MIGHT AS WELL BE OP - Chapter 478

Chapter 478: Racial Competition-1
Carnage and devastation reigned as demons, abominations, and soldiers alike engaged in ruthless bloodshed.

Agonized screams pierced the air while warriors fell in droves, the clash of steel resounding across the battlefield like a mournful dirge.

Elemental spells rained from above, unleashing ruin upon the scarred earth.

Tremors split the ground as earthquakes roared, toppling mountains as though they were mere sandcastles.

Even the once-stable floating isles surrendered to gravity’s call, plummeting toward the chaos below.

Blood did not clot, it pooled unnaturally, drawn together by the vampires’ sinister source of power. From above, weapons forged of arcane and mechanical constructs rained down with deadly precision.

Fangs elongated, gleaming like ivory blades, as the vampires sank them into the necks of their demonic prey, drinking deeply and shamelessly.

Their enemies’ blood was not merely a trophy, it was fuel.

A source of strength, a wellspring of vitality.

Fatigued and weakening? Drink demon blood.

Wounds slow to heal? Drink demon blood.

Outnumbered and overwhelmed? Bend demon blood to your will.

Their eyes glowed with a predatory light as they moved with lethal grace, fangs and claws working in perfect harmony, ripping, tearing, and shredding through anything that dared cross their path.

The titans loomed like immovable bastions, their colossal forms radiating raw, untamed energy.

Each thunderous fist fell from above like a blazing comet, obliterating demons and abominations with apocalyptic force.

One fist. One life.

The earth trembled beneath their steps as they advanced, unconcerned with finesse, heedless of restraint. They moved with one purpose: to ravage, to annihilate all that dared stand before them.

Clad in no armor, their bodies withstood every assault, enduring blade and spell alike as if mere annoyances.

Their war cries were primal roars that tore through space itself, shaking the battlefield.

When one fist failed to fell an enemy, they simply unleashed another. And if that too proved insufficient, then came another. And another. An endless storm of fists, until nothing remained.

The dwarves moved with uncanny precision, each step deliberate, each strike calculated.

Though famed across realms for their unparalleled forging mastery, their prowess in battle was no lesser feat.

Commanding fire and metal with near-divine control, it was this fusion of craft and combat that forged their legacy.

And in this war, the battlefield itself would become their anvil.

The demons? Merely raw materials, awaiting the flames of their forge and the hammer of their wrath.

Every dwarf in existence wielded a hammer, no exceptions. Swords? Spears? Daggers? Bows? They forged them all, but never wielded them in battle. Their weapon of choice had always been, and would always be, the hammer.

And now, the same hammers that shaped steel and carved legends would be used for something far simpler.

To reshape the skulls of demons and abominations into broken, unrecognizable ruin.

Their hammers fell from above like dying stars, unstoppable, merciless, and devoid of hesitation.

No pause. No mercy. No thought.

A sickening boom resounded across the battlefield, followed by a deafening, synchronized eruption of destruction.

The crack of skulls caving in echoed next, wet and final. The very wind seemed to scream as the blunt force of dwarven hammers descended once more, relentless in their wrath.

They had sworn to turn this battlefield into an anvil, and they would keep that promise.

Flames erupted around their bodies and hammers, blazing like the heart of a forge.

Their long beards whipped in the wind, embers dancing through the air like sparks before the storm. Then they moved.

With every step, heat surged outward, searing, relentless, burning through any being tainted with even a trace of chaos energy.

Flame resistance? They simply raised the temperature.

Immune to fire? No matter. Liquid metal swirled around them like sentient rivers, responding to their will. They wielded it like a weapon, shaping it into crashing waves of death, crushing, suffocating, annihilating everything in their path.

Their stout forms stood resolute across the battlefield, their battle intent surging skyward like a tempest. With a thunderous boom, they launched into the air, hammers raised high, mana pulsing violently from their weapons.

Intense flames and scorching heat coalesced around each hammer, blazing like fiery comets poised to strike.

With a unified war cry and flawless synchronization, their hammers descended, an unstoppable storm.

What began as a single dwarf’s strike multiplied a thousandfold, then tens of thousands more, each hammer materializing in perfect harmony. These countless blows connected, merging into a crushing force of millions.

Then, like divine retribution cast down upon evil itself, their hammers crashed from above, suffocating, absolute, and devastating.

The world was drenched in a pure, searing crimson as torrents of flame collapsed upon the earth. With a thunderous boom, the attack struck, unleashing cataclysmic waves of blistering heat energy that rippled outward like a violent storm.

The ground convulsed and sank, great fissures tearing open like jagged wounds. In an instant, the earth itself melted, transformed into rivers of molten lava that swallowed everything in their path.

Ear-splitting screams rent the air, agonized shrieks shredding the vocal cords of abominations as they were consumed, drowned in merciless flame.

Dust billowed, acrid fumes churned, and storms of sand and debris swirled, blanketing the battlefield in chaos and despair.

The Phoenix race, unwilling to be outdone in the mastery of flame, instantly unleashed their true power. One by one, they shed their human forms, erupting into their magnificent, primal Phoenix selves.

Their beaks opened wide in a majestic shriek that echoed across the battlefield.

Wings unfurled like blazing banners of fire, releasing waves of sacred phoenix flames that blessed the scorched earth beneath them.

With effortless grace, their bodies soared through the sky, crossing kilometers as if it were but a fleeting breeze.

Wherever their fiery wings passed, demons were reduced to nothing more than smoldering ashes, vanished without a trace.

The dragons snorted, a deep, resonant sound that spoke of ancient pride. Though this was war, they refused to remain mere spectators to the inferno raging before them.

With a thunderous roar, thousands of dragons erupted into their true, majestic forms. Their colossal bodies blotted out the sky, claws rending hundreds of demons from existence with each devastating swipe.

Their massive tails swept through the battlefield like cataclysmic pendulums, toppling abominations as effortlessly as one might crush insects.

Their massive wings beat with titanic force, sending waves of wind crashing outward, pushing everything backward as they soared skyward.

The sun shimmered and danced upon their iridescent scales, casting a radiant glow across the battlefield.

ROOOOARRR!!!

Their voices thundered like rolling storms, reverberating through the chaos. Their jaws opened wide, mana pulsating through their throats, chests swelling with raw power.

Then, the onslaught began.

A torrent of elemental fury erupted from their maws, unleashed upon the world below.

Fire breath scorching the air,

Ice breath freezing all it touched.

Poisonous miasma curling like creeping shadows.

Radiant light searing through darkness.

Rushing torrents of water.

Bolts of lightning splitting the sky.

These devastating blasts rained down from above like the very handiwork of gods.

Demons took to the skies, desperate to evade the onslaught, but the soldiers on the ground refused to let them escape.

They surged forward, intercepting, striking, and decapitating with unforgiving precision.

A smug, colossal smile curled upon the dragons’ faces as their eyes locked onto the Phoenix race, the unspoken challenge clear: who would claim the title of greatest destroyer in their true forms?

Without hesitation, the battlefield erupted into cataclysmic devastation, an unstoppable clash of elemental fury and primal might.