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✠The aspect of the engagement was no different from the war of attrition.

Helcaion, the king of the Flame Behemoth, was on the run, spreading embers and sulfur fires in all directions.

He rushed here and there, biting as soon as he came, rolling his front and hind paws, shaking the ground and trampling on the creatures.

Distractingly, like an angry bull, the object of the attack continued to change.

It's the worst thing about tankers not doing their part at all.

"Kerhuck!"

"Big!"

A blonde ponytail woman and a black-brown haired man were each stuck in different directions.

Whether it was only a slap in the tail that the Helcaion wielded, the result was disastrous.

They were among the best talents in the Republic and the Democratic People's Republic respectively.

Still, the reason I couldn't beat the Mac was because of the 'hell ember superposition' debuff emanating from the Helcaion.

On the battlefield at this time, a fine fire was floating slowly through the air like a dandelion seed.

The myriad of fires did not stop at polluting the field of view and hindering the battle.

It built up as a source of embers in the body by entering the respiratory tract or sticking to the skin, and the higher the number of nests, the more debuffing the boss's attack hurts.

With any auxiliary skill or counter-attribute spell, state erasure was not possible.

So after about an hour of engagement, the hellish fire that had accumulated in the body of each tanker was crossing 10 overlaps.

The title of tanker was ridiculously what they were now like glass bodies.

There was a coup, a coup and a life or death going back and forth.

Hills could not be used on corpses, so the tanker had to take care of himself and focus on defense.

This made it difficult to accumulate even the least amount of attacks to pull off the boss's provocation.

A situation in which Agro is extremely unstable. The dealers stopped all action early.

But the problem was Hill. Unlike Dill, Hill couldn't do it.

"Hiik! Heh, go to Healer again Agro......!"

"The ship, you have to guard the White Mage... Ugh!"

Repeated instances of a healer being attacked by a boss being killed in vain, or a dealer claiming to be a shield being sacrificed instead.

But if you don't do the heel, the tanker will die. And the death of the tanker means the annihilation of the Tobal Battalion.

The exhaustion of the dilemma.

It was a fight without odds. All they had to do was hold on until the Duke of Hespenril or the head of the academy came to support them as tankers.

"Damn it. Tung-."

Princess Marcelion, Odelit, spit bloodily.

While the dealers were self-proclaimed shields in their own bodies to protect the White Mage Corps, she too had time to reorganize.

That refurbishment is just that.......

"Aa

"Heal."

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