The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 590 - 614 The Gap in Combat Power

Chapter 590: Chapter 614 The Gap in Combat Power Chapter 590: Chapter 614 The Gap in Combat Power Even after transforming into a petite humanoid female, the weight of this female black dragon still exceeded five hundred pounds. If Lancelot were still in the same condition as before he came to the Abyss, he probably couldn’t have walked ten feet.

Fortunately, he couldn’t be considered human anymore, either. His strength might not compare with that of an adult giant dragon, but it had already approached that of a giant. He switched the half-dragon woman to his back, and with the aid of the Elf Priest’s Divine Arts, he managed to jog up the smooth, icy staircase, rushing into the tunnel entrance they came from, where the rest of his companions were already waiting.

The three half-dragon women who had transformed from female dragons were also there, looking at Lancelot, who had carried the black dragon back, with complicated gazes. In the eyes of the colorful dragons, such behavior from a human knight was both foolish and laughable. Not only had he not asked what kind of reward there would be for this act in advance, but he also lacked the capacity to ensure that the rescued party would pay a reward afterward. It was something only a super fool would do.

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However, they couldn’t deny that had it not been for the human knight’s “foolish” act, their bodies might now be riddled with ice spikes that fell from the top of the nest. Of course, during the long years of imprisonment, the White Dragon had hurt them with things much worse than ice spikes, but those had not been lethal.

After rushing into the tunnel entrance, Lancelot felt the half-dragon on his back move slightly. His expression relaxed, about to set her down, when suddenly a sharp pain shot through his neck. The Protective Sword Shield automatically activated, and the half-dragon woman on his back was immediately thrown off. Lancelot spun around swiftly, with Frostslash somehow already in his hand, the tip of the sword pointing directly at the half-dragon’s throat.

His left hand, not holding the sword, gently brushed over his neck, feeling a row of clear bite marks, with faint traces of blood on his fingers. His companions also sprang into action at the same time. Bruto and Alamir stood by his side, shields in hand, Kalalin had a scroll in hand ready to launch, and the suddenly appearing Isabella stood behind the dragonkin, her dagger pressed against the back of the other party’s head.

“Is this how you treat your lifesaver?”

...

Lancelot watched the other party coldly. The black dragon’s face, covered in scales, showed no emotion, but she slowly opened her hands in a gesture of compliance, her eyes showing a plea for mercy.

“I think this might be a misunderstanding,” spoke the blue half-dragon with a pleasant voice. “Vinelika always bites any creature that comes near her; just now, she must have just regained consciousness and was not aware of the current situation.”

“Is she aware now?” Lancelot glared at the black dragon before him, “Still planning to bite me?”

The black dragon subconsciously nodded, then upon clearly hearing his second question, hurriedly shook her head from side to side, her urgent expression laid bare for all to see.

“A wise choice. I didn’t go through all that trouble of rescuing you just to kill you myself,” Lancelot lowered the sword tip, “So goodbye, ladies. Have a pleasant day. Kalalin, get us out of here.”

“Wait, you’re just leaving like this?” The half-dragon transformed from a Red Dragon spoke up, surprised, “Svafnir is surely no match for my father; they will quickly determine the victor…”

“So Pakos really is your father, huh?” Lancelot raised an eyebrow, “I believe he will surely win as well, and he won’t need our help. You should ask him yourself if there’s anything you want to know. Perhaps, we’ll meet again in the future.”

Behind him, Scholar had already summoned a bright blue Portal, and without hesitation, everyone filed through it. Lancelot, bringing up the rear, gave a bow to the four half-dragon women before leaping through. The Portal disappeared after he went through.

“What a strange fellow,” murmured the red female half-dragon, casually slapping her tail, “Perhaps just a mercenary hired by my father with his money…”

———————-

Once again, the old Dwarf Barrend stood fully armed on top of the city wall. However, unlike yesterday’s false alarm, today it seemed like the real deal.

Since last night, various rumors had scampered through the city like mice, from confessions of captives in the barracks to reports brought back by mercenaries from outside, and even wizards claimed they had gleaned the truth from crystal balls and copper mirrors. Unfortunately, these messages were inconsistent; some said Volcano Fortress was all well with nothing amiss, some claimed ‘Destruction Flame’ Visuvius had fallen in battle, and others even declared that the Demons had taken complete control over the Plains of the Abyss, poised to attack the realms of various Abyssal Lords.

The old Dwarf couldn’t tell the true from the false, but since yesterday’s emergency muster, the hundreds of forges in the Craftsmen’s District, which seemed like they would never extinguish, had not been lit again, and the Committee had issued orders to check readiness and prepare for battle at any moment. Moved by some strange intuition, the old Dwarf decided to have breakfast an hour earlier than usual, and it turned out to be a wise decision.

The Succubus Lord did not assign the Dwarf legions too daunting a task – their job was still to guard the stretch of wall where the Craftsmen’s District was located, some distance from the stone bridge crossing the Stygian River, bearing relatively less pressure in a siege battle. Chief Commissioner Adrick of the Craftsmen Committee, who also acted as the nominal Supreme Commander of the Dwarf legion, split everyone into two groups for shifts changing every two hours; and now, it was Barrend’s third time ascending the wall.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), before he was due to be rotated out again, enemy figures appeared on the distant horizon. Compared to the always chaotic Demons, the Demon legions presented a kind of disciplined formation that was (to the Dwarves) pleasantly viewable. The Beard Demons, with purple skin and long-handled cleavers, marched in neat rows, resembling a giant centipede, while the larger, High-Rank Demons strutted proudly beside these Low-Level soldiers; overhead, Thorn Demons covered in spikes circled above them, visibly following some aerial formation.

However, the most attention-grabbing was the Commander being escorting within the Demon Legion – a Deep Infernal wielding a purple-red skin, entirely clad in black Armor. The sight of that figure alone sparked an uncontrollable Fear in the old Dwarf’s heart, making him want to scream and run away, and the only thing that stopped him was not wanting to lose face in front of his companions.

Clearly, the other Dwarves around him were also enduring through clenched teeth for the same reason.

As the enemy drew ever closer, Barrend felt increasingly heavy-hearted. Thanks to the Demon’s orderly formation, he could accurately estimate their numbers – over three thousand, a terrifying figure. For the craftsmen, the military strength of Twin Bridges Town was no secret; two Serpent Demon Generals led two separate Demon Legions, with a total force barely over four thousand. But according to the widely accepted view in the Lower Planes, it would take a Tanari force with five times the numbers to barely match Bartez, indicating a vast gap in combat strength.