Chapter 1405 - 456: Gatandje Is a Tentacle Monster!

Chapter 1405: Chapter 456: Gatandje Is a Tentacle Monster!

Look, something wonderful is happening in that distant cyberspace.

The great Ancient Dominator has awakened from its slumber.

It stands one thousand and one meters tall, weightless due to digitization, possessing unmatched power, with an evil black mist that blots out the sky, each tentacle filled with distortion and malice.

It is the embodiment of despair,

The harbinger of world’s end,

The death knell of civilization.

From its terrifying gaping maw, incomprehensible whispers emerge, each roar chanting unspeakable horrors, as if countless beings are shrieking from inside its mouth.

Even the space around it started playing a rhythmic doomsday symphony [for more, listen to: God of Destruction]

The world has become filthy again!

Damn such wicked demon god, damn such terrifying monster.

What in this world could possibly stop it?

There is nothing, damn it, nothing that could stop it!

But the world is never short of foolish entities that consider themselves powerful,

Like the Atlantic Fleet now standing in front of the great Ancient Dominator.

The sky-darkening fleet regained its composure. The damage the players just caused restored in an instant, the virus was purged, the Demonic Puppets eradicated. Even though a salvo couldn’t prevent the monster’s transformation, Frederick wasn’t discouraged, but instead grew more excited!

"Come on, you monster!"

Compared to the previously foolish cartoonish appearance, the twisted turret-like monstrosity before them was the real enemy the Atlantic Fleet should face.

Oh God, this evil deity is worthy of a battle!

More warships were constructed under Frederick’s computational power, every naval warship that had ever joined the Atlantic Fleet was now pulled out.

From the "Langley" that sailed to its doom, to the noble "Carl Vinson" of the Cold War, all were present.

Hundreds of ships, big and small, were arrayed across cyberspace, countless warplanes circling the sky, their presence likely more imposing than the seven fleets of the United States at its peak strength put together.

Even Americans themselves probably didn’t have as complete a record of ship names as Frederick, and Yamamoto Isoroku would likely be terrified to his core.

In the face of the aggressive all-star lineup of the Atlantic Fleet, the great Ancient Dominator Gatandje seemed oblivious, still wildly waving hundreds of meter-long tentacles in place, producing a siren wail that was enough to drive anyone mad with fear.

Though in essence, it was merely a group of players competing for control of the tentacles within the evil god’s shell.

"First life is mine! Watch my moves!"

"Get lost! What moves can you make? Do your tentacles have more views than mine?"

"Are you kidding? I started with the Dark Bible, okay?"

"Who’s the magical girl? I’ll end her cycle once and for all!"

"Can’t you all be a bit more civilized? There are girls here too!"

"Sorry, we are a collective evil god formed from the human dark side of desires, and I stand for lust."

"What a coincidence, me too."

"Lust +1"

"Lust +2"

"I who once was willing to give all light to Ultraman Tiga am no longer pure, only a Gatandje full of lust for the flesh remains in this world, 55555, let’s relieve with some glue."

"Ugh!! The Americans are attacking, stop arguing!"

The players quarrel madly within a single channel, none willing to concede, dragging each other down, only for Frederick to seize the chance for the first strike.

The Washington at the forefront unleashed a low rumble, that’s the 460mm naval gun firing.

This gun once echoed throughout the entire Atlantic Ocean, the pinnacle of conventional artillery caliber, striking fear into any enemy who heard it.

Now it was about to face off against this terrifying non-human creature.

The shell shrieked as it hit the twisted hideous turret of Gatandje, exploding into a huge fireball.

Following closely were relentless attacks, dense as rain: Tomahawk cruise missiles, B25 bombing clusters, naval gun salvos, even the close-range strafing by squadrons of F15s, all targeting the thousand-meter behemoth, eager to drown it with Demonic Puppets.

The ferocious bombardment nearly engulfed Gatandje entirely, yielding plentiful results: many tentacles were severed, remnants scattered, with its carapace blasted into several large holes, pitch-black ichor oozing out in torrents, transforming into more black smoke sweeping around.

Just an empty appearance?

Just as Frederick was thinking this, the severed limbs and shattered shells quickly drew back towards the main body with astonishing speed.

In the blink of an eye, two new tentacles grew from the stumps, the repaired carapace becoming even tougher and more hideous.

"Awo——"

The piercing howl carried boundless rage within.

Frederick’s attack successfully forced the players to drop their struggle for control, redirecting their focus to finish off these Americans before anything else.

Numerous tentacles began to stretch towards the enemy fleet, their trajectories wantonly wending through the sky, completely defying common sense.

The naval bombardment couldn’t halt the advancing tentacles, shattered one moment, restored the next, and even more tentacles grew, reaching towards various directions.

A few whooshing privateer jets were slapped to pieces like flies by tentacles, their fragments swiftly turning into data codes entirely consumed by the tentacles.

While the billowing endless black mist wasn’t just some atmosphere troupe, several F15 fighters probing inside seemed to dive headlong into a swamp; their movement speed began to slow, their framework became unstable, frequently error-reporting, while the edges of their models started to corrode and disassemble bit by bit.

Though the steel fleet’s firepower could delay the tentacles’ advancement, it couldn’t block the black mist, leaving Frederick only able to divert attention to attempt constructing new firewalls.