Fleshcrafting Technomancer 97 Legions At The Gate Part 2

Thus, in the shadows of the sura glade, over 30,000 Fehl n.o.bles and 5 Fehl Lords stood with gore-hungry gazes, all eager to vent their Kilian-bestowed frustration on fehls and non-fehls alike. But while an unprecedented concentration of negativity filled the shadowy corners, Kilian lamented the lack of trees beyond the glade.

Thanks to his previous Atomic Dissociation, the Sura Plane now missed about 25 hectares worth of forest. If not for the untimely deforestation, he could have concealed his forces in the forest's shadows and forced the invading armies into quick desolation.

"What a shame…" or so he initially felt. But recalling the 502,000 dra that remained in his Philosopher's Stone, and the over 650,000 he now possessed, Kilian realized that he'd been trapped in the mentality of a professional beggar—still stingy despite millions in his bank account.

If there was no forest to take advantage of, couldn't he create one? When the thought settled, the half fehl's lips widened in a slasher grin—making Eleonora and Inyoka exchange confused glances.

With a grasping motion, Kilian pulled 32,000 fehls from the shadows and set them like pillars in the open s.p.a.ce beyond the glade. Before they could make sense of the new arrangement, he snapped his fingers, green lightning flashed, and the 32,000 fehls' body twisted as they morphed into over 32,000 trees. Now, only the five Fehl Lords and their strongest n.o.bles remained on glade territory.

Seeing the daemonic horde morph into a new forest, the feasting suras gawked silly. Inyoka hissed at his boss, and Eleonora nodded in approval.

"Ambitious," although the sudden trans.m.u.tation depleted over 120,000 of Kilian's personal dra, when she imagined the fates of those carefree invading hordes, Eleonora couldn't help but sigh.

…

Meanwhile, an army of 150,000 fehl suras marched on Kilian's glade—or well, sort of. At first, they all flew, but as they neared the glade, for the sake of intimidation, 120,000 descended on the ground to display their almost resounding killing intent and military discipline. The remaining 30,000 still bloated the sky whose icy-blue shade remained unchanged despite all the time pa.s.sed.

In tandem, 120,000 fehl suras moved past the forest trees to surround the glade, and with the 30,000 flying above them all, they blocked all existing paths. Now, whoever wished to advance or retreat relied entirely on their goodwill—or so they thought.

120,000 low to top-level High Emissary troops, 30,000 low to mid-level Archon to direct and support them. With such an army, the fehl suras' momentum dwarfed the region, making many of the glade suras flounder. Still, they carried on with their feast.

"Not only do you refuse to see the light, but you also remain dead-set on leading your fellow brethren into ruin. Impudent, rebellious, unredeemable wastes, the Sura Plane has no use for indecisive conservatives such as yourselves. However, in their grand generosity, their majesties give you one last chance to change your tune. Follow us back to the royal tribe to drink the true Divine Water, and all your sins may b-" the commander started his all-conquering speech, but was cut short by a purple bullet that nailed his forehead, pierced his brain and flew through the back of his skull.

No, not a bullet, a bullet-shaped dra projectile that moved at hypersonic speed. When their brains registered the dra bullet's sound, the fehl suras' commander's body was halfway toward the ground. Witnessing the fall of their only top-level Archon under a single dra bullet, the 150,000 realized one thing: none was safe.

Whoever fired that dra bullet could nail any one of them onto the ground.

Instantly, their morale and momentum took ma.s.sive hits, but as their deputy leaders discussed the next course of action, one voice thundered across 100 hectares: "Strike!"

Without delay, the 32,000 trees turned into ma.s.sive black tentacles, with countless sets of jagged teeth emerging from their flexible limbs. If the fehl suras expected many things, black tentacles with protruding teeth weren't part of them. Too late to escape, they could only activate their Dra s.h.i.+elds and hope for the best—the best didn't come.

"AAAAAARGH!" The first scream of many marked the beginning of the end for the 120,000-men-strong field army. The fehls' tentacles wrapped and crushed the foot soldiers' energy s.h.i.+elds before locking them all in their slick embrace. With their mobility ruined by the tentacles' grasp, the fehl suras couldn't stop the blade-like teeth—each 46 cm long—from sinking into all corners of their bodies. Their screams soon died out, m.u.f.fled by the tentacles at first, then by their brutal death.

In one breath, 120,000 fehl suras turned into corpses, having never seen so many die so fast, the glade suras were petrified. Unable to celebrate, they lifted their eyes toward the Archon-level suras, who so far had better luck than their fallen peers. Only 400 or so fehl sura fell to the tentacles' grasp, and even those who did were resilient enough that the lethal kiss couldn't easily claim their lives.

Still, with dozens of jagged edges spiraled around them, the 30,000 couldn't join their forces in a formation. Forced to show off their breakdancing skills, they twirled in the sky while firing thaumaturgic missiles at the tentacles.

Meanwhile, Kilian held the drmade silver pistol that fired the hypersonic dra bullet at the fallen commander, watching his kp count rise while resting his head against Eleonora's cushy b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"You could have at least let the man finish his speech. This was so...rude," she said in a half-reproaching, half-jesting tone.

"If someone breaks into your house at night, then pauses to give a speech, I'm sure you would also turn rude," Kilian seriously replied, aimed his pistol at some breakdancing fehl sura, and took him down with another bullet.

Reminded that a devious sniper with no regard for Chivalrous War Protocol hid in the glades, the strongest among the 30,000 sought to track him down. With a mental message, Kilian had his daemonic army leave a narrow opening for the fehl suras, and fired a succession of bullets at randomly picked targets. Using the bullets' light streaks, the strongest 3,000 tracked him down, and forced their way out of the tentacle encirclement to charge the glade.

As they dropped, the 3,000 bonded through Mutual Reinforcement Magic, aiming to take out the devious sniper with one explosive a.s.sault. That wouldn't turn into an award-winning plan. As soon as they dove past the glade's entrance, the 3,000 saw three gigantic monstrosities, and two daemonic beauties emerge from nowhere, with hundreds of daemons at their feet.

Linked by a Mutual Reinforcement Formation, Kilian's 1,335 elites stretched out their hands toward the 3,000, and whispered in tandem: "Fifth Circle Spell: h.e.l.lstorm."

A scarlet maelstrom formed below the fehl suras, with crackling lightning and brewing thunderstorms.

"Oh, s.h.i.+t…"

A deluge of scarlet lightning bolts surged from the maelstrom, striking the 3,000-men-strong vanguard, and turning them into a charred mess. As the fallen's ashes—or whatever remained of them—dropped in the glade's center, Kilian's voice rang in his elites' minds.

"Surround and capture the rest."

Though dissatisfied by the order, the punching bag seeking Fehl Lords couldn't disobey and led their troops into the sky to crush the invaders' last struggle.