Chapter 87

Just as the Ogre heavy cavalry caused a bloodbath among the subsequent demon troops, the offensive of the entire demon army experienced a fatal, short-lived "stagnation." The connection between the front line and the rear was forcibly severed, the command system fell into chaos, the demons' old strength was exhausted, and new strength had not yet been born.

On the high platform, a cold light flashed in Aquilon's vertical pupils. He was waiting for this moment. "All troops, listen to the order!" His voice instantly resounded through the entire second line of defense through magic, carrying an unquestionable iron-blooded will. "Lizardman 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Legions, attack! Crush them and recover our lost defense line!"

On the second line of defense, all stockade gates opened with a roar. The Lizardman legions, which had been ready for a long time, poured out of the fortresses like a surging torrent of steel. They were no longer a shield for holding, but had turned into the sharpest spear!

In the front row were Lizardman warriors wearing full heavy armor and holding giant tower shields. They formed an indestructible advancing line, like moving fortresses, stepping with heavy and unified paces, ruthlessly pushing and crushing those demons that had fallen into chaos due to the loss of subsequent support in front of the defense line.

Following closely behind were Lizardman warriors wielding heavy maces and giant hammers. They were the true "cleaners." Any demon trying to resist or knocked down by the vanguard line—whether it was a roaring Dretch or a Nalfeshnee trying to climb up—would be smashed into meat paste and have their bones knocked to pieces by these heavy weapons that carried great force in the next second.

The sound of teeth-grinding bone breaking and the short, dying screeches of demons echoed over the battlefield. In the flanks and gaps of the advancing legions, Lizardman crossbowmen and javelin throwers carried out efficient hunting. They accurately pointed and shot at any demon trying to sneak attack from the flank or cast spell-like abilities, clearing all obstacles for the flanks of the main legion.

The demons, having lost unified command and subsequent troops, although still fierce individually, had become a plate of loose sand. Under the organized, iron-wall-enclosing offensive of the Lizardman legions, they retreated steadily, were divided, surrounded, and then completely annihilated.

Aquilon's attack order was like placing the final decisive weight on an already tilted scale. The Lizardman legions swept away all the remaining enemies in front of the defense line with the momentum of crushing dry weeds and smashing rotten wood, stepped over the trench zone filled with demon corpses, and finally, the blood-stained flag symbolizing the defense line was inserted again on the first line of defense, on the ruins of the breastwork that had been ravaged.

The smoke of gunpowder had not yet dissipated, and the demonic blood was still hissing on the ground. Aquilon's gaze had already turned from the victorious battlefield to the devastated defense line. The price of victory was the ruins in front of him that needed to be repaired immediately. He did not have any hesitation, and orders were issued efficiently.

Soon, a large-scale logistics engineering team composed of Ogres, Lizardman women, and a large number of Kobolds, under the protection of some warriors, entered this area that was still permeated with the aura of death. A race against time for reconstruction unfolded.

Ogres, relying on their strong physiques, were responsible for the most arduous transport work. They dragged the shattered demon limbs out of the trenches, or used giant carts to transport demon corpses to designated pits. Their dull shouts quickly became the main theme of the cleanup area.

Lizardman women were more meticulous. They held long hooks and machetes, responsible for cleaning up remains that were difficult to reach on the camps and stockade walls, and rescuing possible survivors. They were coldly frightening; facing this hellish scene, they had nothing in their eyes but waiting to complete the mission.

While cleaning, repair work was carried out simultaneously. Ogres once again became the main force. They shouldered new swamp ironwood and, under the command of engineers, repaired the stockade walls smashed by collisions and reinforced the support points of the crumbling camps. Heavy physical labor was their domain.

Lizardman women were responsible for relatively delicate work, such as filling wall gaps with mud mixed with swamp adhesive, re-laying the waterproof layer on the top of the camps, and weaving new vine protective nets.

Kobolds exerted their innate talent for digging and setting traps. They quickly repaired the destroyed trenches, re-dug steep slopes, and relying on their keen understanding of traps, began to re-arrange poisoned spikes and barbed iron spears at the bottom of the trenches and on the walls.

The entire area turned into a huge, noisy construction site. There was no celebration, only hard work. The air was mixed with the smell of sweat, blood, the burnt smell of burning corpses, and the fragrance of fresh wood.

Everyone understood that the next attack of the demons did not know when it would come. They must race against time before the enemy beat the war drums again, making this defense line that had flowed with countless blood stand up again and become more lethal.

The beach of the Saltwater Swamp had now turned into a blasphemous and tragic scene. The defeat of the demons was a thorough disintegration. Having lost strong command and subsequent support, these chaotic creatures had no organization left under the iron-wall-enclosing counterattack of the Lizardman legions.

They trampled on each other, knocking down injured colleagues, just to be a little further away from that lethal defense line. The flank charge of the Ogre heavy cavalry completely tore apart any attempt they had to reorganize. Under the iron hooves, the demons fell in droves like wheat stalks being harvested.

In the air, the joint clearing by the dragon group and the Harpies made any demon trying to fly away from the battlefield become a burning meteorite, falling with wails. The resistance on the battlefield disappeared quickly, replaced by a one-sided expulsion and slaughter.

A few Dretches or Nalfeshnees were still fighting frantically until they were smashed into meat paste by several heavy maces at the same time. More Imps and Abyssal Hounds fled to the beach in panic, only to be pierced by javelins thrown accurately from behind, their corpses floating and sinking in the tides, dyeing the black seawater even filthier.

Those demons that fell into the trench traps that were revealed again were easily finished off by Lizardman warriors walking above in despair. Soon, outside the defense line, not a single demon figure capable of standing could be seen.

However, at the other end of the crack, larger and darker shadows were restless, and a new torrent of destruction from different Abyssal planes was brewing.

"Cannot give them time." Aquilon's voice was cold and firm. "Defense can never win a war, only delay death. Gressa, you lead the Lizardman legions and Ogre heavy cavalry through the crack to crush the demons that are reorganizing."

Under his order, the warriors who had just experienced a bitter battle did not rest, but quickly lined up on the beachhead. Their armor was covered in demonic blood, and their weapons were full of gaps, but their eyes burned with firm fighting spirit.

Under the shocked gazes of all the engineering personnel in the rear, this army representing the will of the material plane stepped into the Abyssal crack that emitted endless malice and sulfurous aura with firm paces.

At the other end of the Abyssal crack was scorched earth shrouded in sulfurous smoke and dark-red sky light. The demon remnants that had just retreated from the Saltwater Swamp were mixed with the newborn forces of this layer of the Abyss, forming a chaotic, roaring vortex.

Low-level demons were barely gathered under the whipping of the demons, and several new Nalfeshnees were trying to establish order with roars. They all thought they could get a breathing space, preparing for the next more powerful invasion.

Without warning, the crack connecting the two worlds shook violently! The next second, accompanied by the deafening roar of war pigs and the iconic, destruction-desire-filled war cries of the Ogres, the iron torrent composed of Ogre heavy cavalry, like a siege hammer crashing in from another world, smashed fiercely into the core area of the demon assembly point!

This was completely beyond the cognition of the demons. The counterattack of the material plane came faster and more violently than their wildest imagination!

The heavy armor worn by the giant-tusked wild boars smashed the fragile bodies of the Imps, and the giant axes and flails waved by the Ogre knights were like the scythes of death, blowing up a flesh-and-blood storm in the dense demon group. Their goal was clear: create the greatest chaos!

The charging formation was like a hot knife cutting into grease, instantly shattering the assembly that had just had a hint of a prototype. The demons were horrified to find that these warriors from the orderly world showed a charging momentum more violent and unstoppable than demons on their own land!

Following the cavalry, the disciplined Lizardman legions poured out. They did not go deep like the cavalry, but unfolded a semicircular defensive line around the exit of the Abyssal crack with amazing efficiency.

Heavy shield bearers immediately stepped forward, slamming giant tower shields heavily into the scorched earth, forming an impenetrable metal city wall. Spearmen extended poisoned spears from the gaps between the shields, forming a forest of death, piercing all demons trying to rush up to close the passage or counterattack.

Warlocks and crossbowmen poured destructive barrages toward the flanks and front under the cover of the shield wall. Magic missiles tore through the air, and poisoned crossbow bolts accurately pointed and killed demon leaders trying to organize counterattacks. Their mission was to occupy and hold this crucial bridgehead to ensure a retreat path.

The air in the Abyssal plane, full of sulfur and malice, suddenly became sticky. On the distant horizon, several terrifying auras that made the soul tremble were approaching rapidly. Those were the local demon lords, who had been completely enraged and were coming with the anger of the entire plane.

In the cunning and cold vertical pupils of the green dragon Gressa, there was not a trace of hesitation. She immediately understood the situation. The surprise attack for victory had been achieved. Staying for one more second at this moment would mean the entire army would be completely buried here.

"All troops, listen to the order!" Her voice spread across the battlefield through magic, sharp and unquestionable. "Target, plane crack, cover each other, retreat!"

She did not waste a second to explain. The well-trained legions immediately executed the order. The Ogre heavy cavalry disengaged first, gathering toward the crack like a receding tide. Their mission shifted from charging into battle to protecting the flank safety of the retreat passage.

However, Gressa knew very well that in the face of the earth-shattering power of demon lords, a disorganized retreat would only turn into a bloody rout on the enemy's home field. Someone had to stay behind and use flesh and blood to cast a temporary dam to block the incoming torrent of destruction.

"1st Legion!" Gressa's voice carried the majesty peculiar to the dragon race and a cunning that was hard to detect. "Turn around, line up! Your mission is to hold this defense line."

The warriors of the Lizardman 1st Legion quickly converted from an offensive formation to the sturdiest arc-shaped defensive line. Giant tower shields slammed heavily into the scorched earth, and spears like a forest poked out from the gaps, pointing at the sky that was becoming increasingly dark and shrouded by the lord's pressure.

Gressa circled above the crack entrance, taking one last look at the isolated position that was about to be drowned by endless demons. This was a cold but reasonable trade: sacrificing one legion to exchange for the survival of the main force.

The demon lords stared at the defenders who were ready for battle. The desire for destruction churned in their chests, but finally turned into a low, cold laugh filled with contempt. They craved destruction and conquest, not reckless suicide.

Without an endless tide of demons as vanguard to consume the opponent, would a noble lord personally enter the field? This war had only just begun. ===== CHAPTER 88 =====