Chapter 363: A Slime Falling From the Sky? |
The frost wolf let out a low, rumbling growl from its throat as it stepped up beside him.
Karl placed his palm on its neck, patting it gently.
“Partner.”
“We’re going to win.”
“From now on, we’ll live here. The fat sheep on the grasslands—whole herds of fat sheep—we’ll eat until we’re full.”
The frost wolf lifted its neck and let out a long, drawn-out howl. The other frost wolves on the battlefield couldn’t suppress their instincts, answering back with howls of their own, like a war song of farewell.
Karl swung himself onto the wolf’s back.
His legs clamped tight against the frost wolf’s flanks. The old wolf’s spine tensed beneath him, taut like a drawn bow, and then it charged forward.
The frost wolf’s hind legs dug into the ground, launching its body forward like a stone hurled from a catapult. From a dead stop to full speed in mere seconds, it bolted toward the city wall.
And Karl had never let it down.
As they charged, a high-ranking gluttonous demon spotted the frost wolf rushing toward it, its maw splitting wide as it stomped forward, ready to pounce.
【Power Attack】
Karl swung his battle axe diagonally from lower right to upper left.
The axe blade cut through the gluttonous demon’s abdomen like a hot knife through butter, slicing through ribs and cleaving even its spine in two.
The demon’s upper body flipped backward, while its lower half still stood in place.
The frost wolf ran straight through the corpse, charging onward without looking back.
A second. A third. A fourth…
Karl swept his battle axe horizontally.
【Cleave】
The blade traced an arc, blood spraying everywhere. The demons surging forward were all sent flying backward.
The farther out they went, the sparser the demons became.
On the right, a low-ranking inferno demon’s fist came crashing down. Karl’s right hand released the reins, his seven fingers spreading wide.
【Shield Mastery】
Ice surged outward from his palm, forming into an ice shield on the inside of his forearm.
The inferno demon’s fist slammed into the ice shield. Magma and frost collided, exploding into a cloud of steam. The demon’s arm remained completely steady.
Karl’s battle axe cut through the steam.
【Armor-Piercing Strike】
The axe blade bit into the inferno demon’s shoulder, slicing through magma, through muscle, all the way to the bone. Magma gushed from the wound, burning a pit into the ground.
On the left, a hellhound burst out from the shadows of a building, all eight mouths opening wide.
Karl simply pulled his right leg out of the stirrup.
His war boot kicked the hellhound’s central mouth square on the lower jaw. The hellhound’s head was sent flying to the side, its body following as it smashed into a wall. Bones shattered all over, leaving it immobilized. Its other two heads could only whimper weakly.
And ahead, demons were everywhere.
Terrors, inferno demons, hellhounds, and other nameless things.
They clogged the alley leading to the inner wall, forming a barrier of flesh and blood. The terror at the forefront spread its claws.
“GET LOST!!”
Karl let out a roaring battle cry. His voice boomed like thunder over the frozen plains, like the first great crash of an avalanche.
The shockwave exploded outward from him, shattering the windows of buildings on both sides simultaneously. The front row of demons’ eardrums burst with blood, all of them frozen in place.
Karl charged in, unleashing a bloody massacre.
Everywhere he passed, demon corpses piled up in the streets, all frozen solid. The ground was littered with red ice made of blood.
No demon could withstand a second blow from him—not even high-ranking demons. With one swing of his axe, no matter how high their physical resistance, they were split in two.
“Again!”
He roared at the demons cowering ahead.
“You worms of the Abyss! Again!”
The orc warriors fighting in the alleyways heard him.
Every orc’s gaze fell on him, and they let out a low growl, like a wolf pack instinctively howling when they heard their alpha.
They raised their spears, banging the shafts against their shields. Battle axes, scimitars, spears—anything that could make noise was struck.
The sound merged into one, like war drums.
“KARL!”
Someone shouted.
“KARL!”
Everyone started shouting.
The cries filled the sky, shaking even the dark red light of the Abyss fissure.
Among the demon ranks, several imps stopped in their tracks. The demons that had once brought fear were now scattering out of fear themselves.
Karl didn’t chase the imps.
His target was the inner wall.
The towering Stone City Gate stood ahead, tightly shut. Its surface was inlaid with silver bars forming the emblem of the White Horse Kingdom.
Karl jumped down from the frost wolf’s back.
He stood before the gate, lifting his head.
The wall was high—taller than it had looked from a distance. The white stone had been stained a dirty gray by demonic runes, with dark red light seeping through the cracks.
Above the gate, several demon warlocks were looking down. Their clawed hands still maintained spellcasting gestures, but the expressions on their faces had shifted from calm to stunned shock.
Karl withdrew his gaze.
He clenched his right fist. Muscles bulged, veins swelled beneath the skin like winding rivers. The skin on his fist began to redden, light shining through from within.
He threw a punch.
The fist slammed into the gate.
*Thump!*
The gate trembled. A fist-shaped dent appeared in the Kingdom’s emblem. The entire Stone City Gate and the wall connected to it shuddered.
Karl took a breath.
A second punch.
*Thump!!*
The silver bars exploded. Cracks spread outward from the dent. The wall quaked even harder, making the demon warlocks above stumble, nearly falling over.
A third punch.
*Thump!!!*
A terrifying force made it feel as if the very earth was trembling, like a giant’s heartbeat echoing across the battlefield.
Karl’s fists struck the gate again and again in a steady rhythm, thumping like war drums.
*Thump, thump, thump…*
The rhythm synced with everyone’s heartbeats—or rather, their hearts began beating in time with that rhythm. Each thud made their hearts swell, as if about to burst out of their chests.
*Thump.*
*Crack.*
Finally, the entire gate broke off at its hinges and collapsed like a shattered shield.
“Ahh! Ahh!!”
The falling gate crushed the imps trapped behind it, turning them into indistinguishable piles of flesh beneath the massive stones.
Dust and smoke surged out of the gateway. Sulfur-yellow fumes mixed with the dust, swallowing the entire gate.
Karl stood in the smoke.
Several high-ranking Filthy Demons lunged out of the haze, claws spread, wings buzzing, as if trying to tear a chunk of flesh from his face.
Behind them, a tide of Filthy Descendants surged through the crowded gateway.
Karl didn’t retreat.
His muscles bulged again. Veins beneath the skin swelled, showing the blood racing through them. His breath turned into white steam, blasting from his nostrils like a beast panting.
He stomped down. Stone slabs shattered. The blizzard he summoned swept all the demons flying away.
Then he bent down, grabbing the edge of the fallen gate.
Karl’s fingers sank into the stone. His knuckles crackled.
“Up we go!”
With a surge of strength, he hoisted the entire gate onto his shoulder.
He took a step forward.
His war boot crushed the stone beneath it.
Then he hurled the gate like a projectile, cutting through the smoke, cutting through everything in its path.
A thunderous crash echoed through the inner city.
Countless demons were smashed against the gate, driven into the wall. Black blood seeped through the gaps between the gate and the stone, trickling down the wall.
The battlefield fell silent for a moment, and then tens of thousands of orcs roared as one.
“CHARGE!!”
“KILL YOUR WAY IN!”
“FOR ORC GLORY!”
The entire orc front line exploded like a powder keg touched by fire.
The demons began to rout.
Meanwhile, Karl walked into the inner wall and stood still.
His chest heaved. Every breath sent out puffs of white steam. The heat from his skin evaporated into mist in the cold air, shrouding him in a layer of white vapor.
He didn’t relax just because the demons were fleeing.
He could sense something approaching in the sulfurous thick fog behind the gate.
Something emanated a nauseating stench—like rotting meat soaked in spoiled blood, like the smell of a cellar that had been sealed for centuries, opened for the first time.
The odor was so thick it overpowered even the sulfur.
The demon grunts, as if seeing something, recoiled in fear, making way.
*Thump.*
The ground shook.
*Thump.*
It shook again. Pebbles on the stone road jumped and fell back down.
Ripples spread across the surface of the blood puddles.
*Thump, thump, thump.*
Footsteps echoed from within the sulfurous fog. The rhythm was slow, but each step made the ground sink slightly.
A massive figure emerged from the fog.
First came two enormous ram’s horns, spiraling upward from either side of its forehead, their tips nearly touching.
Then came its face—beast-like, skin dark red like congealed blood clots.
Its body was taller than the city gate. In its right hand, it gripped a giant axe, the blade wider than Karl’s entire body.
Karl recognized it.
This was a terror demon that fed on fear.
As it stepped out of the fog, the surrounding demon grunts retreated another step.
The towering terror demon lowered its head, looking down at Karl.
“An orc?”
Its voice rolled from deep within its chest, carrying a low-frequency vibration that made one’s bones shudder.
Its nostrils twitched. But it couldn’t smell fear from this orc.
Only one thing—hot enough to sear its nasal cavity.
Battle intent.
Pure, unadulterated battle intent.
Azazel laughed.
“An nameless orc.”
He bent down, bringing his face close to Karl.
“You should be afraid of Azazel.”
The stench of rotting meat and blood washed over Karl, his hair blown backward.
He didn’t retreat. He lifted his head and met Azazel’s gaze.
“Azazel.”
He repeated the name.
Then he remembered.
He had heard or seen that name from the winter nights’ tales told by the tribe’s old shaman in his raspy voice by the bonfire, from the murals carved into the ice plain cliffs.
Azazel.
A Greater Demon of the Abyss.
An ancient existence as old as Casaric.
He had once appeared on the Material Plane for a time, then vanished without a trace. No one knew where he went. Only the legend of the Red Demon remained in the north.
Karl stepped forward.
His war boot stamped down on the stone road, splashing blood.
“A worm of the Abyss.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but Azazel heard it.
“Remember my name.”
“From the north—Frost Giant, Thunderbreaker, Karl.”
Clearly, he was quite pleased with the title the slime had given him, already starting to call himself a giant.
He declared: “You will grovel at my feet.”
Azazel stared into his eyes.
It had been a long time since he’d encountered something unafraid of him.
Fear was his name, his weapon, the very essence of his existence.
He was what all demons feared.
But this orc wasn’t afraid of him.
Deep in his bones, in the very depths of his soul, the words “fear” simply didn’t exist.
Azazel chuckled softly.
“What a pity.”
“You poor fool.”
Karl frowned, not yet understanding what he meant.
A blurry figure suddenly appeared beside him. Then he felt a massive impact against his chest, like being hit by a giant dragon charging at full speed. His entire body was sent flying backward, crashing through the city wall. Carrying rubble and dust, he flew out the other side.
He landed in the street.
His back hit the ground first, creating a crater in the stone road. Snow and dust erupted from the pit, swallowing him whole.
The battlefield went silent.
All the orcs stared blankly at this scene. They held their weapons in the air, but they froze mid-motion.
Their gazes shifted from the gateway to the surging snow dust.
“Commander!”
“Damn it!”
The surrounding orcs snapped out of it, beginning to charge toward the gateway.
“Stop! Don’t come over!” Karl’s low roar came from within the swirling snow dust. He halted the orcs’ advance.
The snow dust gradually dispersed, revealing Karl’s figure.
He stood upright, facing forward alone.
From the sulfurous thick fog at the gateway, two figures emerged—one tall, one short.
Besides Azazel, there was another terror demon about his size, with the same ram’s horns and dark red skin.
But its build was leaner than Azazel’s, and its bone armor was covered in glowing runes.
Azazel’s blood relative.
Balzac.
Also a legendary, fearsome Greater Demon.
The second figure was smaller—shorter than even Karl. He wore a robe woven from countless souls, its hem dragging along the ground, turning the stone road black wherever it passed.
A nameless demon.
But clearly, also a Greater Demon.
Three Greater Demons stood in the gateway.
Their auras surged out like solid walls pressing down on every orc, making it hard to breathe.
An atmosphere of despair began to spread.
“Poor wretches.”
“I can already feel it.”
Azazel breathed in deeply, savoring the scent.
The smell of fear he so desperately craved was emanating from the orcs around him. Like a grand feast, it made him lick his lips uncontrollably.
Azazel took a deep breath, drawing the scent into his lungs.
“Ah.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What delicious nourishment.”
Karl stood there, silent. But inside, he had hit rock bottom.
Balzac grinned, stepping forward.
“My good brother, I can’t wait to enjoy this feast.”
“Balzac, don’t scare our brave orc warrior.”
Azazel looked at Karl mockingly, then suddenly paused. He felt that the fear in the orc before him was dissipating, replaced by a battle intent he had never seen before—so hot it seemed to scorch his skin.
Then Karl struck without warning.
His war boot crushed the stone beneath him. The distance between him and Balzac shrank by two-thirds in an instant.
His right fist slammed into Balzac’s chest.
Balzac’s body flew backward, smashing into the city wall.
Karl spun around.
His eyes were completely red now. Red light shone from his pupils like two burning coals.
【Berserk】
His muscles bulged again. A bloody aura surrounded his body. Then, like a cannonball leaving its barrel, he charged at Azazel.
Azazel raised his giant axe.
The blade, wider than Karl’s entire body, came crashing down with all of Azazel’s strength.
Karl raised his battle axe as well.
The two axes met in mid-air.
*CLANG!!!*
It was like two mountains colliding. The shockwave exploded from the point of contact, spreading outward.
The remnants of sulfurous fog at the gateway were blown away. Several nearby imps were knocked to the ground.
Karl’s arm trembled.
Azazel’s power came down through the massive blade, pressing onto the battle axe in Karl’s hands. His war boots sank into the stone bricks, his ankles buried in rubble.
The battle axe looked so small in Azazel’s eyes—like a toy—yet it stubbornly blocked his descending blade.
Azazel’s vertical pupils widened in shock.
He could feel that beneath his blade, the insignificant orc’s strength was still growing.
Blood-red light radiated from his skin, forming a vague silhouette around him, like a wild beast.
Then Azazel’s giant axe was pushed up by Karl’s brute force, forced aside.
Azazel staggered backward from the immense power, disbelief filling his eyes.
In the area he was most proud of—strength—he had lost to a tiny orc.
As the thought flashed through his mind, Karl had already stepped forward.
He pulled his war boot out of the rubble and planted it on the stone.
His battle axe swung down.
Azazel raised his axe to block. Blade met shaft.
He was pushed back again—one step, two steps, three steps—all the way to the edge of the gateway.
A demon warlock nearby twitched his fingers. Curses flowed from his fingertips, condensing into a dark red spear in the air.
【Curse Spear】
The spear shot out, disappearing from the warlock’s fingertips, only to reappear behind Karl.
Karl dodged backward.
He abandoned Azazel, charging at the demon warlock instead.
Then a fist came from the side.
It was Balzac.
The force of the punch sent Karl’s battle axe flying. It spun through the air before embedding itself in the city wall.
Karl didn’t retreat.
His fist met it.
Two fists collided.
Balzac’s fist was the size of Karl’s head.
Karl’s fist was bare, nothing but bone and muscle beneath the skin.
Yet this seemingly fragile fist held its own in the contest of strength.
Each exchange of blows rang out like a war drum made of animal hide.
Then Azazel’s giant axe came down.
Karl stepped back. The blade grazed past the tip of his nose, splitting the stone beneath him.
He pulled the embedded battle axe from the wall and fell into a chaotic melee with Azazel and Balzac.
Everywhere they went, streets were shattered, buildings collapsed. Even the towers in the district fell in the fierce fighting.
Karl hoisted a tower, using it as a weapon, and hurled it at Azazel and Balzac.
The two demons worked in perfect tandem. Balzac caught the tower head-on, retreating step by step, his legs gouging deep trenches in the ground.
Azazel used the tower as a bridge, sprinting up it, leaping high into the air, and slamming his giant axe down.
With a thunderous crash, he cratered the plaza.
Karl had just leaped into the air when Balzac charged, punching him into the city wall.
They climbed the walls like beasts, battling in mid-air, blasting huge holes in the wall with each impact. Dust filled the air.
And Karl wasn’t just facing Azazel and Balzac—he also had to dodge the spells of that demon warlock. All he could do was evade.
Orcs hurled spears and shot arrows, trying to hold back one of the demons, but the attacks bounced off Azazel’s skin without leaving a scratch.
The battle axe and giant axe clashed again.
This time, they were on the city wall.
Karl suddenly released the pressure, letting Azazel’s giant axe smash into the wall, blasting a huge opening. The gate collapsed, becoming a broken wall.
Seizing the opportunity, Karl leaped up and brought his battle axe down.
Azazel dodged frantically, but the axe still struck his back.
He roared, swinging his giant axe horizontally to drive Karl back. Glancing behind him, he saw the battle axe still embedded in his back, its blade wedged between his spinal vertebrae, trembling with every movement.
Black blood gushed from the wound, streaming down his back.
Before Karl could catch his breath, Balzac was already there, punching him into the wall again.
The demon warlock’s spell was also complete.
【Soul Shackles】
Dark red chains shot from his fingertips, wrapping around Karl’s limbs.
With a flick of his fingers, the chains tightened. Karl’s limbs were pulled apart, his entire body suspended in mid-air.
Balzac’s fists continued pounding Karl’s chest, forcing blood from his mouth.
“Damn demons!”
Some orc warriors had already charged onto the wall, but the demon warlock’s spells blew them all into bloody mist.
No one could get close. No one could save Karl.
They could only watch their commander being executed by the demons.
Despair settled over the legion.
“Ah, what a delicious scent.”
Azazel savored the aroma, strolling slowly up to Karl.
He looked down at Karl, suspended in mid-air by the chains. There was no more contempt in his deep purple vertical pupils.
“Orc.”
“I must admit.”
His left hand reached out, gripping Karl’s chin, lifting his face.
“You are truly strong.”
“Your will is equally strong.”
“I can’t feel your fear.”
His right hand raised the giant axe. The blade gleamed coldly in the dark red light of the Abyss fissure.
“But your path ends here.”
“This is your grave.”
Karl hung in mid-air.
He gasped for breath.
Each breath brought bloody froth from the corners of his mouth. His ribs felt like they were stabbing his lungs, each inhale like inhaling knives.
He turned his head, looking at the orcs’ faces full of despair.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something encouraging.
But the powerlessness spreading through his limbs nearly made him give up.
He clenched his fist, ready to fight to the death.
Then, in a daze, he heard a soft, sticky voice coming from afar.
“My brother, move aside a little.”
The slime’s voice?
Before Karl’s mind could process it, his body had already moved.
His foot kicked off the chains.
The chains tightened, then loosened. The demon warlock’s fingers hadn’t even had time to tighten before Karl grabbed a chain and yanked, staggering the warlock.
He dodged Balzac’s fist and leaped off the broken wall.
Azazel was about to bring his giant axe down directly.
But his peripheral vision caught something flickering above the clouds.
He looked up.
He saw a pure blue light, like the color of the sky.
The light grew larger, until it filled their pupils. Then it descended.
A pillar of light struck the city wall.
The entire sky was illuminated by that beam.
The dark red of the Abyss fissure was swept away. All the shadows on the battlefield were washed away, leaving only blue.
In a tremendous roar, the orcs saw the wall disappear in the beam of light. White stone, demonic runes, everything about the wall—became blurred outlines in the blue radiance. Then the outlines vanished too.
What was that?!
Everyone froze. After an unknown amount of time, as the beam of light gradually faded, they belatedly lifted their heads to look at the sky.
They saw shadows flowing above the clouds.
In the tightly fixed gazes, the enormous thing hidden within pushed the clouds aside. The gray clouds were like a torn cloth, a split spreading from the center to both sides.
Revealing silver metal.
Sunlight fell on that metal, which reflected it back, so bright it was blinding.
The metal descended further.
It broke through the clouds, its entire body emerging from the sea of clouds.
Its lower half was round and plump, like a giant hemisphere. The metal surface was covered in runes of arcane arts, their light showing a warm, gentle silver in the sunlight.
Its upper half was conical, tapering to a blunt point.
The orcs stared blankly at it.
Someone inexplicably felt this metal construct looked just like a slime wearing a hat.
Wait.
A slime?!
