Three months later!
The terrifying battle still raged. Around the Darkflame World, players and Wizards fought a brutal war of conquest.
Countless cannons roared in the sky. The Wizards' Spatial Fortresses and the Player Civilization's warships erupted in violent explosions from time to time, sending metal fragments raining down to the ground and spreading pollution!
On the ground, the Wizards' Soul Slaves and the players' pet legions clashed and slaughtered one another.
In the key regions, Wizards and players were locked in battle!
Beside a ground fortress, a Fourth-Level Wizard gazed beyond the barrier at the players, who had begun to seize the advantage on the battlefield. His brows knitted tightly.
When facing Wizards of the same level, players were considerably weaker in terms of their actual strength. But they always had all sorts of little trump cards: potions that rapidly healed their wounds, items that made them immune to certain fatal injuries, and many more besides.
Wizards of the same level had an advantage over players, but not enough to overwhelm them.
What was more, players fought without fear of death. The lower their level, the less they cared about dying. Low-level players who found themselves at a disadvantage would often simply self-destruct, just to wound their opponents.
By contrast, higher-level players would quickly retreat after suffering serious injuries.
With low-level players trading their lives for injuries, the low-level Wizards suffered devastating losses. Many of them gradually fell into a disadvantage under these circumstances, until they were wiped out completely!
Taking a deep breath as he watched the battlefield, which was entirely against the Wizards and on the verge of collapse, the Fourth-Level Wizard defending the fortress raised both hands and began to chant!
Vast quantities of elemental energy began to gather. The ground beneath the Wizard seemed to