1169 Will Never Be Absent

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A giant dragon flapped its wings and landed slowly on an open space. Elit jumped off Ivan's dragon's back, looked at the cloud of magical energy above his head, and stood there silently. say.

Ivan leaned over, looked at the group of magical energy, and said, "It seems...they experienced a dangerous battle..."

"You still have the nerve to say it? If it weren't for you, I should be able to witness such a battle!" Elit cursed depressedly.

He wholeheartedly wanted to fight for human beings once, but he was even more unlucky than Mordelaire. He missed all the battles, and until now, he has not displayed his skills well.

Just behind him, a vehicle with a red cross bumped past, followed by a jeep with two stretchers tied to it, on which lay two amputated wounded.

Such a scene makes the place on the edge of the battlefield extremely real, and the cruelty of war seems so natural here.

The wounded from Burkeland are everywhere. This huge fortress with more than 100,000 artillerymen and more than 300,000 civilians was blown beyond recognition by the energy pouring or energy impact magic, and the residents inside were naturally miserable. unspeakable.

The bombing of the ammunition depot has long been commonplace. Sometimes the dead officers and soldiers can't even find their bodies.

Those who can find the corpses may not be lucky, because they are already dead, and they can't die more cleanly.

What was even worse was that many of the wounded who did not die had their arms or legs blown off. Many people were squeezed under the ruins and could not be rescued for more than a day without bleeding.

There are many more, just like the one in front of you, who was rescued, but turned out to be disabled.

After the two ambulances filled with the wounded passed by, they were followed by two trucks filled with lightly wounded people.

These lightly wounded people had bandages on their heads, and their arms were hung on their chests by gauze. They curiously looked at the giant dragon beside the road, the magnificent wings, and the dense scales.

In the distance, Burkeland on the horizon is still billowing with thick smoke. These clouds of smoke hung on the horizon, blocking out the farther Whithorlands.

In the field on the other side of the road, there are tents that can't be seen at a glance. The troops who don't know whether they have just arrived or have just withdrawn from the front line are resting in the tent camp.

They held lunch boxes, or held newspapers and magazines that had just been transported from farther places, and looked at the passing troops with disinterest.

On the side of the embankment between them and the road, groups of light infantry of the Alan Hill Empire carrying weapons were advancing.

These soldiers were ordered to march directly into Welthorlands, to fortify the defensive positions, and to replace those demonic servants who were on the front line, so that they could continue to advance further afield.

On the two wings, the tanks and mechanized infantry divisions of the Irish Empire continued to attack. The armored bridge vehicles lowered the steel bridge, and then the tanks rushed across the small river with bows and arrows.

The armored vehicles followed closely, and then countless infantry shouted the slogan of long live the Alan Hill Empire, filling the trenches full of demon corpses.

Whithorans is now besieged on three sides, and the demons on both wings have no way to withstand the attack of the Ireland Hill Empire in a field state.

More and more of the Elanhill Imperial forces got to where they were supposed to be, and then they moved on, trying to encircle the whole of Whithorlands.

They almost succeeded. In two days, they advanced more than 50 kilometers, and the connection between Witthollands and the demon defenders outside had basically been cut off.

Anyone who wants to retreat out of the city, or transport something into the city, will be harassed by the artillery of the Alan Hill Empire. It is a narrow passage, and it is the road of death that the demon troops desperately survived.

Perhaps, the Alan Hill Empire reserved such a passage to let the demons inside and outside the city drain their blood for this dead end.

Because it was surrounded on three sides, there was no so-called safe place in Witthollands anymore. There were artillery fires in all directions. Just after the artillery bombardment on this side was over, the artillery fire on that side started again.

The rumbling cannons seemed to never stop at all. After all, the frontline troops of the Alan Hill Empire had more and more small-caliber artillery and sufficient shells.

The 120mm caliber mortars are responsible for supporting battalion-level troops in operations, and the 80mm caliber mortars are responsible for supporting company-level troops in operations. They are also firing non-stop, blowing up the frontline positions.

This is war, cruel and boring war. After the best fights are fought, all that remains is brutality and blood, death and torture.

There is no longer a terrible space rift in the sky, and the bombers of the Alan Hill Empire once again visited the Whithorns.

The Air Force seemed obsessed with blowing the Wheathorlands to a blank slate, carrying all sorts of old bombs and dropping obsolete munitions on a battleground that was dying.

The explosion struck again, as if to cover the land with a carpet of death. Because the ammunition had run out, the demon's anti-aircraft fire was completely silent, and they could only watch their positions being flooded by the explosion.

It was also the first time for those strategic bombers to fly to such a low place to carry out bombing missions. As long as you look up, you can see the open belly bomb bays of these bombers, and you can clearly see the bombs hanging inside.

Some advanced demons can even see the rivets on the plane, and some gaps in the skin, but what's the use of this? They did not have the guts to blast magic into the sky, for they feared more and more terrible reprisals.

Half of the city was once again submerged in the flames, and the other half of the city was as silent as the surface of windless water.

Covered with black flags, or ignited incendiary rods, the control area of ​​the Alan Hill Empire is very safe. The soldiers on the ground just feel the slight vibration of the ground under their feet, and watch the explosion in the distance with cold eyes, raising black smoke all over the sky. .

In the flames of the explosion, the shadow of the once majestic demon temple twisted into a terrifying shape. It was not hit by the bomb because it was too close to the forward position of the Alan Hill Empire.

The demons there swore to the death to defend this seemingly inviolable place, using their lives to withstand the rain of steel from the Alan Hill Empire.

What they don't know is that the attack aircraft unit that bombed their place has already taken off from the airport. Facts have proved that the bombing of the Airland Hill Imperial Air Force may be late, but it will never be absent...