Chapter 402: Blood War Frontline

The White Dragon Lord flew over the endless Abyss. His High-Tier Legend dragon aura left the creatures below trembling in his wake. Unhindered, he reached the gathering point as the three suns sank toward the western horizon, taking in the sight of the Allied Forces' encampment spreading across the land.

White tents stretched endlessly across the vast, dark red earth. Even from high above, Amos could not see their end. Creatures from countless planes of the multiverse had gathered here to stand against the demons. Humans and Elves chatted and laughed around campfires, while Dwarves and Orcs shared fine wine...

"Halt!"

A sky patrol intercepted him. A Master Tier mage, buoyed by a Flight spell, approached the dragon alongside three flying golems.

"Lord White Dragon, the Avengers Alliance encampment lies ahead. If you are not a member of the Alliance, please take a detour."

"I am the defender of Blackrock Fortress, Amos Aldrich," he replied. "I received orders from the coalition leader, Lord Engru Ghostwolf, to come support the front lines."

Realization dawned on the patrol mage. "So you are Lord Amos, the creator of the Frozen Land. My apologies, my lord, but duty calls. Please wait a moment while I verify."

Amos nodded in understanding. It was only natural for a vital military encampment to maintain strict security.

After the mage used magic to verify his identity with headquarters, Amos was granted passage. He flew toward the center of the Allied Forces encampment—a gathering place for powerhouses and the command center of the coalition's commander-in-chief.

Headquarters must have sent word ahead. Despite the increasingly heavy patrols along the way, no one stopped him for further questioning. He landed directly in front of the main tent, shifted into his dragonkin form, pushed aside the flap, and walked in.

From the outside, the main tent looked unremarkable—just a dozen times larger than a standard tent. But upon stepping inside, Amos discovered a whole different world. Through spatial folding technology, the interior had been expanded from the size of two football fields into a space vast enough to race horses.

The interior was divided into individual rooms. Inside them, spellcasting professionals sat amid a bizarre array of magical formations and instruments, constantly relaying information. This was the brain of the Allied Forces, ensuring that an army of over ten million operated in perfect order.

Observing his surroundings as he walked, Amos realized the main tent was a specialized magical wondrous item.

In his dragonkin form, he soon met the coalition's commander-in-chief. His name was Osiris Giant of Light, a Peak High-Tier Legend Amethyst Human, as well as a renowned strategic master. Amos even had several military treatises written by Osiris sitting in the White Tower's library.

"Lord Osiris, I am Amos Aldrich, reporting for duty as ordered."

"Lord Amos. Hearing of your reputation pales in comparison to meeting you in person, and seeing you surpasses all rumors..."

After exchanging a round of mutual pleasantries, Amos took a seat to the side and waited. Because he had flown so quickly, the other reinforcements had yet to arrive.

A short while later, Mage Alan arrived, adding another person to the waiting party.

"Sitting here waiting is far too boring! Amos! Why don't we play a game of chess!"

As he spoke, Mage Alan pulled out a board and pieces. The pieces were divided into gold and red, while the board resembled a Go board from Blue Star, but with diagonal lines connecting the squares.

Amos cast a glance at the board. It was the Singro War Banner, the most famous board game in the multiverse, designed to simulate military formations and tactical combat.

"Not interested."

"Don't be like that, I already took it out."

Amos threw his hands up in a shrug.

"I'm not trying to crush your spirit, but among High-Tier Legends, the person who can beat me at this hasn't been born yet."

He wasn't exaggerating. Board games were a contest of pure computational power. Playing against a White Dragon Lord armed with a Gold Finger meant that even an Abomination Rank powerhouse wouldn't have a guaranteed victory.

But Mage Alan didn't know that. He just assumed the dragon was blowing hot air.

"I don't believe it! Not unless you can actually beat me!"

Off to the side, Osiris Giant of Light was also taken aback by the dragon's sheer arrogance.

"How about this," Osiris offered. "I'll put up a prize. Whoever wins gets to take it."

Amos's eyes lit up. Osiris's suggestion had just reminded him that this was the perfect opportunity to fleece Mage Alan.

"I couldn't possibly ask Lord Osiris to spend his own wealth. Let's do this instead: if I win, Lord Alan will give me some of the Arcane Empire knowledge accumulated by the Otag World. If I lose, I will share some ancient secrets recorded in the Dragon Inheritance."

Mage Alan's competitive spirit flared.

"It's a deal!"

The man and the dragon immediately began their match. The outcome held zero suspense. Crushed by Amos's monstrous computational speed, Mage Alan was beaten so thoroughly he looked utterly defeated, as if all the color had drained from his world.

Accepting his loss, Alan pulled a crystal from his Dimensional Bag.

"This contains detailed information on an Arcane Empire-era golem—the Sky Guard."

Amos took the crystal and recalled what he knew about the Sky Guard. It was a guardian golem for Floating Towers during the Arcane Empire era, possessing strength comparable to a legendary practitioner. More importantly, these golems excelled at aerial combat—an advantage that constructs like the Diamond Golem simply couldn't match.

Even to a High-Tier Legend powerhouse, the detailed blueprints of a Sky Guard represented no small fortune. It wasn't overly precious, of course, making it the perfect wager for a bet.

After handing over the crystal, Mage Alan faced a wall and began to question his entire existence. Meanwhile, Amos felt a searing gaze fixed upon him. He looked up to see Osiris staring at him with eyes that seemed to burn with fire.

As a master strategist, Osiris Giant of Light was a devoted fanatic of the Singro War Banner. Having immersed himself in the game for over ten thousand years, he rarely found an equal among his peers. Right now, he had the exact look of an undisputed master who, finding it is lonely at the top, had finally met a worthy opponent.

"Lord Amos! Come! Let us play a round! Ugh... damn it! Why now of all times!"

The commander, who just a second ago was thrilled at the prospect of a challenge, suddenly grew irritable. Amos looked at him, half-concerned, half-curious.

"Lord Osiris, what's wrong?"

"The scouts just reported unusual movements among the demons on the front lines. Judging by their shifts and the time of day, there's an eighty percent chance they're planning to raid the camp under the blood moon."

Amos glanced up at the tent's ceiling. By now, the radiant light of the three suns was waning. Night was falling.

At the thought of a demonic horde rushing in beneath a blood moon, Osiris instantly lost all mood for games. Even Mage Alan snapped out of his existential crisis and returned to normal.

Watched by Amos and Alan, Osiris resumed his duties as the coalition's commander-in-chief. He fired off a rapid sequence of orders. Personnel moved in and out, their actions swift but perfectly disciplined.

Just as the suns fully dipped below the horizon, the remaining two reinforcements arrived. One was Odom Mad Axe, the Orc Amos had run into when he first arrived in the Abyss. The other was a sea-dweller from the Hinamo World—a whale-man whose bulging muscles radiated an oppressive aura.

"All right, everyone is here," Osiris said. "Introduce yourselves. Tell me whether you excel at mass combat or one-on-one duels, so I can deploy you accordingly."

"White Dragon, Amos Aldrich. I'm an all-rounder. I can handle both group battles and duels."

"Alan, from the Otag World. My class is Mage. I prefer one-on-one fights over large-scale engagements."

"Odom Mad Axe. My hobby is chopping people up. I like single combat. Also, make sure you keep your distance from me when I'm fighting."

"Dulurant the Ocean's Might. I was once the grand marshal of the Shinamo Dynasty. I prefer commanding armies in battle."

Osiris rested his chin on his interlaced fingers.

"Very well, that covers the basics. Mage Alan, Lord Odom, the two of you will be assigned to the apex guard to deal with the powerhouse units of the Demon Army. Lord Amos, Lord Dulurant, the two of you will serve as army supervisors to oversee the main forces in battle. If you have any questions, ask them now."

Amos had thoroughly studied the Blood War before coming here, so naturally he had no questions. The other three felt the same.

Osiris went over the military roster in his head.

"The previous supervisors for the Seventh Army Group and the Twelfth Army Group were killed in action. Lord Amos, you'll take charge of the Seventh. Lord Dulurant, you'll handle the Twelfth..."

After listening to Osiris summarize the Seventh Army Group's status, Amos headed out toward their encampment.

On the Blood War Battlefield, every one million soldiers formed a single army group. Each group possessed a fully self-sufficient structure of cavalry, infantry, Mage Corps, and so on. When combat broke out, the army groups rotated in and out of the front lines to rest, drawing immediate reinforcements from the rear to fill any casualties. The supervisor was the most crucial position within the group.

A supervisor's job wasn't just to oversee their own troops in combat; they were also responsible for holding off hostile High-Tier Legend powerhouses to prevent chaotic evil demons of that rank from slaughtering the regular soldiers. Of course, if a supervisor felt like it, they could plunge into the main demonic ranks and massacre lower-level fiends—but doing so would paint a massive target on their back for the enemy powerhouses.

Upon arriving at the Seventh Army Group's camp, Amos immediately summoned his three direct subordinates.

Right beneath the supervisor were three vital roles: the Mage Corps commander, the legend brigade captain, and the group commander. The Mage Corps commander handled all magical operations. The legend brigade captain led the legendary powerhouses in hunting down troublesome Legendary Demons. The group commander directed the regular mortal troops.

Before long, three legendary powerhouses entered his supervisor's tent. Amos swept a glance over them. Their strength was solid; all three were elites even among legendary powerhouses.

"Mage Corps commander Aisa greets Supervisor Amos."

"Legend brigade captain Birmorg greets Supervisor Amos."

"Group commander Chelmo greets Supervisor Amos."

Amos nodded.

"Good. It seems you were all notified in advance, saving me the trouble of an introduction. I won't waste words. I've just arrived and I need a detailed report on the Seventh Army Group's current status."

"The Seventh Army Group's Mage Corps consists of eighteen thousand mages," Aisa said. "Among them, we have one Legendary Mage, eight hundred Master Tier mages, four thousand two hundred Advanced Mages, and the remainder are intermediate mages."

"The legend brigade has a total of twenty-two legendary powerhouses," Birmorg reported. "Seven are spellcasters, two are clerics, and the rest are martial professionals."

"The Seventh Army Group commands one hundred thousand cavalry, one hundred thousand archers, one hundred thousand spearmen, and shieldbearers..." Chelmo began listing out the numbers.

Listening to their reports gave Amos a solid foundational understanding of his new command. It was an entirely orthodox, large-scale legion—it boasted no uniquely outstanding features, but it suffered from no glaring weaknesses either.

"Gentlemen, I will be straight with you. Back in the main tent, I received intelligence indicating that the demons are highly likely to launch an offensive tonight."

"Lord Supervisor, do you need me to return and alert the troops immediately?" Chelmo asked.

"No need. Since the commander-in-chief didn't issue a general alert, it means the Seventh Army Group won't be in the first wave. Besides, I just got here. The commander-in-chief will give me some time to get my bearings."

Amos looked at Chelmo with a half-smile.

"Also, the main army remains under your command. I am only here to help you fend off High-Tier Legend demons. Is that understood?"

"Understood!" the three chorused.

Seeing that their new supervisor had no intention of seizing direct control, they all breathed a sigh of relief.

"All right, you're dismissed."

Time passed quickly. The blood moon cast an ominous crimson glow over the encampment. From the front of the camp, Amos sensed a chaotic, massive wave of power surging toward the Allied Forces' lines.

"Amos, care to come to the main tent and observe the battlefield?"

The message came from Osiris. Amos gladly accepted. Even if the commander-in-chief hadn't invited him, he would have flown up to watch the battle unfold from above.

Returning to the main tent, he found Osiris standing around a magical projection alongside a dozen other High-Tier Legend powerhouses. The projection displayed a live view of the front lines.

When they first established the camp, the coalition used magic to raise a ten-mile stretch of low hills across the front lines, then constructed a massive City Wall along the ridges to break the demonic charges. Right now, those walls were packed tight with defending troops.

"The defenders are Prange the Berserk Might's Fifth Group Army and Utaro Scarlet Beast's Sixth Group Army."

Osiris provided the names to the newly arrived Amos and Dulurant. He then pointed to the territory beyond the wall. The marching Demon Army stretched outward like an endless, churning river. However, Amos and the others could only see the front half of that river; the back half blurred into obscurity, a result of enemy powerhouses intentionally scrambling their magical reconnaissance.

Examining the visible front lines of the horde, Amos noticed that the vast majority were low-tier and Mid-Tier Demons. High Tier and above were a rare sight. A single word immediately surfaced in his mind: cannon fodder.

He shifted his gaze to the wall—dozens of meters tall, perched atop hills a hundred meters high—and instantly understood the demonic commander's strategy.

It was exactly as he suspected. Agitated by the blood moon and driven utterly mindless by the Rage Spells of their demonic mages, the cannon fodder threw themselves forward. Much like the endless skeletal tides employed by necromancers, the lesser fiends abandoned all tactics, launching a suicidal, frenzy-driven assault against the coalition's defenses.