Chapter 605: Act 349 – Beneath the Abyss VIII
At the very moment when Brendel’s group was ambushed, the Crusian defense line was shrouded in heavy rain and darkness. Sir Horwath rode his dragoon through the woods alongside his soldiers. “What a sight!” he muttered under his breath, “It’s a good thing those Erluins can withstand this weather. Once is enough for us!” The soldiers chuckled quietly at his words; Horwath, having come from the warm northern slopes of Cruzman Lant, was quite unaccustomed to the damp and chill of Ampere Seale this season.
The dragoon beneath him stood over three meters tall when upright, its iron armor weighed half a ton—making it the most common mount for heavy cavalry of this era. With each step, the ground trembled slightly, leaving deep muddy pits in the slushy forest.
They were here because reports indicated that a light frigate from the Cornelia fleet had been attacked by unknown creatures on its way back after the Erluin Royal Fleet ceased its assault. However, the dragon riders of the Erluin northern coalition had failed to find any trace of the frigate in the related airspace, so it was now up to their ground troops.
Horwath would bet that the frigate had already crashed. As they moved through the forest, the remnants of a burning warship indeed came into view. Once a formidable war machine, it now lay in ruins—broken masts and torn sails scattered across the ground, with several cables still hanging from nearby branches.
“This must be the frigate that reported being attacked and crash-landed. Quite a massive piece of wreckage,” Sir Horwath mused.
“My goodness, it’s the Bull Shark!” someone recognized the ship, exclaiming in surprise, “Who on earth did this to it?”
“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough,” Sir Horwath suddenly raised his head and unsheathed his longsword with a sharp ‘swish’, “Enemies ahead, prepare to engage!”
At his shout, everyone saw a pink monster suddenly crawl out from the wreckage of the ship. It climbed up along the fallen mast, quickly reaching the broken section. The creature resembled both a bat and a humanoid, standing about two to three meters high, with its forelimbs more developed than its hind limbs. Its bicep muscles were bulging, and on its neck was a head resembling that of a bull, complete with a nose ring.
“It’s a demon, a brute demon!” Someone with sharp eyes shouted the monster’s name. Demons were known adversaries of the Temple of Fire, and the soldiers had seen their images in various scriptures and texts.
“Spread out!” Sir Horwath reacted even faster than they did.
Brute demons were the main air force of the River of Sulfur; juvenile brute demons had the strength of a silver peak, and once they reached adulthood, they were as powerful as golden initiates. The brute demon before Sir Horwath had already grown long horns, clearly a genuine adult brute demon lord. Like many other demons, brute demon lords possessed the innate ability to control fire, described in various forms as flame-like magical abilities.
Fireball was one of those abilities.
In an instant, a fireball erupted amidst the formation of the Crusian soldiers of the Temple of Fire. Several young soldiers immediately ignited into fiery forms. After releasing the fireball, the brute demon lord let out a roar from atop the broken mast, seemingly reveling in the thrill of slaughter. “You damned demon!” Sir Horwath could not help but explode with anger. He commanded his dragoon to charge forward. The brute demon lord flapped its wings and took off, tossing fireballs at him from the air.
But Sir Horwath stood undaunted, moving through the flames as if they were nothing. Once he was close enough, he drew a short spear from behind and hurled it forward.
The soldiers only saw a straight golden line fly from Sir Horwath’s hand, hitting the brute demon lord in the sky the next moment. It was a magical throwing spear imbued with the temple’s characteristics—its tip, sanctified, was the bane of demons. When the spear struck the brute demon lord’s wing, it caught fire like a drop of water splashing into boiling oil, igniting with a brilliant white flame.
With a scream, the brute demon lord plummeted from the air, crashing against the broken mast of the warship, its head instantaneously separating from its body, pulling the spine from its muscles several meters away. It could no longer be described as ‘living.’
The soldiers were momentarily stunned before erupting into cheers.
Sir Horwath also let out a sigh of relief. He turned around, mentally piecing together what might have caused the Bull Shark to crash. It seemed that High Priest Wood’s conjecture was indeed not wrong; demons had launched a significant invasion into Erluin. Demons lacking high-level air forces meant that brute demon lords were among the most elite flying brigades under the River of Sulfur.
However, just then, he suddenly heard someone scream, “What is that?”
Sir Horwath’s heart sank, and he instinctively turned in the direction of the sound. He felt the sky brighten slightly, and layers of dark clouds parted in that direction as a flaming meteor hurtled down from the heavens, crashing toward a specific point.
Then, as if a replication of that scene, the black clouds roiled like boiling water, and countless fiery red lights appeared behind the parted clouds. One after another, meteors tore through the dark clouds, turning half the sky into a blood-red hue.
Sir Horwath was completely stunned. He had calculated that the direction of the meteor’s descent was precisely toward the northern coalition’s main position. It was over; a chill ran through him as he witnessed a meteor strike the ‘Pelan’ in the distance, and the flagship of the Crusian fleet turned to ashes in a flash of dazzling light.
At that moment, Sir Horwath even forgot that the captain of the Cornelia fleet was still aboard that flagship; in fact, he had entirely lost the ability to think. No magical formations appeared in the sky; this was the demons’ spell, likely a top-tier spell of the Fourteen Rings—Doomsday.
A high-level demon of lord caliber had entered through the portal; that was all that remained in his mind.
…
“What did you say!?”
“Where are they now?” Makarolo and Overwell spoke simultaneously, but they had not yet gotten a chance to say another word before a bright light from outside the camp flashed, and startled cries came from beyond the tents.
It seemed as if half the sky outside was illuminated.
Something big had happened. Everyone was taken aback, and Charles was the first to react, turning to lift the tent flap. Suddenly, the previously silent red-haired girl dashed out beside him, followed by Antinna. Makarolo and Overwell exchanged looks before following suit.
Once outside the tent, everyone immediately lost their ability to speak. In their line of sight, the northwestern sky was ablaze with fire, and countless meteors rained down from the heavens toward the ground.
Makarolo quickly calculated and deduced that the direction was indeed toward Bunoa.
“The demons have begun their assault on the northern coalition!” he concluded immediately.
“That’s Doomsday; the other side has a peak-level wizard.” Overwell gasped, “It’s a demon lord! By Martha, this time it could be an entire demon army, even more than what was recorded in history!”
Everyone knew which past event he was referring to, where a kingdom similar in size to Erluin was completely annihilated and turned to scorched earth. Under the demon’s rampage, millions of lives were lost—what had ensued was no longer a war but a massacre and disaster.
It was a scar on the history of Vaunte that would never be erased.
But now, it seemed it was Erluin’s turn.
What had the Erluins done to deserve such punishment? This thought rose unbidden in everyone’s mind. Yet it was the kingdom’s lone wolf who quickly reacted first. “Makarolo!” he shouted.
“I know, Overwell, I made a mistake,” Makarolo suddenly realized his error; although he had originally intended for the northern coalition to serve as cannon fodder, he now recognized that he had miscalculated the demons’ strength. The situation was now clear; if the two sides did not unite, neither could withstand such a demonic army. In fact, even if they joined forces, hope was still slim.
“We must find a way to support those northerners at once,” Makarolo gritted his teeth, “After the spell, the demons will surely launch a ground assault. The northerners and Crusian forces won’t hold out; if they retreat, all of Erluin will be finished.”
Overwell nodded but was also filled with anger. This was all the Crusians’ and the Temple of Fire’s doing; he finally understood why Brendel had been so furious initially, even threatening to extort the temple without any regard for their reputation.
Thinking back now, if it were him, he would have likely not fractured relations with the temple on the spot.
“But what about the Lord and the Princess?” Antinna suddenly interjected, “They are still surrounded by demons.”
Overwell and Makarolo were momentarily stunned; it seemed they had forgotten about that issue. “Where are they now? Did Brendel say anything?” Overwell inquired.
“According to the Lord’s words, they should be in the low mountains west of Machinko, the harpies blocked their retreat, and they had to move north. The Lord requested that we dispatch the Royal Fleet to assist the princess and open a path for them,” Charles replied.
“I’ve said all along they should not have risked themselves,” Makarolo scoffed angrily, “The princess is no better; she should have anticipated the current situation. Now look! The demons are attacking us, and we can barely defend ourselves while we think of rescuing them?”
“But apart from Brendel, who here knows Jotungrund better? The princess’s willingness to risk herself is noble, Makarolo; I thought you were just reckless, but it turns out you’ve abandoned the honor of nobility as well,” the kingdom’s lone wolf sharply taunted.
“What did you say?”
“Enough arguing!” Antinna stood up, interrupting the two. She was furrowing her brows tightly. “What else did the Lord say?” she asked Charles, feeling that Brendel was not one to issue commands recklessly.
“In fact, the Lord has another plan; he hopes for us to inform High Priest Wood and have the Crusians coordinate with us,” Charles said.
“What does he want to do?” Makarolo asked, raising an eyebrow sharply, his keen eyes staring at the young wizard.
What did he want to do?
Wood was also eager to know this. The demons had already attacked the Bunoa region, and to put it nicely, the northern coalition was in retreat, but in truth, that was just the precursor to a collapse. This was an army that had already faced defeat and had long lost morale. Now, it was the Temple of Fire holding the line, but they too were suffering heavy casualties from the Doomsday spell.
The Cornelia fleet had almost been entirely wiped out in the first instance; Admiral Count Robbins sank along with the Pelan, and the Whitewing Knights had also sustained heavy losses. There were numerous high-level demons appearing on the battlefield, and worse, a Jotungrund army was cooperating with the demons in combat.
The first to discover this information was a scout cavalry who brought back a team of northern coalition mountain infantry statues from the battlefield. Those were clearly not statues, but rather a masterpiece of Medusa.
“The Crusians can hold on for at most three more hours; in half a day, we will lose our last soldier. As for the northern coalition, you should already have an idea,” a knight from the temple responded to the young wizard before him, “We need reinforcements.”
Wood recognized the young man; he was Charles, a genius of the well-known Palos family.
“We can support you; in fact, our troops are already on the way. But after that? We still won’t be able to block the demons’ assault. You know our situation,” Charles replied.
The temple knight fell silent.
“So, how much longer can you hold?” Wood asked.
“At most a day.”
“Can we open another Flame Gate and request support from the Temple of Fire’s main temple?” Charles asked.
“That’s impossible; we lack enough materials,” a temple knight rebutted. “Constructing a portal is not a simple task.”
Wood pondered for a moment, “So, what does your lord think?”
Charles nodded, “In that case, we might still have one chance left.”
“One chance?”
…
Brendel had finally led the remaining twelve Lantonrand knights out of the thick, black mist, and when they saw their surroundings clearly, they realized they were in a northern valley. The valley was enveloped in rain and fog, with an open area not far ahead where a group of Anlek horses were grazing their heads down. If they were not mistaken, those were the very warhorses they thought had been lost.
Earl Ouding and the princess followed him on either side, speechless with astonishment at the bizarre scene before them.
“My goodness, what’s going on?” the knights exclaimed in astonishment.
Though the princess did not ask, she cast a questioning glance at Brendel. Since Brendel had led them away from the harpies and out of the black mist, he ought to know the secret behind it all.
But Brendel was also keenly observing his surroundings; the entire valley was shrouded in the sound of pouring rain, and the scenery around seemed not much different from other parts of the Anlek Mountains, yet he felt a subtle sense of unease in his heart.
“May I ask who aided us?” he could not help but inquire.
Suddenly, everyone saw an old woman in a black cloak emerge from the woods, hunched over and trembling. Seeing Brendel, she bowed deeply in respect, and her unsteady movements made it seem as if she might fall at any moment.
Brendel was taken aback. “Ah, it’s you!” He recognized that the wrinkled old woman was none other than the old witch Babasha, whom he had extorted back in Ridenburg; he never expected to encounter her here.
…
(PS: It’s already November 18; how time flies! It’s been almost two months without a break. I think I’ve performed quite well. By the way, please support with a vote~) (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, feel free to visit Qidian (qidian.com) to cast your recommendation or monthly vote. Your support is my greatest motivation.)
