The entire ground was shaking, and countless shooting stars and meteorites fell like a torrential rain of ice. Every living creature on the land was crying out in agony; several Huntresses who failed to escape in time quickly fell in pools of blood. But even more numerous were the dying wails of the undead army—the shrieks of Ghouls, the low roars of Abominations, and the dull thuds of Gargoyles smashed straight into the ground from the sky. The entire otherworld had officially transformed into a purgatory-like existence.
Illidan knelt on one knee, dual blades in hand, as a semicircular barrier naturally formed around him to isolate the onslaught of meteorites and shooting stars. Moreover, Tyrande seemed to intentionally look after Illidan, which meant the attacks he suffered were far fewer than those in other areas. In contrast, Roland Ice-Skull was not so lucky. The defensive shield he had just raised was shattered into pieces by three massive meteorites, and numerous Banshees nearby hurriedly manufactured a green Anti-Magic Shell for Roland. Yet the meteors were far too dense, and that magic shell was battered into nothingness before it had even half-formed. Furthermore, indiscriminate meteor attacks kept landing right on the Banshees' position, and every time one fell, the sweeping purple energy waves claimed the lives of countless Banshees.
As for the Necromancers, whose vitality was relatively weaker, their situation was even more embarrassing. In less than half a min…
Chapter 441