Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 744

Chapter 744: Desperation
I moved forward with my group, strategically positioning ourselves to the side a bit to let the dogkin warriors take the brunt of the assault, but still going to the front where the horrible bloodshed was taking place.

My blade carved through one lionkin soldier, a barely-trained youth whose armor hung loose on his lanky frame. He hadn’t even raised his weapon in time. This wasn’t the sort of battle I was used to since crossing into these lands.

[You’ve slain Tharuk (Level 11). You’ve gained 20 XP.]

The next one fared no better. She screamed something about glory and her family as she charged, but her footwork was all wrong, and her stance perfectly displayed her inexperience. She died with the word ‘father’ still on her lips as a water bullet penetrated right through her skull.

[You’ve slain Sahira (Level 9). You’ve gained 8 XP.]

“This is desperation…” I muttered under my breath.

These weren’t just warriors.

They were hunters, butchers, elders with more patriotism than strength in their limbs, and so on. Lionheart had thrown everyone at least somewhat fit for combat into the fire, telling them they were either going out here to fight or have their loved ones massacred by the cruel invaders…

Which was true, to be fair.

But this meant that, unlike the other beastkin nations, who’d committed only their hardened, proven fighters, so that their people could thrive even after this conflict was done and dusted, the lionkin leadership had scraped the bottom of the barrel. And now they were hurling those dregs straight into the meat grinder.

Furthermore, desperation had its own kind of strength.

Their numbers alone slowed us.

I stepped to the side of a swing from a female lion roaring obscenities about my family and how she’ll eat them all alive before opening her throat with a flaming lasso of mine. Her dying gurgle was cut off by a sharp cry behind me: another one of ours had gotten himself killed.

The number of dead or immobilized bodies was becoming a problem.

I turned my head to the right and saw the wolfkin ranks barely holding against the flood pouring out of the opened gates. For every lionkin they downed, two more emerged behind them. Blood soaked the grass. The clash of steel and claws rang endlessly, accompanied by an extreme dose of blood-curdling screams and death-defying roars.

But the real devastation was taking place further behind us.

The sound coming from there wasn’t just a battle; it was straight from a horror movie. Screams that stretched far beyond what a simple wound should cause. Curses spat in arcane tongues. Bones snapping and regenerating all at once. The 25,000 members of the Consortium had met the Covenant in full force.

And it sounded like a fucking nightmare.

My instincts screamed to look back, to see what was happening, but I knew what I’d find. Twisted shapes, rotting magic, soldiers getting dragged screaming into pits of shadow. Even the hardened Consortium elite would be tested.

Things were not going well.

But what could I do?

I wasn’t a god who could sweep all his troubles away with a mere thought.

All I could do was fight to the best of my ability. To that end, I plunged back into the fray, parrying a blow meant to cave in my skull with my Soul Reaper, then impaling the attacker with a burst of [Icicle Barrage] to the gut. He dropped like a sack of meat.

But not all lionkin were weak.

A synchronized warcry rattled my bones as a wave of real warriors shoved through the ranks. They were massive, towering over their lower-level allies and armored in reinforced metals.

A few of them came straight in our direction. These weren’t people we could look down upon, probably not even being able to face them with our current levels that could be considered very high, but in this battle, we were middle of the pack. It was our classes that made us stand out, but I didn’t know if that alone would be enough to bridge the gap between us and these old monsters.

To make things even worse, the city’s defensive structures never stopped firing. Those goddamned enchanted ballistae and rapid-fire mana cannons kept bombarding the backlines, wreaking havoc on our rangers and supporters.

It made casting spells a big hurdle for me, knowing that if I were to once again show off with my great magical might, the automatic programming of these artifacts would prioritize targeting me. This is why I stopped going all out, which made them shoot at others instead of me.

But it was not the time for me to hold back. If I wanted a chance at victory, I had to go all out.

<Ayame, can you spare Lyra for a few seconds?>

<We’re already getting overwhelmed with her helping us, so no, we can’t spare her, but I’m guessing you have a plan to solve this exact problem.> came the response as she cleaved a lion in half.

<Naturally.>

<Go ahead, Quin. I believe in you.>

<Alright. I won’t disappoint. Kaelira, please protect my girls.>

<Leave it to me, My Lord!> she shouted without a single shred of reservation, stepping up closer to Ayame and the rest so that she could take the hits for both her team and mine. For a single passing moment, I watched this brave woman’s back who offered no rebuttals even as I more or less asked her to bleed for my lovers, potentially offering her dying breath so that they could live.

She might’ve been an artificer at heart, but this blue-haired tomboy of an elf was definitely a masterclass tanker.

I gave her a nod of thanks. Then reached for Lyra.

With a surge of wind magic, I grabbed onto her and launched us both into the air. As we ascended, I angled my body horizontally, gliding like a spearhead through the chaos while I adjusted Lyra’s stance so that she would plant her boots squarely on my back like a surfer, with the only difference being that she wasn’t riding a wave but a dragon.

I collected my mana into my hands, and then, I…

Burned.