Meanwhile, in storm-battered Uruk...
"Get down here, bastards!"
With a thunderous shout, Leonidas sprinted to the edge of the city wall. Muscles taut, he pushed his divine power to the limit and hurled his spear with all his might.
In that instant, deep lacerations tore open across his arms, chest, abdomen, and thighs—hundreds of them—while dim, almost colorless blood sprayed out like arrows.
At the same time, the spear—infused with a trace of Zeus's divine might and the raw strength of Heracles—was wrapped in golden lightning, streaking through the air like a blazing meteor.
"Thud!"
"Aaagh!"
Amid the anguished howls, the Blue Dragon Bašmu, who had been leading the charge of the magical beasts, was struck head-on. The reinforced reverse-scale plating over his chest shattered, and his heart was instantly pierced.
The sheer force of the throw caused the spear to disintegrate mid-air, but the damage was done—Bašmu's heart now bore a gaping hole, gushing dark blue-black venomous blood.
His mountainous body slammed into the earth with a crash, finally collapsing onto the wasteland and sending mud and water flying ten meters into the air.
After a few twitches, Bašmu could no longer rise. His serpent eyes slowly dimmed, losing their final glimmer of life.
"Roar! Roooar!"
"Sparta! Sparta!"
The Uruk soldiers on the wall raised their chipped and battered weapons, bellowing in triumph.
On both flanks, priests and priestesses rushed to lift the fallen Spartan king, intending to move him to a quiet corner for treatment.
"The Beast Commander is dead—are the others pulling back?"
But the Spartan warrior, iron-willed as ever, insisted on staying on the front line for emergency treatment, even as he questioned the situation.
"They're retreating! Definitely retreating!"
"The Observatory confirms it too—Blood Fort's mana readings are gone!"
"Leonidas-sama, we did it!"
Soldiers ran down from the watchtower, pointing at the magical beasts scattering across the plains, elation written all over their faces.
"Pull 2,000 men and send reinforcements to the southern gate!"
Seeing that the northern front had stabilized, Leonidas was just about to redeploy troops to relieve the southern pressure...
But the moment he saw the magical beasts splitting off and fleeing to either side, his sharp battlefield instincts screamed that something was wrong.
"No... if they were retreating, they'd be falling back toward the Cedar Forest, their main camp!"
"They're not retreating—they're fleeing!"
And the only thing that could make those savage beasts run was something so terrifying it triggered their primal instinct to survive.
Leonidas's pupils shrank. Gritting his teeth, he forced his wounded body upright and roared with all his strength.
"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"
"All units, prepare for battle!"
The moment his voice rang out, pillars of scorched earth and red-black smoke surged upward.
Like a crashing tide of crimson and obsidian, the wave surged past the ruins of Babylon, consumed Nippur, and reached the northern plateau in under half an hour.
The slower magical beasts left behind on the plains were instantly engulfed by the wave.
The tar-like substance spread across their fur, burrowed into their flesh, flooded their mouths and nostrils—dragging each organic creature into the abyss.
As their bodies writhed and mutated, the beasts—now fully submerged in the red-black sludge—were grotesquely reshaped into twisted Laḫmu.
One by one, they let out eerie, cackling laughter, rising from the tide and taking flight—like a black swarm of locusts blotting out the sky.
"Ugh!"
Everyone on the wall shuddered, faces pale with fear.
At that moment, a forlorn horn echoed through all of Uruk. Upon hearing the signal, Leonidas sprang to his feet and bellowed with a thunderous roar.
"Magus, activate the rite! First Guard Unit, step forward!"
"Fangs of Napishtim, raise anchor!"
With that command, the Magi crushed the magic crystals in their palms.
As they chanted in dark, guttural tones, a massive magic array ignited—spanning over a hundred miles, enveloping the entire northern wall. It shone bright, powerful enough to divide the wasteland from the defensive line.
Without hesitation, the elite force kept in reserve at Leonidas's side dropped their spears, switched to lighter swords and shields, and rushed to the wall's edge before leaping off.
Wind-riding Quetzalcoatls swooped down to catch each rider, diving toward the soon-to-be-flooded clearing beyond Babylonia's defenses.
Following their lead, the fearless warriors scattered, embedding crystalized mana stones inscribed with complex runes into precise nodes across the massive array.
Instantly, the ground quaked violently. Tens of thousands of enormous tusk-like pillars burst from the earth, shooting skyward, each one towering over a hundred meters.
"Boom!"
The red-black tide, thick as molten lava, slammed forward—only to be stopped in its tracks by the jagged, crisscrossing tusks. The chaotic wall of fangs held firm, halting the spread of the mudlike wave.
After neutralizing its momentum, the Fangs of Napishtim locked the Black Tide outside the perimeter.
"Raaagh!"
But just as the defenders began to breathe a sigh of relief, a deafening crash erupted from Mount Ebih. The tremor was so violent it nearly knocked the soldiers off their feet.
A thicker, even more massive torrent of darkness poured down from the shattered mountain peak.
Worse still, grotesque Laḫmu began rising one after another, cackling as they gathered in the skies above the wasteland. They soared right over the Fangs of Napishtim, heading straight for Uruk.
A two-pronged assault—this was the end!
Several soldiers, their nerves already frayed, collapsed where they stood, faces blank with despair.
"Stand up!"
"Even if we die, Spartan men die standing—forcing the enemy to kneel!"
Drenched in blood, Leonidas slammed his shield with all his might, like a banner whipping in the storm. His unshakable pride and honor pierced through the suffocating fear in the hearts of his troops.
"Raaagh!"
With a unified roar, the soldiers expelled all fear and doubt through their voices. Their blood surged, their spirits ignited for this final stand.
Exhausted but undaunted, Uruk's warriors reformed their ranks and charged the descending Laḫmu. They fought with reckless abandon, completely ignoring the southern gate—now exposed and vulnerable.
Just as the boundless darkness was about to swallow Uruk whole, a woman's battle cry split the heavens.
A burning figure, blazing like a firebird, streaked through the sky like a falling star. She crashed down into the red-black tide with overwhelming force.
"Xiuhcoatl: Flame, Burn the Gods Themselves!"
In an instant, searing sunlight swept across the battlefield, vaporizing the corrupted tide. The blood-red and obsidian wave hissed away into curling wisps of smoke.
And in stark contrast, wherever that holy light touched the humans, it felt like basking in a warm spring. Their bodies glowed with warmth, wounds rapidly healing, mana slowly returning.
Truly, the pinnacle of the benevolent gods.
Leonidas looked down at his own wounds—nearly healed—and glanced toward the south gate with awe and respect.
But there was no time to spare.
The Spartan king rejoined the front lines, rallying his forces to intercept the oncoming Laḫmu.
Though Kukulkan's divine strike had cleansed a vast swath of land, the ghosts and Laḫmu that had skirted around the inferno were beginning to regroup.
The entire southern front—now lay defenseless.
...
(50 Chapters Ahead)
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