The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 643 - 667 Tearing Open a Rift

Chapter 643 -667 Tearing Open a Rift

The Demon army was like a moving wall studded with metal spikes, brutally crashing into a disorganized mass of mercenaries. Screams immediately rose in every direction, and even the best warriors among the mercenaries could barely defend themselves against the five or six blades simultaneously swinging toward them. Many more were cleaved into pieces on the spot, and even those who fought to strike a blow failed to achieve any results.

But the mercenaries were not entirely powerless to fight back. Some clever Spellcasters timely unleashed terrain-altering magic that disrupted the enemy’s formation; others used the bodies of their fallen companions as shields to successfully tear a rift in the Demon line, then poured all their effort into demonstrating their destructive capabilities.

Unsurprisingly, the most outstanding performance belonged to the commander of the mercenary corps himself. Sonam stood tall, his six Cold Iron Longswords raining down like a torrential storm, chopping the Beard Demons who dared to approach him into pieces. From time to time, he also unleashed an unexpected and powerful sweep attack, clearing a large area in front of him.

With a six-armed Serpent Demon tearing open the enemy’s lines at the front, it was naturally much easier for those following behind. Four Succubi wielding Longswords and Shields charged out like shadows after the Serpent Demon, leading their squads to swiftly widen the breach, allowing more mercenaries to fight in a less disadvantageous environment.

The strength of the Demons lay in their tacit coordination and strict discipline; when it came to individual combat capabilities, they were not necessarily much stronger than the skilled and mighty Blood War Mercenaries or Demons.

Lancelot was, of course, one of them. Although he hadn’t resorted to his most secret techniques, he was still fighting with all his might. Frostslash shimmered with an aquamarine light as it spun back and forth in front of him, and another sword shadow composed entirely of blue light danced alongside it, slashing at the enemy with almost no discernible difference from the original. Lancelot was like a high-speed meat grinder, any living being that came within the range of his weapons lost their ability to stand and walk within moments. The luckier ones died even before feeling pain and then discovered they had returned to Barto Hell, dragged out of some foul Blood Pool with hooks.

Awaiting them was ninety-nine years of hard labor in mines or factories, along with a new notation in their records emphasizing that this individual was a defeated warrior, to be thrown to the very end of the list during assessments for promotion.

Despite Lancelot’s valiant struggle at the forefront, the fight was no easier for his comrades behind him. A shield wall formed by four Dwarves became the core of the squad’s formation. They were like the rocks on a shoreline, stopping wave after wave of the enemy’s assault, preventing the Demon infantry from advancing half a step. The Dwarf Hammerheads and War Picks swung out unexpectedly from under the Shields from time to time, each time shattering several purple knees.

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The Dwarves’ main role was defensive, but it was their presence that allowed their comrades to enjoy a relatively comfortable combat environment. The old Holy Warrior Ivendell, other than Lancelot, was the most astonishing one in the team; he had blessed himself with Protective Magic before the battle began, and around his body flitted a shimmering Magic Shield. Combined with the Plate Armor he wore and the Shield in his hand, he was as sturdy as a turtle; and once the battle started, he directed Divine Power to continually issue undeniable, holy challenges to the enemies, then used the signature Combat Technique of Holy Warriors, Holy Slash, to melt one Demon after another.

Another exceptional performance came from the half-elf Tanya. She wielded a pike that was two heads taller than herself, wrapped in shadows as dense as a moonless midnight. A casual swing could sever an opponent’s weapon, followed by cleaving the still-dazed enemy in two. Thus, despite her seemingly unsophisticated farmer-against-a-wild-boar style of pike combat, the terrible destructive power of her weapon allowed her to defeat enemies effortlessly.

Furthermore, the performances of several others were also noteworthy—the armorer Valen Belen activated his powered armor, turning himself into a mobile lightning storm that turned any approaching enemy into a clump of charred blackness. His younger brother Rein Belen summoned a mobile artillery piece with propellers, which could fly into mid-air and topple swathes of enemies with every blast. The monkey demon Jing was initially unsure of how to engage in the chaotic battle but quickly found her groove: smashing the skulls of enemies knocked down by her comrades with her staff. She seemed to consider it some sort of game, thoroughly enjoying herself, and if one were to count, her tally of kills might only be second to Lancelot’s.

In contrast to the others’ vigorous activity, the two closely guarded spellcasters seemed to be slacking: the Tiflin magician Musk continuously fired white rays carrying a chill throughout the enemy ranks. These Frostlash spells, while not highly damaging and their slow effects easily resisted by demons, could extinguish the flames around the target and even cool down the surrounding temperature, making the battlefield environment more comfortable—at least for the mercenaries.

Beyond that, the frost rays could freeze any liquid on the ground—be it blood, bodily fluids, or poison. Should some unlucky soul focused solely on their opponent step on it, they would likely slip. That’s when Alamir would kick them while they were down with an intensely hot ray of light, engulfing the unable-to-dodge enemy.

Although still a combat technique, the Holy Fire Technique of the elf priest had changed dramatically since he escaped from the Succubus Palace. Now, the bright light he conjured was as hot as a basin of falling acid, able to severely injure a completely healthy Beard Demon with one hit. The drawback was evident, however—as a priest, his attack frequency was somewhat slow, and while he possessed more powerful Divine Arts, those precious spell slots had to be reserved for treating injuries among comrades. Therefore, Alamir could only resort to using the Holy Fire Technique ‘lazily’.

If the six-armed Serpent Demon was the beacon against the demonic attack, Lancelot was like a massive yet inconspicuous rock beneath the beacon. With their valiant efforts, the mercenaries gradually steadied their footing, engaging in brutal melee with the enemy. People continued to fall, but it was no longer a one-sided slaughter.

Just then, Lancelot’s Spirit Perception suddenly detected an overwhelming presence, like a vast whirlpool appearing amidst the raging waves, so commanding in its presence it was impossible to ignore. Turning his head towards Sonam’s location, the sight that met Lancelot’s eyes made his heart sink.

There, striding arrogantly toward the six-armed Serpent Demon, was a colossal figure with wings, skin so red it was almost purple, and a body covered with armor-like scales. Despite the small mountain of demon corpses piled around him, Sonam couldn’t help but shrink back in retreat, clearly extremely wary of the newcomer.

After all, that was a Demon Refinement from the depths of Hell, a terrifying existence in Barto Hell only second to the Great Demon.