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Chapter 325: 325
The demon horde, unfazed by the losses they were suffering from both the repulsive nature of the land and the goblin mages’ bombardment, pressed on with a grim determination. The fourth-stage gargoyle demon, watching from a distance, seemed pleased. The bodies of the fallen demons were now creating a path, gradually pushing deeper into the goblins territory and eroding the lands that normally repelled their presence. This was the key part of Phanthom’s plan: sacrifice the lower-tier demons to erode the land enough for the stronger ones to move forward freely.
The ogre general, now at the head of his army, saw the advancing horde with a mixture of confusion and rage. Despite his previous confidence, the sight of the demons relentlessly sacrificing their own to create a path was unsettling. But he was not one to hesitate in battle.
"Charge!" the general roared, spurring his warhorse forward. His troops followed, surging toward the demon army with deafening roars of their own. The earth trembled beneath their charge, and the sheer force of the ogre cavalry crashing into the first wave of demons was catastrophic. Bodies were flung into the air as war hammers and clubs smashed into demonic flesh. The demons fought back, their monstrous forms twisting and contorting, but they were no match for the sheer strength of the ogres in close combat. What was even more frustating was that each demon killed by the ogre further erodes the lands once their dead corpse touch the land.
However, this was only the beginning. The third-stage demons were yet to fully reveal themselves.
Back at the fortress, the goblin tower master remained deep in thought, watching the battle unfold through the magical projection. His staff clutched tightly in his hand, he could sense something was off. The demons weren’t just mindlessly charging; there was a strategy here.
The tower master frowned and quickly barked orders to his mages, "Prepare the shielding spells! We must anticipate their next move."
On the battlefield, the ogres continued to push back the demon horde, crushing wave after wave. Unknowlingly they push into the eroded lands where they held of the demons.
But then, a shift in the air occurred. The ground beneath the ogre army began to rumble violently. Cracks formed in the earth, and from the depths emerged the third-stage demons, massive creatures with hulking, grotesque bodies, their forms flickering with dark energy. These demons had been waiting, hidden beneath the surface.
The ogre general’s warhorse reared up as the ground shifted, and he barely managed to regain control. His eyes, burning with fiery rage, locked onto the new threat.
"Form up!" he roared to his troops, but it was too late. The third-stage demons launched their attack, tearing into the ogres with savage fury. Their sheer size and strength rivaled that of the ogres, and their sharp claws and teeth tore through armor and flesh alike.
At the same time, the goblin mages on the wall began to chant their shielding spells, sending protective barriers down to the ogres. But the third-stage demons were relentless, their dark energy corrupting the shields and weakening them with each blow.
The tower master, watching this, ordered the mages on the wall, "Cover and protect yourselves, let the shadows go and help those brutes."
From the shadows of the goblin mages on the wall, as they released spells, goblin figures with daggers, their heads covered, emerged from the darkness.
Knowing what to do, they immediately jumped off the wall, disappearing mid-air. Phanthom, now hovering above the battlefield, noticed hundreds of flames moving towards the battleground, yet no one was visible.
The figures moved fast, soon reaching the demons that were trying to break the shields protecting the ogres. They flickered in and out of sight, and each time a demon was struck down.
The third-stage demons, noticing this, backed away and spread out while the cannon fodder pushed past the ogre army, throwing themselves to their deaths to further erode the land.
A third-stage hellhound demon sniffed the air, trying to sense where the figures were. Its nose twitched as it caught a scent, and it turned just in time to see a goblin holding a dagger in mid-air, poised to stab through a balrog’s head.
The hellhound opened its mouth to form a fireball, but stopped and sidestepped as a slash narrowly missed it. As for the balrog, it seemed to have anticipated the goblin’s attack; its massive hand wrapped around the goblin.
A grin spread across the balrog’s face as flames rose from the hand that had caught the goblin. With a roar of pain, the goblin was burned to ash as the balrog sucked in its soul.
Similar scenes played out across the battlefield, as the third-stage demons began dealing with the shadow goblins in their own ways. The tower master, seeing this, wasted no time and ordered, "Retreat!"
The order was also sent to the ogre general, who now had steam rising from his body in anger. He felt underestimated and played by both the tower master and the demons. Even though they were called Ogres because of their fighting path, they were also goblins themselves. So why were they being underestimated by everyone?
The general himself was in the fourth stage, and most of his men were in the third stage. Looking back from his horse, he saw that he still had a large number of troops left. Ogres had impressive healing abilities, where only decapitation could fully confirm a kill.
"We were only taken by surprise. I just have to regroup my men," the ogre general thought to himself as he roared out to his soldiers, "Gather yourselves, we are ogres, and we do not retreat!"
Meanwhile, in the air, Phanthom hadn’t heard the tower master’s retreat order, but he could see the flames of the invisible figures falling back, and he noticed flickers of flames on the ogres too, as if they were about to do the same.
One flame of ambition caught his attention. Unlike the others, which flickered, this one burned brighter. For some reason, some part of Phanthom took over as he gazed at the ogre general rallying his men.
His mouth moved, and down on the battlefield, the ogre general, after rallying his men, heard a whisper: "Will you do me the honor of letting me create the perfect stage of performance for you?" For some reason, the general found this whisper enticing, and he nodded. His eyes and those of his men took on a yellow glow after he nodded.
In the eyes of the general, everything changed. He was still on the battlefield with his men, but now the battlefield had turned into a massive colosseum. He saw goblins, tower masters of all ranks, and, most importantly, the figure he couldn’t see but knew to be the emperor.
A grin spread across the general’s face as he roared out, "Rage, men, for the emperor!" His body ignited with flames as a fiery phantom of himself appeared behind him—a sign of his fourth-stage power.
Phanthom’s influence had woven itself deep into the ogre general’s mind. The whispered offer had triggered something primal within him, a lust for battle and glory that far surpassed even the ogres’ natural savagery. As the fiery phantom of himself blazed behind him, the general’s resolve solidified, and his men, emboldened by their leader’s newfound fury, rallied with renewed vigor.
The battlefield was a chaotic storm of violence. Ogres, bathed in a golden glow, clashed with the demons who surged forward relentlessly. The hellhound demon that had dodged the shadow goblins now found itself facing the flaming ogre general, whose presence seemed larger than life.
"Forward! For the emperor!" the general roared again, his voice echoing through the battlefield, as if amplified by some unseen force.
Phanthom, still watching from above, smirked. The show had begun. He could feel the energy crackling through the air as the general’s delusions fueled the battle. The more the ogres pushed forward, the deeper they were drawn into the third-stage demons’ trap. Phanthom’s eyes glowed as he saw the battlefield shift according to his design. Every movement of the demons and ogres became part of a twisted symphony—a dance of blood and destruction.
The tower master, now standing on the wall, noticed something was wrong. He could see the ogre general and his troops fighting with an intensity that surpassed reason, ignoring the strategic retreat. But what troubled him even more was the yellow glow in their eyes. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t right.
From within the walls of the fortress, the goblin mages began a desperate counterspell, their chants growing louder as they tried to sever the demonic influence. Tendrils of magic reached out, winding through the air like shimmering vines, seeking to latch onto the minds of the ogres and pull them back from the edge. Yet it was like throwing a stone into an ocean nothing changed.
The tower master seeing that sighed as he ordered "Since we can’t do nothing, throw every support spell you can"
