There were too many—so many that the entire land was cramd with spirits.
This wasn't an exaggeration; it was almost literally the case.
In such density, both sides were on the verge of being swallowed by the tide of the dead.
"Boom—!"
A massive explosion erupted, scattering countless fragnts in all directions—which were, in fact, the remains of nurous spirits.
These spirits showed no concern for allies, nor did they hold back for fear of collateral damage.
They attacked relentlessly and did not turn on each other.
Moreover, one shouldn't assu that the giants' attacks were purely brute force. If they relied solely on violence, the Giant Wars of old wouldn't have been so arduous.
They, too, were gods, capable of unleashing a variety of assaults—lightning, storms, and more—all sweeping across the battlefield.
Then, the scene shifted back to the recent explosion, which had occurred in Odin's area, where a Ymir's offspring had launched a black energy sphere.
It appeared to be pure destructive power, but if this had happened in a normal world, on fertile ground, one would find that everything within the blast radius had its life force drained, and even the earth itself would die in that area.
Yet, such an attack failed to breach the defensive spells Odin had constructed.
On the contrary, Odin released a volley of needles from his hand.
Any spirit struck by them ceased functioning, as if a robot had its power source cut off.
Of course, more powerful spirits required a few more needles.
However, Odin didn't haphazardly fire these needles at the spirits; it seed targeted, as if he focused on the cannon fodder types, while he waved his hand to unleash various spells to eliminate others.
So were torn apart by storms, so scattered by lightning, so reduced to ashes by flas, and so impaled by earth spikes, among other fates.
This spectacle made it seem as though Odin was flaunting his vast array of magic, given that he is also hailed as the Father of Spells.
But in reality, this wasn't Odin showing off his magical prowess—
"Truly worthy of Odin,"
"Using the minimal expenditure and the most appropriate attacks to eliminate targets."
"This way, he can minimize the consumption of his power."
The observing chief gods remarked in admiration.
For instance, if a spirit excelled in fire attacks, ice would be its counter, so Odin tailored his assaults to exploit such weaknesses.
Thus, being able to quickly determine which spell countered which opponent amid such dense spiritual attacks demonstrated that Odin's title as the God of Wisdom was well-deserved.
Don't think that Odin recognized every single spirit—that would be impossible.
His analysis relied on the attack patterns of the spirits, the fluctuations in their power, and how their spell structures would react. Often, before the enemy could even launch an attack, he had already deciphered what they were about to unleash and had prepared the corresponding spell, releasing it a step ahead of them.
When released, they would strike the weakest points of the enemy's defenses.
Simply put, Odin at this mont was akin to a super AI from human sci-fi movies—using supercomputing to rapidly predict and calculate the next moves of each target, then imdiately launching precise strikes to ensure not a single bullet was wasted.
"But this guy is also ridiculous."
"A walking laser turret."
Turning to the other figure—Romulus Quirinus, clad head to toe in shimring gold, he continuously unleashed a barrage of laser-like attacks.
Each of his attacks appeared to be of the sa caliber, so it stood to reason that so of the more powerful undead couldn't be eliminated with just one shot, right?
The solution was simple: just fire more shots!
These attacks, which looked like lasers, were actually not lasers at all. They were spears of light, but their speed was so extre that the trailing light they left behind made them appear as laser beams.
All these attacks originated from his golden armor, emitted from circular, concave white holes that essentially functioned as laser cannon barrels.
This guy was purely compressing divine power and blasting it out, and his accuracy was terrifyingly precise—almost every shot struck the target's head.
So, were the two of them just continuously wiping out the endless tide of undead swarming around them?
No, both had already taken to the skies, allowing them to clearly see each other.
The next instant, Odin transford into a black light while Romulus beca a golden radiance. Both evaded countless attacks from the ground while simultaneously firing at each other.
This spectacle resembled a scene from a human sci-fi film, where two fighter jets engaged in a perilous dogfight under dense anti-aircraft fire.
Neither side's attacks were as earth-shattering or sky-rending as in the previous two battles, but that didn't an their strength was inferior.
The earlier clashes could be described as both sides bombarding each other with high-explosive shells, whereas this battle was akin to them exchanging armor-piercing rounds.
Suddenly—abruptly and unexpectedly—though both should have been targeted equally by the undead army, the density of attacks directed at Romulus skyrocketed to at least ten tis that aid at Odin.
It felt as though Romulus had drawn the aggro of most of the undead.
But in reality, that wasn't the case—
"Th-This is truly unexpected! Who would have thought the undead whose movents were halted by Lord Odin would suddenly beco his allies?" exclaid the host, Heimdall.
Rumors claid that Lord Odin once commanded the dead to form an army, and now it appeared those were not re rumors but verifiable facts.
In an instant, the scales tipped.
Seizing the opportunity presented by this concentrated assault, Odin struck Quirinus with a cunning blow, sending him plumting to the ground.
"Wh-What is this—?"
"Did he miss?"
The gods were stunned because, as Quirinus hurtled toward the earth, Odin imdiately hurled Gungnir.
Yet, Gungnir did not strike Quirinus—instead, it hit the ground beneath him?
Moreover, the spear didn't plunge deep into the earth but only partially embedded its tip into the soil.
The next mont, Gungnir vanished and was instantly summoned back into Odin's hand.
Simultaneously, the falling Quirinus crashed precisely where Gungnir had struck.
Then, a bizarre scene unfolded: Quirinus found himself inexplicably immobilized.
No, not immobilized—rather—
"It's as if his back is suctioned to the ground!" Heimdall narrated.
What was happening?
Unclear, for a tidal wave of undead instantly subrged Quirinus.
Before being overwheld, nurous shadowy hands erged from the earth, grasping Quirinus and further restricting his movents.
In the blink of an eye, a horrifying mountain of corpses ca into view for both humans and gods.
The sight was utterly chilling!
A re mountain of corpses would have been one thing, but this one was moving—every carcass writhing and squirming.
My spear pierces all things!
Words that seed to emanate from the base of the corpse mountain!
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