Little Tyrant Doesn't Want to Meet with a Bad End Chapter 665.1: Beneath the Abyss (1)

Since their inception in antiquity, the Six Calamities garnered their fearsome reputation by decimating countless civilizations. It was beyond imagining that these ancient behemoths would one day stand as protectors of civilization.

A colossal engagement transpired upon the moonlit expanse.

On the terrestrial plane, tens of thousands of corrupted Fallen creatures bellowed, unleashing an aura of derangement as they surged towards their former kin. Behind them, shrieking, amorphous masses, many of which had already assumed human likeness, advanced.

Opposing them were the serried ranks of meticulously equipped human soldiers. Whether hailing from the Saint Mesit Theocracy, the Austine Empire, the Knight Kingdom, the Scholarly Nation, or the Rosa Merchant Confederacy, all warriors stood unified under a singular command structure.

Hovering above, the Six Calamities issued their roars.

Such a confrontation was unprecedented, even within the extensive chronicles of the Sia Continent.

Sire Darkness initiated the engagement first. Innumerable globules of incandescent magma descended from the heavens like a meteor shower, immolating the advancing Fallen.

Glacier Creator followed suit, its frigid essence spreading across the terrain, transmuting all Fallen unfortunate enough to make contact into crystalline effigies.

Tempest Caller strategically enveloped the combat zone with its winds, methodically dissecting and isolating the Fallen forces.

Shrouding Fog descended upon the shadowy Eggs of the Beast God, ensnaring them to prevent their interference on the battlefield.

Flooding Death unleashed torrents of curses, akin to piercing blades, aimed at the very core of the behemoths birthed from the Eggs of the Beast God, dismantling them.

Light Devourer silently siphoned all ambient mana.

The Six Calamities exerted a profound influence the moment they entered the fray, compelling the massive Eggs of the Beast God to direct their full attention toward their archenemies.

Ten of the Eggs of the Beast God assimilated nearby Fallen and rapidly metamorphosed into bipedal entities. These figures then charged at the Six Calamities, engaging them in fierce combat and wreaking utter devastation upon their surroundings.

The deafening cacophony of explosions and blinding flashes created an spectacle reminiscent of the world's final moments.

Bolstered by the intervention of the Six Calamities, the human forces below rallied their spirits and commenced their own assault.

Archers unleashed volleys of arrows comparable to darkening clouds, while the conjured flames from the mages' army spells blazed vibrantly in the firmament. Rosa's long-range weaponry rained down ceaselessly, and the Saint Mesit Theocracy activated its formidable offensive relics.

It was an all-out offensive, disregarding all cost, and it decisively shattered the Fallen's momentum.

Hundreds of arrows found their mark in the mutated knights, causing their eventual collapse onto the battlefield. Army spells incinerated the terrifying, mountainous congregations of flesh, engulfing them in flames resembling crimson lotuses.

The most significant vulnerability of the Fallen was their inherent lack of coordination, a failing for which they paid a grim price. However, it would be naive to assume that this represented the entirety of the Fallen's capabilities. Erupting from the arrow-filled skies and the devastating infernos, the true horror of the Fallen began to manifest.

Mutated knights exuded crimson steam, their grievous wounds rapidly regenerating. Shattered fragments of mountainous flesh coalesced and reformed themselves. Withered sorcerers brandished their staffs with guttural bellows, intercepting the incoming onslaught.

Origin Level 1 Fallen began to materialize in succession.

In response, the veteran Origin Level 1 human transcendent individuals entered the fray.

Holy Eminence John fixed his gaze upon the reformed mountains of flesh. Military God Layton glared intently at the desiccated enchanters. Friedrich and Astrid advanced towards the mutated warriors.

Each unleashed the unbridled force of their powers, holding nothing back, cognizant that this might well be their ultimate confrontation.

On this occasion, Principal Antonio opted not to accompany Astrid onto the battlefield, as a more crucial and demanding undertaking awaited him.

Spatial distortions emanated from his person as arcane runes flowed from his hands, resembling exquisite works of art. With remarkable dexterity, he directed the thousand spatial mages under his command to dismantle the very constraints of space, thereby achieving a miracle.

The combined incantations of the thousand spatial mages slowly tore open a rift in the fabric of reality, akin to the divine eye surveying the masses. Antonio raised his staff high, and the spatial chasm finally dilated to its full extent.

On the other side of this dimensional aperture lay the heart of the imperial capital.

Roel and his specialized unit of one thousand individuals felt a surge of tension. Roel first offered a subtle nod to the profusely perspiring Antonio before turning his attention to his own contingent. Then, raising his arm aloft, he charged towards the spatial breach.

"Depart!" he commanded.

Bearing the final hope of humankind, Roel and his team plunged into the imperial capital.

A millennium ago, humanity, carrying the vestiges of their civilization, made a desperate exodus from the imperial capital. Now, a thousand years later, under Roel's command, a legion of a thousand warriors has returned to reclaim this land, fighting for the very survival of mankind.

Destiny seemed to weave a perfect circle, as if all events had been meticulously planned from the start.

With heavy hearts, Roel and his thousand-strong contingent turned their backs on the brutal conflict with the Fallens, plunging into the daunting unknown.

Darkness enveloped them the moment they breached the spatial rift. Without the ancient structures on the other side to serve as beacons, they would have been utterly lost; it was towards these very structures that they now charged.

As they journeyed deeper into the rift, it expanded. Only upon piercing the horizon did their surroundings clarify, unveiling the magnificent scope of the city that had slumbered for millennia.

Time had ravaged the imperial capital, leaving it in ruins. Most timber-framed residences had long since crumbled, leaving only the stone edifices as silent testaments to the city's former grandeur.

Not a single weed dared to sprout between the fractured flagstones, nor did any tree find purchase within the city's confines. It was as if life itself had forsaken this place. Imposing defensive works, fortified with anti-erosion enchantments, stood sentinel under the lunar glow, resembling colossal guardians of a city forgotten by time.

Within the vast expanse of the imperial capital, Roel's thousand-man team was but a mere speck, yet their arrival forcefully shattered the silence that had endured for a thousand years.

The instant they emerged from the spatial rift, Roel and his companions felt over a hundred gazes piercing the gloom of the surrounding streets. The Fallens, having long detected the spatial anomaly, lay in ambush, poised to strike.

Over a hundred grotesque, mutated monsters unleashed roars and lunged towards them.

Nevertheless, Roel remained unperturbed by the sudden assault; he afforded them not even a flicker of his attention. His gaze swept over the desolate landscape, seeking their ultimate destination: the Capital Cathedral.

Concurrently, a hundred elite warriors from their ranks drew their blades, engaging the Fallens. They deliberately abstained from employing their powers, fearing that the pulsations of their mana might attract even more numerous foes. A fierce melee ensued, marked by the severing of Fallen heads and the spillage of human blood.

Yet, not a single warrior from the remaining nine hundred elites offered any aid. Their eyes were solely fixed upon Roel.

During Phase 3 of the Battle of the Edges, Roel was tasked with infiltrating the imperial capital, leading his thousand-man contingent to achieve a critical objective. Meticulous protocols had been established for every conceivable scenario, particularly concerning enemy engagements.

The soldiers were under strict orders to refrain from casting any spells until they reached the Capital Cathedral, to avoid awakening the dormant Fallens.

Furthermore, the thousand-man contingent was meticulously organized into ten squads of a hundred men each. When confronted by enemies, one squad would be dispatched to handle the engagement. Warriors from the other squads were forbidden from intervening, their sole directive being to press onward, ensuring the team's swift arrival at the Capital Cathedral.

Those squads left behind were entrusted with the formidable charge of defeating their adversaries and ensuring their own survival. This was the mission bestowed upon them.

Roel's personal mission was to reach the Abyss and bring an end to all threats with utmost haste.

Every second he shaved off his mission's duration directly correlated to an increased chance of survival for his comrades, and the united army positioned outside the imperial capital would be spared from incurring further devastating casualties. He understood the necessity of decisive action for the greater good.

Despite the imperial capital's immense size, Roel encountered no significant difficulty in locating the colossal Capital Cathedral, largely due to the invaluable map provided by Paul and his intrinsic understanding of the Abyss.

He had traversed the Abyss in the past. Even from thousands of kilometers away, he could distinctly perceive the Savior's aura – a palpable blend of madness and depravity. This aura had become even more pronounced now, as the Savior teetered on the precipice of awakening.

Amidst the cacophony of clashing steel and fervent war cries, Roel's team advanced deeper into the heart of the imperial capital. They encountered additional adversaries along their path, and each time, a contingent of a hundred warriors would automatically detach to confront and neutralize the threat.

Through this method of strategic escort, Roel rapidly closed in on the imperial capital's core. Towering structures blurred past as they navigated the desolate urban landscape.

Dull impacts resounded from the rear as blades met the flesh of the Fallens. In the distance, brilliant flashes erupted from the fierce clashes between the Six Calamities and the Eggs of the Beast God, illuminating the nocturnal sky. Faintly, the resounding roars of human soldiers could be discerned.

The intensity of the conflict escalated with each passing moment.

Having dispatched six squads, Roel and his remaining team finally reached their ultimate destination.