Previously on Ice Age Apocalypse: I Hoard Billions of Supplies...
Prince Anlite begins absorbing a powerful sacred gem, forbidding anyone from disturbing him. Meanwhile, humanity's elite forces, including Monk Soldiers and Knights of the Round Table, launch a brutal counter-offensive against the Tri-Eyed Clan. As the battle rages and the city burns, a new threat emerges: a legion of armored giants marching towards the human forces.
Devices resembling harpoon guns were wielded by the Tri-Eyed Clan soldiers, launching slender, barbed hooks that impaled the necks of their human foes. A flip of a switch saw these hooks retract, dragging the corpses back. This weapon was specifically devised for the hunt of humans.
In circumstances such as these, the utility of broadswords, lances, and heavy clubs paled in comparison to this specialized tool. The human soldiers finally grasped the reality—the true trial had commenced. The combat prowess and equipment of a professional military force were, by far, superior to anything ordinary individuals could present.
"KILLLLLL!!!!"
At this juncture, words became superfluous. Both factions harbored a relentless intent to annihilate the other. The two armies, one vast and the other diminished, surged forward in a headlong collision.
The consequence of their direct confrontation was dire for the elite human soldiers!
Precisely as Zhang Yi had observed previously, despite the sophistication of human weaponry, the soldiers, burdened by their inability to deploy heavy artillery, discovered their firearms utterly incapable of breaching the crude metal armor of the Tri-Eyed Clan warriors. Bullets, at best, managed to strike their knees, eliciting pained reactions and causing them to stoop.
However, each soldier of the Tri-Eyed Clan possessed the equivalent might of a reinforcement-type superhuman, their ability index exceeding 3,000 points. This was without even considering the 'martial artists' among them, who wielded extraordinary, unique abilities. Their already formidable physical constitutions, augmented by these superhuman faculties, propelled their strength to unprecedented levels!
On the human side, though their numbers were comparable to the adversary, they crumbled upon the initial clash! Common soldiers were reduced to the status of vermin, impaled one after another, akin to skewers of meat.
Only the exceptionally powerful superhumans were capable of mounting a desperate resistance, leveraging their unique abilities.
From an elevated vantage point, Lancelot and his companions, observing the unfolding carnage with impassive eyes, found their brows furrowed in contemplation.
"These individuals are entirely inept! I had anticipated they might at least instigate some form of disruption and lure out the formidable forces of Nasha. It transpires they cannot even overcome regular soldiers."
Mordred, the Knight of Rebellion, voiced his displeasure with a sneer. "After all, the disparity in size is simply too immense! If this nation possessed but a tenth of humanity's population, then... I dare not contemplate it."
If their population could achieve even a tenth of humanity's total, they could have effortlessly subjugated any civilization extant in the world during their time.
Mordred then directed his gaze towards the leader of their contingent, Lancelot, the Knight of Judgment.
"Vice-Captain, these fools are nearly vanquished. Shall we intervene or leave them to their fate?"
Bors, the Green Knight, offered Mordred a wry smile. "Since when have you concerned yourself with the lives of such individuals?"
Mordred exhibited a flicker of annoyance. "There are objectives these commoners still need to accomplish. Otherwise, should we simply advance directly towards the palace at the apex?"
Lancelot finally broke his silence.
"Precisely. Our focus remains on creating a diversion and seizing an opportunity to infiltrate the Hall of Holy Spirits—this is our paramount objective at present."
He elevated his gaze, fixing it upon the colossal palace situated beneath the grand dome. An intense premonition assured him that within its confines lay the ultimate prize of his current expedition. It echoed the same sensation he experienced upon first entering Atlantis.
"Let us advance! Let us purge this place!"
Lancelot proclaimed with resolute conviction.
The Knights of the Round Table surrounding him displayed expressions ranging from chilling indifference to cruel anticipation as they descended one after another. The moment to unleash their true might had arrived!
While the Tri-Eyed Clan soldiers were still reveling in the pursuit and slaughter of the humans before them, they suddenly felt an inexplicable heaviness encompassing their legs, as if an unseen force were constricting their calves, impeding their movement. Glancing downwards, they beheld the entire street transformed into a vast, viscous mire, their colossal forms gradually succumbing and sinking into its depths.
"What... what is this substance?"
The Tri-Eyed Clan soldiers struggled with increasing desperation, yet their frantic efforts only hastened their descent into the engulfing morass.
Mordred observed the unfolding scene from a distance, his lips curling into a cold smirk.
"After all, the disparity in size is simply too immense! If this nation possessed but a tenth of humanity's population, then... I dare not contemplate it."
This was his unique ability, [Muddy Swamp], a power that could transmute any terrain into a treacherous bog. Caught completely off guard by this unexpected manifestation of power, the Tri-Eyed Clan soldiers thrashed about in futile panic.
"Boom!"
Concurrently, from both flanks of the street, a sequence of explosive detonations reverberated from within the imposing edifices. From the fractured walls, erupting with fiery intensity, emerged colossal trees with astonishing suddenness. Bors, the Green Knight, a rare and specialized practitioner, commanded a plant-based ability, capable of summoning gargantuan trees for combat.
A figure clad in white descended rapidly from the heavens, traversing the emergent trees with fluid grace, before sweeping through the ranks of the Tri-Eyed Clan soldiers.
"Shiiing!"
A blinding flash of white light pierced the air with lethal sharpness.
"Thump!" "Thump!" "Thump!" "Thump!"
More than a dozen massive heads belonging to the Tri-Eyed Clan soldiers were severed, soaring through the air as fountains of blood sprayed skyward.
At the far end of the street, Lamorak, the Shining Knight, made a graceful landing. Her rapier, pointed towards the ground, allowed a single drop of blood to slowly descend from its tip.
With the Knights of the Round Table entering the conflict, the course of the battle swiftly shifted in humanity's favor.
After all, the Knights of the Round Table represented one of the paramount combat forces available to humanity.
Recognizing the perilous nature of their situation, the Tri-Eyed Clan soldiers under assault promptly retrieved signal flares and launched them skyward.
Brilliant yellow fireworks illuminated the deep purple night.
Upon witnessing this signal, the Tri-Eyed Clan soldiers still occupied with searching the adjacent streets for humans hastened their advance.
However, even the standard soldiers, along with several formidable superhumans, were swiftly reduced to cadavers under the relentless assault of the Knights of the Round Table.
The incandescent streets became congested with the immense bodies of fallen Tri-Eyed Clan soldiers.
Among these fallen were numerous high-ranking generals.
Lancelot advanced across their remains, his focus unwavering as he directed his gaze towards the Holy Spirit Hall.
“There’s still no sign of activity from the Holy Spirit Hall? Shouldn’t they dispatch someone with significant power by now?”
As if summoned by his inquiry.
A pair of black military boots emerged into view at the street’s termination.
“Thump!”
Each heavy footfall seemed to press down upon everyone’s hearts. Lancelot raised his head, his expression one of haughty coldness, locked onto the approaching figure.
From the second-floor corner, a pallid visage and a pair of dark, deep-set eyes became visible.
It was an enormous member of the Tri-Eyed Clan, exceeding twenty meters in stature—almost double the height of his brethren, even within their own kind.
Despite his immense size, his features were not repulsive; by human aesthetic standards, he could even be deemed handsome.
Possessing delicate and refined features, his skin was as white as though afflicted with albinism, complemented by a cascade of silver hair that reached his waist.
He eschewed the black iron armor worn by the typical Tri-Eyed Clan soldiers.
Instead, his upper body was exposed, covered only by a long, flowing cape.
In his right hand, he trailed a colossal greatsword, its movement generating a grating screech along the street as sparks showered outwards.
That weapon resembled a pillar more than a blade, its edges sharpened only slightly.
Yet, no one harbored any doubt that should it strike a person, the victim would be either bisected or pulverized.
Chidorian, the General of the Nasha Imperial Guard, had made his grand entrance.
