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Though Harry's method was crude and jarring enough to make your teeth ache, there was no denying its effectiveness—it neatly divided the demon forces into two groups, front and rear.
In this land where magic was all but depleted, the flicker of fluorescent light illuminated more than just a patch of white—it radiated a tantalizing aroma, sweet beyond reason. It was like an oasis glimpsed by a parched traveler in the desert, irresistible and beckoning. Without hesitation, they surged forward, driven by desperate desire.
A centurion led the charge, with the hundred-men commanders trailing close behind. Though the rank difference was only one level, the disparity in size was stark—like an adult among children's toys. The 15-meter-tall demon centurion was followed by a line of 2.2-meter-tall hundred-men commanders, who in turn were trailed by 1.7-meter-tall ten-men commanders. Far at the rear lagged the common demons, no taller than goblins, barely reaching five feet in height, making them appear almost comical by comparison.
However, appearances were deceiving—even the weakest of demons were charging at no less than 60 kilometers per hour. With bodies weighing several tons, they were like tanks of flesh and steel, each step thundering with a deafening boom. Even the lowest-ranked demon cannon fodder cast a dark shadow over the hearts of these fresh warriors facing battle for the first time.
Ten-men commanders carried two magical cores, each protected by dual layers of magic-dampening shells. Hundred-men commanders had three, and centurions possessed four. With each promotion, they gained more than just raw power—they became significantly harder to kill.
"Qiu, prep the target marker rounds."
"Marker rounds loaded. Dye indicator: red."
At that moment, the composite winged armaments mounted on their backs unfolded. A special 40mm round was chambered—inside, a cloud of magically dyed mist was primed. Upon detonation, this mist would be absorbed by the demons and drawn to their most active magic core nodes, exposing their critical points to the eyes of the mages. Compared to past methods, this new technology was far more efficient and precise.
"Three-round burst—saturate the front line. Fire!"
Three muffled thumps rang out. The marker rounds were launched with pinpoint accuracy into the skies above the advancing vanguard. The red magical mist burst in midair, immediately inhaled by the demons below. In moments, the red dye illuminated the unique core locations on each demon's body. Preparations were complete.
"Precision targeting—leave the ten-men commanders to you. Qiu, everyone else, get ready. Heat up your chainswords."
"Commander, you still haven't told us what our warband's battle cry is," Cedric said as he drew his jagged, menacing chainsword. With a surge of magic, the alchemically-forged serrated blade began to spin rapidly, emitting a soft, ominous hum.
"I didn't? Well, no better time than now."
Harry gripped his full-sized tower shield with his left hand, drawing his Stormpiercer Lance with his right. As the hefty lance clanged against the shield, a deep, resonant boom echoed.
Then, raising the Stormpiercer high into the air, Harry roared:
"For the Emperor!!!"
"Astartes! Charge!!"
Their thunderous footfalls struck in perfect unison. The boosters on their backs ignited with a roar, unleashing streams of raw propulsion. In an instant, the heavy alchemical armor accelerated to a blistering 180 kilometers per hour. Like cannonballs, five figures streaked forward, blazing blue trails through the air, crashing directly into the ranks of the front-line demons.
"Carlisle, what kind of lunatics does Durmstrang Academy raise?"
The vanguard commander's voice crackled through the comms, stunned and speechless. Even without seeing his face, one could practically imagine the giant question mark plastered across it.
"How should I know?"
Carlisle's voice was dry and shaken. She herself had been startled by the display—never before had there been a precedent for close-quarters combat with demons on the Abyssal Battlefield.
Yet, in that flash of an instant, like cannonballs, the warriors launched themselves headfirst into the frontline composed of hundred-men and thousand-men demon commanders.
The chainswords shrieked at full throttle. Their specially-forged anti-magic alloy teeth sparked violently upon contact with the hundred-men demon commander's body. Its anti-magic skin was as tough as enchanted rock-hide, hard and unyielding—yet even so, the relentless spinning teeth ripped through it like paper, tearing into the body and exposing its vulnerable core of magical energy.
[Strun] (Storm)
The silver-blue ultra-heavy lance was wreathed in a howling storm. Midair, Harry accelerated again, dodging the sweeping arm of the thousand-man commander. With lethal precision, the extended lance—condensed with awakened magic—pierced one of the demon's four glowing red core nodes. The awakened magic's resistance to absorption caused a gaping hole to burst open in the demon's body where the lance struck.
"Rise!"
A thunderous shout!
The 15-meter-tall, 80-ton demon commander arced through the air, flung like a ragdoll by overwhelming brute strength, and crashed down with a deafening impact onto the black chaos-rock ground of the Abyssal Battlefield.
The armored knight fell from the sky, reversed his grip on the lance, and used the momentum of descent to drive the point into the second glowing red core on the demon's body.
Writhing in pain, the thousand-man commander tried to rise, attempting to trap the steel "toothpick" between its massive hands. But as it reared up, Harry's full-body tower shield slammed sideways into the creature's face, unbalancing it.
In that moment of stagger, the lance was ripped free and, faster than the eye could track, plunged once more into the demon's body—impaling the third core. Only one remained, its life now flickering like a candle in the wind.
But before it could even comprehend what happened, the elusive fly had vanished from sight. The thousand-man commander, consumed by rage, swept its gaze across the battlefield—but Harry was nowhere to be seen.
Observers, however, clearly saw it: Harry had used rapid, agile bursts of movement to stay in the demon's blind spot. He reappeared at its back—and delivered the final, fatal strike.
That mountain-like figure toppled. In mere moments, all four of its magical cores had been destroyed, extinguishing the last spark of life from the thousand-man demon commander.
Meanwhile, not far away, the 4-on-6 skirmish had also reached its conclusion. The chainswords, with their exceptional cutting power, were no less destructive than triple-layered composite spells in targeted damage. Although demon bodies were made of dense, magical ore-like materials, they could not compare to the refined alloys forged through advanced alchemical processes. The chainsword's teeth, made from the same magical metal, were specifically crafted to exploit demonic physiology—with inherent anti-magic properties built for this very purpose.
Qiu, who had already completed her surgical takedown of the ten-men commanders, now turned the muzzle of her light-wing composite armament. The specialized alchemical bullet locked onto a rapidly moving red dot—she claimed the final drop of life from the last demon hundred-man commander.
"Clear the battlefield. Give our allies space to engage. The trash mobs are on their way. Take the bodies—we're not leaving them any rations."
In the magic-starved Abyssal Battlefield, any demon corpse left behind could become a meal for its kin, hastening their growth. If a demon's remaining magical essence was drained dry, its remains would be nothing but useless stone—worthless, uncollectible.
Though the ten-men commanders weren't particularly valuable, the team of five quickly secured the six heavy corpses and sprinted back behind friendly lines like the wind.
(End of Chapter)