Two relatively small forces were heading towards each other. In the vast and boundless new world, the chance of meeting was slim. However, with the aid of the Mother Tree, Qian Ye had anticipated this encounter, and Metatron also sought battle. The two sides soon met at the battlefield Qian Ye had foreseen.
The area was filled with towering stone pillars, each hundreds of meters high. Between these pillars, equally tall alien trees grew, making the terrain uneven and complex.
This kind of terrain naturally was not conducive to long-range sniping, but it favored ambushes and suited the fighting style of the Attawa warriors. For the King of Darkness, such minor inconveniences were insignificant. He actually hoped to gather enough natives to minimize the number of times he had to kill, thus saving time.
When he sensed the great peril lurking in the silence ahead, he did not panic but smiled, leading his troops straight into the battlefield.
The once-silent forest suddenly stirred, and strange, high-pitched war cries echoed through the air—these were the battle roars of the Attawa warriors. The roars surged from all directions, making it impossible to tell how many there were. Some of the blood nobles under Metatron’s command, already showing fear, instinctively gathered closer to the King of Darkness.
To Metatron, the Attawa were nothing but ants, and their numbers only determined how long it would take to slaughter them. But for his subordinates, it was a different story. Any Attawa warrior could match or even surpass them in strength, and the Gigantic War Gods were far more powerful than marquises. It was like hunters with bows and blades facing fierce beasts; the outcome was uncertain.
Metatron saw his subordinates’ pathetic performance and sneered, calling them “waste.” His figure vanished from its original position, and when he reappeared, he held an Attawa warrior by the throat.
Metatron tightened his grip, his smile warm yet eerie and distorted. He watched as his prey struggled helplessly, falling inevitably toward death.
The Attawa warriors on the periphery emerged, furiously brandishing their weapons, clearly enraged. But their display was a joke to Metatron, and his smile only grew more exaggerated.
One Attawa warrior, unable to bear it any longer, charged forward, roaring. Halfway through, his hand plunged into his own chest, grasping the life crystal.
Metatron didn’t move, waiting for the warrior to get close before swiftly grabbing him and flinging him far away.
The Attawa warrior’s reaction was just a moment too slow. When his body exploded, he had returned to his original position. The explosion did not harm Metatron but killed two Attawa comrades.
Hidden in the shadows, Qian Ye’s eyebrows twitched slightly, surprised. It seemed that Metatron had encountered the self-destructive charges of the Attawa during frontline battles and had developed a countermeasure.
Yet Qian Ye remained unmoved, still concealing his aura, like a cold stone, quietly waiting for the right moment to strike.
The battle quickly became intense. Attawa warriors leaped from their positions, lunging at Metatron, while the Gigantic War Gods also joined in, hurling spears with immense power that even Metatron avoided. In moments, the air was filled with whistling spears and pikes.
Metatron’s figure flickered, continuously changing positions in a tiny area, easily dodging all attacks. But his subordinates were not so skilled. Screams erupted, and within seconds, three blood nobles were pierced by spears and fell to the ground.
“Waste!” Metatron showed no concern for his subordinates’ lives, only disdain for their incompetence.
He suddenly lashed out, knocking several Attawa warriors who had just crushed their crystals back. With a brief burst of force, the three warriors flew over ten meters, landing among their comrades, where they abruptly exploded. The gruesome self-destruction had no effect on the King of Darkness but inflicted heavy casualties on the charging Attawa.
Qian Ye’s heart stirred, knowing that the Attawa casualties had surpassed a hundred. Yet he remained motionless, waiting for the right moment.
Just like in the previous battle, it wasn’t until Su Wen’s final sacrifice that Qian Ye had the opportunity to act.
The situation on the battlefield changed again. Faced with the painful and futile sacrifices, the Attawa finally learned to adjust their tactics. They no longer let their elite warriors self-destruct, instead gathering their forces, using the Gigantic War Gods as support, and engaging the King of Darkness. The main role of the ordinary warriors was to protect the Gigantic War Gods. With their dukes-equivalent strength, a full-power attack from a Gigantic War God was something even Metatron would not willingly endure.
The battle became a stalemate, but it did not mean the Attawa had any chance of victory. The King of Darkness’s figure was elusive, and his domain had already been activated. Strands of dark purple blood mist floated in the air, transforming into exact replicas of Metatron. These illusions could attack, and they almost perfectly mimicked the real Metatron, even producing blood mist ripples before striking. Only after the attack could one distinguish between the real Metatron and the illusions.
In moments, dozens of King of Darknesses appeared within the domain, making it nearly impossible to tell which was real and which was fake. The usual blood beasts in a blood noble’s domain were all replaced by Metatron’s images. In this regard, Metatron’s position as the Grand Duke was well-deserved.
As the battle continued, Attawa warriors kept falling, their counterattacks only hitting illusions, posing no threat to the real King of Darkness. Given enough time, even against a thousand Attawa warriors, Metatron could slowly consume them all. This was no ordinary native, but a full thousand warriors, each at least baron-level in strength.
Among the Attawa formation, only one Gigantic War God could barely keep up with Metatron’s movements, but his full-force spear throws always missed, swerving and bending like snakes, flying past Metatron.
The Gigantic War God was extremely angry and confused, continually increasing the power of his throws. But whether he used one hand or several, whether the spears were imbued with gales or lightning, they all twisted and missed.
Frustrated by repeated failures, the Gigantic War God’s angry roars filled the battlefield, met only with Metatron’s mocking laughter.
But in Qian Ye’s vision, the area around Metatron was not empty. Instead, it was filled with fine, almost invisible strands of blood mist, weaving into mirrors that distorted the light and shadow. Therefore, Metatron’s true form was not where others saw it, and the Gigantic War God’s spears did not actually twist; they simply aimed at empty spaces, with the trajectory being optically distorted.
Qian Ye’s heart was calm, and his origin power boiled. Just as he pulled the trigger, Metatron suddenly turned his head, looking in Qian Ye’s direction with a sinister smile: “I’ve been waiting for you!”
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