Chapter 656 The First Loss
Victor's moment of uncertainty was abruptly shattered by the voice in his earpiece. Father Black's urgent message came through, a beacon of guidance amidst the chaos. "Victor, whatever you are doing, don't stop. It is working."
Back at Glenn's territory, Father Black was a picture of intense concentration, his eyes locked onto the monitors that displayed the unfolding battle. He had noticed a critical detail - the moment the undead commander had diverted his power to heal the primordial beast, a significant portion of the undead horde had faltered. Their movements slowed, some even coming to a complete halt, especially those further from the epicenter of the commander's influence. This observation confirmed Father Black's theory: the undead commander's power, formidable though it was, had its limits. Sustaining the primordial beast required a considerable amount of energy, consequently weakening his control over the undead army.
Armed with this new insight and bolstered by Father Black's encouragement, Victor's resolve reignited with a fiery intensity. He let out a primal scream, a defiant roar that echoed across the battlefield, reverberating through the air and striking fear into the hearts of his undead adversaries. With this roar, he summoned an even greater surge of cosmic energy. It crackled around him like a tempest, a visible manifestation of his raw power and unyielding spirit.
The undead creatures in his immediate vicinity, unable to withstand the sheer force of his aura, were obliterated, reduced to nothing more than a grotesque paste under the overwhelming pressure of his energy.
Then, focusing his fury and power, Victor unleashed his obsidian claws once more at the primordial beast. This time, his technique was not just an attack; it was an apocalyptic onslaught. The claws, now charged with even more cosmic energy, flew towards the beast with a speed and ferocity that were almost blinding. Each claw was not just a projectile but a miniaturized bomb, ready to unleash devastation upon impact.
The air was filled with a cacophony of sounds - the howling of the claws as they cut through the air, the rumbling of the energy surrounding Victor, and the distant, pained roars of the undead creatures caught in the wake of his power. As the claws reached their target, they exploded upon contact with the primordial beast, each detonation more powerful than the last.
The battlefield was transformed into a spectacle of light and destruction. Explosions lit up the darkened sky, casting eerie shadows over the desolate landscape. The primordial beast writhed and roared in agony as it struggled to withstand this renewed assault.
Meanwhile, the effect of Victor's attack on the undead horde became increasingly evident. As the undead commander's focus was drawn to sustaining the beast, more and more of his undead minions collapsed, their movements ceasing as the commander's grip on them weakened.
As Victor continued his ferocious battle with the primordial beast, another phase of the plan was set into motion. Father Black, with a keen strategic mind, issued a new order. "Nikky, let it rain!" he ordered.
Nikky's task, though seemingly straightforward, was vital. She was to lead an aerial assault on the undead army, now largely immobilized due to the undead commander's diverted focus. Her weapons of choice were not conventional arms but something far more insidious – barrels of acid, to be poured from the sky.
She and her team readied the helicopters and other flying apparatuses, including large, mechanically enhanced insects specifically designed for this kind of operation. The vehicles took to the air, their rotors cutting through the smoke-filled sky, moving towards their targets with grim purpose.
As the aircraft hovered over the dense gatherings of the undead, the barrels of acid were systematically released. The containers plummeted down, gravity guiding their descent towards the unsuspecting horde below.
Upon impact, the barrels burst open, unleashing their caustic contents. The acid, a potent corrosive substance, began its deadly work immediately. It cascaded over the undead like a wave of destruction, sizzling as it made contact with their decayed flesh.
The effect was both horrific and mesmerizing. The acid ate through the undead flesh with ruthless efficiency, leaving behind a gruesome spectacle. Skin and muscle tissue dissolved in an instant, exposing bone and internal organs before they too succumbed to the chemical onslaught. The undead, once fearsome in their relentless advance, now writhed in agony as the acid nullified their threat.
The air was soon filled with the acrid smell of the acid's work, a pungent, choking odor that was almost palpable in its intensity. It was the smell of decay accelerated, a scent so potent that those assisting Nikky, even from their aerial vantage point, could almost taste its vile bitterness on their tongues.
The stench was a mix of burnt flesh, chemical fumes, and the musty, rotten smell characteristic of the undead.
This smell hung heavily over the battlefield, a noxious cloud that served as a grim reminder of the cost of this war. Below, the undead army, once a seemingly unstoppable force, was rapidly being reduced to a mass of disintegrating corpses, their numbers dwindling under the relentless chemical assault.
Nikky and her team continued their operation with clinical efficiency, moving methodically across the battlefield. Each pass of their aircraft left behind a swath of destruction, further diminishing the undead ranks. In this desperate struggle for survival, they had found a weapon that turned the tide, exploiting the undead commander's momentary vulnerability to strike a decisive blow.
Back on the battlefield, Victor, now aware of the aerial assault, fought with renewed vigor, understanding that every moment he could distract and weaken the primordial beast and its master, he provided precious time for Nikky's mission to succeed. The battle raged on, a symphony of chaos and strategy, each move bringing them closer to a hard-fought victory.
The undead commander, though momentarily caught off guard by the coordinated assaults of Victor and Nikky's forces, was far from defeated. As a being accustomed to the ever-shifting tides of battle, he quickly adapted to the new threat. Sensing the waning power over his horde and the perilous situation unfolding, he reacted with a cold, calculated anger.
With a commanding gesture, steeped in dark power, the undead commander issued a new directive to the primordial beast. The creature, a monstrous embodiment of the commander's will, responded instantly. Its hundred purple eyes, which had been passive observers of the chaos, now ignited with an intense, otherworldly glow. They began to gather cosmic energy, a process visible as the air around them shimmered with a sinister energy.
The build-up of power reached its apex, and the primordial beast unleashed its counterattack. From each of its hundred eyes, blasts of purple laser energy erupted, streaking across the battlefield with terrifying precision. Each beam was a conduit of cosmic fury, capable of devastating destruction.
Victor, ever vigilant, reacted with lightning reflexes. He dodged the incoming blasts with a series of agile maneuvers, his form a blur as he evaded the deadly energy. "You will have to do better than that if you want to get me, you know," he taunted, confident in his ability to outmaneuver the beast's attack.
But the undead commander, with a chilling chuckle, revealed his true intent. "You are not the target," he said, his voice a sinister whisper that carried the weight of doom.
It was then that Victor heard the distant sounds of explosions. They were not the noises of battle he was engaged in but something else, something horrifyingly unexpected. Instinctively, he turned, his eyes widening in shock as he witnessed the true horror of the commander's plan.
Far off in the distance, where Nikky and her team were conducting their aerial assault, the sky was alight with explosions. The purple laser blasts had arced through the air, reaching the helicopters with unerring accuracy. One by one, the aircraft were hit, turning into fiery infernos as they were consumed by the blasts. The sky was filled with fire and smoke, a grim testament to the undead commander's cunning and ruthlessness.
"No!" Victor screamed, his voice a mix of rage and despair. He sprang into action, rushing towards the site of the devastation. His mind raced, thoughts of rescue and retaliation mixing in a turbulent storm. He had to save them, had to do something to turn this dire situation around.
The scene at Glenn's territory was a stark contrast to the chaos of the battlefield, yet it was equally charged with emotion and turmoil. The devastating blow dealt by the undead commander resonated far beyond the immediate site of the attack, reaching the hearts of those who had been watching from a safe distance.
Victor's scream of despair was echoed by the people at Glenn's territory. Their collective cry of anguish tore through the air, a sound that encapsulated their shock, grief, and helplessness. The monitors that had been their window to the battle now displayed a harrowing scene of destruction, the burning helicopters a testament to the lives cruelly snatched away.
Amongst the onlookers, many crumpled to their knees, their bodies unable to support the weight of their sorrow. Tears streamed down their faces, each droplet a symbol of their pain and loss. For them, this was not just a strategic setback in a larger conflict; it was personal. Those who had perished were their friends, family, comrades – people with whom they had shared hopes, dreams, and the grim reality of their fight for survival.
In Glenn's territory, death had lost some of its permanence; the possibility of resurrection within its bounds had provided a buffer against the finality of loss.
But outside these borders, death regained its sting, its irrevocable finality. The hundreds of lives lost in the aerial assault represented the first true casualties of their war, a loss that was both profound and irreplaceable.
The mood in the territory was one of mourning and rage, a volatile mix that threatened to overwhelm even the most steadfast. The stark reality of their situation had been laid bare - they were in a fight not just for territory or dominance, but for their very existence. Each life lost was a reminder of the fragility of their situation....
(Author's note: I have a confession. In My pursuit to give good content, this chapter was written By AI. as an assitant. What do you guys think. Was it good? Or was it a bit too much on the explanation. Where you immeresed or not)
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