Lord of the Oasis Chapter 428: .Appearing Demon Lord
Wait for the final battle.
Even now, the fighting on the battlefield is extremely fierce, with fallen flowers everywhere, the ground is stained with blood, and the strong smell of blood has turned this place into a slaughterhouse.
In fact, the real climax of the battle has yet to come, and both sides are waiting.
Gibran watched from the sidelines.
I watched as the semi-demonized believer troop that I had cultivated with great effort was slowly wiped out.
These mad believers, who could easily defeat the East County Leader and nearly 10,000 elite troops, were slowly grinded to death by the troops led by Kant, just like grinding discs, they were crushed head-on, and they were suppressed with absolute numbers. .
Those half-demonized knights were nearly wiped out.
No way.
There are too many Sarandean cavalry around this group of knights.
The Mamluks, Sarandian riders, and desert robbers rushing up on their backs surrounded these knights, even if they fought for their lives, so that the number of knights and knight attendants of these knights was greatly reduced. sharply reduced.
What's more, there are the fanatical foot soldiers who were pressed and beaten.
They have no good defenses.
Under that black robe, most of the protection is only leather armor, not even armor.
Just a group of fanatical believers gathered, casually holding long swords and hatchets in their hands, relying on the power given by demons to transform into a terrifying semi-demon state, fighting with brute force and madness.
In the frontal counterattack of the elite Rhodok sergeant and the senior Rhodok spearman, the casualties were heavy!
Covered by several rounds of arrow rain.
Bombarded by two more rounds of spells.
By the porcupine-like defense of the Rhodoks.
The number of these mad believers dropped sharply faster, and more mad believers died in battle, eventually turning into corpses all over the ground, and all of them were killed in that layer of encirclement.
These fanatics are not qualified legionnaires, but they are excellent warriors.
All dead and no one fled and retreated.
Extremely heroic.
But Kant smiled sarcastically at this.
Of course he understands that this is not true heroism, but a behavior that comes from the intensified madness and bloodthirsty in his heart, and he has completely lost his reason.
All are still standing on the battlefield, the solitary figure.
Viscount Gibran.
Cause!
The blood mist is already extremely thick, because the ground outside this death penalty mountain has been penetrated by blood like a low depression.
There are corpses everywhere, and the blood flowing from the corpses is everywhere, like a small river, like a stream, more like a puddle, more like a swamp, more like a **** that sinks forever!
The battle has temporarily ended with the death of all enemy troops at the foot of the execution mountain.
Only Gibran remains in the Dark Red Sect.
Stand alone.
But no one dared to move forward, because the thick blood mist was almost like a substance, wrapping around him, and more and more, superimposed, like a terrifying demon from hell.
Bestuer retreats to Kant's side.
The desert robbers with more than 1,000 people left are still scattered and slowly wandering around the battlefield.
The Mamluks and Salander riders, who lost more than half of their losses, also lined up in a charge formation and aimed at Gibran from the side, waiting for an order from Kant to charge again.
Including those Rhodoks as well.
An array of broad shield spears.
The low wall is formed.
Empty faces, they stepped on the corpses of their companions or fanatics, moved slowly, and completed the formation in Gibran's direction, forming a dense phalanx that they were most proud of on weekdays.
Surrounded by senior Rhodok crossbowmen and Ravenston rangers.
The bowmen spread out.
A skirmish line.
The heavy crossbow and war bow in hand are ready.
Aiming ahead at any time, Gibran, who was less than 300 meters away, was covered with arrows.
If they want to, they can shoot directly now. After all, for these most elite bowmen, 3oo meters of long-range shooting is still a fixed standing target, and it is not a problem to hit.
But Kant gave no order to attack.
He grips the hilt of his sword.
The sword of the king emits a faint golden glow.
A strong positive energy filled his heart and soul, and it diffused out faintly, blessing the surrounding troops, forming a force that seemed to be substantial, as if it was going to crush Gibran.
But a faint force from the ground made Gibran insist.
No.
Exactly.
It is the power that permeates from the towering death penalty mountain behind me!
With the help of this ground, which has turned into a muddy battlefield like a slaughterhouse, the corpses of the countless dead and the remaining resentful souls have penetrated through the medium and imposed the power on Gibran!
Lord of the Demons of Hell, Lord of Sin, Flamethrasher, Florence!
Kant remembers the title.
He will not forget.
Because when Gibran said this name, Kant knew that his real enemy was the abyss demon lord who was sealed in the ground in the ancient times!
“Whoosh, whoosh—”
The gust of wind ~IndoMTL.com~ is a gust of wind from the side of Death Mountain, emerging from the void.
But the gust of wind carried an extremely deep negative energy, roaring towards the direction of Gibran, who had been entangled in the blood mist and was nearly eight meters high, and then accompanied by a faint grin, A figure appeared in the blood mist.
Dark appearance, faint firelight, flamboyant and hideous goat horns.
"Devil of the Abyss."
Kant spoke softly.
He is no stranger to the rapidly forming figure condensed in the blood mist.
Once in the ancient passage, I led the still weak troops to fight the abyss demon lord who had been sealed for ten thousand years, just got out of trouble and had not received much replenishment.
It was that battle that made Kant understand that the world is not that simple.
Now I have encountered it again.
But it's not much different from before.
This demon may be powerful, but Kant leads his troops, even stronger!
5o mages from the Empire of Ainfarth.
3o Lion Knights of Sarion Kingdom.
2o Royal Knights of the Kingdom of Swadia.
These top mortal troops are the real elites who are completely separated from the conventional troops. It is Kant who can come here, as a trump card, to brazenly play the trump card against the death penalty mountain battle!
“Hahahaha—”
The terrifying figure broke free from the blood mist.
In other words, the blood mist was steamed, and a fiery blood-colored flame burned on the huge demon body mountain, from the goat's horned head, to the sturdy legs, and the longer behind him. The tail whipping the ground.
And in his hand, he held tightly, a long whip made of scarlet flames.
The demon lord from Death Mountain.
Frensus! ()
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