Chapter 112: The Thirteenth Wave

Kande stood over two meters tall, weighing three hundred kilograms. The texture of his dark muscles was clearly visible, reflecting shifting light that made his silhouette appear to flicker in and out of existence. His hornet-like helmet radiated a profound sense of alienation, exuding an aura of cold, fearless menace.

Within three seconds, his nano-combat suit was fully equipped. Kande then pulled a series of accessories from his spatial bag, including an ion thruster, a 25mm Vulcan cannon, a heavy metal grenade launcher, an electromagnetic sniper cannon, and a magnetic storm tower. He armed himself into a versatile, sharp-eyed killing machine capable of both long-range and close-quarters combat.

Where he stood, not even a mosquito could hope to escape.

Provence surveyed his elite troops with satisfaction, preparing to wave his hand and launch another flawless operation, when the fat mage suddenly let out an urgent shout: "Wait! This beast tide is different!"

Provence asked cautiously, "What’s wrong?"

The fat mage closed his eyes, concentrating his senses. "In my reconnaissance, the beasts are incredibly violent, as if they are slaughtering each other... Ah, their numbers are dropping rapidly! Three thousand... two thousand... five hundred... one hundred... wait, let me look again... Ah!"

The fat mage let out a shrill scream, his head seemingly swelling in size. Vivid blood erupted from his seven orifices, and he collapsed into immediate unconsciousness.

Provence signaled the physician nearby. The physician solemnly administered an expensive stimulant, forcing the fat mage to burn his life force to recover quickly.

A look of bottomless despair stained the fat mage’s face. He gritted his teeth and said, "There are monsters with mental counter-measures. I saw twenty-eight demon lords nearing the fifth energy level. They are the ones who wiped out the beast tide directly. They... they are already here!"

How was this possible? Could it be...

Provence’s heart tightened. He turned quickly to the female knight, Siroya, and said, "Sir Siroya, I suggest you strike preemptively."

Siroya frowned. "Why not rely on the city walls here..."

Provence interrupted her bluntly, "This battle is unlike anything in the past. The walls will be useless. Even walls reinforced with solidification spells cannot withstand the combined attack of those monsters. Staying behind them will only leave your people completely exposed to the monsters' assault!"

Siroya looked at the wyvern behind her. The creature stared into the distance, nodding with startling human-like intelligence.

Having received confirmation, Siroya pondered for a moment before decisively ordering, "All forces, move out!"

Without the cover of the walls, the wyvern knights would suffer at least thirty percent more casualties, but the people behind them were the foundation of human survival. A warrior’s destiny was to die for the sake of protection. Even if the sacrifice surged, it would be a death with meaning!

Provence watched the wyvern knights take flight and signaled his team to follow from a distance. He intended to let the knights wear down these terrifying enemies first, so he could reap the rewards later. It was a dangerous game of plucking chestnuts from the fire, requiring the utmost caution.

Even if the wyvern knights were aware of his shameless intentions, they could not fight half-heartedly; the threat of the demon race was absolute. If they failed to hold them back, humanity would perish, leaving no room for other thoughts.

The shadow in Provence’s heart refused to dissipate. He suddenly remembered the three long-vanished apostles and Adonsa, rubbing his temples in frustration. He shouldn't have indulged in the pleasure of slaughtering demons; he should have eliminated those apostles early to reduce the variables.

These demon lords, suddenly united, were definitely Adonsa’s doing. He had no proof, but he was certain of it. However, complaining now was useless; he could only do his best. If the situation became untenable, Provence was not without a fallback plan.

As the distance closed, the terrifying enemies that had caused such panic before even making contact finally revealed themselves.

Leading the charge was a demon that flowed like liquid sand, rolling past its companions and sweeping toward the wyvern knights in the sky like a dust storm. Several knights, unable to dodge in time, were dragged from the sky. The rapidly shifting sand acted like a high-efficiency grinder, pulverizing the wyverns and riders alike—flesh, blood, and bone—staining the grey-yellow sand with a horrific crimson hue.

The remaining knights climbed to a higher altitude and began throwing spears. The rain of spears fell precisely upon the heads of the monsters, yet they had little effect. The sand-based monster was untouchable, and the others, all demon lords nearing the fifth energy level, were hardly likely to be wounded by such crude projectiles.

This ineffective volley did not shake the confidence of the knights, for battle was not decided by one or two simple exchanges. While the spears might not show immediate results, who could say they wouldn't be useful through sustained attrition?

However, since the invading demons were in high spirits, there was no need to waste more spears. Yet, before Siroya could order the high-ranking knights to charge, the demons made their move.

One demon suddenly stopped, its short, thick limbs anchoring firmly into the ground. The keratinous, shell-like armor on its back glowed with a dazzling purple light, and a field of grey light covered a spherical area with a hundred-meter radius at the speed of light.

The dust rising in the air suddenly stalled and plummeted, pressing tightly against the ground, while the wyvern knights above immediately lost their balance, struggling as they plummeted toward the earth.

A ten-fold gravity field! Anything caught within the grey light was subjected to ten times the standard gravity.

The demons within the range were not immune either; the sand-based demon, being the most vulnerable, had steered far clear to avoid being affected. But the extreme individual strength of the demons allowed them to handle the ten-fold gravity far better than the wyvern knights.

Over twenty wyverns crashed into the ground. The predatory demons unleashed bloodthirsty roars, their powerful limbs tearing through the wyverns' steel-like scales and bones. In a single encounter, more than half of the knights were killed, with only five or six high-ranking knights left, their bodies burning with golden battle aura as they fought desperately against the demons' bizarre attacks.

Soon, ultrasonic bombardments, ball lightning, and high-energy microwaves engulfed the poor knights.

These knights were Siroya’s daily companions, and to see them suffer such heavy losses in a single exchange while the enemy remained unscathed—how could she not be furious? But as a commander, she forced herself to remain calm, coordinating her troops for all-out suppressive fire.

The turtle-backed demon began to move slowly, attempting to trap more knights within its field. Siroya let out a roar, and a golden slash of battle aura crossed the hundred-meter gap, striking the creature.

It was already a miracle that these demons were not fighting each other; cooperation was out of the question. No thick-skinned demon would waste effort shielding another. The turtle-backed demon was struck by the three-meter-long blade, its stocky, giant-dwarf body sent tumbling through the air. Upon landing, it jumped up, glaring at the wyvern knights in the sky in a fit of shame and rage.

Its fury transformed into tangible gravity lines. The field was no longer a sphere; while its volume remained constant, it stretched into a spiky, sea-urchin shape, with the dark shadow field extending thorns to ensnare the knights.

Then, the masters of the sky fell.

The enraged turtle-backed demon no longer played with ten-fold gravity but used hundred-fold gravity to slam the knights into the ground, crushing them into flat, bloody paste like mosquitoes.

At that moment, the space beneath the turtle-backed demon turned black. A paper-thin black hole appeared beneath its belly, nearly touching the ground. A grey hand with bulging veins reached out, its fingertips spraying black blood like electric welding arcs, easily piercing the demon’s relatively vulnerable chest.

The turtle-backed demon was not a physically enhanced individual, yet its defenses were formidable—even a grenade launcher might not have breached its keratin layer—yet it was pierced by this eerie black hand.

The demon suffered a fatal blow, but its immense vitality and chaotic mind only fueled its desire to attack. The grey light trembled and twisted as if alive, condensing into a massive force of attraction that shot out, grabbing the flying wyverns like a giant hand.

In the face of such terrifying demons, the wyvern knights, humanity's final hope, were truly no better than mosquitoes.