Chapter 8:story (part 8);First Wave, Unusual Movement Of The Demons

"Prepare for battle," the king said in a cold, commanding voice that echoed through the war room. His presence was suffocating, a force of nature that demanded obedience without question.

"Understood," the voice on the other end of the communication crystal replied, crisp and unwavering.

The king turned his head to look southward, his piercing gaze cutting through the distance as if he could already see the approaching horde. Without another word, he vanished from his position, leaving behind a faint shimmer of golden light—a testament to his immense power.

The demons were two hours away from their destination, and their arrival would mark the official beginning of a medium-grade battle. The air was thick with anticipation, a palpable tension that gripped the hearts of every soldier stationed at the city walls.

---

South of the City Walls....

The soldiers stood in formation, their armor glinting under the pale light of the sun. The city walls loomed behind them, a towering bastion of stone and magic that had withstood countless assaults. Atop the walls, archers lined the battlements, their bows at the ready. Directly above the city gates stood a man flanked by two others—one on his left and one on his right.

The man in the center had his index finger pressed to his ear, a faint blue energy emanating from it. This energy was the same as the one that had enveloped the king's finger moments earlier, a sign of their connection through a rare and powerful communication spell. The energy flickered and faded after 45 seconds, leaving the man to lower his hand.

This man was no ordinary soldier. He was Erick Robon, the commander of the Golden Warrior Army, a position that placed him just below four individuals in the kingdom's hierarchy but above all others. His appearance was striking—black hair, black eyes, arched eyebrows, and a muscular frame that spoke of years of rigorous training. His golden armor, adorned with dark blue gloves and red shoulder pads, marked him as a warrior of unparalleled skill. Two swords rested at his waist, their hilts gleaming with intricate designs.

To his right stood Clora Redrick, the commander of the mage legion. Her fiery red hair cascaded down her back, and her honey-colored eyes sparkled with intelligence and determination. Her figure was the envy of many, and her red robes clung to her body in a way that accentuated her curves. In her hands, she held a staff topped with a crystal the size of an adult's fist—a weapon that had claimed countless lives.

To Erick's left was Jack Bidson, the commander of the archers. While not as physically imposing as Erick, Jack was handsome in his own right, with flat eyebrows and brown eyes that seemed to hold a quiet intensity. His muscles, though not as refined as Erick's, were well-defined, a testament to his years of training with the bow.

The three commanders stood in silence, their eyes fixed on the horizon where a dark fog was slowly creeping closer. The fog was unnatural, a swirling mass of black and red that seemed to pulse with malevolent energy. It was the harbinger of the demon horde, a sight that sent shivers down the spines of even the most seasoned soldiers.

---

"Erick, what do you think the king is thinking?" Clora asked, her voice soft but laced with a hint of arrogance. She twirled her staff idly, the crystal at its tip glowing faintly.

Erick glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Why ask me such a question, Clora? The king's thoughts are his own."

Clora smirked. "I was just curious. Don't you find it strange that the king is giving commands himself? He usually delegates such tasks to us."

Jack, who had been silent until now, nodded in agreement. "It is odd. The king hasn't taken direct command of a battle in years. Something must have changed."

Erick sighed, his gaze returning to the approaching fog. "Everything has been strange since the inscription master proposed that forbidden skill. But we are soldiers. Our duty is to follow orders, not question them. The king has his reasons, and I trust his judgment."

Clora muttered something under her breath, clearly unsatisfied with his answer, but she didn't press further. The three commanders fell into a tense silence, their minds racing with thoughts of what was to come.

------

Approximately 1.4 hours had passed since the king's departure, and the dark fog was now so close that the soldiers could see the faint outlines of the demons within it. The horde was mere minutes away from reaching the battlefield, and the tension among the soldiers was palpable.

But then, something unexpected happened.

The fog, which had been steadily advancing, suddenly came to a halt. For five seconds, it remained motionless, as if the demons themselves were hesitating. Then, without warning, the fog expanded, growing thicker and darker until it blotted out the sun. Just as quickly, it receded, revealing a sliver of the sky that had been hidden beneath it.

The soldiers erupted into murmurs of confusion and fear.

"What's going on?"

"Did they stop?"

"This has never happened before!"

Even the commanders were taken aback. Erick's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation. "This is... unusual. Demons don't just stop mid-advance."

Clora crossed her arms, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "Something's not right here. This feels like a trap."

Jack nodded in agreement. "We need to inform the king."

Just as the commanders were about to discuss their next move, a figure materialized behind Erick like a ghost. It was Anchor Veylen, the commander of the assassin legion. His appearance was as enigmatic as his reputation—slightly skinny, with piercing blue eyes, brown hair, and flat eyebrows. He wore ash-gray leather armor, a black cape, and twin blades strapped to his waist. His movements were so silent that even the most perceptive among them hadn't noticed his arrival until he spoke.

"Hmm, that is odd," Anchor said, his voice calm but laced with curiosity. "My team has already returned from their initial reconnaissance. The demons' movements are... unpredictable. I wonder what they're planning."

Erick turned to face him, his expression a mix of surprise and relief. "Anchor, you're late to the party. But your timing is impeccable. What did your team find?"

Anchor's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Nothing conclusive. The fog seems to be masking something, but we couldn't get close enough to identify it. Whatever it is, it's not natural."

Clora frowned, her grip tightening on her staff. "So, it's not just a random halt in their advance. They're hiding something."

Jack nodded, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the horizon. "This changes things. If they're planning something, we need to be ready for anything."

Before the conversation could continue, the king approached, his golden armor gleaming under the dim light. The commanders immediately bowed in unison, their voices echoing with respect. "Your majesty."

The king raised a hand, signaling them to rise. "At ease. I've seen the fog's behavior. It's clear the demons are up to something, but we'll meet them head-on. Anchor, I want your assassins to infiltrate their ranks once the next wave arrives. Gather whatever intelligence you can."

Anchor nodded, his expression serious. "Understood, your majesty."

"Also, I will like to add something to our formation," the king added as he looked at the approaching fog.

Erick nodded, though a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. "Your majesty, if we change our formation now, the demons might attack while we're in the process. Are you sure this is wise?"

The king didn't look at him, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "I'm only adding more archers. Instead of one archer per slot, there will be two."

Erick exchanged a glance with Jack, who immediately began relaying the orders. Within minutes, the number of archers on the walls had doubled from 1,000 to 2,000.

---

Five minutes later, the demons emerged from the fog, their grotesque forms sending a wave of revulsion through the human ranks. They had goat-like heads, twisted horns, and small, fleshy wings that seemed incapable of flight. Their eyes glowed with a malevolent red light, and their sharp fangs dripped with saliva. Each demon was armed with a variety of weapons—maces, hammers, swords, and bows.

The demons paused at the edge of the forest, their eyes scanning the human army. Then, as if driven by some unseen force, they charged forward with a deafening roar.

The human formation was ready. The front line consisted of shield bearers, their massive shields planted firmly in the ground. Behind them were spearmen, their weapons poised to strike. The third row was made up of soldiers wielding hammers and maces, while the final row consisted of swordsmen and those with lighter weapons like rapiers and scythes.

As the demons crossed the 500-meter mark, the shield bearers braced themselves, their shields slamming into the ground with a resounding *bang*. The archers drew their arrows, their movements fluid and precise.

"Normal shots first! Assault Team A, prepare to fire!" the king commanded.

The demons continued their advance, their numbers seemingly endless. When they reached the 350-meter mark, the demon archers stopped and unleashed a volley of arrows. The projectiles whistled through the air, slamming into the human shields with enough force to kill a normal man instantly. But the soldiers held their ground, their shields unyielding.

"FIRE!" the king shouted.

The human archers let loose their arrows, the sky darkening as the projectiles rained down on the demon horde. The first two rows of demons were obliterated, their bodies torn apart by the sheer force of the attack. The third row suffered heavy casualties, but some managed to survive, their regenerative abilities allowing them to heal their wounds.

"Archers B, switch positions!" the king ordered.

The second wave of archers stepped forward, their arrows finding their marks with deadly precision. The remaining demons fell, their bodies littering the battlefield.

---

It took a few more volleys for the first wave of demons to be completely wiped out. The battlefield was littered with their grotesque corpses, black blood pooling beneath them. The soldiers, though victorious, were visibly exhausted. The tension in the air was still thick, as if the battle had only just begun.

"Hmm, it seems that it's over," Clora commented with a relieved expression, though her grip on her staff remained firm.

But suddenly, the ground beneath them began to tremble more noticeably. The dark fog on the horizon was now moving at an alarming speed, and the faint outlines of larger, more menacing figures could be seen within it.

"No," the king replied promptly, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "This is just the beginning."

Erick tightened his grip on his swords, his eyes locked on the approaching horde. "The enemies are way stronger. Can you feel it?"

Clora raised her staff, the crystal at its tip glowing with fiery energy. "Yes, not only archers and warriors but mages too."

Jack scanned the area with his passive skill, his eyes glowing a faint green as he assessed the situation. "Indeed. This next wave is different. They're not just mindless beasts—they're organized."

Anchor vanished into the shadows, his presence disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. The king raised his golden spear, its divine light cutting through the oppressive darkness. His voice boomed across the battlefield, infused with the power of his passive skill, rallying the soldiers with unwavering resolve. "Hold the line! For glory and honor!"

The soldiers roared in response, their voices shaking the very air. The next wave of demons was upon them, and the battlefield erupted into chaos once more.