Chapter 662: Chapter 686: There’s Still a Chance
Lancelot didn’t take long to return among the rcenaries; they had already completely annihilated the enemy forces they first engaged and were now fiercely attacking the flank of another Demon Legion. The mont the Human Knight spotted the six-ard Serpent Demon, driven by the thrill of battle and facing his companion fighting desperately not far from the Serpent Demon, he found the right angle and spurred his Nightmare toward that direction.
To equate Lancelot’s current mount with an ordinary warhorse would be unfair. The largest horse he had ever seen hadn’t been taller than six feet at the shoulder, whereas this Nightmare, enhanced by Abyssal Spiritual Qi, stood over seven feet tall, its muscles grotesquely bulging, even stronger than so seductive Demons might be.
Therefore, when this demoniac steed weighing over two thousand five hundred pounds charged at a speed exceeding ninety miles per hour, it created a commotion akin to a rhinoceros with a javelin stuck in its rear. In the mont before impact, the Nightmare let out a piercing, frenzied neigh and instantly increased its speed by a fraction.
The Demon infantry before Lancelot were struck and flung aside like bowling pins, and he himself was like a boulder launched from a catapult. After knocking down more than fifteen Beard Demons, the Nightmare finally lost its montum, but it alternately raised its front hooves, smashing the head of an enemy who thought he had escaped disaster, thus adding another to its tally of kills for the day.
“Thanks, buddy,” Lancelot dismounted, and his hand-and-a-half sword instantly felled another foe, “Your task is done for now, I can take it from here by myself!”
The Nightmare let out a whiny neigh, full of complaint, and casually kicked another Beard Demon that was sneaking up from behind, sending it flying away.
“Ha, Lancelot! This big black horse isn’t done playing yet!” Bruto’s cheerful voice rang out next to him as the Dwarf was climbing over a demonic corpse whose shins had gone missing, “We’re about to win, it would be too cruel to send it back now!”
“Unfortunately, the exact opposite is true, but I like your positive attitude,” Lancelot sidestepped a swinging blade and lightly tapped his sword’s tip on his opponent’s knee. The Beard Demon fell to its knees beside him, and as Lancelot was decapitating it, he turned to his mount and said, “We’re fighting Demons; can you tell the difference?”
The Nightmare again raised its hooves, knocking another Beard Demon to the ground, effectively answering with action.
“Alright then,” Lancelot shrugged, “I won’t Dispel the summoning then, if you’re happy, just go back on your own.”
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As the battle group gradually moved toward the Volcano Fortress, the remaining Demon armies dwindled, but no matter how many of their comrades fell, these invaders from Barto Hell always maintained a tight formation, so there wasn’t a significant increase in casualties.
When the last Beard Demon stepped onto the steps of the Volcano Fortress, the size of the Demon army was only about one-third of what it was at the onset of the war, which was less than what the Demon Refinent Generals had planned, but was still within an acceptable range.
The premise was that they could all indeed retreat into the Volcano Fortress.
As the dense formation marched through, several Beard Demons felt as if they had crushed so type of container, but their calloused soles weren’t injured, and since the column was moving, they couldn’t stop to check what they had stepped on. However, just seconds later, sothing suddenly happened. Nurous vines as thick as water buckets sprang from the ground near the entrance stairs.
These vines grew incredibly fast, swirling up like the thick smoke rising from a bonfire, quickly twisting into a low wall about five feet high, its surface covered with dagger-like spikes.
The previously well-organized formation of the Demon Legion was truly disrupted now, with the soldiers in front still retreating on command, but pressing their comrades against the sudden wall of spikes, emitting piercing screams.
“This scene seems a bit familiar, doesn’t it?” Alamir glanced at Lancelot, who was intently staring at the vines, his empty left hand gesturing a strange pose, “Inspiration from Pascaler?”
Due to limited space, the rcenaries had already retreated from the front line—blocking a group of frenzied Demons was not a wise move. The suddenly erged wall of Thorns proved incredibly effective; it blocked the Demons’ route of retreat in the nick of ti, preventing them from withdrawing into the recently seized fortress. Moreover, the Spellcasters who should have been in place earlier did no such thing around the stairway entrance, where they should have created a vast fire to provide cover, rather than allowing a damn Thorn wall to block the retreat of their comrades.
Unfortunately, it was only the poor Beard Demon infantry that got blocked. Any Middle Rank Demon could easily jump over this low wall, and they did so without any hesitation. In the original plan, these foot soldiers were ant to be sacrificed, for if they survived, it could an more competition at the sa level for themselves.
Of course, the high-ranking Commanders still issued orders to deal with those vines as soon as possible. So Demon Spellcasters cast Dispel Magic on the vines, but were shocked to find it had no effect whatsoever. Burning them didn’t work either, as the vines seed to be full of water, making them impossible to ignite; hacking them with weapons was sowhat effective, but it was inefficient, although it seed the best option available at the mont…
As the Middle Rank Demons gradually left the scene, the dirge of death hastened. Despite the staunch resistance of the three Baro Fla Demon Generals at the forefront, this couldn’t stop their infantry from dissolving like snow under a scorching sun. What drove the Demons even more to despair, was that just as they finally made a breakthrough in that wall of Thorns, the Thorns seed to co alive again, wriggling and quickly filling up the gap…
As the situation grew increasingly dire, the three Baro Fla Demon Generals knew it was ti to give up. Covered by the last remaining thousand or so Beard Demons, they smoothly retreated inside the Volcano Fortress, while the remaining Demon rearguard, under the full-force attack of four Baro Fla Demon Generals, were slaughtered in less than ten minutes, leaving only the wreckage of bodies, blood that reached the ankles, and a nauseating stench behind.
“Did we win… maybe?” Bruto looked uncertain as he turned to Alamir, “Why isn’t there any cheering?”
“If you were a bit taller, you could see what happened before,” said the Elf Priest with a sigh of regret, “But the enemy’s remaining forces aren’t many; perhaps the allied forces still have a chance…”
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