The Paladin in the Abyss

Chapter 399: Chapter 413 Air Strike

Just as the battle on the city walls fell into a stalemate, a piercing screech suddenly filled the sky, forcing the archers in the watchtower to cover their ears.

“Flomos!” As the screeching ended, the soldiers heard the herald’s roar, “Watch your heads! Archers! Intercept them!”

A flock of what seemed like crows approached from the sky, growing rapidly larger as they neared. These flying demons had gigantic black wings, humanoid body structures, and vulture-like talons, coupled with an unbearable loud squawking.

The archers in the watchtower immediately shifted their aim, as these airborne demons posed a greater threat. Bereft of the supportive fire from above, the warriors grappling in close combat on the walls suddenly felt the pressure mount, as the enemy ascended the ramparts at a much faster speed, but the defenders found it difficult to increase their rate of killing.

“Damn it, where are our mages?” Tannis slipped back into complaint mode, wildly swinging his weapon, his swordsmanship severely deformed due to the drop in stamina.

“They’ve been at work all along; it’s just that you’ve enclosed yourself in a metal can, so you don’t feel it,” said another human warrior with subtle elven features, holding a peculiar crescent-shaped longsword that could easily gut an enemy with a light swing.

“What?” roared the knight, thrusting his sword blade into the chest of a Coward Devil, then smashing another Prime Demon’s face with the hilt to create a large hole, “I haven’t seen any lightning or fireballs…”

“He’s talking about wind, my friend,” said the battling martial monk Hobinson, no longer as graceful as before, but still calm and composed, “If not for magic, we’d have been knocked out by the stench by now.”

The martial monk spoke no exaggeration. Most demons carried severe odors, and although those who struggled for survival in the Abyss were mostly accustomed to it, the Coward Devil—a foolish and weak demon—had elevated body odor to a weapon. They could emit yellow-green gas from every pore, smelling like…a mix of different mortal races’ excrements heated in a large pot.

Just holding one’s breath was useless in such a stench, and unless one had an extremely strong will and physique, it was necessary to hold their noses tightly shut. The strong wind that had started blowing at some point spared the fighters from such actions, letting them keep their hands on their weapons, a clear result of the spellcasters’ efforts.

“Fine, but don’t they have any other tricks up their sleeve?” Tannis ranted angrily, “Or at least hurry up and deal with those Flomos!”

“Of course they do,” the martial monk leaped into a large group of demons, two sweeps of his legs knocking down all the enemies around him before he used his fists to finish off each demon on the ground, saying as he smashed, “But when spellcasters take action, it means things have gotten very bad.”

In the sky, the battle continued. The Flomos had a clear target: to destroy the four counterweight trebuchets positioned at the top of the fortress. These war machines, used for crushing the command units of the Demon Legion, wouldn’t bother the high-ranking demons in the slightest, but they could be effective against elite large demons. Before introducing the main forces into battle, these heavy siege engines posed a threat that had to be eliminated first.

The Protectors weren’t without air power—all Airas possessed transformative abilities, granting them flight after transformation. But the garrison at Pascaler mainly comprised humans and elves, and the city held only one Red Flame Aira patrol team that just happened to be resting there, now all struggling atop the city walls.

Moreover, even if they dared to take to the skies for battle, they would be instantly surrounded due to an absolute disadvantage in numbers, so the heavy responsibility of intercepting these flying enemies fell to the Archers.

However, this time, gravity was no longer the archer’s friend; it caused the arrows that flew towards the sky to lose their accuracy, and their power was also diminished. But some archers had bows with special enchantments that were unaffected by such disadvantages.

The Half-elf Narciso was holding such a weapon. His gaze locked onto a demon that was diving down, and his right hand, holding the bow, moved steadily along the trajectory of the target. At the same time, a small whirlwind began to gather on the bowstring, as if it were helping the user draw the bow.

His magic longbow had been enchanted by his mother herself; every arrow shot from it would receive the blessing of the wind, remaining on course without any deviation or slowing down before hitting the target. As a half-elf, Narciso possessed both human strength and elfin agility, allowing him to fully utilize the power of this magic weapon.

When the longbow was drawn to its maximum, Narciso released his fingers from the string, and the arrow shot out with a loud sonic boom, piercing the body of the target like lightning. The Flomo, which had been in a dive just a moment ago, immediately began to roll uncontrollably and plummeted towards the ground.

“Beautiful!”

The surrounding Elves cheered, but Narciso paid no attention to the final outcome of that demon. His eyes had already settled on the next target. The half-elf fired another arrow, and again it hit its mark, but this time it didn’t deliver a fatal blow. The demon’s figure wavered in the air but maintained its flying stance.

Flomos, after all, were robust Middle Rank Demons with very tenacious life forces. Unless their hearts were pierced, these flying units of the demon armies could withstand dozens of longbow attacks, and coupled with their maneuverability at high flight speeds, the probability of casualty during a swarm assault under ideal conditions was not high.

But they were demons, and once they entered the fray, there was no expecting them to act according to the original plan. This Flomo, clearly enraged by Narciso’s attack, let out a shrill roar, turned its body, and lunged towards the watchtower, attempting to tear the half-elf to pieces with its sharp foreclaws.

What met it was a dense wall of arrows. The archers, who had held back their frustration due to the enemy’s altitude and distance, would not miss this chance to target one that had come into range. The rapidly approaching Flomo was immediately filled with arrows and hit the wall of the watchtower hard before tumbling down, toppling a few unfortunate Coward Devils.

Narciso’s human side made him want to peek out and spit at the corpse of the Flomo he had just killed, but his elfin side found that very inelegant. He swiftly locked onto the next target and once again pulled his longbow taut, but in his heart, a sense of powerlessness surfaced—the enemies were too numerous, and even if all the defenders had a magic longbow like his, it would be impossible to stop the demons from achieving their goal.

The black wings of the Flomos instantly covered the few trebuchets, like vultures descending upon carcasses. The demons used hands and teeth alike, biting and clutching, and when they took flight again, only a pile of debris remained; the mighty siege machines were no more.

In the distance, the low and terrifying sound of horns sounded once more, and the tide of demons made up of the Demon Legion began another surge.

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