Chapter 7701 - The Real Killing God

Outside the Forladtt Land, the air was thick with blood mist. Mountains of corpses towered like hellish monuments, and rivers of blood wound through the battlefield like a scene straight from purgatory.

Jacopo’s slaughter showed no signs of stopping. Pagan warriors fell in droves—screaming, sobbing, collapsing into chaos. Their once-mighty army of one billion had been carved down to less than twenty percent. Their will to fight shattered. Their formation destroyed. Their hope extinguished.

Some tried to escape.
But against Jacopo’s godlike speed—his unpredictable, sweeping attacks and ghostlike movement—they had nowhere to flee. No place to hide.

They were cattle before a tiger.
Fish laid out on a butcher’s block.

And Jacopo, lost in the crescendo of killing, only grew fiercer.

Crew, standing beside James, was drenched in cold sweat, begging over and over—but James remained cold, unmoved. To him, Crew’s pleas were nothing more than noise.

Just then, Lesia appeared at James’s side.