The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 654 - 678: Approaching the Battlefield

Chapter 654 -678: Approaching the Battlefield

Three days after the encounter battle, or the fifth day since the team left Twin Bridges Town, Volcano Fortress finally came into the mercenaries’ view.

Even from tens of miles away, the silhouette of the black fortress was the most striking sight on the horizon. The main body of the fortress was completely hidden within the mountain, with only its walls, over eighty feet tall and made entirely of obsidian, exposed. Manually cut stones stacked together formed a resistance against Transformation System Spells, limiting what Spellcasters could do in siege warfare. Furthermore, the obsidian itself had a resistance to flames, rendering the demons’ war machines that launched giant Fireballs ineffective against it.

But even someone with no military knowledge could tell from an intuitive sense about Volcano Fortress that it was an impregnable stronghold. The only passage that permitted the passage of a large army was a stairway at the front with a slope of over sixty degrees, carving deep into the wall of the fortress. Any sane commander would not send troops to assault such a steep staircase, not to mention that at the top of the staircase there was a huge metal door.

However, Lancelot, with his extraordinary vision, noticed that the demons had actually tried it before—although there were no corpses on the steps, there were numerous Large Cleavers specific to Beard Demons scattered around, and apart from being defeated, there was no reason for them to discard their weapons. Speaking of which, the demon’s army emphasized unconditional obedience to orders and could be resurrected in Barto Hell, so only they would undertake such a futile attempt.

Suddenly, a large flock of vultures took flight in front of them; those birds with black wings swirled up into a tornado, then soared high and refused to leave, turning into a cluster of ominous clouds on the horizon.

“Those fellows must have smelled something,” Bruto frowned and said, “just waiting to have our corpses for lunch.”

As the army continued to advance, everyone began to smell another peculiar stench. This stench was so unique, mixed with rotting flesh, yellowish-green pus, and maggots’ excrement, that it drilled into your nostrils as if a person with a tongue full of blisters had eaten a dozen rotten eggs before giving you a lover’s kiss. That long, slimy tongue pierced from your mouth all the way to your throat, forcing an unstoppable urge to vomit.

Most mortals, upon smelling this odor, would instinctively feel fear even though they had no idea what the smell represented, but it seemed their blood remembered that scent. As for the mercenaries, this smell was all too familiar; if you showed confusion, it only meant you had falsified your resume.

The source of the stench soon came into view: a hill completely made of amassed corpses. Near the top, the bodies had turned into skeletons, likely the handywork of the vultures just seen, while the lower half was severely decomposed, leaking a large amount of foul-smelling liquid into a brownish-yellow pond formed around the base on the ground.

If one could overcome the fear and observe a bit closer, it was easy to identify that all the remains belonged to demons. That hill was like a monument commemorating a significant victory the demons once had here and a warning sign indicating the consequences any creature might face moving forward.

It was difficult for even the most seasoned mercenaries not to be impacted by that striking scene. Yet, they continued walking, no one stopping, because they were in a group that was still moving forward.

After walking a bit further, Lancelot’s ears twitched as he heard some unusual sounds in the wind. An Elf Priest, who had long ears and almost rivaling sensory abilities, looked at him with an inquiring expression.

“Yes,” Lancelot nodded, “they have already started fighting ahead.”

“Are you sure?” asked the six-armed Serpent Demon, suddenly twisting his head to look at the Human Knight as he walked ahead. Unnoticed, Sonam had changed his previously disdainful attitude towards Lancelot and even began to rely on his opinions somewhat.

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“This isn’t a guess, I can already hear the sound of metal clashing.” Lancelot pointed to his ears, “I suggest we order everyone to don their armor now; otherwise, we might be rushed in a while.”

“Alright.” Sonam nodded, then using a wide-range sensory ability, he shouted to everyone around:

‘Everyone stop!’

The sensory ability was very effective for issuing commands, and the mercenaries immediately halted, looking at the six-armed Serpent Demon with some confusion.

“Anyone who needs to piss or shit, I’m giving you three minutes to sort yourselves out,” the Serpent Demon shouted to everyone, “What are you dawdling for? I’ve already started timing!”

A few mercenaries left the group, following the routine of the past few days, those who could stand went to the left, those who needed to squat went to the right. The air was originally so foul that the living smells they emitted were somehow comforting.

“Is everyone done? Very good, this way, no one can shit in their pants later, which would be very troubling for me because theoretically I shouldn’t swing my longsword at any of you, at least not until the day after tomorrow. But I worry I might not be able to restrain myself. Now, everyone get your armor on and weapons in hand, because you will be fighting those sons of bitches from Bartez again soon.”

Hearing this, the mercenaries quickly got moving, and some heavy, complex armor indeed took some effort to don. Lancelot also went over to help Alamir. He himself had put on his armor early, as his physique meant there was almost no difference for him whether he wore armor on a long march or not; in fact, being without armor made him uncomfortable.

Five minutes later, the mercenaries who had sorted out their gear set off again and soon caught up with the group of Demon spiders ahead. About ten more minutes of walking, everyone’s ears were filled with the roars of the beast called war—a symphony composed of metal, flesh, and vocal cords that made anyone tremble and their heart race at the sound.

The Demons walking in front of the mercenary troops suddenly stirred and then started running forward with all their might. Some of the mercenaries wanted to follow, but Sonam sternly stopped them.

“Maintain our current pace, you fools, save your energy for the fight,” hissed the six-armed Serpent Demon, his voice hoarse, hair-raising, and filled with malice, “You’re now fully equipped and at ease; what better state is there to meet death? But please, before you die, take down a few more from Bartez. You’ve already been paid a week’s wages; if you haven’t killed even one before dying, perhaps the God of the Dead might send you back to this plane… of course, in the form of a human-faced maggot.”