The Paladin in the Abyss

Chapter 398: Chapter 412: Cannon Fodder Siege

Just as the Elves had feared, the Demon Legion advanced like pervasive sewage, never halting in its steps.

Direct threats were not only from the stones that fell from the sky but also from the large toads behind them, enforcing discipline with their sinister smiles as they tore the lagging Low Rank Demons into pieces, compelling these cannon fodder to relentlessly push forward.

Perhaps it was the sheer number of their comrades that instilled unprecedented confidence, or perhaps it was the subtle influence of some Demon Spellcasters, but the Prime Demons and Coward Devils quickly found their hearts filled with desires of slaughter and destruction. The exquisite stone fortress before them was an eyesore, and the humans and Elves atop it were utterly revolting. These demons could hardly wait to charge forward, intending to kill, dismantle, and burn everything in sight until only ruins were left to satisfy them.

They had long forgotten just how fragile they were.

The watchtower started raining down dense volleys of arrows. The Archers hardly needed to aim, merely repeating the action of drawing and releasing as swiftly as possible. Metal-tipped arrows, aided by gravity, inflicted great damage, easily pinning several Low Rank Demons in place. Even if they did not kill their targets outright, these expendables were soon turned into mush under the trample of their comrades.

A great number of demons fell under the arrow storm, but even more trampled over the bodies of their fellows and continued advancing towards the city walls. The Demon General did not equip these cannon fodder with either helmets or shields, allowing projectile weapons to easily cause heavy casualties. Yet in reality, each demon served as a shield for another, using their bodies to push the line right up to the base of the walls.

The first claw reached Pascaler’s wall, followed by more and more demons gathering at the fortress’s base. The walls stood over fifteen feet high, naturally impossible for the demons to leap onto directly, but their sharp claws could dig into the crevices between the stones, allowing them to climb the near vertical barriers.

Even though they were completely defenseless during this climb.

Protectors on the wall initially threw down stones, and for those who climbed too close, they jabbed with Long Spears, their efficiency matching that of Archers shooting from high positions. It was a slaughter, as the defenseless Low Rank Demons were processed like livestock thrown into a meat grinder, quickly reduced to mince.

But even reduced to mince, remnants remained. The bodies of the dead demons would decay at a rate far exceeding normal, but it would still take several days. The more the defenders killed, the quicker the corpses piled up. In less than half an hour since the demons began crossing the river, the bodies at the base of the wall had already accumulated over ten feet high, allowing the demons to leap directly onto the battlements and engage the defenders in close combat.

“I take back what I said earlier!” Tannis, who had just been complaining about not being able to charge on horseback, shouted to his Martial Monk companion, spinning around to split a Coward Devil in two with his sword, “Fighting here isn’t so bad!”

“Conserve your energy.”

Hobinson responded calmly, just as his actions were. The Martial Monk always swung his fist along the shortest path, typically starting with a heavy right hook to stun the target on the spot, followed by his left hand shaping into a knife hand, striking at the unsuspecting chest of the demon. The enemy would collapse as if suddenly drained of strength — although there was no visible wound, the demon’s heart inside its chest had already turned into a pulp.

Minutes later, there was not a single demon left standing around them, only broken or intact bodies littered the ground. Tannis leaned on his longsword, gasping heavily, his entire body coated in the foul-smelling pus-blood of demons; his Martial Monk companion seemed much more relaxed, though his gray robe did have some stains on it.

“Whew, that was a breeze.” Tannis gave Hobinson a confident smile, “You place your faith in Ilmat, don’t you? Such a level of combat hardly counts as suffering.”

“Indeed it doesn’t,” the Martial Monk shook his head, “How about I take over your suffering for a while? You need to rest.”

“What are you talking about…”

The Knight was somewhat confused by his companion’s words, but the tapping sounds of claws on the parapets forced him to spin around quickly.

A grey-green Coward Devil leaped in, hurling itself at the nearest living thing without hesitation—almost impaling itself on the Knight’s sword tip, and behind it, more demons surged forward like tides relentlessly hitting the shore.

“Coward Devils are truly wonderful.”

At the rear of the demon army, a Demon Commander couldn’t help but remark. Such low-rank demons, being both foolish and cowardly, high-rank demons could merely wave an arm to command them to do anything; and yet they possessed quite the sturdy build, enabling them to serve various roles in the Demon Legion, from military provisions to cannon fodder, and from the current situation, even as building materials.

This Demon Commander raised his massive pincers, commanding those who were truly elite to start crossing the river. Leading the way was a squad composed of Aberrant Demons, criminals among demons who could barely be considered more than cannon fodder, but after the real cannon fodder was depleted, it would be their turn to enter the fray. Following them was the main force of the Demon Legion, assault teams composed of Berserk Demons and Brezu Demons.

These Middle Rank Demon soldiers emitted an entirely different air of danger; they were all clad in armor, albeit ill-fitting ones clearly stripped from the corpses of other races, but it still provided more comprehensive protection for the naturally robust bodies of demons; their weapons were not natural fangs and claws, but longswords, battle axes, and large hammers, which might give nimble Elves an advantage in small-scale fights, but in crowded battlefields, these large and heavy weapons were especially useful.

But the time for these elites to take the field hadn’t come yet; the demons were indeed fickle and unpredictable, but they were not foolish, at least those who had risen beyond cannon fodder were not. They preferred the thrill of slaughter, not the risk of a fair fight that could cost their own lives. Before these legionnaires carried out their decisive charge, it was best to let the cannon fodder wear down the defenders’ strength as much as possible.

The scene remained a one-sided massacre, with Protectors clad in finely crafted metal armor, wielding sharp treasured swords and long spears—many of which were enchanted with magic, while the low-rank beasts had nothing but their claws and not particularly hard scales, almost turning into corpses the moment they faced the city’s warriors.

But gradually, capitalizing on their sheer numerical advantage, these low-rank beasts managed to secure some footholds on the city walls. How does that saying go? Even a hundred chickens, if all slain, could exhaust the Butcher, let alone tough-skinned, biting Coward Devils.

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