My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 876 - 877: First Line
A single realization struck Damon. If he prioritized reaching the Black Tower while the enemy maintained their tactical edge, their defeat would be inevitable and their efforts meaningless.
He held a theory on how to terminate this nightmare. In truth, he had two. However, he placed his bets on the first; the second was a grim alternative he preferred not to contemplate.
For the moment, however, victory over the enemy was the only priority.
Damon thought back to the chess matches he played against his grandfather in Lumos. The old Grand Duke had been undefeated in every game. While Damon could provide a spirited challenge, he always found himself defeated on the board.
After one such loss, Damon had argued that a real battlefield made it impossible to regulate every variable and situation like a game of chess. War had no set rules to follow.
Furthermore, a commander lacked a bird’s-eye view of the carnage and could not perfectly control every piece.
His grandfather had conceded that point before offering a retort.
"But this is chess."
Since they weren't on a battlefield, why was Damon trying to apply the logic of war to the game?
Yet, right now, this was a battlefield.
And Damon possessed those two missing advantages.
His forces were currently weaker, outnumbered, and lacked intelligence, but he intended to change that.
From his position, Damon expanded his shadow perception. His awareness stretched for kilometers as shadows slithered through the streets, scaled rooftops, and seeped into crumbling ruins.
Still, the issue of communication remained.
Fortunately, every soldier bore Lazarak’s brand, and he could link with anyone marked by it.
It was then that Damon decided to take the reins.
He projected his voice through the brands, utilizing the mark's power rather than his own personal charm.
"I am Damon Grey, speaking to you through the brands on your skin. I am taking temporary command to coordinate our strike against the Black Tower."
To ensure his authority was recognized, he chose to align himself with Abellona and the commander of the Demon Heirs.
"My leadership is backed by Third Princess Abellona and Bakemon Baal."
Their coalition consisted of numerous factions, but the core was comprised of demons and goddess races—enemies who were now forced to fight side-by-side to survive.
"We must shatter their defensive line to pave a road to the Black Tower."
Damon lunged toward a pile of debris, hauling out a wounded member of the goddess races. The soldier was already receiving treatment from a Demon Heir after being struck by one of Seraph Null’s falling feathers.
"Those in the western district with long-range offensive spells, take the high ground on the buildings and await my signal. There is a concealed stockpile of potions from our original supply route nearby. Secure as many as possible."
Damon barked orders while simultaneously tracking the massive movements reflected in his shadows.
"Healers and tanks, support them. Claim the healing-grade potions and establish a medical station for the wounded."
He quickly issued a follow-up command.
"All archers and mages not stationed in the western district, specifically those in the eastern sector, meet me at the oasis. Everyone else, push toward the Black Tower."
Next, Damon reached out to Bakemon Baal, the leader of the Demon Heirs.
"I need the demons to coordinate with the fairies, fae, and any winged species to organize an aerial strike. Can you pull them together for my signal?"
Bakemon replied with a composed tone.
"Hmm. I can manage that. Despite being the son of the Lord of Order, I am at a loss for words. To think the day would come when proud demons fight alongside the goddess races."
Damon let out a scoff, unsurprised by the sentiment.
"Haven’t you realized? The world is ending, and this is just the start. The era is shifting, Bakemon. You either adapt or get left behind."
Across the battlefield, the severed head of a chained Apostle dangled from a length of metal. Bakemon stood over it, covered in blood but wearing a grin after slaying the divine foe.
"Yes, the world is indeed changing."
He looked toward the fallen youths of the goddess races who had perished fighting by his side.
"The world has lost its mind, and the sane have no place in it. We must all embrace the madness."
....
Damon arrived at the oasis.
The location had once been a marvel of beauty, featuring elegant canals and lush trees amidst the scorching desert city. Now, the water was stained crimson and choked with corpses.
The archers and mages were already waiting when he arrived.
Damon gestured toward a towering structure.
"Get to the roof!"
He reached the top in a single bound, and the others followed, fanning out across the rooftops.
"Prepare yourselves. You will all be targeting that direction."
He pointed toward the cluster of buildings that shielded the defensive line protecting the Black Tower.
Without pausing for questions, he used his brand to contact a different mage squad.
"All mages, use your spells to demolish the buildings in the eastern sector leading to the Black Tower. Fire on my command."
Through his shadow perception, he could see them beginning to channel their power, the gathering mana causing the air to ripple.
Damon grabbed the nearest mage.
"The moment those structures fall, the enemy line will be exposed. Unleash everything before they can raise their shields and barriers."
"Ready!" he bellowed over the chaos as the soldiers took their stances.
He then gave the signal to the western unit.
Orbs of pure destruction streaked through the sky, crashing into the buildings and reducing them to rubble. Before the dust could even settle, Damon signaled again.
The chained knights turned toward the wreckage, bracing for a second wave from the same direction.
Instead, a rain of multicolored death descended from behind them.
Magic from hundreds of casters erupted simultaneously, hurtling toward the now-exposed defensive line. The cover that had hidden them was gone.
A chained knight let his shield slip, his expression one of sheer terror.
"By the gods," he whispered just as the lethal barrage struck with a deafening roar.
At the vanguard, Abellona raised her spear high.
"Advance!" she cried out, and a chorus of hundreds roared in response as they charged forward behind her.
The first defensive line had been shattered.