Chapter 89

"4th Legion, advance, launch a counter-charge against the demons, 2nd and 3rd Legions, form a square formation immediately! Lads, your time is running out, move quickly!"

The scale and elite level of the enemy army far exceeded expectations, and mid-level demons constituted the absolute main force of the offensive. The Lizardman legions had no time to build a complete defensive formation. Only by taking the initiative to attack and using the charge to attract the main demon force could they win precious time for the rear to deploy defenses.

The counterattack of the 4th Legion was like a reef thrown into a blood-colored ocean, causing only twenty minutes of blood waves in the magic tide before being completely drowned. But this short gap was already precious. The remaining soldiers quickly withdrew from the gaps on both flanks and regrouped in the rear.

"Ready—Fire!" The hoarse order of the flag officer pierced the noise of the battlefield. On the line, Lizardman crossbowmen had cold eyes, like wound-up war machines, just repeating the actions of drawing bows and firing arrows.

In front of the line was the roaring destructive tide of demons, while behind the line there was only the buzzing of bowstrings and the screech of arrows breaking through the air. They turned a deaf ear to the madness close at hand, like silent dams, using cold arrows to block death.

Behind the battle line, there was no smoke of gunpowder, only the evacuation of all important materials, racing against time. Ogre and Lizardman women were executing a cold mission: evacuation.

This was not a rout, but a decision based on cold reality. If the defense line could not be repaired within ten hours, active withdrawal to preserve strength was the only choice at this moment.

Beneath the surface evacuation, the real hunting had just begun. 300,000 Kobolds and Goblin Mobile Corps Commander members had sneaked into every shadow corner of the defense line.

Their mission was to use alchemical bombs to completely reshape this place into a domain of destruction, and before and after the roar of the explosion, use poisoned crossbow bolts to give the demons a lethal blow from the dark. What was left here was not emptiness, but endless death.

…………

"Vickers, it's your turn to play. Lead the dragon beast group to take over Shadow Claw's defense line. They have already won six hours of precious time for us. Now, it's time to bring them back."

The Lizardman legions under Shadow Claw's command were tightly entangled by the boundless demon tide, like a lonely boat in a storm on the sea. The sturdy formation had long been shattered, and the heavy scales were broken and rolled up under the tearing of demons.

The roars of demons and the short, muffled groans of dying Lizardmen intertwined, and the encirclement was tightening like a noose. Shadow Claw's battle flag was swaying in the smoke, as if it would be completely swallowed by the magic tide in the next second.

A violent dragon roar tore through the sky, not originating from the sense of hearing, but exploding directly in the depths of every soul. Vast dragon might descended, not as momentum, but as a substantial heavy pressure.

It made all the demons on the battlefield feel their hearts stop and their blood freeze in an instant. This was an absolute crushing at the life level, a fear originating from the deepest part of the bloodline.

Only to see the gloomy clouds being torn apart violently. The blue dragon Vickers led the way, his huge body wrapped in jumping electric light. Behind him was a mixed dragon beast army that covered the sky and the sun. The next moment, destruction descended from the sky.

This was an "elemental baptism" covering the entire encirclement. Vickers and the blue dragon beast group sprayed huge chain lightning. Electric snakes jumped frantically in the dense demon group, turning patches of areas into charred corpse piles.

The flame breath of the red dragon beasts plowed through the earth like huge fire pillars, melting and vaporizing the demons along with the soil. The acid breath of the green dragon beasts splashed like a rainstorm, corroding carapaces and flesh, hissing.

Perhaps, in his incomplete mind, the concept of "fear" did not exist at all. The black dragon man was just a war tool, accurately executing the core instructions of "command" and "control" until finally being destroyed or overwritten by new instructions.

This sudden, destructive strike from the sky instantly tore the demon encirclement to pieces. The army that had been charging fiercely just now fell into extreme chaos, evaporating and falling in droves under the baptism of dragon breath.

Vickers dived, his claws directly tearing a Nalfeshnee that was commanding the siege into two halves. He issued a thunderous roar toward the Lizardmen below who were almost stunned: "Shadow Claw! Now is the time, take your cubs and retreat!"

Shadow Claw did not hesitate at all and issued a screech for retreat. The surviving warriors burst out their last strength, retreating toward the rear along the death channel that had been forcibly torn open by the dragon beasts and was filled with demon remains.

Vickers and his dragon beast army were like an insurmountable dam, firmly guarding the rear of the battlefield, using continuous dragon breath and claws to temporarily block the demon pursuit, winning that incomparably precious breathing space for the retreat of the Lizardman legions.

After more than an hour of wanton destruction, sensing the powerful pressure coming from the direction of the Abyssal crack, Vickers understood that the legendary demon lords were already dissatisfied with the situation here to the extreme and intended to enter the field personally. It was also time for them to retreat.

The hour-long destructive strike was nearing its end. Just then, a pressure that made the soul tremble hit like a substantial tide from the direction of the Abyssal crack.

The will of the legendary demon lords was already pressing down like dark clouds. Clearly, their wanton destruction had touched the bottom line of the Abyssal high-level. The balance of the battlefield was about to reverse. Facing the upgraded war level, Vickers issued the retreat order without hesitation.

Would the will of the demon lords be shaken by the enemy's retreat? Five figures tearing through reality, carrying suffocating pressure, stepped into the battlefield one after another.

They were hideous and different in form; some had lava flowing around them, some had wings covering the sky, and some could erode the soul with a whisper. Their appearance itself was declaring a fact: game over.

Ash-Burner Angra, he seemed to be a giant spliced from flowing lava and black basalt, over thirty feet tall. His body was covered in cracks, with scorching fire light flowing beneath, and every breath sprayed thick smoke mixed with sparks from his mouth and nose.

He dragged a giant decapitation sword made of solidified despair and magma in his hand, and the air was ignited wherever the sword passed. He represented the purest destruction and the violent rage of burning everything.

The second to arrive was the Mother of a Thousand Faces, Silanya. She had no fixed form, like a blasphemous mist constantly wriggling and changing colors. At times she revealed the image of a beautiful woman who seduced all living things, and at other times she turned into a collection of countless painful wailing soul faces.

Her whispers could echo directly in the minds of living beings, awakening the deepest fears and desires in their hearts. She played with a soul spindle woven from lies in her hand. She symbolized the corruption of the mind and eternal deception.

Following closely behind was the Decay Master Moghur. This was a moving mountain of flesh piled up from countless rotting internal organs, swollen limbs, and filthy things, with no fixed facial features on his body.

Pustules constantly formed and burst on his huge body, spraying yellow-green plague clouds capable of corroding steel and souls. Wherever he stepped, the soil would instantly turn pitch black, wither, and emit the foul stench of death. He was the embodiment of disease, decay, and the end of life.

Coming with him was the Shadow Weaver Nozul. This demon lord was more like a living human silhouette constantly dripping with sticky darkness, having no physical entity but more suffocating than any material.

Light was ruthlessly swallowed around his body, and space twisted slightly. He had no weapons, but those eyes burning with pale cold fire could directly absorb the soul and temperature of living beings, turning them into cold statues. He represented absolute nothingness and the erasure of existence.

The final demon lord to appear, and also the commander of this invasion—the Iron Crusher Goraton—was more like a living war machine forged from obsidian and demonic metal.

His appearance was similar to a giant beetle covered in spiky carapaces, but his back was loaded with giant battering rams like siege hammers and constantly rotating appendages full of serrated teeth. His body was the most terrifying weapon, capable of easily crushing city walls and tearing legions apart.

Goraton's existence was the embodiment of destruction. He had no joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness, only the absolute drive to "physically erase" "order." As the most lethal weapon and most trusted deputy of the 1872nd layer Abyssal lord.

All war plans were woven by him, and in the end, he would always come to the scene in person, ensuring that everything proceeded according to the blueprint of destruction he depicted with the most powerful and irresistible posture.

The broken second line of defense in front was not worth their birth. Under Goraton's order, the demons gathered again beside him and then rushed toward the wooden camps in front.

The broken second line of defense in front was no different from children's toys in the eyes of several demon lords, not yet worthy of tarnishing their arrogant identities. Goraton issued a short mental instruction, without even needing words.

In an instant, endless demons gathered frantically beside him like responding to instinct, then turned into a frenzy of destruction, surging straight toward the crumbling wooden camps, while the lords watched coldly, as if appreciating a play destined for destruction.

At this moment, the entire second line of defense had been completely covered by eerie Blood-Mad Vines. Purple-red vines wriggled between the ruins like living things, emitting a nauseating sweet, fishy smell. However, the fighting spirit this stimulated finally had its limits.

Goblins, like Murlocs, were races with a nature of bullying the weak and fearing the strong. At this moment, they were curled up behind trenches and broken cover. Their bodies trembled because of the Blood-Mad Vines. Asking them to confront demons that were several times stronger than themselves and emitted the aura of death head-on was indeed a bit difficult for them.

Even those Kobolds who held a near-blind fanatical worship of dragons were struggling like never before. The tremor brought by the Abyssal aura, which went deep into the souls of creatures, was like the coldest chain, entangling them and making every breath full of despair. ===== CHAPTER 90 =====