Chapter 89: Armageddon II

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Just as the warhorn sounds both sides collided likes how two massive waves collides with each other, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. The clash was fierce and unrelenting, with warriors from both sides locked in a deadly dance of combat.

Swords clashed against shields, axes cleaved through armor, and spells arced through the air like streaks of lightning, leaving destruction in their wake. The air was thick with the sounds of battle—shouts and cries, the clang of metal, and the roar of magical energies colliding with explosive force.

Amidst the chaos, individual duels played out, each one a test of skill and strength. Heroes clashed with villains, their weapons flashing in the sunlight as they fought for glory and honor. Demi-humans battled against dragons, their agility and cunning pitted against the raw power of the ancient beasts.

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A falling meteor slashed through the sky and hit the ground, where it burst into an explosion. A thunderous roar echoed all around. The massive shockwave flattened everything it touched and shattered the wall.

As the dust settled, revealing the grim aftermath of the meteor strike, the figure clad in the impeccable British suit emerged from the chaos. His demeanor was calm and collected, his expression betraying no hint of emotion as he surveyed the devastation before him.

With a flick of his wrist, he adjusted the lapels of his jacket, straightening his tie with practiced precision. Behind him, his seven generals, known as the Evil Lords, stood in silent reverence, their loyalty unwavering despite the carnage that surrounded them.

Demiurge, the mastermind behind the meteor strike, exuded an aura of calculated intelligence and ruthless efficiency. His silver tail, adorned with metal plates and sharp spikes, twitched ever so slightly as he contemplated his next move.

"Report," he commanded, his voice a low, commanding rumble that cut through the eerie silence of the battlefield.

One of the Evil Lords stepped forward, a sinister grin playing at the corners of his lips. "The enemy forces around the perimeter have been decimated, Lord Demiurge. Our victory is assured."

Demiurge nodded in satisfaction, his crimson eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Excellent. Prepare the next phase of our plan. We must strike while the enemy is still reeling from our initial assault."

Just then a battalion of Human and Demi-human teleport in front Demiurge.

"That's far enough!You demon, We will defeat you and bring your head back to our king!" One of the Demi-human with a lion head said.

Hearing this, Evil Lord Wrath couldn't contains his anger.

"You dare to disrespect.." But he couldn't finish his sentence as Demiurge interrupted him.

"That's enough." Demiurge said as he turned to the enemies.

Demiurge voice was gentle and pleasing to the ear. It seemed to worm its way into every man's heart.

Demiurge evaluated the man from his appearance. He reached an answer immediately.

Threat Level E (Worm).

Error Probability E (None at all).

Importance E (Guinea pig).

In other words, he was nothing but trash.

"we already know heads will be rolling. Now then may I know who you are?"

"My name is plax," Said the lion headed Demi-human.

"I see, I see. Since you have given your name, I fear it might be rude not to respond in kind. Greetings, ladies and gentlemen of this world. My name is Demiurge. The commanding general of Inferno Legion, I hope you will entertain us."

"I will not accept surrender or anything of the sort. Entertain me to the best of your ability. Now then let us begin." Demiurge said

Plax gave his subordinates the order to shoot.

There was no need to wait for the General's commands. They were permitted a degree of independence, because opportunities to snipe the enemy commander were not readily available. Waiting for approval from their superior might result in them missing their chance.

The men around plax order.

It took only a moment to lock onto their target. A distance of fifty meters was essentially point blank range. They drew their bow, filled with the intent to kill.

"—Loose!"

Hundreds arrows flew out in time with plax voice.

Their enchanted bows discharged magical arrows.

The flaming arrows left red lines hanging in the air, blue trails lingered behind the ice arrows, the lightning arrows' path was marked in yellow, green streaks followed in the wake of the acid arrows.

The arrows loosed from the fully-drawn bows travelled flat paths as they streaked through the air, each one striking Demiurge and Evil Lords body without deviating in the slightest.

Plax shots were exceptionally potent, and after being enhanced with his martial arts and his skills, each of them possessed power comparable to a mighty downward slash from a heavy trooper. If he were hit by this, even a man in full plate would be knocked back and sent rolling over the ground.

However Demiurge did not move in the slightest even after taking hundreds of arrows.

And then, something happened which made him doubt his eyes.

The arrows which should have punched through his body fell to the ground.

What!? Is he defended against projectiles!? Plax thought.

"...Now then, do permit me to make a move of my own. It is a trifling present, but I would be delighted if you would accept it. {Hell Fire}." Demiurge said.

Demiurge's eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched Plax's disbelief morph into horror.

As the flames subsided, Demiurge stood amidst the smoldering wreckage, his gaze cold and calculating. "Consider it a token of my appreciation for your assistance," he remarked, his voice dripping with malice. "And a warning to any who dare oppose the might of Nazarick."

With a flick of his wrist, Demiurge dismissed the flames and turned his attention back to the battlefield, where the war against the Ancient One raged on.

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