Chapter 598: Morgause's Lens
On the battlefield, Elbaf and Marijoa became two tireless giant meat grinders.
The air here is filled with blood and smoke, as if every breath can suffocate people.
The shouts of the warriors, the sounds of steel colliding, and the roar of the giants stomping on the ground intertwined into a symphony of death, tearing apart this once peaceful land.
In Elbaf, the giants towered over the battlefield like mountains. Every time their fists and footsteps landed, they could stir up a gust of wind and knock the enemy into pieces.
The faces of every giant warrior were filled with determination and fearlessness for a bloody battle, but there was also pain and despair in their eyes.
As the fighting continued, the once tenacious warriors fell one by one, and the battlefield was constantly filled with new corpses.
Although the giants are powerful, facing countless enemies, their bodies gradually seem to be unable to cope with it. Blood and sweat are intertwined, and not many people can maintain their initial calm.
At the same time, the situation in Mary Geoise did not improve at all.
The once high and mighty holy land has now become the front line of the war.
The streets here are piled with corpses, and the once glorious palace has been dyed red by artillery fire and blood.
The monster forms of the Five Elders continued to brandish bloody swords, chasing every warrior who tried to escape, and the walls of Marijoa collapsed in explosions again and again.
Even beings as powerful as the Five Elder Stars were exhausted on this battlefield. They were constantly covered by the corpses of fallen warriors, as if they were devouring their strength and life.
In these two places, the value of life is almost zero.
Every soldier, whether friend or foe, seemed to have left little trace.
Their lives and deaths became insignificant gears in the war machine, disappearing in this huge vortex of death.
Above the sky, Morgans's spaceship circled slowly, and the camera of the video Den Den Mushi captured everything accurately.
The hull of the spacecraft reflected the firelight, and in Morgans' eyes, it seemed that everything was under his control.
He stood in front of the console, staring at the screen, without a trace of shock or uneasiness on his face, only the indifference and coldness that seemed to be something he had long been accustomed to.
With a light press of the remote control in his hand, the battlefield scenes on the screen kept switching. From Elbaf to Marijoa, every death on every inch of land was perfectly recorded by him.
Those struggles before death, the painful expressions, the last glimmer of hope burning in the eyes, were all like wonderful performances in his eyes.
He focused his camera on those heroic soldiers more than once, and every time they fell, a smile appeared on his face.
To him, all this was just a planned drama. Every drop of blood and every conflict on the battlefield became an unstoppable performance in his mind.
Morgans looked at the lives devoured by the war with his cold eyes, with neither guilt nor sympathy in his heart.
His camera switches ruthlessly, as if he is a silent spectator. In this drama, his only mission is to preserve every tragic moment, imprinting it on the screen forever for future people to savor.
"What did these people really die for?"
Morgans muttered to himself, with a sneer on his face.
“Perhaps, they will never know that their death was just for a news headline.”
His finger gently slid across the screen, and the camera locked onto a fallen giant warrior. The man's originally huge body was stained with blood, and his eyes were wide open, as if he was still staring at the last light in the sky.
Morgans' eyes were so cold that they seemed to have no emotions. He never thought about the identities of the dead, nor their stories - he was just immersed in the pleasure of that moment, enjoying the power and control that allowed him to control everything.
On the battlefield, blood had already dyed the earth red. The souls of the dead seemed to have been taken away by the war, while the living were still unable to escape the endless killing.
Two battlefields, one despair. Elbaf and Marijoa are no longer the heroic legends they once were, but the true face of war.
Whether from Morgans's lens or from the eyes of those dying, the battlefield was filled with an unspeakable heaviness and helplessness.
Life is no longer a precious existence here, but a number that is discarded at will. Death is the only ending.
And Morganse, still the tireless recorder, stood on the other side of the war and watched everything coldly.
He is not just a witness, he is also the director of this cruel drama. He holds every scene firmly in his hands and enjoys his power even though he does not really care about the life and death of these humans.
As the battle continued, everything on the battlefield began to spread rapidly to every corner of the world.
The news, surging like a tsunami, instantly covered the entire earth with its heart-pounding shock.
From Elbaf in the storm to Marijoa in chaos, the battle scenes were transmitted to every continent and every corner by Morganse's video-denymous.
Whether strong or weak, hero or ordinary person, everyone felt the temperature of war in this world full of killing and blood, and the pain quickly spread to every piece of land and every city.
......
Amidst countless deserts, mountains and forests, some people are eager to find their own opportunities in this huge war.
The gangs that once lurked in the shadows, the kingdoms of various parties, and even some old forces that have long been abandoned by the times are quietly waving their tentacles.
Some of them saw the dawn of victory, believing that the outcome of this war depended not only on fame and glory, but also on the future they could achieve in one leap.
"This war is destined to be difficult!"
A man in a black windbreaker muttered to himself in the dark.
Ambition flashed in his eyes, and he looked through the window at the fire coming from a distant place, as if he could smell some unrealized opportunity.
He gripped the tabletop tightly with both hands, almost leaving blood marks on his fingertips.
Yes, he understood that this battle might bring new opportunities or a new order.
He is no longer the unknown man he once was, but is ready to embrace this great change.
He has found the path he wanted - to rise again by taking advantage of this bloody storm.
He was ready, waiting for the right moment to charge into the battlefield, leading those who shared the same ambitions to tear open a bloody new world.
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