Translator: CinderTL
Outside Golden Grain City, the battle had become a rout.
Empowered by King Monen's silver domain that blanketed the battlefield, the allied forces were unstoppable.
Soldiers scaling siege ladders moved with the agility of apes, while the city's defenders retreated step by step, their morale shattered.
Finally, with a deafening roar, the massive city gate—the last barrier protecting Golden Grain City—collapsed inward under the relentless battering of the siege ram, sending dust and debris flying.
The city gate had been breached!
This meant the kingdom's jewel, the final bastion of resistance, had been completely stripped of its defenses.
King Monen, who had dominated the battlefield with his domain, finally spoke.
His deep, resonant voice, like the tolling of a heavy bell, carried unquestionable authority and echoed clearly across the entire city wall region.
"Lay down your weapons! Cease this futile resistance! In the King's name, I promise that all who surrender shall be spared!"
These words served as the final weight, crushing the already crumbling will of the defenders.
The surviving soldiers and low-ranking transcendents exchanged glances, their faces etched with the despair of defeat.
"We... we've lost..." a blood-soaked soldier murmured, his longsword clattering to the ground at his feet.
"We couldn't even... hold the city gate," another officer in tattered leather armor said bitterly, his gaze sweeping over his comrades' despairing faces.
"Surrender. At least... we can live."
After a brief silence punctuated by scattered words, a chorus of metallic clangs echoed as the surviving defenders dropped their weapons and lowered their heads.
Witnessing this, Princess Gloria's eyes flickered with excitement and relief. The allied forces erupted in thunderous cheers, the joy of victory spreading rapidly through their ranks.
Yet amid the jubilation, Roland's brow furrowed in concern. The victory had come too quickly, too easily. From the morning's formation to the city gate's collapse, barely half a day had passed.
While King Monen's presence undoubtedly contributed to this victory, what about Lucius and Arno?
Having chosen such a decisive path of resistance, how could they possibly have no contingency plans?
Throughout the entire conflict, these two key figures had remained conspicuously absent.
This extreme anomaly felt like an icy needle piercing Roland's heart.
"Lord Roland," Gloria approached with a relaxed smile, her voice interrupting his thoughts. "Prepare yourself. We're about to enter the city. This absurd war has finally come to an end..."
Roland nodded slightly, suppressing his unease. "Yes, Your Highness. We..."
Before he could finish, a sudden, overwhelming sense of dread seized him.
It was as if the delicate balance of tranquility within his soul—a calm lake maintained by subtle forces—had been forcibly breached by a frigid, tainted flood from some distant realm.
At first, it was merely a faint ripple, enough to make him catch his breath.
But in the next instant, the ripples swelled with terrifying speed, becoming frenzied, and instantly transformed into a soul-sweeping tidal wave.
A primal instinct of revulsion, fear, and warning screamed frantically within him.
A strange sensation, like being burned and frozen simultaneously, erupted in his left chest.
Roland's face drained of color, his gaze sharpening like a hawk's as he abruptly turned toward the depths of Golden Grain City.
Toward the faintly visible silhouette of the High Tower in the western part of the city.
Something...
had emerged!
The moment this thought flashed through his mind, a violent palpitation seized him, as if an icy hand had gripped his heart.
An instant later, an invisible wave rippled outward from the center of Golden Grain City.
This was no ordinary shockwave, but a transparent pulse accompanied by an eerie hum.
Where the wave passed, ordinary allied soldiers celebrating their victory were struck down as if by an invisible hammer. They collapsed screaming, clutching their heads and groaning in agony, instantly incapacitated.
Across the entire battlefield, only the transcendents managed to remain standing, barely managing to stay on their feet.
Everyone could sense the eerie power emanating from the ripples, as if icy needles were piercing the depths of their souls.
The battlefield, still shrouded in smoke, suddenly fell into an unnatural silence, broken only by the moans of fallen soldiers carried on the wind.
All eyes involuntarily turned toward the center of Golden Grain City, a chill creeping up everyone's spines.
Just as the strange ripples swept across the battlefield, leaving behind a trail of pained groans and deathly stillness, the sky above the city's center abruptly darkened.
This wasn't the darkness of storm clouds obscuring the sun, but a deeper, more ominous shadow, as if light itself were being twisted and devoured there.
An indescribable stench followed, a nauseating blend of sulfur, rotting entrails, and ancient blood.
The stench was so overpowering that even battle-hardened veterans couldn't help but cover their noses and mouths.
Then, from the direction of the High Tower in the western part of the city, came a sound.
At first, it was a dense, spine-chilling cacophony of scraping and hissing, as if countless claws were grinding against stone.
This was followed by an unholy chorus of roars, shrieks, and blasphemous whispers that coalesced into a tidal wave of sound, assaulting the eardrums and stirring the primal terror deep within the hearts of all who heard it.
Then, they appeared.
The first to surge onto the streets and scale the city walls were hordes of grotesque creatures, their forms twisted and sizes varying wildly.
Some resembled bipedal hyenas, covered in filthy fur, their massive, drooling maws filled with razor-sharp teeth, their eyes burning with a pure, murderous hunger.
Others looked like humanoid figures stripped of their skin, their crimson muscles and tendons exposed, wielding swords and blades wreathed in malevolent green flames, their howls echoing with pain and fury.
They swarmed chaotically, shoving, tearing, and biting each other. Wherever they passed, whether surrendering defenders or fallen allied soldiers, all were indiscriminately torn apart and devoured, instantly transforming the battlefield into a living purgatory.
Yet amidst this chaotic tide, some distinctly different figures stood out.
While retaining roughly humanoid silhouettes, they were far taller and more imposing.
Dark crimson skin stretched taut over corded muscles, some adorned with majestic, curved horns, while others lashed spiked tails behind them.
They wielded massive obsidian-forged executioner's swords or chains wreathed in chilling spiritual light, their eyes gleaming with cold, calculating malice, as if observing and orchestrating the carnage with detached amusement.
Their movements possessed an eerie discipline, occasionally even driving back or punishing their more frenzied comrades, creating a stark contrast to the surrounding chaos.
The shadow in the sky spread wider, the acrid stench grew more intense, and the terrifying symphony of sounds became deafening.
An unnatural fusion of bone-chilling cold and hellish heat made the air thick and heavy.
The ground trembled slightly, as if unable to bear the weight of these abominations that should never have existed.
The smile on Gloria's face froze, replaced by a look of incredulous horror.
Even Monen, usually as steady as a mountain, now wore a grave expression. The surging silver Battle Qi around him involuntarily contracted and condensed, as if facing a formidable enemy.
The burning pain and icy chill in Roland's left chest reached their peak. He gripped the hilt of his Mithril Longsword tightly, his knuckles white from the strain.
Amidst this purgatorial tableau of monstrous forms and blasphemous sounds, a low, tense voice whispered in Roland's ear.
"Minions of the abyss... and hounds of the nine hells..."
Turning, Roland saw Galvis had silently approached. His brow was furrowed, his usual playful demeanor completely gone. The harp he always carried was quickly stowed behind him. His hands clenched slightly, his sharp gaze sweeping over the chaotic, roaring monsters and the figures radiating an aura of icy, orderly malice.
He spoke in a low, strained voice, each word forced out between clenched teeth.
"This... is going to be a lot of trouble."
(End of the Chapter)
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