Chapter 300: Damage Inflicted by the Gars
Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios
Arthur’s sword penetrated a Gno’s head, but it didn’t stop his movent. Peasant hacked with his Great Axe to destroy the Gno’s body and immobilize him.
Though the gars were fighting violent battles and occasionally used Mana Skills that created “Pom” sounds, it was a far cry from the battle at the side.
At the Dungeon Lord Main Hall, Sherlock and Samael were locked in a vicious battle. The frequent crashing of buildings made loud impact sounds. A series of Mana Formations appeared in the sky, and crimson lasers covered the ground, followed by sequential explosions.
“Pom!”
“Boom!”
“Clank!”
Such sound effects were heard.
“I’m full of praises, I’m going to give the special effects full marks.”
NotWearingPants climbed down from the buildings. He was clean since he hadn’t engaged in battle.
Arthur was covered in blood, but he hadn’t died yet. Many gars had perished once. Yoda flew the Airship to Winterfell. Once the gars revived on the Airship, they could have unlimited replenishnt of troops.
“It’s not good to continue fighting. We have to kill the BOSS! The minions will keep coming!”
BurningChestHair, who was covered in wounds, wielded a pair of Daggers. His Breastplate had a gaping hole that required extensive repair. He said excitedly, “Quick, Pants, gather all of our Guild mbers! Leave the minions to individual gars and other Guilds. Let’s fight the BOSS!”
“Gosh, fight the BOSS?” NotWearingPants pushed down on BurningChestHair’s head and pointed to Sherlock, who was fighting within the ruins.
“How do you fight the BOSS in that kind of a battle?”
“Don’t we need to perish tens of tis when we fight with a BOSS in all online gas?” BurningChestHair said.
Arthur nodded his head as he said, “Yes, I think ChestHair makes sense.”
NotWearingPants didn’t rebuke Arthur. He went to call for other Guild mbers.
There were nurous servants of Samael, but they couldn’t be compared to the unlimited revivals of the gars.
Tens of mbers of the Pioneer Alliance were redeployed such that they didn’t affect the outco of the battle.
A strange thing occurred.
The outer circle was ford by a thousand gars. They fought with Samael’s servants, who ca from all directions.
Nearby was Sherlock and Samael having an immortal battle.
The Beta Gars of the Pioneer Alliance were outside the circle, preparing to engage the BOSS.
They were sharpening weapons, distributing food, and discussing combat tactics.
The most important thing was combat tactics. In this ga, there was only one way to fight a BOSS.
That was to arrange more than ten Tanks to distract the BOSS while DPS inflicted as much damage as possible from behind the BOSS at a distance. As for close combat DPS, they waited for opportunities to conduct suicide attacks.
The Tanks stripped all of their armor and were only ard with shields.
Peasant stripped himself bare. Even his weapons were on the ground. He was only ard with a shield. Yoda was on the Airship, gaping in astonishnt. The gars weren’t bothered. It was understandable for NPCs to beco dazed once in a while.
Peasant took up a large Kite Shield that was the size of a Gno. He was naked as he shouted, “Let’s go! I’ll go first!”
...
Sherlock and Samael were still locked in a vicious battle. Sherlock had to sustain the Mana to revive the dying gars as he deflected Samael’s incessant attacks.
After a pair of featherless wings sprouted from his back, Samael’s combat power had risen to a new level.
The spiraling black Pike that had black Mana hit at Sherlock’s body.
A Mana-filled Rune Shield blocked the stabbing of the black Pike.
The Rune Shield appeared in Sherlock’s hand instantly, deflecting Samael’s attacks.
“Sherlock, do consider my suggestion. If you hand over Michelangelo’s relic, I’ll let you off, and you’ll be my loyal servant. I’ll open the Gates of Hell completely and teach those who bragged about...”
Samael opened his mouth, which was filled with long, sharp teeth, and opened his crimson eyes. He discussed his plan excitedly with Sherlock.
He was interrupted by a small voice coming from his back.
Because the power was so small, Samael could almost ignore it.
But he forgot he was in a human’s body.
“Jab.”
An arrow landed on Samael’s wing, which had only a few black feathers.
Black liquid flowed out and eroded the arrowhead, and the arrow shaft fell to the ground. However, there was a wound on Samael’s wing.
Samael turned his head and saw a naked Gno who was wielding a Kite Shield and another armored Gno who held a Short Bow. That was the Gno that shot him.
The other naked Gnos shouted excitedly.
“That was aweso, Sister Vanas!”
“Cool! I thought you were going to kill Sherlie with your arrow!”
“That’s fantastic. Sister Vanas did practice archery daily.”
“The rise of the archers starts with Sister Vanas.”
The gars whistled while Sylvanas raised her Short Bow and fired at Samael’s face. The bowstring emitted a “Swoosh!” sound.
An arrow flew past Samael’s wing and missed.
“It’s alright, Sister Vanas, buck up!”
“Let try!”
“Gosh, don’t shoot Sherlie.”
The gars chattered noisily, and Samael was exploding with fury. When he was shot by these low, weak, and stupid green-skinned creatures, his rationale was almost overwheld by rage.
Samael didn’t have the chance to kill those gars.
While Samael was distracted, Sherlock grabbed his hair and smashed him against the ground.
At the sa ti, Sherlock raised his other fist and smashed hard onto the back of Samael’s skull.
The gars charged, ready to inflict maximum damage.
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