The surface of the camp.
The barrage of bullets still poured forth like a stream of fire, but compared to before, it had clearly thinned out considerably.
The soldiers in the camp hid behind various forms of cover, firing desperately and emptying bullets from the weapons in their hands. Even when the barrels grew so hot that smoke rose from them, they still did not dare stop.
There was only one reason.
The enemy was too powerful.
So far, only one enemy had appeared in the camp.
That tall man wielding a long saber had been like a God of Slaughter, single-handedly wiping out several squads, including two fully armed convoys.
He was like an undying devil. Even though the camp soldiers had exhausted their wits and used every tactic they could think of and every weapon at their disposal, that man was still leaping about alive and well.
Instead, more than half the camp soldiers had already been killed or wounded.
During this time, some experts from the camp—powerful figures whom ordinary soldiers revered like gods—had tried to assassinate him alone.
But in the end, they had all become souls claimed by that man's blade.
"What do we do?"
"We can't kill him! We just can't kill him!"
"And besides him, there are other enemies. Look, those Ghost Hands are coming again."
Another object that terrified the camp soldiers were two dark-blue arms that had appeared out of thin air.
The two arms were covered in intricate, sinister patterns. They possessed immense strength, easily overturning cars and casually bending the gun barrels of armored vehicles.
They could also release blue fireballs. Those fireballs had no temperature, but they exploded violently. When the blue flames produced by the explosions touched something, steel melted into molten metal, while human bodies burned