Magus Supremacy Nove Chapter 974: Invasion (9)

Chapter 974: Invasion (9)

Chapter 974

— Aaaaaah!

A body was seen flying backward, hurtling through the air with violent force.

Thalos stared at the falling form with a callous look, his expression unreadable and cold.

Without so much as flinching or allowing himself to be derailed from his path, he continued dragging his massive greatsword through the dirt.

His steady march toward Devan and the vice leaders remained unbroken.

Swooosh—!

A rush of air erupted from his right.

Lifting his hand in front of his face with casual ease, he deflected a sword strike to the side.

Before he could poml the attacker into the earth, more soldiers lunged at him from the shadows of the fray.

More than two hundred n were beginning to close in on his position, forming a suffocating ring of steel.

He took a single step backward from the man who had just attacked him.

With a sharp, focused exhale, he stabbed his greatsword deep into the ground.

The legendary weapon ripped through the crust of the earth like a hot knife through butter.

Then, he simply folded his hands across his chest, waiting for the swarm to descend.

’I’m confused, though. Are they truly not afraid? I don’t even look human to begin with. When Grey first t , he nearly lost his composure, yet these morons are lunging toward

without a second thought?’

About a dozen warriors out of the two hundred reached him simultaneously.

They launched their coordinated assault with desperate ferocity.

The gargoyle heaved a tired, rhythmic sigh before lifting his head to look in Devan’s direction far across the field.

For the slightest of seconds, their gazes locked.

Without breaking eye contact with the enemy leader, Thalos leaped high into the air, effortlessly dodging the dozen incoming strikes.

Landing a distance away from the cluster, he finally snapped his head forward to look at the sacrificial fools.

With a clamorous bang, the gargoyle blurred forward with velocity far beyond human capabilities.

...Well, he was no human to begin with.

A singular punch from his massive fist caved a man’s chest into his body, neutralizing him instantly.

Smacking his hands together, a violent shockwave rippled forward, scattering the surrounding n like dried leaves caught in a sudden storm.

Ducking under a wild, desperate swing, Thalos drove his hand forward with clinical brutality.

The force of his strike was absolute.

He casually dismissed his victims, flinging remnants of the clash away with enough power to overwhelm any who stood in the path of the debris.

His movents were a blur of efficiency.

Shifting into motion once more, Thalos was seen—or rather, unseen—dismantling his opponents as if they were re toddlers playing at war.

Years of dedicated training and countless missions undertaken by these n shattered against the overwhelming power of the gargoyle.

He was unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with that defied their understanding of combat.

The most infuriating aspect of the entire situation was that he wasn’t even utilizing his weapon, nor was he taking the engagent seriously.

A heavy kick to an enemy’s face sent the body blurring away into the distance.

Twisting his hip for a mont, the ground cracked and splintered beneath his feet.

Bang—!

He shot forward, the very soil bending and groaning beneath the soles of his feet.

Arrows whistled toward his position in a darkened cloud, yet Thalos avoided each and every projectile without breaking his stride at all.

Sidestepping with fluid grace, he watched as a Ki fist smashed into the spot he had occupied only a millisecond prior.

More n were still closing in on him, driven by the delusion that sheer numbers would prevail against his might.

More than three hundred soldiers rushed toward his position as if being controlled by a single button, even after witnessing him dismantle the previous two hundred with casual indifference.

Glaring at the approaching wave, Thalos simply held his hand out to his side.

Soon, a low rumble was heard, followed by a sharp, piercing whistle.

Swinging his hand in a wide circle through the air, he summoned his strength, and screams erupted all around him.

Agonizing shrieks filled the air as bodies dropped to the ground in heavy, wet thuds.

The carnage was absolute; the battlefield beca a whirlwind of chaos as he exerted his dominance.

He continued spinning his hand through the air while the cries and the rain of debris continued until—

Swooosh—!

His greatsword flew into his hand as if it had always belonged there, the hilt eting his palm with a heavy, familiar thud.

Blood rolled over the edges of the massive blade like rain slicking off a roof.

Thalos scanned his position, watching as the remnants of the once-imposing force fell around him.

In just a few seconds, the three hundred n had been neutralized, leaving the ground cluttered with the defeated.

Swinging his sword to the side with a sharp, controlled motion, the ichor that had gathered on the steel rose up as if being pulled by an invisible force, then splattered onto the parched earth the next second.

He turned his head, locking his gaze with Devan and the vice leaders once more, his ssage clear without a single word.

.....

Fenrir Stormspear, a literal human lightning storm, was still shredding through the opposition with his elental affinity.

He didn’t stop; he didn’t pause for a single breath.

Blood stained his robe and face, though none could tell if it belonged to him or the fallen army.

All around him, the mountain of the defeated grew by the passing minute.

His mana remained plentiful, but he knew the risks; if the tide didn’t shift soon, even his vast reserves might eventually falter.

Swinging his hand from above, a lightning pillar scread downward from the ashen clouds.

It crashed in front of him, scattering sparks of electricity in every direction, paralyzing his foes and keeping them rooted in place.

Swinging his hands in a wide arc, dozens of lightning arrows surged outward in a lethal fan.

TCHAAAK—! TCHAAAK—! TCHAAAK—!

The projectiles impaled the enemy with clinical precision.

He blurred into motion again, completely untrackable by the rank-and-file soldiers.

The only thing left in his wake were jagged streaks of lightning and the shadows of those he had overco.

....

Devan observed the battlefield for a long mont, his eyes locking onto the figures who were systematically reducing his army by the passing second.

A vein throbbed at the side of his head as the reality of the situation set in.

"Pluck, go there," Devan ordered, pointing a finger toward the gargoyle who was dismantling his n as if they were re paper.

"Oscroch, there," he commanded, pointing in the direction of the man wreathed in lightning who continued to lay waste to the legion.

The two vice leaders grinned, their eyes lighting up with the prospect of a real challenge before they leaped down from their towering mount.

Ortiz, left behind, lifted a brow in silent inquiry.

"And ?"

Devan scanned the battlefield once more before pointing directly ahead—past the chaos of the frontlines.

"Drop those annoying double gates so our army can flood the city and lay waste to it."

The corner of Ortiz’s lips twitched in dark amusent at the task.