Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

He just kept killing.

One slash, two slashes, three slashes—each strike hit a vital spot, each slash took a life, but he knew he couldn't kill as fast as they could.

Blood was flowing continuously on the battlefield, and the ground became sticky and slippery.

The blood of the Witcher and the blood of the berserk angels mingled together, flowing into trenches on the gray-white ground.

The ditches all flowed in the same direction, toward Metatron's feet, his barrier sucking the blood, like a lump of rotten mud that could never be satiated.

With each breath he took, the barrier brightened a little more, and with each brighter spot, one less crack appeared on the knife in his hand.

As Wu Heng watched the blood flow towards Metatron's feet, he raised his left hand, and the Hell Mark on his palm lit up.

The flowing blood suddenly slowed down, as if it were being held back by something. The blood that was flowing very fast became a thin line, and the thin line became water droplets, moving towards the barrier drop by drop.

Metatron's smile faded.

He looked down at the barrier beneath his feet, then at Wu Heng: "Are you trying to take it from me?"

Wu Heng remained silent.

He raised his right hand again, and streams of black energy spread out like countless sharp claws, causing the blood to flow more slowly.

The light from the barrier dimmed slightly.

Metatron gripped the hilt of the knife tightly, and the cracks on the blade began to seep light out again.

The light, like tentacles, reached out to the corpses on the battlefield, drawing out wisps of golden mist from them.

These were all fragments of souls, the souls of people who had just died and hadn't had time to dissipate. The mist was absorbed into the blade, and a few more cracks appeared on the blade.

The lines on Wu Heng's palm transformed into black mist that spread across the ground, resembling tree roots and blood vessels, like a net being woven. This net entangled the golden mist, preventing it from heading towards Metatron.

The two people stood several dozen meters apart, separated by a barrier, neither of them moving.

But the blood and souls on the battlefield were tug-of-war between the two, like an invisible rope. The blood flowed in one direction, but Wu Heng held it back; the souls drifted in the other direction, but Wu Heng stopped them.

Metatron's blade was changing, but the rate of change had slowed considerably.

On the other side of the battlefield, ordinary witchers are fighting desperately against berserk angels.

The seventh squad was positioned behind a sloping earthen mound on the east side.

The earthen mound was formed from the soil churned up by the crater created by the berserker angel, plus the pile of corpses. It wasn't high, but it could provide some protection.

The squad leader, Hawke, was in his early forties. He had fought against the demon invasion and the fall of the angels, making him a veteran. He lay prone on the earthen slope, his rune gun already having its third magazine changed.

“Three on the left wing!” he shouted.

The team members turned their guns around and fired all three simultaneously. The bullets hit the chest of the berserk angel at the front, and it swayed but did not fall.

The two behind it jumped over by stepping on its shoulders.

Hawke rolled down the slope and pulled a young teammate next to him. The young teammate was named Tom, and he was only nineteen years old, going to the battlefield for the first time.

His face was as white as paper, and his hands were trembling.

“Don’t be afraid.” Hawke stared coldly at the angels. “Aim and shoot.”

Tom nodded and raised his gun.

A berserk angel pounced on the top of the hill. Tom pulled the trigger, and the bullet hit it in the face. It screamed and fell backward.

Tom fired another shot, hitting the creature in the throat, and it stopped moving.

"Hit!" Tom shouted excitedly.

"Stop yelling!" Hawke pressed his head down. "He's coming again!"

The second batch of berserk angels surrounded the slope from both sides.

Hawke threw a flashbang, and a white light exploded. The creatures covered their eyes and spun around wildly. Three veterans rushed up and stabbed the throats of the creatures with specially made daggers, one after another.

The remaining two ran away.

"Back up!" Hawke shouted again urgently.

The team retreated behind the earthen slope, reloaded, and Hawke counted the number of men: twelve in total, three wounded, but none dead.

Better than the last wave, where five died. "Captain," Tom asked, "how much longer do we have to fight?"

Hawke glanced at the dark golden barrier in the distance: "Kill it until it breaks."

Tom nodded and didn't ask any more questions; having a goal was enough.

To the south, the 34th squad was guarding a pile of ruins.

The ruins were originally some kind of building in Heaven, which was smashed down by a berserk angel, leaving only a few crooked walls. The squad leader is named Anna, a woman in her early thirties. She was a witcher for seven years before joining the guild, and is considered to be talented.

She crouched in the corner, blood dripping from the knife in her hand.

"How much ammunition do we have left?" she asked.

The vice-captain rummaged through his backpack: "There are still two magazines of armor-piercing rounds left, and four magazines of regular rounds."

"Where's the grenade?"

"Three."

Anna looked around at the team members. There were sixteen people, five of whom were injured, two of whom were seriously injured and lying against the wall with their wounds wrapped in bandages.

The medics are dead, and no one is treating them.

If we retreat to the rear to resupply now, there will be a gap in this area, which will affect other surrounding teams. Due to the angels constantly falling from the sky, the battlefield is in chaos, and supply transport teams without offensive capabilities are blocked at the rear.

The middle section is a chaotic battle between witchers and angels.

The Eden angels kept falling, covering the battlefield like rain, mingling with the witchers. If you want to resupply, you have to retreat to the place where you entered Heaven earlier.

“Give me the armor-piercing bullets,” Anna said.

The vice-captain handed her the magazine, she changed the magazine, climbed up a crooked wall, and looked south. There were seven or eight berserk angels loitering there, not coming this way, but not far either.

"What are they waiting for?" the vice-captain asked from below.

Anna shook her head: "I don't know, maybe they're waiting for someone."

Before she finished speaking, the berserk angels moved. They didn't rush this way, but went in another direction. There were gunshots coming from that direction, and the shooting was very intense.

“They’re supporting the main battlefield.” Anna jumped down from the wall. “Follow them.”

"Captain, there are only sixteen of us—"

"That's why we have to follow up. If the main battlefield can't hold out, we can't hold our ground here either."

Sixteen people emerged from the ruins and followed the tails of the berserk angels toward the main battlefield.

After walking two hundred meters, I saw a dozen or so demon hunters fighting a group of berserk angels ahead. The demon hunters were about to be overwhelmed, and their lines had been breached.

Anna raised her gun: "Fire!"

Sixteen guns fired simultaneously.

The berserk angels were caught off guard by the attack, with two falling to the ground and three injured.

The witchers in front seized the opportunity to counterattack and pushed the group back.

Anna ran up to the squad leader on the other side: "Squad 34, Anna."

The opposing squad leader, panting, said, "Squad 15, Karl, thanks."

"You're welcome. How are your casualties?"

Karl pointed behind him.

"Seven dead, more than a dozen wounded, and we're almost out of ammunition."

Anna looked at her own ammunition, then at Karl's; even combined, the ammunition from both teams wasn't enough for a tough battle.

"We have to use it sparingly," she said.

How to save money?

Anna thought for a moment and said, "Shoot when you get close. Don't fire at fifty meters, then fire at thirty meters. Shoot for the head and throat, but not the body."

Karl nodded: "Whatever you say." (End of Chapter)