On the Puchi side of the battlefield, the situation had reached a stalemate.
In the rear, a slit opened in the cap of a heavily armored Puchi. Inanna observed the front through it.
There was no helping it. Pink Puchi was only gold-tier. If she recklessly charged the front line, the demons would happily butcher her and give Lin Jun a free skill upgrade.
“Boss, can you still summon that giant Puchi from last time?”
Inanna felt that, given the current circumstances, only the colossal Puchi could break through the demon defenses.
“Wait. It’s not time yet.”
Inanna didn’t know what Lin Jun was waiting for, but she instinctively trusted him.
Of course Lin Jun could summon the giant Puchi right now, then lead everyone to Threehill City for round two.
But… it was too dangerous.
The situation was far more complicated than expected.
At Threehill City, the Sword Saint and the Prince were locked in fierce combat, outcome still uncertain.
From the west came that clearly abnormal Wrath, heading straight for Threehill City.
And at the northeastern edge of the fungal mat, a massive, abnormal blood cloud was rolling in from the horizon.
Rather than charge blindly in, it was better to stall here against the demons.
It served to pin them down, and if things went south, it would be easy to grab Pink Puchi and run.
…
Outside Threehill City.
A blood-red cloud of bats shrouded the center of the battlefield. Occasionally, sharp sword beams tore through the blood curtain, carving furrows several meters deep into the ground.
Both sides tacitly shifted their fighting away from the core area. No one wanted to be accidentally killed by their own leader.
Archbishop Ditas gazed worriedly at the churning blood domain. The Sword Saint had been trapped inside for too long; shadows gathered in his heart.
The light on Archbishop Ditas’s staff blazed brighter. With each swing, holy spells flew.
Under his fierce onslaught, the already wounded Duke Brennus was barely holding on. Without support from Earn and other demons, the traitorous human duke would have fallen long ago.
Earn had seen his camp ravaged beyond saving by the Puchis, so he had decisively rallied his remaining forces to guard only a few warehouses before rushing to reinforce Threehill City.
At this moment, the numbered Puchis who had completed their sabotage gathered outside the remaining warehouses, huddling together to plan the final assault.
Yet the true situation at the battlefield’s heart was completely different from what outsiders guessed.
Prince Visarius was locked in an unprecedented struggle.
The Sword Saint’s [Air Sense] locked onto him completely. Every barrage of sword beams sealed all escape routes.
Worse, the wounds carried a special power that hindered the blood clan’s powerful regeneration.
The Prince was forced to constantly manipulate battlefield blood just to fend off the relentless assault.
What infuriated him was that there simply wasn’t enough blood available. Those damn Puchis had eaten too much!
In truth, the sky full of blood bats showed he had summoned plenty.
But against the Sword Saint’s storm-like offense, it still wasn’t enough.
[Moon Step LV10] [Acceleration LV10] [Sword Extremity]
!!!
The Sword Saint’s figure flashed out of the blood mist. Twin swords drew two silver arcs.
Visarius tried to dissolve into bats and flee, but his injuries slowed him a fraction.
Sword light swept across the Prince’s neck. His head flew high, expression frozen in a grimace on his pale face, crimson fading from his eyes.
The sky of blood bats instantly burst like bubbles.
The Sword Saint leaned on his sword, chest heaving slightly. That last strike had taken a lot out of him.
But overall, the fight had been easier than expected.
Time seemed to freeze.
“His Highness the Prince… is dead?”
Demon soldiers stood stunned. Some even dropped their weapons.
The death of their commander threw the entire line into chaos. Fear spread like plague. The demon formation began to waver.
Only Earn remained calm. “Hold the line!”
His words were cut short as sword light flashed. Earn crashed into the rubble, leaving only a severed arm spinning to the ground.
Atop his head, Number Nine. Buffed by spores, Fifteen planted himself before the arm and shouted, “Victory! Humanity will triumph!”
“Victory… victory! Humanity will triumph!” A single soldier took up the cry, followed by earth-shaking cheers!
Amid the kingdom soldiers’ roars, the demon lines collapsed.
The sight of the Prince’s decapitation had been witnessed by many demons. Even those who hadn’t seen it watched the blood bats dissolve into nothing.
With Earn fallen, the last of their will crumbled.
The lycanthropized Church warriors roared, claws ripping through the backs of fleeing demons, leaving trails of severed limbs.
Archbishop Ditas raised his staff. Holy light bloomed before the lines like a banner of victory. Every human felt a surge of restored stamina.
Kingdom soldiers’ morale soared. They charged forward, weapons raised.
Lin Jun, however, did not join the humans in their celebration. He was busy extending mycelium to climb onto Visarius’s corpse. If he didn’t decompose it now, it would be too late!
Huh? Can’t decompose?
Wait, why is your panel still active?!
Lin Jun wanted to stab a few more times and eat His Highness right away, but it was already too late.
The sky darkened.
Not clouds, but an ocean of blood hanging inverted above, dyeing heaven and earth a suffocating dark red.
“What… is that?” Soldiers still basking in victory stared dumbly at the blood canopy covering the world.
The lycanthropized warriors growled threats, fur bristling uncontrollably.
Even Archbishop Ditas’s holy light wavered under the blood curtain’s pressure.
From the center of the canopy slowly descended a figure seated upon a throne of blood.
He was paler than Visarius. The blood patterns on his dark-red imperial robes writhed like living things.
He wore no crown, yet every soul present knew his identity: Emperor Mortis Dracoon!
“Your Majesty…” The gravely wounded Earn crawled from the rubble, voice trembling with fanatic fervor.
The fleeing demon army suddenly halted. Fear in their eyes turned to ecstasy. Warriors beat their chests and roared. Blood clan spread tattered bat wings and reformed ranks.
“Why… is he here?” Ditas stared at the figure, despair rising in his heart.
The Sword Saint’s expression went blank. He reached into his robes…
Above, crimson eyes surveyed the battlefield.
When they passed over the lycanthropized Church warriors, Mortis let out a faint chuckle.
Finally, his gaze settled on the headless corpse of the Prince.
“Visarius, how long do you plan to lie there?”
Blood surged. The head regrew. Even his wounds fully healed.
Visarius dropped to one knee. “I welcome my lord!”
On Visarius’s panel, a skill called [Blood of the Closest Kin] dropped from LV2 to LV1.
(End of Chapter)
