Chapter 628: Act 371 – Requiem XXI
Mecika’s shriveled exterior was wrapped around massive bones, with ribs protruding sharply, and the eye sockets of its three heads were hollow and sunken, giving it the appearance of a giant skeleton. Occasionally, deep blue flames erupted from its body, emitted from the demonic items dissolving due to the loss of their power. The protective gear had crumbled altogether, as if it had suddenly fallen from the throne of a brutal king to become a beggar without a penny to its name, the immense psychological drop brought about an overwhelming sense of insecurity. Although it clearly had an advantage over Brendel and Charles, Mecika still used the remaining strength to cast a flaming shield around itself.
It seemed that this was the only way it could feel somewhat secure.
But Charles was quick to react. At Brendel’s command, he immediately grabbed the staff that had fallen on the ground and loudly recited the incantation: “I command this sharp and pointed thing to become a sharp blade, to cleave apart all, in the name of Tiamat, the Blade of Demeter!”
He thrust his hand forward, and the air layered in front of him, forming a brilliant wind blade that instantaneously sliced towards the Hell Demon King Mecika not far away.
The flaming shield hanging next to Mecika was far stronger than the small artifact blessed by Brendel; the orange-red glow on the magical shield flowed like a thick layer of grease, solid as substance. Charles’s Dragon’s Fang struck against it violently, as if plunging into boiling oil, making the red grease on the semi-spherical magic shield quiver violently.
Yet, it did not budge an inch.
“Ha ha ha!” Mecika initially retreated in fright but quickly realized that Charles couldn’t pierce through its shield. All three heads burst into gleeful laughter, as if completely forgetting that it was still a Hell Demon King, and normally, being pierced by a wizard from the Golden Realm would be a great humiliation for it.
“You can’t kill me; just wait to die!” it shouted arrogantly.
But its laughter was short-lived, for immediately after the Dragon’s Fang swept by like a transparent blade, a dark long sword emerged from behind the spell, its slightly glowing blade parting the rain like a thin silver thread. The orange-red flaming shield produced no effect against this long sword, which passed through space as if it were transparent and struck directly at its chest.
A flash.
Brendel leaped high above, piercing the beast’s chest with a cut that was a full two meters long. With a cold expression, he pulled the sword down in mid-air—so skillfully as if he had performed the same move thousands of times with the Amber Sword—causing a burst of purplish-red blood rain to explode in the rainy night.
Mecika’s maniacal laughter abruptly ceased, replaced by a high-pitched scream—or perhaps howling.
“Aoo—!”
The scream quickly morphed into a wail, as the Hell Demon King’s massive body was even knocked backward by the force. Brendel landed steadily, and the massive demon king fell to the ground with a thud.
However, Mecika was clearly not finished yet. Though the wound on its chest extended from below the shoulder almost to its lower abdomen, deep enough to see bone, the skin and flesh were parted to reveal a gleaming gem inside, as shiny as obsidian. That was the demonic stone of dark power, the source of their strength, but at that moment, it appeared dull, having lost its connection to the River of Sulfur.
It continued to wave its claws in the rain, attempting to rise. The demon’s powerful vitality was clearly on display; the damaged muscle tissues and blood vessels were visibly healing and growing rapidly, some small tears instantly forming new, red, twisted scars.
But Brendel, clearly unwilling to give the Demon King a chance to fully recover, immediately jumped on the demon’s belly, stepping on its chest while raising the Earth Sword high above.
“No, don’t!” Mecika finally panicked, fear evident on all three heads: “You can’t kill me! I accept that woman’s enslavement; whatever you want, I can give you power and authority, everything you desire!”
Brendel remained unmoved.
“Ah, ah, ah, I understand,” it shrieked like a slaughtered pig: “I can help you revive that little girl!”
At that moment, Queen Wind sensed Brendel’s psychological shift: “Don’t listen to its nonsensical words, Brendel,” she hurriedly reminded him.
But Brendel was merely momentarily stirred, then quickly regained focus. “Revive?” he scoffed. “You mean transform her into a demon, but Antinna doesn’t want that outcome!”
He thrust the sword down.
But just then, a glimmer of cold light cut through the pouring rain.
A silver flash surged from afar, just in time to strike Brendel’s descending sword blade. With a ringing sound, the Earth Sword was knocked aside, barely missing the magical gem on Mecika’s chest.
“Aoo!”
The Hell Demon King let out another miserable howl. It had been having the worst day since its birth, a grand underworld king reduced to a situation where its life hung by a thread, subject to the whims of others.
But it was also unfortunate that among the demon kings of the lower world who had visited the human realm, Brendel knew the true names of the seven lords of the upper hell. This knowledge was meaningless in the previous world, as those seven had all perished under the knife of a twenty-five-foot demon and did not know when they would be resurrected.
But here, that knowledge undoubtedly became its death sentence.
Brendel stepped back instinctively after his sword was blocked. A dagger had been thrown, now lodged in the grass beside him, wielding astonishing strength, at least on the level of elemental transformation—not what Mecika could produce at its currently weakened state but at a true peak elemental transformation level.
Could there be a higher-level demon?
He shook his tingling wrist and looked up, only to see an old acquaintance standing in the rainy night.
Eagle Swordsman Dejyar.
“This guy…” It was obvious he wasn’t here to settle scores with Brendel; he quickly thought of the person behind him—Duke Anlek. He had almost forgotten this man, or rather, he seemed to have vanished since leaving the Andefu Le Grand Temple.
But now, this old fox had finally made an appearance.
…
In the center of the battlefield, the demon’s offensive had begun to weaken.
In fact, the last several waves behind them had already started to turn back towards the teleportation portal, leaving only a few hellhounds and rampaging demons, driven by frenzy, still besieging the princess’s group.
Yet they posed little threat now. Reld and the Crusian knights of the temple had enough strength to withstand this blunt attack, teaching these chaotic creatures the proper etiquette of the battlefield through their actions.
The heads of the slain demons were impaled on spears—belonging originally to another batch of lesser demons—they should have been looted from the Human Harbor Guard, as the spears bore Ampere Seale’s insignia and manufacturing numbers.
These spears formed a circle around the edges of the forces.
“They’re turning back towards Brendel,” Princess Grifian said, looking worriedly into the distance. “We can’t let them escape!”
“But what can we do, esteemed Princess of Erluin?” Crusian Knight Stephen replied with a bitter smile.
Everyone was covered in injuries, exhausted, the knights all but wiped out, leaving only two or three survivors and a few witches who had been supporting from the back, but they were of no use in such a situation.
The witch named Babasha had disappeared to who knows where.
“Leave it to me!” a hoarse voice, heavy and seemingly rolling from the throat, replied weakly. The speaker was Gherlok, lying on the ground, gasping for breath; he had been pierced through the lung by a spear in the previous battle, and his hands were also gravely injured. “I might still be able to cast a teleportation spell one more time, though not as far as last time, but I can manage to teleport you in front of them.”
“But is that okay for you, Master Gherlok?” the princess asked with concern, as anyone could see that the old wizard was in poor condition.
“Not too bad… cough cough, I’ve regained a bit of strength, and I can just barely manage one more,” Gherlok replied. “Don’t worry, Your Highness.”
“Then it’s up to you, Master Gherlok,” Princess Grifian nodded.
Reld suddenly walked over and patted the old wizard on the shoulder. Gherlok glanced at the old lion of the kingdom. He shook his head, struggling to rise and reach for his staff—one of the knights hurriedly helped him up.
But Gherlok gently waved his hand to push others away. He took up his staff and scanned everyone, finally looking at the seemingly distant teleportation portal.
Then he began to chant the spell, initially struggling, but gradually becoming more fluid.
The space began to shake once again.
The familiar white halo expanded above the battlefield. But this time there were no demon sorcerers to obstruct the formation of the spell because they had long since turned into foul-smelling corpses.
The halo suddenly unfolded in front of the demon army, like a great door. The next moment, the figures of Princess Grifian and the others appeared on the grass. Just a moment ago they had been distanced from the demon army, flung far away by those chaotic creatures, but the next moment, they stood in the path of this advancing army.
Everyone had a certain degree of resistance to teleportation spells, and this time they were only slightly dizzy before regaining their senses. They immediately saw the approaching demon army and turned to brace themselves.
But just then, the princess suddenly realized that Gherlok and the two severely wounded Lantonrand knights were missing.
“Where are Master Gherlok and the others?” Princess Grifian immediately asked.
“He stayed behind, Your Highness. His power was no longer sufficient to teleport everyone; the three of them discussed it and decided to stay,” Reld sighed and answered.
The princess paused slightly; how could someone as wise as she not understand what this meant?
“But why didn’t he tell me?”
“Everyone has the right to choose to be a hero, Your Highness. He will wait for us in another world; we’ll just be following shortly—after stopping these monsters.”
The Half-Elf Maiden bit her lip.
“I understand.” She nodded.
The old white lion gave a slight bow to her. It was the gesture of an aging minister to the young princess, and then the elderly knight, holding a longsword, turned around. At that moment, thunder and lightning intertwined, writhing and shining in the sky, piercing through layers of dark clouds.
The demon army had noticed the “mantis” standing in front of them.
They had no intention of stopping.
…
On the battlefield, the demon’s advantage had been peeled away layer by layer, and the formerly absolute advantage had turned into a deadly entanglement.
It was as if there were two dying opponents on the battlefield, waiting to see who would breathe their last first.
Brendel stood in the pouring rain, staring at the Eagle Swordsman Dejyar before him, both of them soaked as if they had just emerged from water, but no one noticed this detail.
What does Anlek want to do?
Long ago in the Amber Sword, players had harbored such suspicions.
Because of the mysterious death of the long princess, all suspicion fell upon this duke—and the Crusian people. But the conspiracies behind were evidently more than that; players had discovered traces of cultists, but this series of investigations ultimately vanished with the fall of Erluin.
Brendel would much rather believe that Duke Anlek was suspicious, and now with Eagle Swordsman Dejyar’s appearance, it indeed confirmed his suspicions.
However, it might not be something he wanted to see.
Eagle Swordsman Dejyar had already drawn his longsword before him. This put Brendel in a dilemma; should he let go of the Chaos King? The problem was that it was clear Charles was not Dejyar’s opponent.
This guy was restored to nearly perfect condition after just a few days with a severed hand, which must have been the work of demons. At least back in the temple, Brendel still saw that this person wielding a sword with one hand did not seem to be healed.
This thought flashed through his mind.
Dejyar lunged toward him like a bolt of lightning. “Charles!” Brendel shouted.
Charles immediately began to set up the next protective spell; he picked up his staff, but no one expected that at that moment, the oak staff in his hand suddenly shattered like glass.
The splintering wood fragments seemed to be struck by something, igniting spontaneously, turning to ashes in an instant. The young wizard could not help but let out a cry of pain, the hand grasping the staff had had a large chunk of skin burnt away.
“What the hell is this?!” he exclaimed, looking up.
A visible wave was sweeping across the battlefield.
Arcs of electricity crackled across the grass, scorching the ground wherever they passed, and people’s hair stood on end as if swept by static electricity, instantly emitting a smell of burning.
“Ring of Lightning!” Charles yelled out.
This was not a high-level spell, nor did it occupy a high ring in the ring system. But nobody had ever heard of a second-ring spell capable of covering a battlefield several kilometers wide.
Without Charles’s magical protection, Dejyar shot toward Brendel like a lightning bolt. Reluctantly, Brendel had to abandon Mecika, yanking the Earth Sword from the Chaos King’s chest while rolling back to evade the swing.
Mecika let out another painful howl from the ground. But it finally found the opportunity to escape, disregarding the need to wait for its chest wound to heal, it hurriedly climbed to its feet.
“Charles, what happened, where’s your spell?” Brendel asked urgently without looking back. He was anxious because he didn’t know how much longer Antinna could hold on; if her soul completely perished, even Martha would unlikely be able to save her.
The problem was, time was running out.
“I don’t know!” Charles was looking in the direction from which the ring of lightning came.
He immediately let out a high-pitched scream.
Brendel had never heard Charles make such a frantic sound; he heard his mage subordinate shouting his name loudly, “My Lord, look behind you!”
With a tremendous crash.
Brendel instinctively turned his head, and he was left dumbfounded to see a massive shadow rising from the ground, breaking through the surface from the direction of Ampere Seale.
At that moment, his mind was a blank: “This is impossible!”
How could there be a Titan statue here?
Had he somehow crossed over to the very end of the Stone Tablet War era?
… (To be continued. If you enjoyed this work, please visit Qidian (qidian.com) to vote for recommendations and monthly tickets; your support is my greatest motivation.)
