Castrum Kremnos Outskirts, The Scorched Earth.
The battle had reached a fever pitch.
The Black Tide entities surged like an endless, filthy tsunami, crashing wave after frantic wave against the hastily constructed, still-unfinished defensive works. They roared, writhed, lunged, and bit, eroding every inch of the position with claws, fangs, and corrosive energy.
"Hold! Everyone, hold the line! Behind us is Castrum Kremnos! Our homeland! Not one step back!" An officer's hoarse shouts were drowned in the deafening cacophony of battle cries and explosions, yet they still spurred the soldiers to fight on without retreating.
Though the Rods of God, controlled by Phaethon, often swept across the battlefield like whips of judgment at terrifying speeds, each time precisely piercing and tearing apart the largest Tide behemoths; and though the occasionally falling "Heavenly Fire" could instantly vaporize a brief clearing in the tide. These immensely powerful attacks were ultimately more suited for pinpoint elimination of strong individual targets.
The countless, low-tier Black Tide creatures flooding in like a tide still poured forth relentlessly from the gaps between the "Heavenly Fire" strikes and the blind spots of the Rods of God attacks. Simply put... enemies were slipping through. A simple principle: if billions of ants pass by you, you can easily crush large numbers, but it's hard to stop the ants from passing altogether. And those smaller creatures, like maggots clinging to bone, continuously battered the teetering defensive line. The soldiers could only rely on flesh and blood and simple fortifications, resisting desperately with swords and spears.
Fortunately, Phaethon was simultaneously wielding the authorities of both Law and Earth. Law suppressed the monster respawn rate. An invisible gravitational force weighed down the vitality of the Tide creatures, making their movements slightly sluggish; the earth beneath their feet would sometimes rise to form temporary barriers, sometimes collapse to swallow small groups of enemies, greatly slowing the Tide's advance. If not for this, the torrent of monsters emerging from all sides would have likely already packed this ruined Castrum Kremnos to bursting, completely submerging it.
"Phaethon!" Phainon's voice came from behind. He had just cleaved three lunging aberrations with his sword, momentarily gaining a breath while back-to-back with Phaethon. "The situation isn't good! While you and I can keep charging through the enemy ranks thanks to our physiques, the battlefield is too vast! Those Tide creatures might be fodder we can cut down several at a time, but these ordinary soldiers... they're reaching their limit! Casualties have started!"
Phaethon swept out a sword beam, shattering a cluster of small monsters ahead. His expression was graver than ever, yet his voice was exceptionally firm: "I know! But we must hold! They must hold too! The core defensive facilities and the final alchemical grand array inside Castrum Kremnos will be fully operational in less than thirty minutes! That is the key to whether we can hold here! Until then, not one step back! Otherwise, all the sacrifices and holding on until now will be for nothing!" His words fell like cold, hard stone upon the scorched battlefield, and upon the heart of every soldier who could hear him.
"Quick! The next wave! A bigger impact is coming! Everyone! Brace for impact—!" On the watchtower, the observer's voice became shrill and cracked from extreme tension!
At the very moment this despairing wave was about to crash down once more—a sudden change!
*Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!*
Across the battlefield, without warning, countless vicious, blood-red crystalline spikes erupted violently from the scorched earth! These crystals were sharp, razor-edged, emanating a dense sanguine aura and the pure, aggressively potent essence of Strife! As if alive, they burst forth with precise timing from beneath the bodies of countless Tide creatures, instantly impaling, tearing, and shattering them like kebabs! This sudden clearing of the field instantly relieved the terrifying pressure on the defensive line by a significant margin!
Simultaneously, a steady, proud voice, yet carrying a familiar note of teasing, accompanied the eruption of the crimson crystal spikes, clearly reaching the ears of Phaethon and Phainon: "Hmph! What a sorry sight! Daring to call yourselves the so-called 'Deliverers' in such a state?"
"Heh..." Phainon and Phaethon were almost simultaneously taken aback, then exchanged a glance. The muscles on their faces, previously strained to the limit, involuntarily relaxed, even flashing several smiles of immense relief. Phainon even found the mood to retort in the direction of the voice with a tone laced with amusement: "Well, look who finally arrived? But... why not a grand entrance from the heavens? This is much more low-key than expected."
There, slightly behind the frontline, stood Mydei—or rather, the newly ascended Strife Demigod, now wreathed in dark crimson divine radiance, his aura more vast and domineering than ever—slowly lowering his hand that had guided the crystal eruption. Hearing Phainon's words, Mydei snorted coldly, lifting his chin slightly with the natural air of a master returning to his domain: "This city has always been mine! When returning home, one should always enter through the main gate!" As his words fell, more blood-red crystals surged from the ground like living things, precisely slaughtering any stragglers approaching the defensive line.
"Look! That's... the Castrum Kremnos Crown Prince?!" Okhema soldiers, noticing the startling change and that figure, couldn't help but murmur in surprise. The Kremnoan warriors, upon clearly seeing the newcomer, were stunned for a moment before their eyes erupted with unbelievable joy and excitement! No one knew who first, started it—a hoarse yet powerful shout that ignited the entire defensive line like a spark: "Son of Gorgo, Crowned in Blood!"
Then, ten, a hundred, until all Kremnoan soldiers joined in, banging their shields with all their might, unleashing a heaven-shaking, immensely glorious roar: "Son of Gorgo, Crowned in Blood!! Son of Gorgo! Crowned in Blood!!!" At first, it was only the Kremnoan people cheering excitedly. But soon, the Okhema soldiers were also swept up by the fervent mood and Mydei's formidable power! They too began banging their weapons and shields, joining the deafening chant: "Son of Gorgo! Crowned in Blood!!! Son of Gorgo! Crowned in Blood!!!!"
Cheers, the metallic clash of shields and spears, echoed like the most passionate war drums, thoroughly resounding across the bloody battlefield! The previously flagging morale, as if injected with a potent stimulant, instantly soared to its peak! Phainon watched Mydei, wreathed in crimson crystal dust, walking towards them with steady steps, and couldn't help but chuckle, teasing: "Well now, 'Son of Gorgo, Crowned in Blood'? That's quite the resounding title, Your Highness the Crown Prince?"