Chapter 631: Fall of the Demon King?
Atop the castle walls, the battle raged on. Half of the possessed humans lay unconscious in makeshift tents, their control broken by Sariel and Riel’s spell. The rest fought like animals, hurling themselves against the defenders without thought or fear.
On the castle walls, the battle raged on. Half of the possessed humans lay unconscious in makeshift tents, their control broken by Sariel and Riel’s spell. The rest fought like animals, hurling themselves against the defenders without thought or fear.
“Captain!” a knight rushed toward her.
“Stay back!” she barked, blood running from the corner of her mouth. “The barrier—We cannot let it fall!”
Sothing wasn’t right.
Leviathan’s Empress Arte’s barrier allowed her to share the pain and damage of anyone she deed worthy. However, Sariel, Riel and Ciela were all fine without issue, even the knights looked fine. The pain wasn’t hers. It was his.
That was the only answer.
The bond tied to Asmodeus scread through her veins, each pulse a knife. Sowhere above, he had taken a grave hit.
“Master!?”
Her shield cracked, the gaps in the barrier now deeper.
The succubi’s song carried across the walls, keeping the enemy’s ntal domination under control. But though abusing their magic, Sariel’s lips beca cracked, her voice breaking, and Riel’s nose dripped with crimson blood from the imnse strain.
Without Levia’s shield holding the line, their song would collapse in seconds.
Black-veins bulged under the orc’s skin as they hacked at their own kin. Goblins with empty eyes scrambled over the ladder, trying to jump. It beca chaotic from the mont phisto vanished. The possessed started acting on instinct rather than his orders.
Levia slamd her shield into the stone and roared. “HOLD! If the King still fights, so will we!” However, her vision blurred. The link to her beloved flickered and waned like a candle in the wind.
She sank her teeth deep into her lips and searched the sky for his silhouette, desperate to tell herself that Asmodeus was fine. But she felt it, sothing tearing through her chest, a hollow opening that lacked anything.
A jagged crack split her shield down the middle.
“Captain!?”
“Hold the lines, you heard her!” The orc warchief understood the gravity and jumped into the centre of the wall, holding his great axe. He led the orcs to stand in front of the knights. “We will take the pressure! Take ti to recover yourselves!”
The crimson do overhead flickered, threads snapping apart.
Sariel’s voice broke into a scream. “Levia! What’s happening?!”
Because the do protected them the strongest, they still hadn’t noticed the pain. They thought the twang in their chests was because of the song. Riel grabbed her wrist, forcing her to keep singing, though her golden eyes were wide. “It’s nothing… Sariel keep singing!”
Darling…
Sothing’s happened to him!
Desperate, Riel ignored the pain, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes tight, she continued her song, the power of her magic cleansing the possessed faster.
The shield shattered with a final crack, shards of light exploding outward. Levia dropped to one knee, clutching her chest, her voice hoarse but clear:
“No… it can’t be…” Her voice quivered as a figure hovered in the air.
The dark figure held sothing large in his arms, which dangled without movent, dripping with blood.
Then laughter rolled down from the sky, deep and mocking.
“Did you truly think he could win? Did you think anyone could stand against ?”
***
The dark figure drifted lower, erald flas spilling from his wings. In his arms hung Asmodeus’s limp body, threads of blood still flickering faintly across his skin. The Demon King did not move.
Then, with casual disdain, phisto hurled him.
The sound was sickening.
Asmodeus’s body struck the battlents with a crack of stone, skidding across shattered ice until Levia’s arms caught him.
“MASTER!” she scread, dragging him to her chest. His blood soaked her armour, hot and sticky, and she clutched him like a child clutching a broken doll. “No… no, please…”
Sariel and Riel’s song faltered.
The ntal ward collapsed the instant their focus broke, and both succubi collapsed to their knees, clutching their temples as blood ran from their noses and ears. The possessed howled as the whispers returned, frenzy redoubling.
“HAHAHA!” phisto’s voice cracked like thunder. “See? Your Demon King bleeds. Your walls crack. Your hope is nothing! Now you’re just bitches with no master!”
He raised his hand, erald fire gathering into a roiling sun above his palm. The light spread across the battlefield, searing eyes, splitting stone, lting snow.
“What is that magic!?” a knight gasped.
“Brace!” the orc warchief bellowed, though even his voice trembled.
After Alan vanished, phisto found he could use the remaining portions of Holy magic.
“The foolish hero couldn’t bare the thought it was his body that took the life of his friend, hahaha!”
“Stop right there!”
A sharp, elegant voice resonated across the walls.
Ciela’s green hair danced in the wind.
Her bow thrumd, green light piercing the air. Her arrows streaked upward, colliding against phisto’s sphere, bursting into sparks. “Fall, monster!” Her eyes burned with fury, her voice cracking with hate. “You will not take him from us!”
The archers followed, loosing in volleys, shafts glowing as her magic guided them. Dozens, hundreds, a storm of arrows lanced toward the corrupted demigod.
But phisto laughed, sweeping his scythe through the air.
One wave of green fire incinerated an entire volley, burning dozens of knights where they stood. Countless screams erupted across the wall as their bodies toppled, smoke rising from their charred cloaks.
“Ciela!” Sariel cried, trying to rise, only to collapse again, bloodied and trembling.
“I’m fine! Focus on recovering, we need your song to win!” Ciela spat back, her right eye half closed with blood oozing down her cheek, a burn mark across her arm as she loosed another arrow, intense magic wrapping the tip as her hair whipped wildly. “I will protect him, protect you all. Even if it costs every drop of my blood!”
Fwoosh!
Her arrows penetrated the green fla, wrapped in a beautiful crimson glow. Ciela copied her husband, out of respect and the desire to see him stand. Inside her abdon, the divine shard throbbed with heat, growing hotter each ti she pulled the Divine Aura around her arrows using Arcane Archery.
The knights she trained fought with her, but their ranks thinned with every heartbeat. Fire rained down on them like death, burning the arrows midair, and phisto’s mocking laugher shook the sky.
On the ground, Levia clutched Asmodeus’s still form, rocking as tears stread down her face. Her voice was raw, broken, not the proud general’s roar, but a child’s cry: “Don’t leave … please don’t leave …”
“Serena…. save him, like always!” Her voice quivered as she prayed to another of his wives, desperate for the gaping hole in his chest to heal, for his heart to regenerate.
Despite their valiant resistance, the defenders staggered. The wall seed ready to collapse. Even the orcs, even the warchief, faltered at the sight of their Great Warchief bleeding in his lover’s arms.
Ciela closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
She opened them slowly, watching phisto like a hawk.
“Slowly… take a breath, gather….” The tip of her arrow burned brighter each second, the dull pain of her stomach grew, and she couldn’t keep this up for long.
More and more…
Ciela gathered her divine aura into this one arrow.
And Fired!
While he focused on burning the knights on the wall, phisto turned away, ignoring the archers, but the sudden burst of divine energy caught him off guard. “What!? How can you use such power!” As the arrow tore through the sky and shot towards his forehead.
phisto flapped his tattered wings and tried to avoid it.
But the arrow followed.
Chasing him.
Before he could fully gather the power to strike it down, he struck, slicing across the air and knocking the arrow off course slightly as it tore through his face.
Dirty black blood spurt into the sky as he dropped to the castle walls.
“You ants will burn! Especially you. Bitch!” phisto clutched his cheek, a deep wound gouged by an arrow. “I’ll tear you limb from limb!” The wound constantly burned, refusing to heal, leaving a deep gash across his face.
“Then I’ll aim the next one at your crotch, Bastard!” Ciela spoke with Velvet’s vulgarity, her normal elegance collapsing as she bit her lip, desperately gathering divine aura.
Suddenly.
A horn blew.
Not the mournful cry of Zar’Kaleth’s towers, but a new one.
Every head turned to the south.
The horizon shimred with silver. Ranks upon ranks of mounted knights, their armour gleaming in the sunlight. Forest banners snapped in the wind. Behind them, elven archers in their thousands, bows raised high, the green and gold of the Sylvan Host blazing like fire. Beside them, Beastkin rode atop fierce beasts… with the black and white tiger leading them beside a huge ape, Alice sitting on the tiger’s back.
Grigor.
The Elven host.
The Empire of Beasts.
The entire continent stood in the north.
Avandar, Qwass, and all the knights who’d ever interacted with Ryuji—all of them.
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