The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 649 - 673: Who Cares If They Live or Die

Chapter 649 -673: Who Cares If They Live or Die

After Barlow Flame Demon, more demon reinforcements appeared. Coward Devils, normally as meek as a flock of sheep, were now fiercely valiant, swarming over the remaining demons like ants to sugar. Berserk Demons and Brezu Demons brusquely pushed aside their comrades, seizing upon the slaughter—an entertainment beloved by their kind—especially since there was little risk involved.

Lancelot didn’t linger, but quickly ran towards his companions. Cheers went up from all the mercenaries he passed, for everyone knew that their tight grip on victory was largely thanks to the Human Knight. Without Lancelot’s recent astonishing act, demons and devils would be waging a vicious fight atop their corpses by now.

Soon, he could see his comrades in the distance, and seeing that each of them was still standing, the tension he had been holding finally eased. Clearly, each had been through a fierce battle: the four Dwarves’ shields looked like they could fall apart at any moment, stained red with blood, mostly that of their enemies but some of their own; Valen Belen appeared to be trapped in his power armor, with his brother trying to extricate him using a screwdriver and a wrench; the Half-elf Tanya was staring vacantly at the corpse of a demon in front of her, seemingly unaware that her hands, gripping the Shadow Glaive, were trembling violently.

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At the other end of the group, the old Holy Warrior Ivendell was also drenched in blood, his Longsword now replaced with a Beard Demon’s pike, but a look of utter relief spread across his face, the former gloom that had enveloped him nowhere to be seen; Tiflin youth Glory was slumped on the ground, looking as though he had just escaped from a burning house, with his sister taking care of him nearby, yet not a single scratch was apparent on his body—Lancelot knew this was the hallmark of a Bloodsucker, a gift from his tragic past as a blood slave that let him absorb life energy from his enemies in battle.

Only two people appeared unscathed, one of them was the demon monkey girl Jing, who was squatting on a protruding rock munching contently on a juicy peach. Her relaxed demeanor might mislead one to believe she hadn’t exerted herself, but the iron stick beside her, both ends turned dark red, told a different story; the other was Alamir, the Elf Priest who was busy bandaging the Dwarves with clean dressings and ointments, judging by how spotless his attire was, it seemed that not a single enemy had died within ten feet of him.

“Ha! Lancelot! You’re finally back!” Bruto waved at him enthusiastically; his neck swathed in bandages looked rather comical, “I knew that big purple demon couldn’t catch you!”

“It indeed didn’t,” Lancelot replied cheerfully, approaching, “It’s great to see everyone’s alright. Looks like you didn’t miss me too much.”

“Sir Lancelot, the techniques you taught us were indeed very useful,” Rurik StoneShield’s nose was as red as if he were drunk, obviously still not recovered from the excitement of battle, “We were like rocks, not retreating even half a step!”

“But we were almost overwhelmed by those creatures that sting with their beards,” Flint Ruge added, his pale face complementing the large wound on his right shoulder, though the bleeding had stopped and the Elf Priest was carefully pouring a white powder around the wound, “Thanks to Mr. Alamir, without his wide-reaching Light Magic, we would have been torn to pieces by the enemy by now.”

“I saw it too, but couldn’t look closely as the battle was too intense,” Lancelot said, curious as he looked toward Alamir, “What was that column of light about? I remember it doesn’t have enough power to instantly kill a Beard Demon, but the range… That’s really large…”

“The Goddess answered my prayer during the battle and bestowed upon me a new Fifth Circle Divine Art: Dawn,” responded Alamir with an expression of bliss, “This Divine Art creates a column of light with a radius of thirty feet that can last up to a minute. You’re right, if they ran straight out of the light column, the damage wouldn’t be enough to kill a Beard Demon, but the devils’ adherence to discipline prevented them from breaking formation and our mercenaries held them firmly at the front, allowing me to melt a considerable number of Fiends. Did you notice the dark-red marsh there? Those are all…”

“Uh, I get it, no need to say more,” Lancelot said, grimacing as he shook his head, “I had no idea the devils would stick to rules to that extent…”

“So, it’s Bartez that are the real mad ones,” Sonam’s voice rose eerily, as she glided toward everyone with a spine-chilling grace, “But compared to you, their madness is nothing at all…”

“Commander,” Lancelot gave a polite bow to the Serpent Demon, and the rest of the companions followed suit, “How is your arm’s injury?”

“The bones inside are broken into seven or eight pieces. It will take a few more hours for a complete recovery,” said Sonam, casually swinging her three left arms, “I really don’t know whether to call you brave or foolish for dares to provoke a Demon Refinement from the deep prison…”

“But if you had fallen, we would have been certain to lose,” Lancelot shrugged, “Plus, my dodging and escaping skills are top-notch, as you’ve already seen. With these two abilities, I’m confident it wouldn’t be able to kill me for a while.”

“Yeah, if not for you, I probably…” The Serpent Demon stared at Lancelot with a strange look, as if he had done something she found particularly irritating.

“No need to thank me,” Lancelot noticed immediately what the Serpent Demon was grappling with, “We’re comrades now, after all. It’s right to help each other out.”

“Hmph,” the Serpent Demon’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but ultimately, she spoke softly, “I owe you one… Alright. Hurry up and get your gear together; those two promiscuous whores have finally succeeded. The illusion up ahead has been dispelled; we’re setting off momentarily.”

“What?” Lancelot was genuinely surprised, “What about the wounded?”

“Those who can keep up will follow us; as for those who can’t…” The six-armed Serpent Demon looked up at the vultures circling in the sky, “Those birds will take care of them,” she said.

“Are you saying we’re going to abandon the severely wounded?” Lancelot spoke in shock, “Please forgive me, Madam, but I will never agree to do such a thing.”

“I am the commander of this army,” the Serpent Demon’s face turned very frightening in an instant, “Those severely wounded will only be a burden to us, slowing down the march. When the next battle arrives, they won’t be of any help at all, so why should I care about their lives?”