Why call the erging continent a magical kingdom?
Because it was overwhelmingly obvious, as if deliberately ensuring no one would mistake it for anything but a land of magic.
The sheer number of magical formations covering the entire continent was staggering.
So of these spells, in particular, looked undeniably ominous!
And indeed, they were. As these formations flashed, pure beams of light shot forth, densely blanketing the countless angels.
In an instant, the space once illuminated by the angels' holy light, now stained with the crimson mist of their pierced bodies, turned from white to blood-red.
The sky was filled with a flurry of falling feathers.
By the ti the angels reacted, several waves of attacks had already struck, costing them a tenth of their numbers.
They quickly scattered and hastily erected defenses, minimizing the losses from the subsequent volleys of concentrated attacks.
Realizing the elent of surprise was lost, nurous figures erged from the continent—so flying on their own, others mounted on griffins or wyverns.
"Brunhilde, look! That's King Solomon's magical kingdom! It's real, it's truly descended!!!"
Göll jumped up in excitent.
"Göll, you're so easily startled, lacking the composure befitting a Valkyrie~"
Hlökk, the eleventh Valkyrie sister, pursed her lips as she spoke.
"Ehehe~"
Göll responded with a sowhat silly, endearing grin.
In truth, she wanted to say that this sister's own reaction hadn't been very composed either, had it?
But she decided to swallow those words, lest this tsundere older sister fly into a humiliated rage.
Her gaze returned to the two sides locked in battle. They seed evenly matched for now, so the human world likely wouldn't be annihilated by the angels.
Yet it was truly astonishing—so many humans were using magic.
It was as though supernatural power like magic was no longer shrouded in mystery, and humans could widely learn and practice it.
"King Solomon's Magical Kingdom? To descend after three thousand years… Did that King Solomon also foresee the future?"
Serafall murmured, her mind drifting.
Three thousand years ago, as a human, he had already begun preparing for this distant era—he paved the way for magic among humanity.
And so, three thousand years later, this breathtaking Magical Kingdom erged.
Look at the continent of magic, upheld by seventy-two pillars of black light—its area was at least twice the size of that Japanese archipelago. The number of mages currently erging to battle the angels had to exceed a hundred thousand.
But the total number of magic users was certainly far greater. Ranks of fully ard magic knights and various magical weapons could be seen arrayed across the magic continent.
Individually, they might not match up to the angels, but their strength lay in numbers and coordination—not fighting alone, but working in organized groups to counter the angels.
They seed as though they had drilled extensively for this day, rehearsing attacks tailored to angels, as if they knew the angels' patterns and weaknesses, hunting them with precision!!!
So, did it seem the Magical Kingdom would win?
No, Serafall didn't think so.
Because so angels were gradually adapting, becoming harder to shoot down.
Moreover, that gate of the angels continued to spew forth endless streams of angels—too many, unnervingly so.
"Aren't there just too many angels?"
Göll's earlier joy turned to worry.
The angels poured out like locusts, an inexhaustible swarm.
Bam—!
Suddenly, her sister slamd a fist into a nearby stone pillar, her face contorted with fury.
What was wrong?
"Damn it!"
Brunhilde gritted her teeth.
She had just received news—the excessive number of angels were essentially disposable tools.
If they were pure angels, she wouldn't care as much, but the problem was that many of these angels were actually transford from human souls.
They were nothing more than unthinking combat puppets, burning through their souls to fight to the death.
Speaking of which, where was Belial, the King of Hell? And the Seventy-Two Demon Gods?
None had appeared?
Not a single demon in sight?
The next mont, new information arrived on the terminal in her hand. Opening it, Brunhilde froze—it turned out the Seventy-Two Demon Gods and other demons had launched a direct assault on the heavenly headquarters.
So, another screen appeared above the arena, projected by Brunhilde—a live feed from the battlefield where the Seventy-Two Demon Gods were fighting.
As for the initial projection of angels invading the human world, that was clearly the work of the Primordial Gods, ant to ss with their heads.
"Go on, take down those angels!"
Such cheers left Irina staring at Le Fay with a conflicted expression.
To be honest, if one didn't know the truth, it would be too cruel to unquestioningly believe demons were purely evil. So even launched frenzied suicide attacks, charging into angel formations only to self-destruct.
"Ahem, NOW—the final showdown between humanity and gods at 440—"
Heimdall, the arena host, snapped back to attention and prepared to resu his announcent.
But just as he reached this point, his voice caught in his throat once more.
Because the display hovering above the arena—which he couldn't control—switched scenes again, this ti to the other side of the human world, the half shrouded in night.
Coincidentally, on this very day, a cot that should have passed harmlessly by Earth suddenly changed course and began plumting toward the planet.
Given its massive size and velocity, it was likely to trigger enormous tsunamis. While not enough to obliterate human civilization, it would undoubtedly cause catastrophic damage.
Upon closer inspection, the cot revealed itself to be a gigantic nest teeming with hordes of alien-like monsters.
So, what could be done?
The magical nations seed incapable of offering support!
Were they just supposed to watch helplessly as it crashed?
Hmm?
The sea surface where it was about to strike suddenly began to glow, as if sothing were erging—reminiscent of the legendary Atlantis from human tales.
"That's—!"
It was none other than the mythical land featured in King Arthur's recorded exploits—Avalon.
The waters of the sacred lake parted, and a crystal coffin rose to the surface.
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