Chapter 346: Throne of Ten Thousand Blades

Arrows bristled from the bodies of the Demons charging at the very front. Though the projectiles missed their vitals, they had buried deep into their flesh.

The pain did not diminish the Demons' combat strength; instead, it stoked the brutality in their hearts. They charged recklessly while letting out beastly roars. Not a trace of intelligence could be seen in their crimson eyes—only a naked urge to slaughter.

After slaughtering the first batch of Demons, the soldiers of Blackrock Fortress saw their morale soar. Facing the Demonic charge, they did not retreat, but pressed forward.

Under their commanders' orders, the soldiers hoisted their broad tower shields, hunkered down behind them, and launched a counter-charge against the incoming Demons. The other troop types followed closely behind.

Leaping over fallen Demon corpses, iron-tipped military boots stomped against earth soaked in Demonic blood as the tower shields smashed brutally into the charging Demons.

It was like crashing into stampeding bulls. A massive force traveled through the tower shields into the soldiers' arms, then down through their bodies into the ground. The charging shield-bearers were forced backward, their boots plowing deep tracks into the earth.

The Demons that smashed into the shields fared no better. These specialized tower shields were fitted with a one-foot-long, triangular spike designed for charges. The spikes plunged deep into Demon flesh, and foul-smelling blood gushed from the wounds. Some Demons died on the spot; the rest went mad from the agonizing pain.

The Demon race held a natural advantage in strength and weight. The Intermediate Tier professional soldiers found themselves evenly matched when colliding with the Low-Tier Demons. However, the charging horde did not consist solely of Low-Tier Demons; a portion of Mid-Tier Demons were mixed in among them.

The soldiers unlucky enough to crash into Mid-Tier Demons suffered heavily. The immense impact sent agonizing shocks through their arms, and the limbs of several soldiers swelled rapidly before their very eyes. The tremendous strength of the frenzied Mid-Tier Demons had exceeded the limits of what ordinary soldiers could endure.

But they were not fighting alone. Teammates behind them noticed their companions' plight and hurriedly stepped forward to take over the tower shields. The injured soldiers quickly retreated through the gaps in the orderly formation.

Spear-wielding soldiers watched for opportunities, thrusting their weapons through the gaps in the shield wall to reap the lives of the Demons battering against it.

After enduring several Demonic charges, the physical stamina of the shield-bearers plummeted. If they continued to stubbornly absorb the impacts, it would likely result in a large-scale collapse of the shield wall.

In truth, even if every shield-bearer fell, their loss would be but a drop in the bucket for the Blackrock Fortress army. However, the shield wall acted as a psychological barrier; if it collapsed, it would deal a heavy blow to their morale.

Noticing the condition of the vanguard, the commander immediately shifted their offensive formation. The shield-bearers retreated as the spearmen pushed to the front. Simultaneously, the soldiers in the rear unhooked the crossbows from their waists.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Crossbow bolts shot through the gaps in the ranks and tore into the Demons. At the same time, the Intermediate Tier professional soldiers in the front row unleashed waves of energy from their weapons.

Golden waves of energy swept toward the enemy like a tsunami. With nowhere to run, the Demons at the very front were instantly blown off their feet.

The barrage of bolts and energy waves blunted the initial momentum, buying precious time to shift formations. The shield-bearers quickly withdrew from the front lines.

Without the cover of the tower shields, what followed was a bloody melee of close-quarters combat. The soldiers drew their blades and clashed head-on with the Demon Army.

The melee had begun!

The army proved why it was a professionally trained killing machine. Even in a chaotic melee, the soldiers still fought in small clusters, coordinating and covering each other. This drastically reduced their own casualty rate while maximizing their killing efficiency.

Freed from the rigid constraints of a battle formation, the individual strength of the human soldiers truly shined. Nimble dodges, heavy parries, and explosive waves of energy were unleashed in rapid succession.

Well-coordinated Intermediate Tier professionals facing off against mindless Low-Tier Demons was nothing short of a massacre. Even an isolated Mid-Tier Demon would quickly perish under their concentrated attacks.

The occasional High-Tier Demon that emerged would inflict a certain number of initial casualties before inevitably falling to specialized squads dedicated to hunting powerhouses.

High in the sky, the White Dragon Lord gazed down at the battlefield. The battle lines between the Demons and the Blackrock Fortress forces were clearly drawn. Arrows, magic, and waves of energy flew back and forth. Fire magic ignited the sparse vegetation, sending plumes of thick black smoke into the air. Fallen corpses caught fire in the blaze, and the scent of charred flesh drifted all the way up to the White Dragon Lord.

Once the melee broke out, casualties became unavoidable. Yet, compared to the staggering death toll of the Demons, the losses among the Blackrock Fortress soldiers were virtually negligible. The overall situation heavily favored them.

However, these were only the first wave of the lowest-level, mindless cannon fodder. In the distance at the Ten Thousand Blades Fortress, large flying Demons were driving a dense, black mass of reinforcements toward the battlefield.

This newly driven horde was roughly equal in number to the first wave, but their overall quality was a Tier higher. Unlike the mindless rabble that blindly charged at the sight of an enemy, these Demons retained a degree of intellect.

Furthermore, this second horde was significantly stronger. The most direct evidence of this was the higher ratio of Mid-Tier Demons among their ranks. If the ratio of Mid-Tier to Low-Tier Demons in the first wave was one to a hundred, this new horde boasted a ratio of four to a hundred.

Fortunately, there were no High-Tier Demons mixed in this time. Even among the inherently powerful Demon race, High-Tier Demons were not assets that could be casually thrown away as fodder.

Soon, the first wave of mindless Demons was entirely ground into mincemeat by the Blackrock Fortress war machine.

Down on the ground, Demon corpses littered the plains. The commanders of Blackrock Fortress directed the entire battlefield, ordering the wounded to fall back and receive healing from the clerics in the rear. Meanwhile, the troops who had preserved their combat strength seized the brief respite to rest and reorganize.

Looking down at the orderly formations, the White Dragon Lord estimated the casualty ratio. It took twenty to thirty Low-Tier Demons to trade for the life of a single Intermediate Tier professional soldier.

From a purely statistical standpoint, Blackrock Fortress had undoubtedly secured a crushing victory. However, while the Ten Thousand Blades Fortress had only sacrificed meaningless, mindless cannon fodder, the soldiers of Blackrock Fortress had paid with the lives of comrades they fought and lived with every day.

In the vast majority of material planes, Intermediate Tier professionals were not minor figures who could be easily ignored. As long as their records were clean, such professionals could easily serve as guards for minor nobility or as sheriffs in small towns...

As for Low-Tier Demons...

The one thing the Abyss lacked the least was Low-Tier Demons. Once the war ended, the Ten Thousand Blades Fortress would only need to send underlings to scour the areas around a Spring of the Abyss. It wouldn't take long to fully replenish all their lost cannon fodder.

If the exchange of lives were treated as a transaction, Blackrock Fortress was operating at a complete loss.

Yet, Master Owen had no choice but to fight this battle. Once the Demon population grew too large and exceeded the capacity of their city, the local Demon lord would proactively initiate a war to cull the numbers.

In fact, most of the time, the Demons were the ones launching the offensives, while the Devils and the Divine Factions remained strictly on the defensive.

Once a city fell and the Demons seized more territory, they would gain control of more Springs of the Abyss. That, in turn, would grant them even more troops, allowing their forces to snowball out of control.

The innate racial talent of Demons was truly terrifying!

At a normal human pace of cultivation, reaching the level of an Intermediate Tier professional usually took until one was in their twenties. In contrast, as long as a Low-Tier Demon had enough food, it could evolve into a Mid-Tier Demon in just two months—and the vast majority of that time was merely spent digesting its meals.

Therefore, Blackrock Fortress collected the Demon corpses not merely for profit, but to prevent the surviving Demons from devouring the fallen and gaining even greater strength.

The Blackrock Fortress war machine continued to operate steadily. Corpse collection teams gathered the bodies on the battlefield, while the main force, having taken a brief rest, resumed their march toward the Ten Thousand Blades Fortress.

At the same time, the White Dragon Lord noticed that the formation of Mages had moved considerably closer to the front.

‘Are they deploying their magical forces this early?’

Generally speaking, Mages were few in number and possessed limited magical energy. They usually served as an army's trump card and would not be committed until a critical juncture.

The White Dragon Lord looked toward the dense, black mass of Demons in the distance. Although this horde was much stronger than the first, the situation was still far from a genuine crisis. Deploying magical forces right now was clearly a bit premature.

However, Master Owen had done exactly that.

Down on the ground, under the layered protection of the main legions, the Mage Legion—composed of three thousand Mages—sprang into action. Clad in standardized robes and wielding uniform staffs, the combat Mages formed a perfect circle around three Legendary Mages. This was the precursor to unleashing a large-scale warfare spell.

A unified chorus of incantations rang out, and the ambient Magical Energy rapidly congregated. A large-scale warfare spell cast simultaneously by thousands of Mages possessed power far exceeding that of ordinary legendary magic, but judging from the energy fluctuations, it still fell short of a Forbidden Spell.

Sensing the intense elemental fluctuations, the Demonic horde grew extremely agitated. One portion blindly charged at the enemy forces, another portion fled back toward the city, and the rest scattered to the sides.

Even the larger Demons who had been driving the horde completely ignored their fleeing cannon fodder and frantically flew back toward the Ten Thousand Blades Fortress. At this moment, only the powerful Magic Barrier protecting the fortress could offer them a shred of security.

Inside the grand hall of the Ten Thousand Blades Fortress, an Eight-Armed Snake Demon sat upon the throne at the far end. Her eyes were closed, the makeup around them as pitch-black as ink. She appeared to be resting her mind, exuding a quiet, eerie charm.

The wall behind her was plastered with an array of weapons, draped across the stone like metallic wallpaper. The arsenal was incredibly diverse, featuring flails, hammers, swords, and sabers. Every single one was at least an exquisite-grade magical weapon, and a few were even of the legendary tier.

The grayish-black throne beneath the snake demon was so domineering it made one's heart tremble. Countless weapons—their original shapes still vaguely discernible—had been smelted together into a single mass to forge this barbaric yet majestic Throne of Ten Thousand Blades.

The master of this throne was the capable subordinate of the Blade Sovereign, the lord of the Ten Thousand Blades Fortress, the Serpent of Shadows, the Decapitator, the Collector, the Eight-Armed Snake Demon—Durio.

About a dozen Legendary Demons of various races stood on either side of the hall, their heads bowed. With such subservient postures, they hardly looked like the fiercely infamous Legendary Demons they were; instead, they resembled two rows of loyal pet hounds.

Perhaps, to Durio, these Legendary subordinates were truly no different from hounds. When she was in a good mood, she would toss them a bone or two; when she was in a bad mood, she would butcher them for a stew.

Suddenly, the snake demon snapped her eyes open. She could feel the violent turbulence of magical elements in the atmosphere.

The intensity of the elemental fluctuations was not particularly high, but their sheer scope encompassed the entire Ten Thousand Blades Fortress. This was clearly a brazen provocation against its master. Durio gritted her teeth.

“Damned Mages!”

“Great master, shall I go and squash the bugs that dare to offend you?”

A Legendary Demon, entirely shrouded in a black robe, shifted its body forward. It was the commander of Durio's own Mage Legion—the Spell-Eater Demon, Oduhal!

‘Bootlicker!’

The other Demons scoffed in their minds. Right now, even Durio herself wouldn't dare rush out into the open to invite a beating. There was no way Oduhal could handle the enemy forces, but that didn't stop the creature from putting on a show of loyalty.

Hearing Oduhal's fawning tone, Durio's expression softened slightly. Even though she knew her legion commander was just currying favor, sweet flattery never failed to please.

“No need. We will let them off for now,” she said.

Oduhal was the commander of the fortress's Mage Legion and her right-hand man; there was no way Durio would send it out to die. Had any other Demon offered, the inherently chaotic Demon lord might have actually granted the request.

“Activate the Magic Barrier. I don't want my city turned into a mess.”

“As you wish.”

Oduhal bowed slightly. A human-like hand completely devoid of skin extended from its wide black sleeves. Exposed muscle tissues and pulsing blood vessels gripped a transparent Crystal Ball in the hideous palm.

Low, blasphemous incantations echoed through the hall.

Above the Ten Thousand Blades Fortress, a Magic Barrier materialized, taking the shape of an overturned bowl. However, the barrier shimmered in ominous, intertwining shades of crimson and black.

Clearly, her definition of “my city” did not include the outer districts of the fortress.

Shortly after the Magic Barrier was raised, the warfare spell of the Blackrock Fortress Mage Legion was completed.

Large-scale warfare magic—Rain of Destruction.

Fiery red magical clouds shrouded the skies above the Ten Thousand Blades Fortress. They blotted out the sun, exuding a tyrannical aura of pure destruction that dyed the heavens in a brilliant, burning crimson—beautiful, yet utterly deadly.

Trailing long tails of fire, fist-sized spheres of energy rained down from above. They plummeted into the Ten Thousand Blades Fortress and detonated in a relentless barrage, like strings of firecrackers exploding across the ground.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Truthfully, the explosive yield of these individual energy spheres was not massive, roughly comparable to that of a grenade. Their true lethality lay in their sheer area of effect, entirely blanketing the Ten Thousand Blades Fortress.

The footprint of the fortress was incredibly massive, capable of housing a population of over two million Demons. Furthermore, there were no tall buildings within its walls, nor did Demons organize themselves into families or marital pairings.

Amidst the deafening explosions, the Low and Mid-Tier Demonic cannon fodder scattered in panic. Yet, with nowhere to run, they were relentlessly blasted into chunks of meat by the falling barrage.

Only the fastest among them managed to dive into the underground burrows of the city, shivering in terror inside tunnels choked with falling dust.

The Demons that had fled outward or charged the enemy army actually found themselves in a much better situation. The warfare spell solely targeted the fortress itself; once they cleared the blast radius, they were safe from the bombardment.

High in the sky, the White Dragon Lord observed the battlefield in its entirety. Aside from the fleet-footed, every Demon left inside the outer city had essentially been wiped out. The horde charging the Blackrock Fortress army would also face total annihilation shortly. Only the deserters who had scattered possessed a silver lining of survival.

As for why it was only a silver lining, it was because the adventurers who had marched alongside the army had long since seeded the perimeter of the fortress with traps. They were merely waiting for the fleeing Demons to dive right into their nets.