Chapter 90: No. 1 Experimental Subject

"Crossbowmen, ready—Fire!" The order pierced through the noise of the battlefield coldly. The one issuing the command was a pitch-black figure standing on the stockade wall.

That was a dragon-man, but far more sturdy and tall than the ordinary black dragon dragon-man. He wore a full set of black plate armor without any extra patterns, only fine scratches left by countless battles and the dried blood of demons, as if swallowing all the light around him.

He just stood there like a statue carved from marble, emitting a suffocating pressure. And that far more burly body than his kin, as well as the powerful dragon might that could not be completely concealed, all indicated that he was an elite warrior belonging to the "Black Dragon Wings."

Under his command, those Goblin crossbowmen whose movements were deformed by fear actually managed to maintain the rhythm of shooting, splashing sparse but still lethal rain of arrows toward the surging magic tide below.

Sakavi had finally manufactured it after years of improvement—a fragmented soul that could be perfectly embedded with a Master-rank warrior flesh puppet. His mission was to collect precious real-time combat data in real bloody slaughter and perfect the soul forging technique that was not yet mature.

Under the dual effect of the fishy-sweet smell of the Blood-Mad Vines and the dragon might emitted by the black dragon commander, the Goblin crossbowmen on the position were like being manipulated by invisible silk threads, their bodies mechanically completing the actions of loading and shooting, while their eyes were filled with a chaos of empty fanaticism and fear.

When the first Imp, with dark red skin and dripping mucus, dug its twisted claws into the gaps of the wooden stockade wall, making a teeth-grinding scratching sound, that taut string snapped instantly.

"Gwaaaah—!"

I don't know which Goblin made this shrill, deformed scream first, but it instantly infected the entire position like a plague. The most instinctive fear of the Abyss extinguished the courage brought by the Blood-Mad Vines like ice water, and also washed away the Goblins' awe of dragon might.

The next moment, crossbows were discarded haphazardly on the ground. The surviving goblins could no longer heed any orders; like a swarm of insects whose nest had been bombed, they screamed and shoved, their only goal being to get away from the rampart that was being swarmed by demons and flee toward any place in the rear where a glimmer of life might exist.

However, since Aquilon placed them here, he naturally would not let this defense line be so vulnerable. When the fleeing Goblins rushed through the stockade wall and ran toward the entrance to the underground air-raid shelter in the square, thinking they were about to be saved, a strange change occurred.

The Goblins charging at the front hit an invisible wall and their bodies stalled violently. Immediately following, the wave of panic was instantly smoothed out by an invisible hand, and all the Goblins' screams and wails stopped abruptly.

Their eyes suddenly became empty and dull, and their movements stopped stiffly in place, as if a group of puppets whose souls had been suddenly drawn out. The next second, a more unnatural "order" descended. They turned around in unison, and light reignited in their eyes—this was a fanaticism that had been forcibly implanted, like burning souls.

The Goblins silently and quickly picked up the bows, crossbows, and short knives they had just discarded, no longer running toward the path of life, but accurately and efficiently dispersing and sneaking into the ruins and preset cover around the square. Clearly, Aquilon's backup was far more cold-blooded than a dirt-and-wood defense line.

Looking at the performance of this group of Goblins, the black dragon man had no expression. After waving his sword to split a hellhound that had been trying to get close, he spread his dragon wings and flew to the rear, finally stopping steadily at the back of the position, his cold vertical pupils showing no fluctuations.

The eerie transformation of the Goblins from fleeing to being manipulated and returning to the battle line did not cause even a ripple in the dragon man's cold vertical pupils. He swung his giant sword backhand, splitting a hellhound that was trying to pounce into two halves. The filthy blood splashed onto his plate armor, but he didn't even look at it.

He suddenly spread his giant dragon wings, bringing up a violent wind mixed with the smell of sulfur and blood. His huge body took off, crossing the chaotic stockade wall without any nostalgia. He landed accurately in the core area behind the position, his claws stepping on the ground steadily.

Clearly, he had no intention of throwing himself into the muddy pit of bloody street fighting ahead. As a commander and puppeteer, his value lay in controlling the overall situation. He stood steadily behind the position like a calm chess player, staring tightly at the direction of the entire war situation.

Perhaps, in his incomplete mind, the concept of "fear" did not exist at all. The black dragon-man was merely a tool of war, precisely executing the core directives of "command" and "control" until he was ultimately destroyed or overwritten by new instructions.

The demons entering the position smelled the aura of the creatures of the material plane. Out of hatred for order and life, they searched frantically for every Goblin that might be hiding, but it seemed the process was not going well.

The demons rushing into the position were immediately stimulated by the aura of the living beings of the material plane. The deep hatred for order and life made them fall into deeper madness, and they began to tear open every cover that might hide them, frantically searching for those Goblins hiding.

However, this expected slaughter progressed exceptionally difficultly. This area, composed of ruins, trenches, and specially reinforced cover, had long been transformed into a three-dimensional maze with vicious structures under Aquilon's intentional arrangement.

Under the control of the black dragon man's will that spanned the battlefield, the entire ruin seemed to come alive, turning into a crouching giant beast full of malice. The Goblins turned into the poisonous fangs and sharp claws of this giant beast, "entertaining" the invading demons in unexpected ways.

The gaps in the broken arrow towers, the tunnel holes blocked by rubble, and even behind the signs half-hanging in the air, could at any moment silently probe out a poisoned crossbow machine.

"Shhh—" The subtle sound of arrows breaking through the wind was often covered up by the roars and destruction sounds of demons, until the arrowheads coated with neurotoxins accurately nailed into the eye socket of a Quasit, or shot through the muscle tendons of a Dretch's knee.

The demons hit by arrows often destroyed the cover where the arrows came from in a rage, only to find a narrow passage behind, and the attackers had already transferred with the help of preset routes. These ubiquitous dark arrows constantly consumed the demon's troops and bred tension among them.

When a search squad composed of three Imps and one Dretch drilled into a narrow alley, the real killing machine suddenly descended.

"Rumble!"

The pre-set alchemical bombs were detonated, not for lethality, but to cut off the retreat and create a loud noise, covering the subsequent actions. At the same time, a dozen Goblins suddenly appeared on the ruins on both sides. They said nothing, pouring all the short spears and flying axes in their hands toward the demons in the alley.

A Dretch was covered in throwing weapons. Just as it waved its weapon to try to fight back, the loose wooden boards on the ground suddenly collapsed. Several Goblins jumped out from the cover, pouncing forward without fear of death, using hooks to limit its movement, and frantically stabbing short knives into the gaps and joints of its armor.

The whole process took no more than fifteen seconds. When the demons in the rear were attracted by the explosion sound and rushed over, the Goblin squad had already disappeared without a trace through the underground network, leaving only the miserable demon corpses in the alley.

The black dragon man stood in the rear, his cold vertical pupils reflecting the slaughter map of the entire battlefield, like the most efficient chess player, accurately mobilizing every "chess piece," turning this ruin into a quagmire that delayed the demons. His will was the core of this death maze.

The legendary demon lord sat on the clouds like a god, overlooking the entire war situation. They had already noticed this stockade that hindered the advance of the army like a stubborn ringworm, as well as the black dragon man who controlled everything behind the scenes.

However, just as a giant would not personally catch the lice under its fur, the dignity of the demon lords did not allow them to enter the field personally at this time. Their will turned into invisible instructions, transmitted to the Master-rank demons under their command.

They didn't care at all about the casualties of low-level demons in street fighting. Those Imps, Dretches, and even Nalfeshnees as backbone forces were just renewable numbers in the eyes of the lords, used to exhaust the defenders' energy and traps.

The Master-rank demons who received authorization immediately showed tactical thinking completely different from the chaotic tradition. They did not foolishly drill into the street fighting maze, but carried out "formatting" clearance of the entire area.

Malgas, the Balor, hovered above the stockade. He no longer looked for specific targets, but continued to spray hellfire novas toward the areas where the Goblins' cold arrows were densest and ambushes were most frequent.

Sticky evil fireballs fell like meteors, no longer seeking to kill a certain Goblin, but completely vaporizing the cover and ruins in the entire area along with the ambushers inside. He intended to use the purest bombardment to dismantle the maze.

Standing outside the safe distance, waving tentacles and chanting blasphemous incantations, the Spell-Weaver Sarthos, a powerful Glabrezu, was casting a large-scale group rage spell, forcibly distorting the minds of low-level demons in the area, letting them act like tireless destruction machines, dismantling cover with efficiency several times more frantic than before.

The Plague Nest Grutla, a giant toad-like demon, lay directly on the edge of the position, her swollen abdomen constantly wriggling, then spraying large-scale plague clouds toward the core area.

This cloud could not only corrode flesh and blood but also penetrate into the cover and poison the Goblins inside. She was carrying out "biochemical cleaning," ignoring terrain, indiscriminately poisoning all living things, and of course, including low-level demons.

Shadow Prowler Hano, the commander of several Master-rank demons on the scene, while issuing various orders, also directed his Shadow Demon kin to constantly sneak into the shadows to hunt down those Goblins responsible for conveying the commander's will at key nodes.

Malgas was enjoying the pleasure of destruction. He hovered above a relatively open ruin. This was a safe zone just cleared by evil fire. His burning pupils scanned the surroundings, looking for the next target worth burning. In his view, this area had been thoroughly purified and there was no threat.

However, this open space was precisely the grave chosen for him by the black dragon man commander.

A manipulated Goblin shaman, with faint magic light flickering on his body, emerged from an underground cover entrance in a panic, seemingly preparing to transfer.

"Ant!" Malgas emitted a roar of contempt, too lazy to even move, directly opening his mouth and shooting a concentrated hellfire breath like a spear toward the Goblin.

The moment the hellfire left his mouth, the seemingly charred and flat ground below suddenly exploded! Four thick, cold iron spikes engraved with energy-absorbing runes broke through the ground from four angles, like the fangs of a giant beast, instantly closing and biting his wings and lower limbs firmly!

Malgas smashed heavily onto the ground. Just as anger and a trace of astonishment rose, the real killing move followed. In the ruins on both sides, strong gravity magic light erupted. The pre-buried magic scrolls were activated at the same time, and several times the gravity pressed heavily on him like an invisible mountain.

Almost at the same time the gravity took effect, a pitch-black figure that blended perfectly with the environment in the shadow of the half-broken tower overhead dived down like lightning. The dragon man commander held the giant sword with both hands, and the sword body lit up with death runes that swallowed light the moment he held it.

The dragon man had no extra movements. The giant sword, carrying the power of his whole body and the potential energy of falling, turned into a black light, piercing deeply into Malgas' heart. Decay energy instantly spread to his whole body, not only extinguishing the Balor's last hellfire but also beginning to frantically devour his life.

The moment the dragon man's most subtle muscles relaxed because of completing the beheading, the shadow suddenly rose like a poisonous snake! It had no form, but condensed into a shadow dagger composed of extreme soul curses in an instant.

That was not the dragon man's own shadow, but Hano, who had been lurking here from the beginning and blended perfectly with all the shadows around. No aura, no temperature, not even a trace of killing intent, just like a shadow waiting for the right time.

When the dragon man's keen combat instinct finally noticed the tiny spatial ripples from behind, everything was already too late.

"Pfft—"

The shadow dagger accurately pierced into the gap between the skull and the cervical spine. This was the key node where the armor protection was relatively weak, and also the connection point between the nervous system and the soul. The terrifying negative energy contained in the dagger erupted instantly, like the most violent tide, shattering his soul.

All the movements of the dragon man commander stiffened instantly. He even maintained the posture of pulling out the sword, but the light in those cold vertical pupils had been completely extinguished. His huge body lost all support and fell forward heavily, smashing beside the Balor corpse he had just killed.

"Sakavi, your No. 005 puppet has also completely died. Just now, our Shadow Intelligence Court lost contact with him. On the battlefield, you should know what this means."

"So what? Don't tell me you didn't collect enough data. I can't make new puppets here, at least for now I don't have the materials." ===== CHAPTER 91 =====