Chapter 374: Chapter 388: Front Sorsault
The demons were taken aback by the force of the succubus’s charge. How could such a creature, seemingly only keen on playing pranks and seducing mortals into decadence, be so fierce? And why was its weapon a longsword rather than a whip?
Despite their astonishnt, the Brezu demons didn’t feel fear in their hearts. However, they still adopted a more cautious strategy: they leaped backward, dragging their weapons in front of them, ready to counterattack the mont their enemy’s strike missed.
Lancelot inwardly comnded his opponent’s response. Most creatures in the Abyss had muscles developed to a grotesque degree but rarely possessed the skill to wield those muscles effectively. The ram-headed Brezu demons were an exception.
If it had been the old him, he would have adopted the standard swordsmanship response: a low sweep to ward off the opponent’s lower strike followed by an upward jab and then a returning Horizontal Slash. If the enemy dared to press the attack recklessly, this move could make them pay dearly; and if the enemy gave up on counterattacking, both parties would return to an even stance.
The only problem was, by doing so he would have lost the advantage of his charge and being one against two, reaching a stalemate with one enemy was aningless.
The greatest enhancent from Foundation Establishnt was in the strengthening of the body, allowing him to turn techniques that once existed only in his imagination into reality. After his strike missed, Lancelot didn’t slow down at all. The tip of his sword supported him against the ground as he flipped forward, completely avoiding the enemy’s jab and the other demon’s Horizontal Slash.
...
He spun nearly half a circle in the air, then viciously kicked out, hitting the ram-headed demon square in the face. Although his war boots had been transford into sandals by the effect of the Transforming Ring, their mithril composition hadn’t changed. Combined with the montum of the charge and Lancelot’s own strength, the Brezu demon’s head exploded like a flowerpot hit by a slingstone, and the dark purple brains, like clods of dirt from the pot, maintained their rough shape as they spun away.
Lancelot’s other foot kicked the demon’s chest, sending the headless corpse flying far away. He then rolled on the ground, dodging another slash from behind.
He quickly got up and faced the remaining Brezu demon. The opponent was shaken by his astonishing performance and cautiously held its weapon in front, assuming a defensive posture, while roaring in a hoarse voice:
“Who are you! To dare steal from the castle of the Mother of Demons, surrender now, or prepare to experience the torture of flaying and deboning!”
“What Mother of Demons, is her husband the Demon Prince? Only the Queen of the Succubus, kanshut, is worthy of that title!” Lancelot bluffed casually. Of course, he was well aware that the enemy was actually stalling for ti, waiting for reinforcents, and that was exactly what Lancelot hoped for.
This was the perfect place to perform the act of escape for an audience, and those pursuing demons would be his spectators.
After that round of combat, Lancelot had already charged out of the tower’s exit and was now standing on a bridge less than ten feet wide, with the ground at least five hundred feet below him. The sky was mostly dyed a dark red by the light of fires on the ground, with the remaining areas showing a dense, deep blue, utterly devoid of any starlight.
Beneath him lay the Mother of Demons’ Bone Castle. From the outside, the castle’s shape resembled a giant hand of bone and looked terrifying, yet also strangely fragile. However, from what he had seen inside, that was clearly an illusion; the castle was very sturdy, and no mortal siege engine could hope to shake it.
Because this castle wasn’t built by mortal hands.
Kalalin had once explained to him that an Abyssal Lord who had conquered an entire plane possessed a power akin to that of a god—the ability to alter reality. Although not to the extent that the gods could within their Divine Kingdoms, it was still enough to create horrific environnts and structures to their own liking.
The castle was built on a plain littered with skeletons, and beyond it, a wilderness filled with lava and thick smoke, a place where even demons seed hesitant to tread. On the edge of the Skeleton Plains, there were many sinister entrances, leading to an unknown underworld.
It was clear that Lancelot was no longer in Androlina. Based on the knowledge Kalalin had previously shared, this place was likely the 600th level of the Abyss, ruled by the Beast Roar Lord Baphont, an endless labyrinth.
Yes, despite the Mother of Demons’ castle being here, the ruler of this level was not Cang Ye. The Mother of Demons hardly ever left her Bone Castle, and Baphont did not interfere with matters within Cang Ye’s territory. The two Abyssal Lords had never officially established an alliance, but if either was attacked within the endless labyrinth, the other would lend a hand.
Tijana had already told Lancelot that the Mother of Demons was not in the castle, and he had also overheard the conversation between the two patrolling tempter demons. From the information at hand, it was apparent that the demonic side was very well-prepared this ti, and while the Protectors were on alert, they were still thinking along the sa lines—trying to obtain the demons’ battle plans, distinguishing which force was the main thrust and which was a feint, then making targeted deploynts and concentrating their superior forces…
But there were no feints; every route was a main assault. The forces of good in Androlina were bound to suffer greatly this ti, and there was even the risk of annihilation.
Would Lancelot sacrifice his life to protect those innocent Aira children? Elothysia might, but he would not, at least not when there was no hope of victory. However, in ensuring the safety of himself and his companions, he was very willing to exert his utmost effort to seize every possibility of turning the tide.
Through his Spirit Perception, he sensed a large number of demons surging up the spiral staircase he had just passed, now less than two hundred feet away from him.
The goat-headed demon opposite him continued to curse incessantly, at one mont demanding his surrender, and at another describing the various tortures the captured succubus would suffer, but his feet were constantly moving toward Lancelot’s left, trying to occupy a better angle. Lancelot’s body suddenly sank into a low crouch, readying for attack, and his opponent imdiately froze, watching his every move intently.
This was a very standard swordsman duel, sothing Lancelot was all too familiar with. Generally, rookies would blindly rush to attack, while experienced warriors would prefer to defend first, waiting for their opponent to expose a weakness then strike to kill, which is why battlefields often saw two “tin cans” staring each other down for a long ti, neither wanting to make the first move.
But for a veteran like Lancelot, there were plenty of ways to make the defender commit a mistake, like a feint that demanded a response.
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