It's all one flower.
465. Battle of the Control Room
Tank cannons blew fire on the torso of the warcraft protruding through the window.
The Warcraft leaves his body stuck in the building window.
The Artel army had no hesitation in attacking the giant warcraft alongside the tanks that attacked the base, either with fine dust. I don't mind my own building being damaged.
The belly of a warcraft resembling a spider is protected by metallic shiny scales, and he hasn't felt any itch in the direct strike of a tank cannon.
The windows on the lower level of the control tower have been broken from the inside, and the Warcraft has found something there, completely ignoring attacks from runway tanks and military vehicles, trying to break into the room.
The giant became a vendetta and stuck between the ceiling and the floor in the room where he broke in with the windows ripped from wall to wall, no further into the back, tight with legs with hook claws.
A tank that remained at Aquillo base showers a concentrated fire on a warcraft stuck in the control tower.
The cannon fire burned red in the darkness of the night.
The little warcraft of the same type entered the barracks, and the long warcraft, like a serpent and an hundred feet (muckades), and the gray warcraft, similar to a wolf with four eyes, each entered another building.
Nemoralist guerrillas, including wizards, are also intruding.
A soldier from the Artel army prayed to Saint Kirkulus how he could leave the night raid of Warcraft and Guerrilla.
... demons flying, night flights are absolutely murky, and nobody's in the control room, right?
Roark cares about the number of grenades left, followed by the people of the lake, Journitol, and Captain Solniak, up the stairs.
There are only a few grenades left to wear. For that matter, it got lighter, but tired Roark was sweaty and severely short of breath.
I wanted some water, but I didn't have time for that.
Fully equipped militant guerrillas also run up from behind. Roark, a high school student, put his fluttering leg forward so that he could be driven halfway.
Boom.
Every time a building shakes, you're stunned. From the dance floor window, I saw the Artel army shoot tank cannons into their own control tower.
"Here we are."
Captain Solgnac will hand stop the subsequent guerrilla.
The top floor of the control tower was quiet.
The front door is closed, but the floor lights are brilliant in counteracting demons and mischievous demons. There are no people in the elevator hall.
Half the guerrillas are rear, the Roarks. The other half are forward on alert.
Journitol, the guard of the people of the lake, received a new [tear of the sorcerer] from the old man guerrilla and let the water out of the [infinite bottle]. Freed water crawls through the floor like a creature in the art of [manicured water], approaching the door.
Water crawls up the door and rocks the door knob. The door had something like a metal calculator on it.
"Of course, but it's locked."
"It's faster to [unlock] the water than to put it inside and explore it by hand. Hey, come on."
A powerful people's guerrilla slips through the side of the journey and approaches the door. The guard Journitle's manipulative water protected both sides of him.
... I don't know if people are here or not, and I don't know if they are.
At night, demons and warcraft activities become active even in the sky.
Most national air forces and airlines do not fly at night. Still, it was a time of war, so there were concerns that soldiers remained in the control room for some other reason.
The guerrilla's chant ends.
At the same time the door opened, the emergency bell rang.
"Cover"
Captain Solgnac slapped him on the shoulder, and Roark's stiffness broke. Take the grenade out of your pocket and follow.
A guerrilla who opened the door threw a grenade into the room sooner rather than later and ran to the elevator hall wall telling to get away from the door.
After one breath, there was a roar indoors.
Captain Solgnac jumped into the control room, protected left and right by Journitle's water, shooting an automatic small gun. Other guerrillas follow.
Roark looked at the watch.
Soon, the effect of the [exorcism] curse that we all have will expire.
It is time for the demons to gush and receive flesh from the bodies of the Artel soldiers whose journeys have scattered roses downstairs. Even if you are grumpy, you will be attacked from behind by more warcraft.
The control room was about the size of a high school classroom.
Things are totally different from the control room at a private airport you see occasionally in a newspaper. A lot of desks lined up, all of which had equipment like an aircraft cockpit. The desk in front blows up, the foundation of the equipment screws up and raises the smoke.
Subsequently, the jumping guerrilla also fired an automatic small gun, and a number of bullet marks wore through the lined screens.
There are no signs of people.
I don't know which machine would make me unable to fly fighters, but Roark threw the rest of the grenades one after the other into the back of the room.
One of the guerrillas of the powerful people spreads the wall of water in front of the door and guards against it.
Turns out to be deserted, the other guerrillas stopped firing and switched to grenades.
An emergency bell that won't stop ringing.
Multiple blasts that sound simultaneously.
Equipment fragments splash.
The windows break and the hot air blows in.
Smoke pours in and dyes the windows white.
A blown desk destroys the equipment at the drop point.
Ceiling lighting is destroyed and indoor lights are diminishing.
Journitle and another lake people had pieces of machinery created with grenades contained in the water and slammed on other machines.
"Ah!... there... Ki...!...... right!
Guerrilla's voice sounded interrupted by the sounds of a ringing emergency bell.
See who he points to. Roark stopped moving in dismay.
... I just saw you come into another building...?
From the broken window, a warcraft, mixed with snakes and hundreds of feet, pushed the smoke and crawled in.
Perhaps you've smelled blood and magic.
"This way too!
A guerrilla screamed right behind Roark.
A gray beast resembling a wolf quickly rushes through the control room with six legs, attacking an automatic small gun. One of the two heads roared and the other was devoured by the guerrillas of the powerful people.
Six legs with two heads...... The Wolf-shaped Warcraft tows the guerrilla behind him with the tail of a snake. Poison fangs glistened with the mouth of the snake.
Another warcraft that hooks a slice of military uniform breaks through the water wall. The guerrilla that makes the water wall was also attacked by the Warcraft, and the uncontrolled water spread to the floor.
[Soaring Eagle (Washi)] A school guard, Journitle, casts a spell on his quick mouth and pulls a bow with his hand that holds nothing.
A bow and arrow of light appear in its hand and are released to the warcraft that strikes the guerrilla. The light pulled its tail and flew, standing on the back of a warcraft resembling a wolf. Blood erupts from the wounds on his back and the arrows of light disappear. Two heads of the Warcraft threw up their eaten, chopped arms. Turn back to the journey, strip your fangs and roar low.
A hairy giant snake snakes a hundred legs between the destroyed equipment and the desk, crawling at a nightmarish rate.
Roark couldn't move at all.
"Retreat."
Captain Solniak's voice sounded into the control room by pressing the emergency bell.
The guerrillas throw the remaining grenades at the Warcraft, towing them with automatic small guns, while approaching a pre-determined pair.
A serpent-shaped warcraft cannot be frightened by a blast of grenades. Sew between the destroyed cockpit groups and crawl over to the injured guerrilla.
A guerrilla of the people of the lake slammed fragments with water on a werewolf-shaped warcraft and grabbed Roark's wrist. Warcraft pokes a frightened gap and speaks [leaps] with a quick mouth.
Journitle also held hands with Captain Solgnac and chanted the same spell.
A powerful people's guerrilla ran out into the elevator hall. [Leap] and saw the guerrilla of a powerless people chase after him and cling to his arms.
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