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A meteor streaked across the distant sky—but it wasn't a real meteor. It was a member of the Abyssal Judicator Corps rushing in from another direction to provide support.
In the inner zones of the Abyss Battlefield—those closest to the portal rift—traveling by "pure magic" was extremely dangerous. Apparition might be fast, but even the slightest mistake could attract swarms of tailing freaks. Still, high-speed transportation was essential. In addition to the panda heavy cavalry as ground-based mobile units, the Abyssal Judicator Corps had also bred a batch of specially "customized" mounts.
Since using magic attracted pursuers, these mounts abandoned the typical magical flight used by conventional magical creatures. Whether it was Thestrals, Pegasi, Thunderbirds, or Dragons, most flying magical beasts did not rely purely on wing power to fly. However, there are plenty of creatures capable of flying through raw physical strength alone—ordinary birds without any magical abilities do it all the time.
Magical energy reinforced their bodies, allowing them to unleash physical strength at several or even dozens of times their normal limits.
Brute force flies bricks—this saying has always been gospel in the magical world.
Harry naturally spotted the meteor-like streaks converging from all directions. With his half-dragon form's incredible vision, he could clearly make out the distant specks—each was a wizard riding a miniature dragon.
Small dragon species weren't particularly numerous in the magical world. The most famous was the Venomfang Dragon, known for the deadly poison in its fangs. Adults grew no larger than fifteen feet, most averaging under twelve. When standing upright, they weren't even as tall as Hagrid, and they rarely weighed more than a hundred kilograms.
But the "dragons" this group was riding were even smaller. Their short, flat tails resembled ship rudders, and their wingspans were nearly double their body length—twenty feet wide on a body barely ten feet long when wings were folded. Harry couldn't shake the feeling that one punch might shatter these creatures entirely.
Despite their tiny builds and odd proportions, their speed was terrifying. Even hawks in a dive only reached about 300 km/h—but these creatures were flying at that speed in level flight. Every wingbeat generated a burst of wind, and their compact bodies unleashed a level of force unimaginable to ordinary people.
But this was the magical world—nothing was truly surprising anymore.
As the meteor-like cavalry streaked toward the distress beacon, a booming male voice thundered from the distance. Broadcasting over such a large area was unwise, as it would attract more demon reinforcements—but it was necessary.
"No-fly zone within five kilometers. Space lock within 800 meters. Corpse explosion radius unknown. Immediate battlefield segmentation required. This is Squad 62. Four lightly injured. Captain critically wounded. Avoid the demon centurion with white horns—it corrodes metal rapidly. Prioritize killing the one with blue markings—it has a corpse explosion aura!"
As the voice echoed through the air, the aerial reinforcements quickly dropped altitude. At about five kilometers from the beacon's center, the meteors landed. Their mounts folded their wings and began sprinting on all fours, moving at ground speeds nearly as fast as flight.
Harry and Uncle Tian's team were still a distance away from the beacon. By the time they arrived near the site, support teams from other directions were already locked in battle with the demon horde.
Like nomadic cavalry archers, they demonstrated expert-level kiting tactics, swiftly mowing down enemies. The magical flames at the tips of their weapons never ceased. The cyclically-sequenced spell formations allowed for an uninterrupted barrage of curses. As long as their magical energy held out, these lethal incantations would repeatedly strike pre-marked weak points with precision and grace.
Having been warned in advance about the abilities of the three targeted demon centurions, the reinforcements didn't make any tactical mistakes. The location of the corpse explosion aura was quickly pinpointed. As long as the demon fodder was kept at least one kilometer away, they didn't need to overly worry about that disgusting effect.
The demon cannon fodder feared no death. In fact, their deaths only served to spawn more elite demons within the ranks. Using corpse explosions could be an effective way to rapidly reduce demon numbers—but the erupting bodies also caused the magic within them to disperse at an accelerated rate. This, in turn, fueled their ability to devour and evolve, making their progression wildly uncontrollable. Once a chain detonation occurred, it could easily trigger a blast spanning hundreds of meters—bringing about unnecessary casualties.
Over ten thousand cannon fodder demons already occupied the front line, and more scattered ones from all directions were being drawn in by the surging magical fluctuations. If the outer perimeter wasn't cleared, this zone could soon give birth to a fourth demon commander—a terrifying high-ranking Wanfuzhang.
Powder laced with the scent of sulfur was scattered over the corpses of the fallen demons. The moment it touched the ground, alchemical spiritfire ignited in a flash, burning away the residual magic energy in the corpses. Charcoal-colored embers drifted through the air, and under the spiritfire's control, the previously thick magical aura was compressed into a manageable state.
"Damn that immortal ancestor of his, I hate these freaks that blow up after they die—so damn annoying!"
Uncle Tian, who had just been swinging his iron staff with glee, clicked his tongue in frustration and holstered his weapon. He then brought his hands together, and as he spread them apart, ten fine threads of psychic energy stretched between his fingers.
"I'll Biu you scum to death with my damn Sunflower Manual! Eat this!"
Ten cold flashes of light whipped through the air. As Uncle Tian swept past the demon fodder, the needle-thin psychic threads precisely pierced the marked weak points on each demon's body. With a sharp, almost inaudible burst, the threads detonated, and the demons were shredded into pieces—reduced to scattered rubble on the ground.
"Take another taste of my Six Meridian Divine Sword! I BIU-BIU-BIU!"
Just moments behind him, the squadron reached the outer edge of the battlefield.
"Don't go in too deep—we'll handle the stray demons gathering around the perimeter."
Harry knew full well what his team was capable of. Even Uncle Tian hadn't dared to charge into the battle's core, so it would only cause trouble if they did. They were better off holding the line.
"This time, safety first. Use Qiu's position as the center point." Harry glanced at the terrain around them. "We're holding this canyon pass. Don't let a single stone-headed freak get through. There's a splinter group of about six hundred around a demon Qiānfuzhang ahead. Cedric, Phoenix—split up and distract the main group. I'll handle that big guy."
There were no heavy hitters to hold formation, but the squad had grown experienced in fighting smaller demon packs. They fired target-marking rounds, magically charged to highlight weak spots, and then swooped low over the demons' formation. The magical decoy rounds lured the restless cannon fodder into two separate flanks, making it easy to isolate and pick them off one by one. The demon commander who had originally stood at the center of the formation was now exposed—right in front of Harry.
His lance extended, its tip coated in a sharp iron-gray sheen of magic. With a heavy stomp, smoke erupted beneath him as a chilling gleam surged forward—
At that moment, the demon commander's rocky face seemed to twist into a cruel, knowing smirk. Just as the lance pierced through its chest, it turned its head a full one hundred and eighty degrees—revealing a second face, grotesque and missing most of its features.
(End of Chapter)