Chapter 403: Blood War Defense Battle

Like a flood surging toward a dam, the demon cannon fodder rushed the city wall on the hillside. The defenders atop it answered with arrows and artillery. A rain of shafts mixed with blazing shells plunged into the demonic tide. There was no need to aim; with the horde packed so densely, even a novice who had never fired a bow or cannon could not miss.

The dense volleys turned the charging demons into pincushions. Amid the blazing flashes of explosions, flying shrapnel cleared small pockets in the demonic tide, which were instantly filled by the ranks behind.

The cannon fodder died in droves, but their numbers were simply too vast. As the Demon Army charged up the nearly sixty-degree incline, their momentum dropped sharply, allowing the defenders to slaughter them from above with even greater efficiency.

The White Dragon Lord silently applauded the architect of these defenses. An incline of nearly sixty degrees pushed the limits of a demon's charge. Any steeper, and the Demon Army's target might shift from the wall to the foundation itself; any gentler, and it wouldn't curb their momentum so effectively.

This relatively short slope became an insurmountable chasm for the Demon Army. At that moment, the powerhouses hiding among the low-tier and mid-tier demon cannon fodder revealed themselves. A handful of demons, clearly above the mid-tier, burst from the ranks of fodder. The explosive burst of speed granted by their sheer strength allowed them to treat the steep incline like flat ground.

The defenders had long prepared for this. Ballistae spaced evenly along the wall fired. Prepped specifically for High-Tier Demons and above, these siege engines packed devastating power. The bolts pierced straight through their targets and pinned them to the earth, leaving the struggling demons lifeless moments later.

Some demons dodged the ballista bolts through sheer luck and strength, but they couldn't escape the enchanted arrows fired by the sharpshooters on the wall. Calling these marksmen one in ten thousand might be a stretch, but they were unquestionably one in a thousand. Equipped with enchanted longbows and specially forged enchanted arrows provided by the Allied Forces, these handpicked archers picked off any High-Tier Demon or Master-Tier Demon that drew near the wall.

The cannon-fodder demons were endless. Gradually, corpses piled up at the foot of the hill. As the mound grew higher, the advantage of the slope and the wall diminished, and the defenders grew increasingly exhausted.

The White Dragon Lord studied the projection before him. The magic-formed image was incredibly lifelike; he could even see the beads of sweat rolling down the defenders' foreheads. Their stamina was draining far too quickly. The frequency of their arrow fire had dropped significantly. It was time for a rotation.

Sure enough, not long after, a fresh squad of soldiers rushed up from behind the wall to relieve the exhausted defenders.

This cycle repeated until the corpses of the Low-Tier Demons nearly leveled the hundred-meter-tall slope, finally depleting the cannon-fodder legions. Their sole purpose had been to massively drain the defenders' stamina. As for strategic provisions, the Allied Forces, backed by the myriad worlds of the multiverse, never lacked for supplies.

In the distance, the main Demon Army began its advance. Leading the charge were demons with formidable defenses—mostly giant beasts covered in thick scales, serving as perfect meat shields. The main demonic forces followed closely behind them.

At last, the Demon Army entered the defenders' firing range. The meat-shield demons charged. Tens of thousands of behemoths sprinted in unison, sending tremors through the earth that even the White Dragon Lord could feel from the main command tent.

The main event had arrived. The White Dragon Lord, alongside Osiris Giant of Light and the others, focused entirely on the Demon Army shown in the magical projection.

Ordinary arrows were practically useless against these massive, scaled demons. The defenders on the wall unleashed everything they had, firing artillery shells and ballista bolts with all their might. Volleys of cannon fire and giant arrows slammed into the charging behemoths, wiping out the entire front row before they had even crossed half the distance.

Just then, a dense, dark cloud of flying demons took to the air from the rear of the Demon Army. Flapping their bat-like wings, they soared over their grounded comrades and launched an assault on the wall. The defenders fought back with arrows and sweeping blades of qi.

High-Tier Demons hid among the flying flock. Swift demons snatched several soldiers and dragged them into the sky. As though spotting a rare delicacy, the surrounding demons swarmed their successful peers. Amid the frenzied tug-of-war, the poor defenders were ripped to pieces in midair, their hot blood showering from the sky.

The White Dragon Lord watched one soldier break free during a demonic tug-of-war, only to plummet down the slope in front of the wall with a scream. The man tumbled all the way down into the pile of cannon-fodder corpses, where a terrifying hoof instantly crushed him into bloody paste. The grounded Demon Army had reached the slope.

This powerful main Demon Army was not as easy to dispatch as the cannon fodder. After taking some casualties, they crashed into the base of the wall. The meat-shield demons used their colossal strength to try and destroy the wall's foundation, but the results were meager. The Allied Forces had built these strategic fortifications using a special alchemical formula—they were not so easily broken.

Behind the meat shields, the main demon forces arrived at the base and began climbing over their companions' bodies. Some of the lighter demons dug their sharp claws into the wall's surface, scurrying up like geckos. Though the defenders shot many down mid-climb, a portion successfully scaled the wall, engaging the soldiers in bloody melee combat. More and more demons flooded over the parapets.

In close-quarters combat, cannons and longbows lost their edge. The soldiers' only reliable weapons were their longswords. Defender casualties spiked sharply, but the troops in the rear rushed forward, stepping up one after another to fill the gaps.

A specific demon caught the White Dragon Lord's eye: a Legendary Rank Level Blade-Arm Demon. Its body resembled a tailless lizardman, but massive blades grew from the outer edges of its arms. The curved backs of the blades fused directly with its skeleton, extending from the wrist all the way past the elbow, with the cutting edges reaching beyond its shoulders. The White Dragon Lord made note of the Blade-Arm Demon because its arm-blades were natural magical weapons—sever them, add a hilt, and they became exceptionally sharp, ready-to-use swords.

A Legendary Rank Level Blade-Arm Demon was nothing to the White Dragon Lord, but to the ordinary defenders, it was an unstoppable force.

This Legendary Rank Level Blade-Arm Demon leaped straight from the ground onto the wall, going on a rampage and slaughtering everyone in its path. Its razor-sharp arm-blades cleaved through the defenders' weapons and bodies alike, scattering blood and organs all over the ramparts.

But its rampage was short-lived. The legendary squad stationed at the rear of the army arrived. Five legendary powerhouses engaged the Blade-Arm Demon. Within moments, the demon suffered heavy injuries, leaped off the wall, and fled.

What a pity.

The White Dragon Lord felt it was a pity the legendary squad had failed to kill the Blade-Arm Demon, then returned his focus to observing the battlefield.

The demons gradually gained the upper hand, and the defenders' territory on the wall shrank again and again. Just then, the Mage Corps positioned behind the wall made their move.

Numerous mages cast as one. A rain of fire plummeted from the sky, crashing onto the demons in front of the wall and instantly clearing a pocket of empty space. Small, tornado-like whirlwinds formed in the blink of an eye, sweeping the demons on the wall into the air. Stripped of their balance, the demons were swiftly butchered by the defenders...

The magical bombardment created a brief void in the demonic ranks in front of the wall. Seizing the opportunity, the defenders reclaimed control of the ramparts, hastily funneling in fresh troops to reorganize their defenses before facing the next wave of rushing demons.

Under the influence of the blood moon, the demons fought without fear of death. The soldiers on the wall, however, had priests and other clerics to help heal their wounds and cast buffing magic.

He had to admit that when it came to rallying morale, these shepherds of The Gods possessed unique methods. Divine buffs like the Inspire Spell and Heroic Aura significantly diminished negative emotions like fear and hesitation in the hearts of ordinary soldiers. In contrast, mages had to rely on the Rage Spell and other magic with massive side effects.

Thinking of this, the White Dragon Lord glanced at the High-Tier Legend powerhouses present. Not a single paladin or cleric stood among them. Although the Alliance cooperated with The Gods, they still maintained a certain distance.

The reason for this was simple: the upper echelons of the Alliance were composed of powerhouses, and powerhouses could never wholeheartedly devote themselves to The Gods.

In fact, in the White Dragon Lord's heart, these deities were merely powerhouses stronger than himself, and that strength was built on a vast accumulation of time. If they were the same age, he was confident he wouldn't flinch even when facing Tiamat. Many other powerhouses shared this sentiment.

Perhaps seeing that the front lines had yet to secure an advantage, the demon commander grew impatient and decided to strike personally.

The White Dragon Lord sensed a mighty High-Tier Legend aura. At the same time, the projection destabilized; the image began to lag and stutter, much like a weak signal.

"Hmph!"

Osiris Giant of Light snorted coldly and rapidly chanted a spell. He injected a pulse of peculiar Magical Energy into the projection, stabilizing it instantly.

The moment the projection steadied, the White Dragon Lord immediately looked to the sky in the image. A powerful High-Tier Legend Bano Flame Demon hovered in the howling winds, flapping its giant demonic wings. Flames engulfed the wings, and the curved Demon Horns atop its head pierced the sky. Wielding a Decapitation Greatsword in one hand and a Blazing Whip in the other, it exuded unparalleled majesty.

The Bano Flame Demon lifted its head, its face brimming with murderous intent, and made a provocative throat-slitting gesture. Without a doubt, it was taunting them on the other side of the projection. The earlier lag in the image had also been its doing. One of the companions recognized the demon's identity.

"The Demonic Flame Tyrant—Hagulas! To think it's actually leading the charge!"

The White Dragon Lord searched his mind for information on the Demonic Flame Tyrant—Hagulas. Hagulas was a highly capable lieutenant under Brash, the Howling Lord of the 132nd layer of the Bottomless Abyss. It held a record of killing five powerhouses of the same tier, and it liked to incinerate the corpses of its enemies with fire after a victory. Thus, it earned the moniker "Corpse Burner," and was also known as the Demonic Flame Tyrant.

After the Thousand-Handed Demon was captured alive and executed by the Amethyst Human Sovereign, the Demonic Flame Tyrant—Hagulas successfully ascended the ranks, becoming the number one general under Brash the Howling Lord.

At that moment, a powerhouse also emerged from the defenders' side, facing off against Hagulas from afar in the sky. The White Dragon Lord looked at the allied powerhouse—a middle-aged man with a well-proportioned build. The man's appearance was unremarkable; the only eye-catching detail was the weapon on his back—a uniquely shaped giant Warhammer. One end of this long-handled Warhammer was a square hammerhead, while the other was a sharp cone.

Seeing this distinct weapon, the White Dragon Lord immediately knew the man's identity: Prange the Berserk Might.

Prange the Berserk Might did not belong to the five governing planes of the Alliance; he was a powerhouse who had emerged from a medium-sized plane. The White Dragon Lord had heard that he used to be a lowly mercenary who rose to prominence on the Blood War Battlefield. Later, he traveled to the Star Realm to adventure and broke through to High-Tier Legend. After breaking through to High-Tier Legend, he returned to the Abyss and commissioned someone to forge this hammer named Berserk Might, which also became his moniker.

The scent of gunpowder permeated the air between the two High-Tier Legend powerhouses, but the White Dragon Lord felt no nervousness whatsoever. Having witnessed the magnificent spectacle of planar destruction, a minor scene like this could hardly make the White Dragon Lord tense up.

Prange the Berserk Might and the Bano Flame Demon flew into the sky and began to fight. The White Dragon Lord split a portion of his attention to monitor their battle. Being nervous was one thing, but gathering intelligence on an enemy was another. The White Dragon Lord would very likely face the Demonic Flame Tyrant—Hagulas in the future; after all, he still remembered what Brash the Howling Lord had once done in the Overseas Archipelago.

While keeping an eye on the sky, the White Dragon Lord also monitored the ground. After the two major bosses engaged, the legendary powerhouses under their command clashed as well.

Similar to the Seventh Army Group under the White Dragon Lord, the Fourth Group Army commanded by Prange the Berserk Might possessed twenty-four legendary powerhouses, but the number of Legendary Demons was even greater. If the legendary powerhouses hadn't possessed complementary classes and mutual teamwork, the battle might have been a one-sided affair.

The battle lasted for over an hour. Although Prange the Berserk Might fell to a disadvantage, the Demonic Flame Tyrant couldn't kill him in the short term. The two High-Tier Legend powerhouses separated, leaving only the legendary powerhouses and the Legendary Demons, while the clash between the ground defenders and the demonic tide continued.

On the wall, soldiers trampled over corpses as they fought the frenzied demons. Blood pooled into small streams along the edges of the ramparts and flowed down the stairs. The reinforcing soldiers stepped on the sticky blood as they climbed the towers, knowing full well that their own blood might soon join this river of gore.

Below the wall, a sea of demon corpses lay piled in layers, interwoven with the bodies of fallen defenders. Blood flowed from the warm corpses, seeping into the soil and trickling down the slope. Bathed in the light of the blood moon, that crimson hue looked both demonic and tragic.

The White Dragon Lord felt a bit heavy-hearted. After all, these were living, breathing lives. These soldiers were someone's children, or even husbands or fathers.

But if everyone did not stand here and slaughter the demons, the day would eventually come when the demons found their planar coordinates, butchered every living creature in their world, and then sacrificed the entire plane to the Abyss.

"Everyone, casualties in the Fourth and Fifth Group Armies have surpassed thirty percent. The Sixth and Eighth Group Armies will step in."

Saying this, Osiris Giant of Light looked toward the supervisor of the Eighth Group Army—Morganic the Roarer—and explained, "Amos hasn't been in command of the Seventh Army Group for long, so he needs some time to familiarize himself with it."

"No problem! I'm going to beat these demons to death!"

A loud-voiced orc bellowed as he marched out.