood or interest, knowing what the people inside the iron shell were thinking.

He paused for a moment and then jumped again, and at the same time opened the flail of his left arm and brandished the giant sword of his right arm, a mage shrouded in the whirlwind of death instantly gave himself the power of a bull and the lightness of a cat, rolling on the ground like a gourd to dodge the sweep of the flail, but the constructed mount was crushed like a papier-mé�, and before he could have time to heartache or rejoice, the shock and horror of the emotion was like a raging wave that overwhelmed him, and all the strength of his body seemed to be taken away, unable to move, and the moment he watched his sternum being trampled on, perhaps he regretted forgetting the blessing and protection of fear？

Forty-seven was like a whirlwind of darkness into the Argus mage's circle, and it was too difficult to construct a wand to aim at Forty-Seven's unconventional movements, and the mages themselves were too slow to unleash their magic, so they were not so much fighting as a group of men with a long pole to fight a monkey - and a monkey armed to the teeth.

The Argus mages began to retreat, for they were in a state of confusion by Forty-Seven, and at this time the Night Elves' sudden cold arrows were dangerous for them.

Finally, a constructed chariot that had been missed by Forty-Seven began to unleash fire suppression without regard - it swung its six stout and clumsy mechanical legs backwards, knocking down and smashing several of the mage's abandoned constructed mounts, and the wand on the chariot began to fire all kinds of magic rays frantically, and no longer caring whether it was its own position, lightning and fire intertwined into brilliant death fireworks, completely annihilating the black figure.

The mage in the chariot peeked out, and there seemed to be a rare silence around him, and that demonic thing should have been destroyed...... Even if it is cast by a legendary mage, it is just a multicolored ball to try its luck, and twenty in a row can make people unable to eat and walk around.

Before he could crack his mouth and smile, he saw a long black cannon barrel emerge from the smoke that was gradually dissipating.

"That's ......" The mage didn't even see the cannon clearly, his eyes were blinded by the red light that came into it. He howled and pulled the joystick, and the huge constructed chariot spun around like a mad ladybug, and if it had taken a few more steps, it might have been able to leave the artillery's line of attack - the flaming shells that were dragging tail flames did not give it a chance, and they melted through the shell of the chariot lightly, and after a moment of stagnation, the entire hull exploded, leaving only six stout, clumsy iron legs and a still melting chassis.

A small mushroom cloud rose into the air, and to Fado in the air, it looked like a puff of smoke and dust that had been smashed by a drop of rain.

It's really starting to rain.

It was a good weather for the Night Elves, as the rain that affected their vision not only reduced the speed and strength of the mages' attacks, but the gathering clouds obscured the newly emerging sun, so it was time to retreat back into the forest...... But first, the female commander of the Argus army had to be repulsed.

Fado followed the rain through the smoke rising into the sky and fell beside Forty-Seven: "Friend, I have found the commander of the Argus army! please help us repel her!

Forty-Seven glanced at her, was this a jack of me?But when he looked in the direction of Fado's finger, a strange sense of familiarity came over him—the light of various defensive spells obstructed his vision, but Forty-Seven instinctively felt that he should go and see what was there so disturbing his mind?

"You'd better not just cheer me on from behind...... Forty-Seven flapped his wings, and the wind and rain almost made Fado unable to open his eyes.

Sarn jumped to Fado's side, adding a lot of scars to his body.

"High-ranking warriors and druids who can still fight follow him-" Fado gritted his teeth, "The rest of the elves rescued the wounded and all retreated to the forest!"

Fado didn't have inexplicable faith in the semi-infernal creature that suddenly appeared - it was almost a suicidal order.

The Argus army began to counterattack. The walls of fire that rushed into the sky were erected one after another, almost connecting the battlefield into a sea of fire.

The mages proved that they were more than just fiddling with their weapons.

The ground cracked, and the tall skeletal warrior shook off the dirt on his body and stood up, dragging his giant sword and staggering away, and fire dwarves, salamanders and other creatures that were not afraid of fire also jumped out of the spatial rift opened by the mages, and even demonic creatures that only belonged to hell such as inferior demon refining demons appeared.

Forty-Seven flail flew a headless and brainless bad demon who rushed up to find death, and watched as the disgusting humanoid mass of flesh sprinkled all the way into the fire.

Denser and denser rains fell from the sky, hitting the burning earth and rising wisps of steam, mixed with yellow-green death clouds, surging into a strange and inexplicable form.

"What to do?" said Sarn, who jumped over a wall of fire and looked ahead at the fog that symbolized death, and asked Fado, who had transformed into a sturdy panther beside him.

"I can't use the wind control anymore...... You can only break in, otherwise the other party will soon spread the magic death cloud into the forest!"

Forty-Seven took some effort to defeat the skeleton warrior in front of him, this skeletal monster that was taller than him was also completely unaffected by the deadly fog around him, and the empty eye sockets burned with cold light, strong and powerful, but unfortunately a little clumsy.

That feeling of familiarity is becoming more and more apparent. It's right in front. But the clouds and flames obstructed Forty-Seven's vision, as well as the annoying summons, though many of them hung in the indiscriminate clouds of death of the mages. Forty-seven didn't like guessing puzzles, so he spread his wings and leaped out of the clouds of death, he had to see what was in front of him, regardless of whether he would become a live target in mid-air.

Twenty silver-white balls of light whistled at him—forty-seven of them had time to curl up before the twenty magic missiles bombarded him from different angles, exploding blinding silver-white fire. As if swept by a burst of ray cannons, Forty-Seven rolled twice in the air, fell back to the ground, fell to one knee, and did not react for a while.

An elven warrior running alongside Fado with his cloak over his mouth and nose suddenly fell headlong, and the deadly poison gas eventually claimed his life. No one stopped, and the elves behind jumped over him, these dozen elves were the elite of the patrol team, and their assault was to buy others time to survive-

"What is this guy doing?" Sarn ran past Forty-Seven, glancing back at the black creature that had stood up, but still had its head down, a little puzzled, but there was no time to think about it, they were about to rush out of the range of the Death Cloud!

Forty-Seven stood there, oblivious to the Night Elves rushing past one by one.

The moment he was knocked down by the Missile Storm, he saw the face of the attacker - a wave of magical energy stirred up the red robe of the female mage standing on the back of the spider, and the hood was flipped down to reveal long silver hair, the pattern that spread half of his cheeks was constantly twisting and swimming, and a pair of grayish brown eyes were crystal clear but expressionless towards Forty-Seven in the air, as if it was not a killing star rushing towards her, but only a fleeting gust of wind.

Forty-seven couldn't tell what the expression was, and I couldn't tell what the expression was. His blackened lips moved for a long time before he spat out three syllables: "Moriel......"

The first to break out of the dead cloud were two druids who transformed into tigers. They were amazed to see how few of the Argus mages remained—a giant steel spider stood at the forefront. Bursts of dark light emerged from the cracks in its steel, and the patterns all over its body seemed to flow and flicker, and the red-robed female mage on the spider chariot looked at them with a blank expression, as if the two colorful tigers were just mischievous little cats.

Without the slightest pause, the two tigers roared and pounced on them from side to side.

The steel spider at the mage's feet moved with dexterity like a real spider, without losing speed at all because of its size, and the mage leaned back to give way to a tiger's pounce, spun around and drew her long sword and slashed at the shoulder of the other tiger - her movements were fluid and invulnerable, but it seemed to lack the most important point, lethality, and the sword was more delicate as a ceremonial decoration than like a murder weapon.

So the sword was just a shallow wound under the tiger's ribs.

The tiger leaped out of the air following the path of the pounce, and I don't know if it was an illusion, the smoky fur began to dim as dead ash after the sword—the wound was not bloody, but rapidly spread a strange grayish-white, and it fell to the ground, not like an agile feline, but as heavy as a stone.

The two front legs were broken by the impact the moment they landed, followed by the unsupported head - the gray-white tiger rolled, and when it stopped, its body was already full of cracks, completely turning into a gray stone with muddy water.

The other tiger rolled on the ground, and when he stood up, he saw the miserable condition of his companion, and blood burst from the corners of his eyes—and with a terrible trombone, he pounced again, and was greeted by the two forelimbs of the steel spider.

The next person to rush forward in the rain of blood and internal organs was Fado, if it weren't for Forty-Seven rushing from behind with unstoppable force and knocking her out of the way.

He landed on the back of the steel spider, and the spider chariot on which his feet sank.

The latest chapter of the high-speed debut magic suit, this chapter is the third chapter of the burning jungle thirtieth round of the empire's attack (five) address is.