I created the Old Gods and Outer Gods in America.

Morrison did not hesitate.

He jumped off the edge of the rooftop. The three-story drop caused his feet to land on the ground, cracking the asphalt. His reinforced bones and muscles absorbed the entire impact, and his knees didn't even bend.

The fused structure has grown to the height of a three-story building.

The surface was covered with distorted faces and half-severed arms, and some mouths were still opening and closing, squeezing out intermittent groans.

The entire structure resembled a tower built of flesh and blood, with its base constantly devouring approaching infected individuals, expanding by one size with each one it absorbed.

Morrison charged at it, the muscles in his right arm bulging so much that the seams of his protective suit began to burst, and he punched it.

It went in.

The impact was about half a meter deep, and the force of the impact exploded from the point of contact, tearing a hole the size of a washbasin into the flesh wall, spraying black blood and bits of flesh all over his body.

Then the edges of the hole began to wriggle.

The surrounding tissue rushed in, filling, healing, and covering. In three seconds, the flesh wall returned to its original state, even smoother than before.

Morrison pulled his fist out and shook off the slime clinging to it.

From the rooftop, Corbyn watched the entire event.

"This must be the dungeon boss."

His tone was surprisingly calm: "In the fusion phase, invincibility frames, casting bar in progress? I understand, we can start fighting once the casting bar is finished."

The fused entity let out a muffled roar, and the sound waves shattered the windows of the three surrounding buildings.

More infected poured out of the ruins and sewers, crashing into the mountain of flesh one after another, being absorbed and assimilated, allowing the hybrid to grow even larger!

Elijah looked down at the fleshy tower that was almost six stories high.

He did not back down.

There was no fear in his eyes; instead, they lit up.

From the church to the quarantine zone, the fight went too smoothly; their wings would have shattered at the slightest touch. Now, something tough has come along.

My spine started to feel hot.

He recognized that feeling; it was exactly the same as when the third wing broke through his body. The heat surged upwards from his tailbone, burned through his lumbar and thoracic vertebrae, and finally got stuck somewhere between his two shoulder blades.

Then there was the sound of bones pushing outwards from the inside.

A fist-sized lump bulged on the skin of my back, and something underneath it was stretching, growing, and arching outwards.

Cracked.

A fourth wing burst forth from the flesh and blood, its newly grown feathers spreading out with bodily fluids, its wingspan covering half of the crossroads.

Four-winged angel.

Corbyn had lost his mind.

Four wings, two pairs.

What does this mean?

The level of Principalities and Exalts!

Even a random child would know how terrifying the Archangels and Exusiais are!

"...I am not worthy to discuss ability levels with this person."

Elijah moved.

With all four wings striking down simultaneously, his body transformed into a golden arc, directly piercing through the waist of the fused entity.

Going in is like entering a point, and coming out is like exiting a hole two meters in diameter. Flesh and blood are turned outwards from the hole, like plastic that has been scorched by high temperature, curled up, charred, and turned into black ash.

The regeneration of the fusion body was delayed for the first time.

Elijah circled back, his four wings folding into four blades, and slashed down from the top.

The meat tower was cut open from the very center with a three-story-deep slit, and black blood gushed out like a burst dam.

On the ground, Morrison picked up a broken cement pillar and swung it around, smashing it into the base of the fusion entity. A corner of the base collapsed, and three infected who were climbing up were smashed into mincemeat.

Corbin wasn't idle either. He stared at the stragglers at the bottom who hadn't been integrated yet. As his eyes swept over them, two, three, and five heads flew up one after another, and the headless torsos even ran a few steps before collapsing.

Its output efficiency is far inferior to Elijah's, but at least it can block the supply from the outside and prevent new infected from sticking to the mountain of flesh.

Even scavenging-style output is better than nothing.

Elijah continued to cut through the air, each flap of his four wings taking away a large chunk of charred remains.

......

Three kilometers away.

On the top floor of an abandoned apartment building, Yorn closed his eyes, his consciousness scattered among the compound eyes of hundreds of living insects. Each insect was a surveillance camera, covering the rooftops, wall cracks, and sewer openings of the infected area.

He witnessed the entire process of the fourth wing bursting through his skin.

"It has four wings now."

Yorn said something in a low voice, as if he were checking experimental records.

The fusion was his doing. He used insects to release specific serotonin to drive infected individuals to aggregate, with the aim of putting pressure on those superhumans to see what level they were at. Of course, it would be even better if he could kill them as well.

Data collection is complete; the fusion entity's mission is finished.

Yorn adjusted the swarm's layout, sending a few of the smallest flying insects closer to the perimeter of the battlefield to collect the last set of images.

Then, in the vision of the thirty-seventh insect, someone who shouldn't have been there appeared.

The entrance to a half-collapsed convenience store.

The roller shutter was tilted at a 45-degree angle, and a man leaned against it, his hands in his pockets, looking up at the golden light in the sky with a relaxed expression.

It's like watching a performance.

Yorn opened his eyes.

The chair leg scraped against the ground with a screeching sound. He sat up straight, his back lifted off the chair back, and his ten fingers gripped the armrests tightly.

Eddie.

That face.

I've got a bunch of enemies!

The three enemies are all here, only one more is missing!

Jon closed his eyes, and the corners of his mouth slowly curved up.

He didn't care about the fusion entity anymore; he could cut down the four-winged angels as he pleased. Now, he only had one thing left to do.

All the swarming insects gathered from every corner, silently assembling in the shadows behind Eddie, when Yorn appeared behind him.

Then, dozens of insects piled up, intertwined, and hardened to form a sharp spike as thick as an arm, which was aimed at Eddie's unsuspecting nape.

The angle is perfect.

Eddie's attention was entirely on the sky, his back completely exposed.

Jon smiled.

The insect stinger shot out.

It traveled two meters in a fraction of a second, striking the back of the neck...

Broken.

All the insects exploded into dust the moment they touched Eddie's skin, splattering juices everywhere, without making much of a sound.

Eddie's neck was clean, without even a red mark.

Yorn's smile froze for a moment. Then he summoned all his reserves, hundreds of insects compressed into a thicker, harder spike, aiming at the same spot.

Thrust out.

Shattered.

Unharmed.

Yorn stared at the image transmitted back by the insect, his breath catching for two seconds.

Two attacks, both at full power, had zero effect. But that wasn't the most chilling thing.

What sent chills down his spine was...

He's already attacked twice, why hasn't Eddie turned around at all?

The man remained in the same posture, hands in his pockets, head tilted back to look at the sky, a slight smile even playing on his lips.

Just like those two blows from behind, they weren't even worth him turning around for.

What does that mean?

Although I knew this man was arrogant before, I didn't expect him to be this arrogant.

He's even resorting to sneak attacks from behind now, and the other side still doesn't take him seriously?

"hateful!"