mousepad-d2 Chapter 333: A War Between the Living and the Dead [5/5]
Chapter 333: A War Between the Living and the Dead [5/5]
With each passing second, the number of both humans and Mantis Beastmen diminished at a terrifying rate. Cries for help continued echoing across the battlefield relentlessly while miserable screams filled the blood-soaked air continuously.
Helpless wails followed one after another without pause. Many warriors had already consumed every healing potion available.
Most healers had exhausted their mana reserves completely. They stood helplessly behind the front lines. Their faces were filled with despair and hopelessness.
Many could only watch helplessly as friends and comrades were devoured alive by the ravenous beasts.
The scene was merciless.
The scene was brutal.
The scene was enough to break even hardened veterans. Even after Riven and his elite team joined the front line, the situation showed little improvement.
Their arrival failed to inspire any noticeable change.
Most people barely noticed their presence amid the overwhelming chaos. The brutal battle had pushed everyone toward the edge of death.
Some had already abandoned all hope entirely. Many continued fighting solely because surrender meant immediate death.
Their bodies moved through instinct alone. Their minds had long become numb.
Blood drenched their armor and exhaustion weighed heavily upon their shoulders.
Yet they continued fighting.
They had no other choice.
Then something unexpected happened.
Through one of the shattered cracks within the defensive wall, a group of cloaked figures emerged silently. Their movements were swift and sync.
As they advanced forward, their weapons rose and fell repeatedly.
Every swing carried death.
Every strike harvested lives.
Every step left fresh corpses behind.
They resembled harbingers of destruction walking across the battlefield.
They were merciless.
They were fearless.
They were every bit as savage as the beasts themselves. The mysterious cloaked figures appeared along the northern section of the battlefield.
Without hesitation, they began carving a bloody path toward the center.
Howls erupted immediately.
Lesser Dune Scorpions rushed toward them aggressively while Greater Dune Scorpions followed closely behind. The monsters believed these newcomers were no different from their usual prey.
Unfortunately, they learn their lesson soon enough.
Pincers were severed cleanly from Dune Scorpions. Stingers flew through the air before crashing onto blood-soaked ground.
Heads rolled.
Limbs scattered.
Dark blood erupted everywhere.
Of course, these figures were none other than the undead legion. They had finally reached the front line. Standing atop the battered wall, Thoren observed the battlefield silently.
His expression remained calm and detached.
No emotion appeared upon his face.
No concern could be seen within his eyes.
However, beneath that calm exterior, a storm raged violently. His blood boiled with murderous fury.
Every scream intensified his hatred.
Every death fueled his rage.
Every corpse strengthened his desire to find Cressida. With every cry that echoed across the battlefield, his hatred deepened further. Taking a deep breath, he slowly forced his emotions back under control.
Now was not the time for anger.
Now was the time for slaughter.
His gaze shifted toward the battlefield once again.
Immediately, dozens of undead Greater Dune Scorpions surged through the breach.
Their arrival changed the atmosphere instantly. Their massive chitin covered bodies rushed forward without hesitation.
Their pincers snapped violently.
Their stingers lashed outward repeatedly.
Everything standing before them was torn apart mercilessly.
Unlike humans and Mantis Beastmen, the undead felt no fear.
They felt no hesitation.
They knew no pain.
While living people desperately avoided incoming attacks, the undead charged directly through them. They slammed into enemy formations brutally.
Pincers were ripped apart.
Stingers were torn free.
Carapaces shattered beneath relentless assaults.
The battlefield became increasingly chaotic.
Meanwhile, the elite undead legion proved equally terrifying. The undead Storm Tyrant rampaged through the battlefield like a living catastrophe.
Its enormous hammer rose and fell repeatedly. Every impact produced horrifying destruction.
Most beasts required only a single strike.
Heads exploded instantly.
Bones shattered completely.
Bodies collapsed into mangled heaps.
The undead Elite Jackal Beastman displayed no less brutality. Its massive spiked club swung continuously. The weapon proved especially devastating against Bone Crushing Wyrms.
Every strike shattered their hardened scales. Every impact ripped apart flesh and muscle.
The creatures howled miserably before collapsing lifelessly.
The undead Royalty Stonewall proved was no less terrifying. Its black blade moved with frightening precision. The weapon cared little whether the target was a Bone Crushing Wyrm or a Dune Scorpion.
Every strike cleaved a beast into two equal halves.
Nothing survived its attacks and dark blood began flowing across the battlefield like small rivers. Previously, most of the blood belonged to humans and Mantis Beastmen.
Now everything had changed.
The beasts were paying the price instead.
The arrival of the undead army shifted the momentum rapidly and the tide of battle began changing before everyone’s eyes.
"What is happening?"
"Are the beasts retreating?"
"Why are their attacks weakening?"
Many exhausted Awakeners gasped heavily while shouting in disbelief. Their minds struggled to process the sudden change. Most had already accepted this battlefield as their final resting place.
Many had prepared themselves to die alongside the town. Yet now they witnessed something entirely different.
Hope.
A faint spark of hope had appeared once again. Among the human fighters, Riven also noticed the dramatic shift.
His sharp eyes scanned the battlefield carefully. Then, from the corner of his vision, he spotted a familiar figure standing atop the wall.
Silver hair.
Blue eyes.
An indifferent expression.
"So that’s it," he whispered quietly.
A deep sigh escaped from his lips. He had hoped Solenne would arrive and rescue them. However, the terrifying roars echoing across the battlefield earlier had revealed the truth.
Stronger beasts lurked beyond the front lines, and their guild master was undoubtedly occupied.
She could not help them.
Yet what had arrived instead was perhaps even more terrifying.
His gaze shifted toward the northern battlefield and then, he witnessed what caused his heart to skip a beat.
Beasts were being slaughtered effortlessly.
That alone was shocking.
However, something far more horrifying followed.
The fallen beasts rose once again.
Dead eyes reopened.
Broken limbs moved.
Corpses stood back up.
One after another, they joined the undead ranks.
Riven swallowed hard.
"Why do I feel this battle has become a war between the living and the dead?" he muttered quietly.
A cold chill traveled down his spine.
Looking at the growing undead army, his observation seemed increasingly accurate.
Riven was not alone.
Other fighters gradually noticed the undead legion as well.
Many stood frozen in shock.
Others forgot they were standing on an active battlefield.
They watched with wide eyes.
Beasts died at an unbelievable speed.
There was no struggle.
There was no resistance.
The slaughter appeared effortless.
Before the undead legion, the terrifying beast tide suddenly looked weak. They seemed little more than ordinary animals awaiting execution.
Gradually, the beasts abandoned their attacks against humans and Mantis Beastmen.
Instinct guided their actions.
They noticed a greater threat had appeared. Every surviving beast redirected its attention toward the undead army.
The battlefield shifted dramatically.
The humans stared alongside the Mantis men.
The undead advanced relentlessly.
Now two armies stood opposed against one another.
One side belonged to life.
The other side belonged to death.
Slowly, it became the battle between the dead and the living.