Chapter 94

As the defenders’ attention and firepower were utterly fixed on the aerial battlefield, the earth began a different, deeper vibration. The demonic ground forces seized this fleeting opportunity and launched their full-scale assault.

Leading the charge were still the endless hordes of lesser demons and abyss hounds. But this time, they were no longer a chaotic tide; under the whips and supervision of the warlord demons behind them, they formed rough yet dense assault formations.

Their objective was to exhaust the defenders’ ground-based ranged firepower, using corpses to fill the traps and ditches before the walls, paving the way for the true siege units behind. The lizardman archers were forced to divert part of their ranged fire, unleashing torrents of arrows to mow down these cannon fodder in waves.

Several massive flesh towers, forged from colossal biological bones and demonic metal, advanced slowly toward the walls, dragged by countless lesser demons like moving mountains. At their summits, warlord demons and serpent demons loaded the platforms, roaring incessantly, ready to surge onto the ramparts the instant the towers touched the walls.

Several hellbeasts, each as large as a small castle and clad in heavy bone armor, began to accelerate as they dragged colossal battering rams wreathed in green demonic fire. Their target was unmistakable—the main gate, already cracked from repeated assaults by Ak Saluosi .

Farther back, a demonic machine resembling a giant spider (the Weaving Engine) halted its advance. Its bloated abdomen pulsed, hurling clusters of living projectiles—each wrapped in potent acid or cursed energy—high over the walls, aiming to strike at the defenders’ reserves and command nodes.

Meanwhile, under the cover of shadows and chaos, the demons’ elite units moved. No longer attempting to scale the smooth walls, they used the paths provided by the living siege towers—or simply leapt atop mountains of piled corpses—to dart forward with astonishing agility, targeting the key positions where heavy weapons were operated.

Souljudges, these massive demons, pushed forward through volleys of arrows and spells, swinging their enormous weapons not to kill, but to smash the battlements and fortifications, trying to widen the breach for the troops behind.

The collapse began with a single roar louder than all the battlefield noise—a deafening crack of shattering steel and stone.

The section of the main gate, relentlessly pounded by Ak Saluosi and repeatedly struck by the hellbeast-borne battering ram, finally gave way with a final, reluctant groan, shattering and collapsing entirely. Massive blocks of basalt tumbled inward, kicking up a towering cloud of dust, revealing a gap wide enough for three Souljudges to pass side by side.

“The gate! The gate’s broken!”

Desperate cries spread instantly along the walls, even momentarily drowning out the demons’ roars. This breach was not merely the fall of a physical line—it was a mortal blow to the defenders’ will.

The first to pour through were countless warlord demons, trampling over the corpses of their own kind, long starved for blood. They swung their weapons like meat grinders, crashing into the pig-headed heavy infantry rushing to seal the gap. In an instant, the most savage, bloody hand-to-hand combat erupted at the breach.

Immediately after, the massive Souljudges used their shoulders to shove aside the remaining rubble, further widening the breach. Like bulldozers, they smashed through the pig-headed shield wall, carving a broader path for the reinforcements.

Most deadly of all, several serpent demons slithered in along the shadows of the inner ruins, like venomous snakes. Their targets were no longer fixed defenses—they hunted commanders, smashed the bases of ballistae, and surged inward to lower the drawbridge or open other gates.

Above the walls, the defenders were also trapped. A section of the rampart collapsed under relentless pounding by Souljudges, taking defenders and their equipment down with it. The living siege towers finally pressed against another stretch of wall, then toppled like bridges, flooding the ramparts with elite demons in a torrential surge, igniting a brutal battle for control of the walls.

“Vex, the situation is clear—the front line will fall sooner or later. Immediately organize the reserves to retreat to the second-line fortress!”

“The actual intensity of the demonic assault is significantly lower than our worst-case projections. If this isn’t a feint, then with our layered fortress defense, we could very likely prolong the war for a month, creating a precious window for the allied forces to counterattack. Aequilon, what do you think?”

“A month? By then, your bones will be cold! The more we die, the more material we provide them to forcibly tear open the plane and welcome the Abyssal Lords through! You think we’re delaying them? No—we’re using our own lives to help them complete that damned ritual!”

………

After twenty days of preparation, Halmarla was finally ready to fulfill his mission. He drove the staff woven from living runes deep into the blackened earth beneath him—a mixture of demonic flesh and soil. At its center, a vast profane array flared to life, radiating an ominous, light-devouring crimson glow.

The moment the ritual activated, every corpse on the battlefield—demonic or defender—was drained of its essence by invisible force, rapidly withering into murky streams of energy that surged like rivers into the array.

After sacrificing tens of thousands of lives and souls, the space at the array’s center was violently torn open. This was no longer an unstable fissure—it was a stable, enduring rift, its edges flowing with magma and darkness, a portal to another plane.

It was vast, profound, radiating an ultimate evil that made every creature of the material plane tremble from the depths of their souls. Through the opening, faintly visible was an endless expanse of eternal flames and boundless despair—the very edge of the Abyss.

Then, a massive claw, sheathed in obsidian-like armor and entwined with eternal hellfire, shot out from the rift and gripped its edge. Merely one claw was larger than a Souljudge. Slowly, a colossal figure—seemingly formed from pure malice and the concept of destruction—squeezed itself out of the portal.

Watching the image in the crystal ball, Sakavi’s face was expressionless; the other high-ranking officials all wore grim expressions. Outside Agrik, the demonic army had completely encircled the city, severing all contact.

The image within the crystal ball flickered violently, then sank into dead darkness. The air in the command hall froze. Duke Sakavi’s face was as still as a bronze statue, utterly unchanging. Around him, every high official’s face was shadowed by despair—Agrik had become a lone city, utterly surrounded by demonic hordes, cut off from all outside connection.

“Cowards! A pack of deserters!” Irogr slammed a claw onto the stone table, leaving a deep scorch mark, “Especially those wooden-headed fools from the Black Forest! It’s barely a stretch—they should’ve crawled here by now! Are they walking with their toes?!”

“Calm yourself. We’ve already delayed the demons for forty-five days. If they wanted to come, they’d have come long ago—why wait until now? What do you think, Verna?”

“I admit the battle’s course has deviated from my original projections,” Verna took a deep breath, her gaze sweeping the room, her voice regaining its usual calm, “but have any of you noticed a detail? The demonic forces have not grown infinitely as expected. This indicates the allied main force has already set fire to the Abyss’s homeland.”

“So what? Verna! Was your once-absolute promise just toilet paper you wipe with and throw away?!” Vex’s roar shook the hall, lightning flashing in his dragon eyes.

“We’ve paid such a terrible price just to prove your brilliant miscalculation? Where are the reinforcements you swore would come? Are all our sacrifices meant to crown some great victory happening somewhere else? What a magnificent argument!”

“Young one still lacks patience,” Sakavi’s voice carried the mockery of one who had seen much, “From the moment we chose to enter this war, we should have known the allied forces never considered us one of their own.”

What, are you afraid now because you lost one battle? Will hiding your head keep you alive? What you want must be seized by your own courage and strength. To expect others to hand it to you? That’s the naive dream of a hatchling dragon.

“Your Grace, are you suggesting we face over a million demonic troops and a demigod Abyssal Lord on our own?”

Morax’s voice was cold, almost cruel, as if stating an irrefutable equation: “Based on current force ratios and power-level analysis, I judge the probability of victory to approach zero. This is a factual assessment, unrelated to courage.”

“You’re right—the situation is dire,” Sakavi’s voice was low and steady, yet as unyielding as an anvil, “but precisely because of that, we must try. I have great interest in measuring the power of that Abyssal Lord myself.”

Don’t forget—the defense system of Agrik was designed from its inception to withstand simultaneous assaults by two demigods. Isn’t this the perfect moment to test its true power?”

Pig-headed Marshal Sharut cautiously stepped half a pace forward, his gaze sweeping the powerful dragon nobles before settling on the floor. He spoke respectfully: “Your noble lords, my fifty-thousand-strong legion has suffered no major losses—our blades remain sharp, our battle spirit already boiling.”

On the Bohe Plains, we had already accepted death—but we withdrew as ordered, preserving this strength in absolute obedience to Your Grace’s strategic will. Now… we volunteer as the vanguard of the counterattack, to reclaim our lost honor.”