The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 658 - 682: Worries

Chapter 658: Chapter 682: Worries

The Hand-Half Sword cleaved downward from a high position, blocked just in time by a Large Cleaver raised in defense. Twisting the wrist that held the sword, the blade traced a semicircle in mid-air, ready to strike again— but would it be from the left or the right?

The Defender chose the left and guessed wrong. The sword blade found the juncture between its shoulder and neck, then pierced the purple body, slicing through the trachea and the lobes of the lungs, and finally, the spinal column exhausted the remaining kinetic energy of the chop. The sword began to retract, but not before adding a horizontal pressure intentionally. The effect was marvelous, for the anatomy of the Beard Demon was much like that of humans; aside from the spine, there were no bones in the abdominal cavity, and after crushing the intervening ribs, it sliced through as smoothly as cutting through a piece of tiramisu.

The Demon in front of him fell, its body splitting into two halves on the ground, but another enemy immediately took its place.

The Human Knight struck once more from above with the same angle, but this time’s foe was slower; the longsword cleaved straight through its neck, sending the head flying off like a kicked ball, unknown where it might eventually land.

The third enemy appeared, shoving aside the headless carcass of its comrade, lunging straight at Lancelot. But to the Human Knight, the attacker’s speed seemed as slow as mucous dripping from a nostril; he slightly shifted to the side, letting the “mucous” pass by.

Sounds of a heavy object hitting a shield came from behind, followed by the swoosh of a short-handled weapon, and then a sudden scream that abruptly ended. Lancelot didn’t look back, knowing the Dwarves would handle it, while a new enemy emerged in front of him.

Two Beard Demons attacked him from both sides simultaneously, moving in perfect sync, but it was unnecessary. Lancelot flicked his longsword upwards fiercely, knocking away both descending cleavers, then immediately smashed the sword’s pommel into the face of the Beard Demon on his left, its speed as quick as a bolt of lightning. The pommel’s counterweight easily crushed the enemy’s facial bones, creating a dent the size of a fist on the Demon’s face. The beard-like tentacles on the Beard Demon’s chin reflexively jabbed towards Lancelot’s forearm but were unable to penetrate the tough Mithril guard.

Lancelot turned just in time to see a shield heavily smack into the waist of the other Beard Demon, throwing off its aim. He let his wrist relax, and his blade arched through the air in a crescent line, shearing off a wildly flailing hand of the Beard Demon. He turned back, eyes fixed on the next enemy, knowing that the red-eyed Tiflin youth would handle the rest.

To avoid drawing attention, Lancelot had scarcely used any Spiritual Cultivator’s abilities and fought purely with physical strength. Despite that, his speed and reactions were far superior to his opponents— like an adult fighting a group of children under ten— crushing any attempt at stealth or surprise instantly with his Divine Sense.

Lancelot’s movements were strikingly graceful, but no term described his combat better than massacre. Although not as flashy as a six-armed Serpent Demon, his efficiency in killing was undeniably rapid. The chilly Hand-Half Sword in his hands seemed to hold a special magic, with the bodies of the Beard Demons as fragile in its presence as crops in a field. Odder yet, as time passed, the blade became sharper instead of duller, maintaining its pristine condition no matter how many Demons it clove through, as if it too was drawing the Fiends’ blood.

Follow curr𝒆nt nov𝒆ls on fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com.

Despite this, the Beard Demons kept rushing towards Lancelot incessantly, even though it was clear that these devil infantry stood no chance against the human knights, acting as cannon fodder just like the Coward Devils. Moreover, it wasn’t just him; among the mercenaries were numerous skilled fighters, and even on Sonam’s side, it was mainly an abundance of Beard Demons dragging the fight out. This made Lancelot grow suspicious—aside from the Commander being a top-ranked Demon of Barto Hell, were there no other middle-rank demons in the Demon Legion? The demons that had previously attacked Oasis Fort included Beard Demons, Steel Demons, Bone Demons, and Desires Demons; how come now there were only Horned Demons in the sky tossing ineffective fireballs, where had the other middle-rank demons disappeared to?

Meanwhile, the squad of demons that had burst forth from Volcano Fortress finally arrived at the battlefield. Their numbers were few, but their leader was a Barlow Flame Demon, who could send dozens of Beard Demons back to Barto Hell with a single strike—his efficiency was much higher than that of Lancelot and Sonam.

However, the only Deep Hell Demon Refiner in the demon army still did not move to confront the enemy but continued to stay in place, allowing the Barlow Flame Demon to vent his fury on the demon infantry. But it didn’t take long for Lancelot to figure out why he would do that: in a two-on-two duel, the Demon Refiner could still slightly prevail thanks to skilled and coordinated teamwork, but in a one-on-one duel, a moment of inattention could lead to being killed on the spot.

If the last Deep Hell Demon Refiner were to confront the enemy, achieving a draw would be considered good, and on the demon’s side, there was still a Barlow Flame Demon watching the battle. If the Demon Refiner’s two colleagues were to confront three Flame Demons simultaneously, it would most likely end disastrously. For a race like demons with a strong inclination towards order, the army wouldn’t likely suffer morale loss due to sustained casualties, but if the commander were killed, that would indeed mean total defeat.

But these were just Lancelot’s thoughts, and reality soon proved different from what he had anticipated.

Lancelot felt the ground shake as if a group of giants were marching. Instinctively, he looked in the direction of the vibrations and saw exactly how the demon ambush force had appeared—the ground between Volcano Fortress and the demon position suddenly cracked open, and numerous demons emerged, charging directly at the demons that had just flown over their heads.

This time, it wasn’t just Beard Demons. Among them were Legion Demons wearing metal masks and wielding pikes, Pain Demons in spiked leather armor swinging flails, Nightmare Knights clad in full plate armor summoning Nightmare mounts to charge, along with some whose names Lancelot couldn’t even recall. These demons, having presumably endured underground for who knows how long, burst out with tremendous momentum in a charge that nearly collapsed the demons’ troop, which might have begun fleeing if not for the Barlow Flame Demon holding the line.

The moment Lancelot had always feared had finally happened, yet he felt somewhat relieved. The battle was far from over. The allied forces were merely at a disadvantage on the far right of their formation; overall, they still had the upper hand. As long as the mercenaries on the left flank could quickly break through, the outcome was still uncertain. Besides, their side had four top-level combatants, while the enemy had only three…

Thinking this, Lancelot’s heart suddenly sank. How could he have forgotten this? There must still be another Deep Hell Demon Refiner. Where was it?