Chapter 199 Final Attack On Demon Fortress (1)

A few days later, the air crackled with anticipation and a grim determination. The Eloriath Kingdom’s forces, a vast assembly of knights in shining armor, robed mages wielding staves crackling with power, and determined soldiers gripping their weapons, stood poised for the assault. The Demon Fortress, once the proud Verdant Dawn Academy, loomed before them, its once familiar architecture now twisted into grotesque shapes, pulsating with an ominous dark energy.

As the vanguard of the Eloriath forces surged forward, a collective gasp rippled through the ranks, particularly among the mages. Dozens of Demonic Magic Circles, etched in glowing crimson lines upon the fortress walls and the surrounding grounds, pulsed with malevolent energy.

“By the Radiant God…” Archmage Gideon Thorne muttered, his usually composed face etched with concern. “Look at the sheer number of them.”

Archmage Rahel Klinghoffer, her eyes narrowed, began to analyze the intricate patterns. “These circles… they are designed to amplify the power of the demons within, strengthen their defenses, and channel dark magic.”

“There are so many different types,” Archmage Lyra Meadowlight, a specialist in ancient runes, observed, her voice filled with apprehension. “Some are clearly for offensive spells, others for bolstering their physical forms, and some… some look like they are for summoning reinforcements.”

“Among them…” Archmage Theron Blackwood, a master of dark magic countermeasures, pointed with a trembling finger, “I recognize at least five distinct signatures that align with the demonic energy we detected from the corrupted Principal Bartolmew. And… look there!” He pointed towards a particularly intricate circle near the fortress’s main gate. “That one… it has the unmistakable hallmarks of Spatial Attribute magic. He’s clearly been busy.”

A wave of unease spread through the assembled experts. They knew that these Demonic Magic Circles were not mere decorations; they represented a significant threat. To even reach the fortress walls, they would have to contend with the amplified power of the demons and the unpredictable effects of these dark enchantments.

“We need to disable those circles,” Martial King Patrick, his hand resting on the hilt of his enchanted sword, declared, his voice firm. “Our mages must prioritize disrupting them while we create a breach in their defenses.”

“Easier said than done, Patrick,” Archmage Gideon replied, his gaze fixed on the pulsating crimson lines. “These are powerful enchantments. Approaching them will be incredibly dangerous.”

Among the ranks of knights, Kenneth’s face was a mask of grim determination. ‘This is it,’ he thought, his heart pounding in his chest. ‘My chance. Every demon I slaughter will bring me closer to reclaiming my lost power. Peak Master Mage… then Grand Mage… I have to close the gap. I have to find a way to stand against Steele.’ He gripped his enchanted blade, his eyes scanning the fortress walls, eager to be the first to engage the demonic hordes. ‘Steele might be a Grandmaster now, but I won’t give up. I will surpass him. This is my only path.’

Nearby, amidst a group of heavily armored knights, Noah kept a low profile. His comrades, loyal and protective, surrounded him, their gazes fixed on the looming fortress. “Stay behind us, Noah,” one of them, a burly knight named Harman Mayer, said with concern. “Your healing draughts will be invaluable once we start taking casualties.”

‘Fools,’ Noah thought, a wry smile hidden beneath his helmet. ‘Healing is just a small part of my arsenal.’ His pouches were filled not just with restorative elixirs but also with potent concoctions designed to inflict maximum damage on demonic flesh – vials of corrosive acid, pellets that exploded with devastating force, and even a few carefully crafted holy elixirs, their power specifically designed to obliterate the unholy. ‘Steele might have gotten lucky and jumped ahead, but I won’t be left behind. Every demon that falls by my hand will fuel my ascent.’

Alaric stood near the rear of the main assault force, his arm casually draped around his mother Lyra’s shoulders, while Cassandra stood close by his other side. “Remember what I told you both,” he said, his voice calm amidst the rising tension. “Stay close. Don’t go rushing into any unnecessary danger. Let the others handle the brunt of it.”

Lyra, her blue eyes filled with a mixture of concern and adoration, nodded quickly. “We will, Alaric, my love. We won’t stray far.”

Cassandra, her purple eyes fixed on him with a possessive gaze, echoed her sister’s sentiment. “Your safety is our priority, nephew. We will fight carefully, just as you instructed.”

‘They really have become completely obedient,’ Alaric thought, a flicker of satisfaction in his ruby eyes. His gaze swept over their alluring figures, even amidst the tension of the impending battle. ‘If things get truly dire,’ he thought, a calculating look in his ruby eyes, ‘I can always unleash a massive spell, even against an Archdemon. And then… a quick squeeze, a lingering kiss… it’s the fastest way to recover my magic.’ He offered them a reassuring smile. “Just be careful.”

Lyra and Cassandra exchanged a knowing glance. They understood his unspoken meaning, the unique nature of their relationship. “We will,” Lyra promised, squeezing his hand. “We’ll be fine.

Meanwhile, Saintess Ceanna, her silver hair flowing behind her, stood on a raised platform, surrounded by priests chanting in unison. Her hands were raised towards the attacking forces, and a radiant golden light emanated from her, flowing outwards and enveloping the assembled warriors.

“May the Light of the Radiant God protect you!” she called out, her voice clear and strong, carrying across the vast ranks. “May His divine power guide your attacks and shield you from the darkness!”

The priests’ chanting intensified, and the golden light pulsed with greater intensity, imbuing the weapons and armor of the Eloriath Kingdom’s forces with a holy attribute. A sense of divine protection settled over them, bolstering their courage and offering a shield against the encroaching demonic energies.

With a final, resounding battle cry, the various factions of the Eloriath Kingdom launched their assault on the Demon Fortress. The initial wave, comprised primarily of heavily armored knights and frontline soldiers, charged towards the main gate, their holy-imbued weapons gleaming in the morning light.

Suddenly, as the first ranks reached the edge of the fortress grounds, the Spatial Demonic Magic Circle near the gate activated. A swirling vortex of dark energy erupted, and with a sickening lurch, entire sections of the attacking force vanished, teleported to different locations within the fortress. Chaos momentarily reigned as soldiers found themselves suddenly separated from their units, facing unknown dangers in the twisted corridors and chambers of the corrupted academy.

“Teleportation!” Archmage Gideon roared, his voice filled with alarm. “Bartolmew is trying to divide our forces!”

Indeed, the assault had begun in disarray. One contingent of knights, led by Martial King Patrick, found themselves teleported to a large, cavernous chamber where grotesque, hulking demons with razor-sharp claws and glowing red eyes awaited them. These were Hellhounds, far more powerful and ferocious than the imps and gremlins they had previously encountered.

“For the Kingdom!” Patrick bellowed, drawing his enchanted sword. “Show these beasts the might of Eloriath!” The knights charged forward, their holy-imbued blades clashing against the demons’ thick hides, sparks flying with each impact. The Hellhounds roared, their attacks swift and brutal, forcing the knights into a desperate defensive stance.

Another group, consisting mainly of mages from the Obsidian Tower led by Archmage Rahel, found themselves in a vast library, the shelves now filled with corrupted tomes and guarded by spectral figures wreathed in shadow. These Shadow Mages, remnants of the academy’s former magic instructors twisted into demonic servants, unleashed barrages of dark magic, their spells imbued with chilling necrotic energy.

“Form ranks!” Rahel commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos. “Counter their spells! Use elemental attacks!” The mages responded quickly, unleashing torrents of fire, bolts of lightning, and blasts of ice, their spells colliding with the Shadow Mages’ dark energies in a dazzling display of magical warfare.

A third faction, comprised of the Crimson Guard under Martial King Madleen Hector, was teleported to what appeared to be the academy’s former training grounds, now a twisted arena where agile, winged demons with whip-like tails and venomous claws swooped down from the corrupted rafters. These were Vile Wyverns, their movements swift and deadly, their venom capable of incapacitating even the most seasoned warriors.

“Maintain formation!” Madleen’s voice echoed through the arena as she moved with lightning speed, her spear deflecting the Wyverns’ attacks. “Focus fire! Target their wings!” The Crimson Guard, known for their discipline and coordinated attacks, responded with volleys of arrows and strategically placed magical blasts, attempting to ground the aerial threats.

Meanwhile, Alaric, Lyra, and Cassandra found themselves teleported to a relatively less chaotic section of the fortress – a long, dimly lit corridor lined with what used to be student dormitories. The air here was thick with a palpable sense of dread, but they were not immediately confronted by any demons.

“Stay close,” Alaric reiterated, his hand tightening on Lyra’s shoulder. “Something feels… off here.”

Suddenly, the corridor ahead of them shimmered, and a figure materialized – a tall, gaunt demon with long, skeletal fingers and eyes that burned with an icy blue flame. This was a Necromancer Lord, a powerful demon specializing in raising the dead and wielding bone magic.

“Well, well,” the Necromancer Lord hissed, its voice a chilling rasp. “What delightful morsels have stumbled into my domain?” Skeletal figures began to rise from the shadows, their bony hands clutching rusty weapons.

Alaric’s ruby eyes narrowed. “Stay behind me,” he instructed Lyra and Cassandra, stepping forward to face the demonic threat. ‘A Necromancer Lord… not as powerful as an Archdemon, but still a formidable foe.’ He could feel his magic surging within him, ready to be unleashed. The battle for the Demon Fortress had truly begun.

The Necromancer Lord, a being of pure malice and bone-chilling aura, didn’t waste a single moment on idle chatter. Its icy blue eyes, burning with an unholy light, fixed on Alaric, and with a skeletal hand raised high, it unleashed its terrifying power.

“Arise, my legion!” the Necromancer Lord shrieked, its voice a grating symphony of death.

The shadows in the corridor writhed and twisted, and from them poured forth a seemingly endless tide of undead horrors. Thousands of skeletons, their bones rattling ominously, surged forward, their empty eye sockets glowing with malevolent intent. Behind them lumbered Death Knights, clad in decaying armor, their massive swords radiating an aura of dark energy. From the ceiling, skeletal wings unfurled, and Death Wyverns, their once majestic forms now grotesque parodies of life, screeched as they descended. Rotting wolves, bears with exposed bones, and other nightmarish undead beasts joined the throng, creating a terrifying wave of death and decay.

‘Thousands of them…’ Alaric thought, his ruby eyes widening slightly at the sheer number. ‘This will be a good warm-up.’ He immediately channeled his Grandmaster-level magic, the air around him crackling with elemental energy.

“Lyra, Cassandra, stay close!” Alaric commanded, his voice firm. “Let’s show this corpse-peddler what a real mage can do!”

Without waiting for a response, Alaric unleashed his first attack. “Inferno Burst!” A sphere of pure, white-hot flames erupted from his hands, expanding rapidly and engulfing dozens of skeletons in an instant, their brittle bones turning to ash.

Lyra and Cassandra, their eyes blazing with a battle-ready fire, drew their enchanted swords. “Right behind you, Alaric!” Lyra called out, her grip tightening on the hilt of her blade.

“Let’s dance with these dead things!” Cassandra added, a fierce grin on her face.

Lyra took a deep breath, and a vibrant, fiery aura enveloped her body. “Celestial Phoenix Breath – Blazing Wings Strike!” Her sword became an extension of her will, moving with blinding speed and precision, leaving trails of fire as it sliced through the ranks of skeletons. Each strike carried the force of a celestial phoenix, shattering bones and leaving behind scorched earth.

Cassandra, not to be outdone, unleashed her own powerful technique. “Garuda Wingbeat Breath – Razor Wind Slash!” A gale-force wind, sharp as a thousand blades, erupted from her sword with each swing. The skeletons caught in its path were torn apart, their bones scattered like leaves in a storm. Her movements were fluid and graceful, like a Garuda in flight, each strike precise and deadly.

Other figures, who had been teleported alongside Alaric’s group, joined the fray. Hilbert Pfeiffer, the seasoned knight, roared as he charged into the skeletal ranks, his holy-imbued greatsword cleaving through the undead with righteous fury. “For the Radiant God and the Kingdom!” he bellowed, his every swing scattering bones.

Melusina Beitel, the head of the Mages’ Collective, unleashed a barrage of ice spells. “Glacial Lance!” she cried, sending razor-sharp spears of ice piercing through the Death Knights, slowing their advance and shattering their decaying armor. “Frost Nova!” A wave of freezing energy erupted around her, encasing nearby skeletons in solid ice, rendering them immobile.

The Necromancer Lord watched the initial onslaught with an air of detached amusement, its icy blue eyes gleaming. “Such… pathetic resistance,” it hissed, raising its skeletal hands again. “My children will overwhelm you.”

The Death Knights, despite the ice spells, continued their advance, their massive swords swinging with terrifying force. One of them lunged at Hilbert, its dark blade aimed at his head. Hilbert parried with his greatsword, the impact sending shockwaves through his arms. The Death Knight’s strength was immense, its undead muscles surprisingly powerful.

“Shadow Strike!” the Death Knight roared, its sword crackling with dark energy as it swung again. Hilbert barely managed to dodge, the blade whistling past his ear.

Alaric, while Lyra and Cassandra held the immediate front lines against the skeletons, unleashed another powerful spell. “Thunderclap Barrage!” Multiple bolts of pure lightning erupted from his hands, striking the Death Wyverns mid-air. The undead creatures shrieked as the lightning coursed through their skeletal frames, some of them plummeting to the ground in smoking heaps.

He then shifted his focus to the Death Knights, weaving intricate hand signs. “Earthquake Fissure!” The ground beneath the Death Knights cracked and split open, creating deep fissures that swallowed several of the armored undead, hindering their advance.

Lyra’s sword danced through the skeletal ranks, her “Phoenix Tail Sweep” sending a wave of fire in a wide arc, incinerating dozens of the undead. Her movements were imbued with the grace and power of the celestial phoenix, her battle aura enhancing her strength and speed.

Cassandra, with her “Garuda Dive Strike,” leaped into the air, her sword pointed downwards. She descended like a diving Garuda, her blade piercing through the skull of a Death Knight, the force of her descent shattering its decaying armor.

The corridor became a chaotic battleground, filled with the clash of steel against bone, the crackling of magic, and the horrifying shrieks and groans of the undead. Despite the overwhelming numbers of the Necromancer Lord’s forces, the experts of the Eloriath Kingdom fought with skill and determination.

However, for every undead creature they destroyed, two more seemed to take its place. The Necromancer Lord’s power to raise the dead appeared limitless in this corrupted fortress. Skeletons that were shattered reformed from scattered bones, and even the fallen Death Knights began to twitch and rise again, their dark energy flickering anew.

“This is relentless!” Hilbert grunted, barely managing to block another blow from a Death Knight. “They just keep coming!”

“His power to regenerate them is too strong!” Melusina exclaimed, unleashing another volley of ice spells. “We need to focus on the Necromancer Lord himself!”

Alaric nodded in agreement. He knew they couldn’t sustain this endless onslaught indefinitely. He needed to find an opening to attack the source of the undead legion. He channeled his magic, preparing a powerful offensive spell, but the sheer number of undead surrounding them made it difficult to get a clear shot at the Necromancer Lord, who remained safely behind his skeletal wall.

He decided to use a different approach, incorporating his magic martial arts skills. “Mother, Aunt Cassandra, create an opening!” he yelled, his body crackling with elemental energy.

Lyra and Cassandra exchanged a quick glance and nodded. With synchronized movements, they unleashed their most powerful sword techniques. “Celestial Phoenix Breath – Rising Sun Slash!” Lyra roared, her sword erupting in a blinding flash of golden fire, creating a wide swathe of destruction through the skeletal ranks.

“Garuda Wingbeat Breath – Stormwind Vortex!” Cassandra cried out, her sword spinning rapidly, creating a powerful vortex of razor-sharp wind that tore through the undead horde, scattering bones and creating a temporary clearing.

In that brief opening, Alaric moved like lightning. “Tri-Elemental Dash!” His body became a blur of wind, fire, and ice as he propelled himself forward, weaving through the remaining undead with incredible speed and agility. He reached the front lines of the skeletal horde, his eyes fixed on the Necromancer Lord.

“Great Thunderous First!” Alaric roared, his fist crackling with pure lightning as he slammed it into the chest of a Death Knight that stood in his way. The force of the blow shattered the Death Knight’s armor and sent it flying backwards, its skeletal frame collapsing into a pile of bones.

He was now within striking distance of the Necromancer Lord, who finally seemed to register a hint of surprise in its icy gaze. Before the Necromancer Lord could react, Alaric unleashed his next attack. “Blizzard Strike!” His other fist became encased in a swirling vortex of freezing air, and he slammed it into the Necromancer Lord’s skeletal frame.

The impact sent a wave of frost through the Necromancer Lord’s body, and cracks began to appear in its bones. However, the Necromancer Lord merely hissed, its form momentarily flickering before the cracks began to mend themselves with dark energy.

“You think such petty tricks can harm me, mortal?” the Necromancer Lord rasped, raising its skeletal hands again. “You are a fool!”

Suddenly, the shadows around Alaric deepened, and skeletal hands erupted from the ground, attempting to grab him. Alaric reacted instantly, unleashing a burst of fire magic. “Flame Shield!” A protective barrier of intense flames erupted around him, incinerating the skeletal hands before they could reach him.

The battle continued to rage, the corridor a scene of utter chaos. Lyra and Cassandra fought back-to-back, their swords a whirlwind of deadly grace, protecting Alaric from the relentless onslaught of the undead. Hilbert and Melusina continued to fight valiantly, holding their ground against the overwhelming numbers.

Despite their combined efforts and Alaric’s powerful Grandmaster-level magic, the Necromancer Lord’s ability to regenerate its forces proved to be a significant obstacle. The undead just kept coming, their numbers seemingly endless, their resilience unnerving. Alaric knew that unless they could find a way to disrupt the Necromancer Lord’s power source or somehow defeat it decisively, they would eventually be overwhelmed. The battle was far from over, and the odds were heavily stacked against them.