The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 575 - 599 Action

Chapter 575: Chapter 599 Action Chapter 575: Chapter 599 Action “By Moradin’s beard above…”

As the Dwarf exclaimed in astonishment, the figure of the Demi-god also crashed to the ground. Lancelot still remembered when he threw Casalilia’s super bomb made by the Goblin Phil. That time, the explosive device weighing over two hundred pounds tore every living thing within a fifty-foot radius to shreds, and Gorgiad’s impact upon landing now was hardly any less devastating.

As the Demi-god hit the ground, he struck the floor with his Warhammer, causing golden lightning arcs to burst forth from the hammer’s head, spreading around like the shockwave of an explosion. All the enemies around him were turned to charred waste (except for that unfortunate one who was initially smashed into a pulp by a hammer blow), and even those farther away were paralyzed by the blast.

With that one strike, the Demi-god instantly killed five Frost Giants and incapacitated another fifty enemies. On the fierce battlefield, incapacitation equated to death, a simple cause and effect. Gorgiad was clearly very satisfied with his achievements, accompanied by a hearty laugh, he leaped into the sky like a bird once more and plunged toward another dense area within the enemy formation.

“Is this the strength of a True God?” muttered Kalalin, “It’s like he’s toying with them…”

The Demi-god dove into the enemy ranks once again, triggering another explosion of electric arcs. In terms of numbers, the Frost Giants who were loyal to the Abyssal Lord had a decent advantage, but unfortunately, war is never a simple game of numbers, and even Kalalin, who knew nothing of combat, could see that if Gorgiad continued with a few more jumps like that, the minions of the Abyssal Lord would completely collapse.

A deafening dragon roar that was beyond the description of human monosyllabic language came from above everyone’s heads, Svafnir could no longer restrain himself. The White Dragon leaped down from the balcony of the suspended fortress, its massive figure quickly swept across the battlefield’s sky, and unleashed a conical breath of white frost towards the enemies below.

...

As an Ancient White Dragon, and also a mount (and pet) of an Abyssal Lord, Svafnir’s strength was not to be underestimated. Serving Kostcheqi, its Breath had evolved from the typical freezing energy of a normal White Dragon to a kind of evil and more direct frost of death.

And the Frost Giants, who were almost immune to freezing damage, instantly turned into corpses under the breath of the Ancient White Dragon, with the fire of life within them completely extinguished, without even a chance to let out a moan. Svafnir looked at its handiwork with satisfaction, habitually planning to fly upwards, waiting for its stomach to become full again.

However, a figure suddenly soared from the ground, rapidly approaching the White Dragon—it was the Demi-god Gorgiad. The previous two ground strikes could be explained by leaps, but at this moment, he was flying—with neither wings nor other limbs, but by magical levitation or divine power influence. Even though it was evident that his flying skills were not on par with the White Dragon, they were sufficient to neutralize the latter’s mobility advantage.

“Finally, you take to the air, you winged maggot!” Gorgiad chased after the White Dragon, beginning to condense a golden Javelin in his hand, “Try this on for size!”

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Although the Demi-god seemed to have the upper hand over the White Dragon, the latter had abundant combat experience and excellent instincts. The moment Gorgiad threw his Javelin, Svafnir avoided the Lightning Javelin with a sharp turn and swung its body, harshly lashing its tail, covered with hard scales like a crocodile, at the Demi-god.

Geogad had absolutely not expected this attack, and his whole body was whipped through the air, tumbling seven or eight times before stabilizing his form, a huge gash appearing from his back down to his waist. The Ancient White Dragon, like all predators, gave his opponent no chance to catch a breath, pouncing on the Demi-god like a flying shark.

“Action!”

Lancelot fiercely threw the Dimensional Bag onto the ground, while simultaneously pulling a Transformation Ring from his bosom and slipping it onto his index finger. As a creature that would make any adult human (regardless of gender) blush appeared in his place, his companions had already all dived into the Dimensional Bag. He grabbed the bag in his hand, then flapped his wings, flying towards the entrance of the Glacial Fortress above, carefully hiding his silhouette in the shadows of the peaks.

Thousands of feet away in the sky, the Titan Giant and the Ancient White Dragon were locked in a tangled battle, a scene that once again reminded Lancelot of memories that were not his own. Millennia ago, Giants and Dragons had erupted into the Millennial War, as the progeny recounted, with Giants and Dragons battling in every corner of the sky, the land, the sea. Scenes of Titans fighting Ancient Dragons were truly commonplace.

In the last moment, Geogad swung his hammer, knocking away the Dragon Claw that was about to touch his own body, and at the same time, he and the White Dragon widened the distance between them. He too was reminded of many memories battling Dragons; his hand produced a Lightning Long Spear once more, thrusting it viciously toward the back of Svafnir.

This time He did not miss, but His luck was not great, as it happened to hit several of the hardest scales on the dragon’s back and failed to breach the White Dragon’s defense. Svafnir let out a pained cry, once again flinging its tail in a violent motion, but this time the prepared Geogad dodged it in advance.

The battle between the Demi-god and the Giant Dragon would take a good while longer to determine a victor, while the transformed Succubus Lancelot had already reached the entrance to the Glacial Fortress. The terrace a hundred feet square beneath his feet was the very spot where the Ancient White Dragon had been lounging lately, and directly ahead was Kostcheqi’s lair—a fortress entirely made of ice blocks.

Lancelot wasn’t standing before the lair of an Abyssal Lord for the first time, but compared to the Mother of Demons’ Bone Castle, the Prince of Wrath’s Glacial Fortress was much shabbier: in many senses, it was just a giant block of ice hollowed out inside. Even from this close distance, one could see many cracks on the surface, leading one to wonder whether the den’s owner had a habit of smashing furniture when irritated.

However, with the master out and the gatekeeper wolf lured away, Lancelot removed his Transformation Ring and rushed toward the entrance of the fortress. But he had only covered half the distance across the platform when he was forced to stop in his tracks, for a troop of Guards was emerging from the fortress, meeting Lancelot face to face.

Among those coming out were three peculiarly-shaped Frost Giants, their bright blue beards and hair carefully fashioned into long whips, their tips tied with the bones of humans, or other humanoid creatures. Their eyes featured deep purple scleras and pupils that were much smaller than the norm, shining white.

These Frost Giants were clad in breastplates of metal, but didn’t hold any weapons in their hands, instead, each led a creature the size of a ferocious tiger. These beasts had hyena-like bodies, deer-like hooves, and disturbingly human-esque heads that were deeply unsettling. Their mouths were filled with at least thrice the number of teeth found in a normal person, and they emitted a stench that could be detected from dozens of feet away—a smell that reminded Lancelot of corpses soaked in blood and feces for a week in the height of summer. Even with his post-Foundation Establishment constitution, he nearly vomited from the foul odor.