Chapter 518: Dolo Imperial Wall, Dragon Scale Fortress
This was the most critical heart of the entire defensive line—the central command hub for the joint campaign. The high command of the Imperial Military Department operated from within this fortress, overseeing strategy, coordinating operations across sectors, and managing departments including Combat, Training, Reconnaissance, Communications, and Military Affairs.
Inside the Dragon Scale Fortress, the atmosphere was tense and grave. The fortress walls displayed magical projections of every defensive zone—yet all of them were now overrun by monstrous, twisted demons. Every screen showed nothing but endless waves of infernal horrors, stretching into the horizon as far as the eye could see.
Almost all senior officers sat motionless, their faces stern, eyes fixed on the visions with silent intensity. Too many. The sheer number of demons was overwhelming—so vast it seemed there was no end to them. Even seasoned Imperial officers, hardened by years of war against demons, had never witnessed such a scale of invasion.
“Huh…”
Imperial Marshal Dolo stood with his back turned, a root cigarette clenched between his teeth, his silhouette silhouetted against the flickering images. Only the plume of smoke curling from his lips betrayed his presence.
“Speak up. I know you’ve all seen them—the demons.”
“This…”
Adroville, the Military Advisor, stared at the raging tide of demons, his expression one of disbelief. Even a Prime Silver Dragon who had spent decades on the front lines of demon warfare had never seen anything like this.
“Rift Demon… Giant Ox Demon… Judgment Soul Demon… Six-Armed Serpent Demon…” He recited the names like a litany, each one spoken with the reverence of a collector naming rare treasures.
“And Balor Fire Demons.”
He swallowed hard, whispering, “By Bahamut’s might… Such a demonic invasion. Honestly, if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d have sworn I’d stepped onto the battlefield of Avernus—the Blood War itself.”
His words were genuine. The truth was undeniable. The Abyssal Legion before them was unprecedented. Not only were the numbers staggering, but among them surged countless mid-tier and even high-tier powerful demons.
To put it plainly: if even one-tenth of this demon tide were to be redirected, it could obliterate the former Northern Union Kingdom and conquer all of Anzeta with ease.
But their enemy was not a kingdom.
It was the Empire.
The Empire of Ashen.
A realm forged under the mighty Dragon Sovereignty—terrifying war machine, a nation of warriors and ambition, a paradise of power and pride.
Dolo had absolute confidence. In his mind, even the most colossal army of Deep Abyss demons could not shake the foundation of the Empire.
Adroville spoke softly, “Marshal Dolo… From every standpoint—numbers, strength—these demons are beyond the reach of ordinary defense. I’ve never seen an invasion like this. To minimize casualties… perhaps you should consider retreating, buying time, seeking reinforcements…”
“Retreat?”
Dolo let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Like cowards—running away before the battle even begins? That’s not the way of the Empire.”
Adroville shook his head, his expression solemn. “No, that’s not what I meant. The Empire’s lands are vast. We could trade space for time, regroup, draw in more forces…”
“Enough, Adroville.”
The Dragonblood Goblin Marshal raised one hand, his nostrils flaring as a stream of scorching smoke burst from his mouth. His fanged lips curled into a grim, twisted grin. His dull, bloodshot eyes glowed with a feral light. The grotesque face before them bore the mark of a warrior who had known no surrender.
“You may understand the Deep Abyss demons… but you don’t understand the Empire of Ashen. You don’t know the pride that burns in the bones of every Empire-born.”
Dolo turned fully, snatching the cigarette from his mouth and crushing it under his boot with a sharp, deliberate step.
“Over the past decade and a half, I have witnessed with my own eyes—under the leadership of the invincible King Kai Xiusu—the Empire’s relentless expansion, its victories in battle, its rise through triumph after triumph.
And this time? Even if the enemy is a legion from the Deep Abyss… the outcome will be the same.
Victory.
If victory is not possible… then we die with honor.”
At these words, every senior officer in the fortress—Human, Great Goblin, Tiefling, Ogre, Lizardfolk—rose in unison. Each placed a clenched fist over their heart.
Faithful. Loyal. Give our hearts to the Empire.
Adroville stood frozen, stunned. He felt lost. He hadn’t yet grasped the true spirit of the Empire—still clinging to the mindset of old human kingdoms. That was folly.
Dolo drew his long blade, his face twisted into a snarl of euphoria, and barked at the messenger soldier at the door:
“Tell them—no holds barred. Full saturation fire coverage!”
He grinned wildly. “After all this time of holding back… I’m going to enjoy myself. Let these Abyss scum taste the might of the Empire!”
The Great Goblin’s eyes burned crimson. Thick white smoke poured from his nostrils. His breath came ragged, as if he were inhaling fire itself.
The other officers stared, eyes alight with anticipation. Their gazes—different in color, different in form—were all filled with the same burning desire.
This is the Empire.
Adroville thought, his heart pounding. The once-unstoppable demon tide no longer seemed so terrifying.
For the existence of Deep Abyss demons was itself a curse. They corrupted the land around them, turning it into a festering realm of the Abyss. Chaotic, evil spirits drifted endlessly through the air. Cracks in the ground wept blood. Rotting organs sprouted from the soil like grotesque flowers.
Once gentle, kind-hearted Linglu now had red, frenzied eyes. They charged blindly at anything alive, driven to madness until they tore themselves apart.
Hundreds of thousands of demons pressed forward, heedless, unstoppable—screaming, shrieking, their voices a cacophony that shook the soul. Wherever they passed, all living things were slaughtered. Only ruins and stinking bloodstains remained.
Behind the tide, atop a throne of flesh and bone borne by an Abyssal Drake, Duke Leo watched the distant fortress. His eyes glinted with fury and mockery.
“Hah… So you do fear now? How amusing. This pitiful toy won’t stop the Great Abyssal Legion… nor will it stop my revenge.”
The demon’s body trembled. In its corrupted mind, the memory surfaced—the image of the Red Dragon, torn apart by his own hands.
He raised his flaming longsword, pointing north.
“Warriors of the Abyss! Crush them! Annihilate them utterly!”
Swoosh—
A familiar sound cut through the air.
The former Duke Leo froze.
That sound… it was the scream of a shell in flight.
Then, from the entire defensive line, the same terrifying whistling echoed—sending shivers through every Northlander.
Boom!
The earth trembled. Flames erupted in all directions. A massive explosion tore through the demon tide like a monstrous flower blooming in hellfire—melted hundreds of timid demons in an instant.
Waaah!
The demons caught in the blast had only time to scream once before being consumed by fire and shock.
But this was only the beginning.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The ground shook violently. A storm of explosions erupted across the vast plain, turning it into a sea of fire.
“No… No, that can’t be right. How can their cannons affect even high-tier demons?”
Leo muttered, trembling violently. Memories of the past flooded back—the nightmare of the Northern Regions, destroyed in an artillery barrage.
(End of Chapter)
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