Chapter 766: Killing Claw

With the deep night covering the earth, the flames of war gradually cooled down.
But deep in the camp, the flames never went out.
The blue fire of molten iron spewed out continuously. When the liquid metal sizzled into the furnace, the nozzle burned.
The heavy hammer rises and falls on the anvil made of alloy, the whine of the conveyor belt, only the steel-like will and physique of the cast kid wearing a sleeveless mechanic uniform can work in this extremely harsh environment, fart You can only fight in the distance.
Ok didn't have any concept of rear. The camp was established where the attack was. Even when the battle was still anxious during the day, the mechanics had already established their workshops only a few hundred meters away from the front line.
Recycle, cast, export, reclaim, recast, and export again.
This is the rhythm of their war.
"Step aside!"
Wicken squeezed through the noisy boy and walked towards his goal with the only purpose.
The guard mechanic, who belonged directly to Guk, glared at the row of nearly black scarred old armor and was waiting for him in front of an open furnace.
"I still want to wait."
The guard mechanic said that his face was hidden behind an obliquely baked welding mask.
"I'm looking for what they call a white helmet mechanic."
Wicken said sullenly, his voice twisted by metal and became very unique.
"Here we all call that. But you have found what you are looking for, and he already knows what you want."
Wicken looked up at the soaring mechanical arm of the knifebreaker Hawke, which was gleaming with oil and still bearing traces of fragments of his recent work.
"I need a big fist."
Hawk smiled, his voice as dry as coal.
"The overlord likes you and I was told that he personally sent you."
He moved closer, and Wicken smelled a pungent smoke from him.
"But it won't do you any good. Even if you are scrap iron, you have to wait in line."
Wicken raised his left arm, and at its end was a twisted and broken metal fist.
Since he lost his hand, he has never had a chance to make a prosthetic leg as a replacement, and his last fight with Xiami has already left the rest incomplete.
"I can't fight like this,"
Wicken said, turning the remnants of the prosthesis in the firelight.
"Never again."
"I heard you did a good job."
"I need to hold the axe again."
The guard mechanic smiled for the second time.
"Want to hold an axe?"
"I used to use this hand before."
"Then it is best to learn to use the other arm."
Wicken immediately set up to face Hawke.
"Don't joke with me, take the wrench."
"Do you think I'm kidding? Looking around you, I have hundreds of soldiers to arm, and every few minutes, I will get another set of armor and blade! To satisfy the iron hunger, I let my mechanics work till death, as long as the shrimps are not dead, this kind of thing will not be played...you can still see, you can go, you can make a big click, you are lucky enough ."
"This is not enough!"
Bjorn growled.
"I need a big fist!"
Hawke raised his waist and lowered his white helmet until it was only one palm wide from Wicken's head.
"Waiting, team, go!"
For a while, Wicken remained motionless.
He clenched his right hand and considered coercion. It was possible. Hawk was big, but Wicken was bigger than him.
But then, reluctantly, he gave in.
The battle with the same kind does not bring any benefit at present.
"I will return."
Wicken said vowedly and stomped away from Hawke.
"You won't refuse me anymore."
The guard mechanic just shrugged and continued his work. The mechanical arm on his back turned and the fire ignited again.
Wicken strode through rows of hardworking mechanics and barely noticed the flashing on the welder's heavy mask.
Each of his nerves was irritated. He would have to join the battle again as a cumbersome and crippled identity. He was not afraid of his death, but his blood was full of sorrow at the thought of dragging on the whole battle.
Then, in the last section of the foundry workshop, he saw it.
It hung on the iron chain, half of it disappeared in the darkness, gleaming in the reflected light of the furnace, with a complete, original, wild beauty.
"you."
Wicken said, pointing at a fart.
"Who did this for?"
The fart bowed awkwardly in a thick uniform.
"I, I don't know, do I need to find the boss?"
Wicken looked at it again, and the item was perfect.
This is a peculiar thing, a masterpiece of genius, and the people who bear it will continue to kill until everything is dead.
"Can you put it on?"
Wicken asked with his broken arm out.
"Yes, but—"
The fart replied hesitantly.
"Do what I said."
Wicken said, stretching towards the hanging chain, his pulse was already quickened.
"Do it now."
Under the pressure of the giant machinery, the fart chose to succumb, and he called his companion to install the tool that was originally prepared for the repair of Mao Brothers' battle on Wicken's arm.
Until dawn, the war on the ground has not begun~EbookFREE.me~The fight in the tunnel has gradually reached its climax...
"Let's go!"
Wicken roared with a curse of death and rushed towards the enemy.
His four Adamantite claws roared into a state of enveloping energy, glowing green in the surrounding darkness. This was originally just a grabbing tool, but now it has become his killing hand.
This tunnel is spacious enough, but it can only tightly accommodate a scrap iron block.
In the darkness, a warrior wolf wolf with blue armor and a white mask on his face swooped at him, and the great sword in his hand shivered in a scream.
The two warriors collided together, and Wicken felt the pain when the long sword bit into the crack of his shoulder armor.
He immediately turned, thrust, and twisted his body to stay close to the enemy.
At the same time, reach out the mechanical claw and grab the face under the helmet.
Its decomposing force field shines with a dark green color, tearing open the steel protective gear, sliding through the flesh, and cutting the tendons, muscles and bones.
Fiery blood spewed out along the claw body of the Adamantite Claw, and hissed as the edge boiled.
The Wolverine warrior wobbled, his neck was nailed.
Wicken twisted his claw blade, the enemy fell, his throat was pulled, and he fell to the ground with the final heavy impact of the armor.
"Waaaagh!!!"
Wicken howled at his victory, opened his paws, and sprayed blood stains in the hallway.
Followed by a team of guards, they opened fire freely, locked the surviving soldiers, and drove them back to the depths of the tunnel.
"Kill them!"
Wicken roared.
"Kill them all!"
Then, with the friction of the armor and the cracking sound of the decomposing force field, he strode out meteorically, once again, into the shadows.