Extra: Yandere Milfs Obsessed with me!

Chapter 470: Sulyvhan the Conqueror

*Five years later*

Sulyvhan, now twenty-six years old, had reached an imposing stature. Measuring one meter ninety, his athletic build was molded in black plate armor that seemed to absorb the weak purple glow of the sky. His silver hair, long and tied in a high ponytail, whipped the ozone-laden air, while his eyes with black sclerae and silver pupils swept the horizon with a frightening neutrality.

Before them stretched the Black Plain, a desert of slag where nothing had grown for centuries. To the east, a moving and chaotic mass covered the ground to the horizon. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of demons and monsters formed a howling tide. Massive hobgoblins, with tanned skin and armed with crude black iron axes, stamped in the front ranks. Behind them, demons with scarlet red skin and horns curved forward manipulated dark flames that licked the air. Further on, colossal beasts, sorts of ebony rhinoceroses covered in armored scales, pawed the ground with their cloven hooves, ready to crush everything in their path. The air was saturated with an unbearable stench: a mixture of rancid blood and earth burned by demonic mana.

Sulyvhan stood motionless at the tip of his army, his hands resting on the pommels of his sword. He did not use a shield; his aura was his only rampart. To his right, Ashborn stood ready, his sword already drawn from its sheath, the tip pointed toward the ground. On the flanks, Silvernight and Stavenger, the two division commanders, finished adjusting the ranks of their soldiers. The human lines were tight, a forest of raised spears and shields. Each blade was surrounded by a bright energy glow, proof that Sulyvhan’s training in aura mastery was bearing fruit.

"They are more numerous than expected," said Ashborn in a firm voice, his eyes never leaving the horde. "They look like a swarm of bees."

"Numbers are just data, Ashborn. Discipline is reality," replied Sulyvhan in a monotone. "But our men are ready."

"It looks like they brought wyverns," noted Silvernight, pointing to the purple fire sparks intensifying in the enemy ranks. "If we leave them alive, our first line will melt."

Sulyvhan nodded, a sharp and sovereign gesture. "We will not retreat. Kill without hesitation... Do not let any of these creatures cross the perimeter of the citadel."

Suddenly, a demonic war horn, a shrill sound that seemed to tear the soul, rang out. As a single organism, the horde charged. The plain’s ground trembled under the steps of thousands of monsters, creating a thunderous rumble that made the human soldiers’ armor vibrate.

"Archers!" shouted Stavenger on the left flank.

A first volley of arrows, their tips shining with a silver aura, rose into the dark sky. The projectiles described a perfect curve before falling on the head of the horde. Hundreds of hobgoblins fell, the arrows piercing their leather carapaces, but the tide did not slow. It passed over the corpses of its own members without a backward glance.

Then, the two forces clashed in a crash of metal and flesh.

Sulyvhan was the first to strike. He sprang forward with insane speed. His body became a silver streak that sliced through the wind. His sword sprang from its sheath.

< Art: Sundering Eclipse - First movement: Crescent Moon >

With a circular movement of perfect amplitude, he brought down his sword. A giant crescent-shaped arc of white light sprang from the steel. The attack struck the first line of hobgoblins head-on as they prepared to raise their axes.

The effect was instantaneous and atrocious. The bodies were sliced cleanly at chest or waist level. Heads, still frozen in expressions of rage, rolled on the basalt. Torsos separated from their legs fell heavily, releasing cascades of intestines and black blood that formed dark, smoking puddles on the ground. The frequency of the aura was such that the flesh seemed to evaporate at the point of contact, leaving cuts so smooth they were unreal.

Sulyvhan continued to advance into the heart of the carnage, his gait of unparalleled fluidity. There was no superfluous movement in his gestures. He repeated the Crescent Moon movement, each rotation of his body cutting a new section of the horde as if it were made only of paper.

A group of minor demons tried to encircle him, their claws outstretched and their fangs dripping acidic saliva. Sulyvhan did not even stop to look at them.

An invisible shockwave exploded from his body. The discharge was so violent that the demons were thrown backward before they could even touch the metal of his armor. They crashed against the surrounding rocks or were trampled by the siege beasts that followed.

Suddenly, the air became burning hot. A large horned demon, measuring nearly three meters, threw itself at him. The creature carried a cyclopean mace surrounded by demonic flames that consumed the oxygen. It let out a roar that vibrated Sulyvhan’s ribcage.

"Die, little human!" shouted the demon in a guttural language.

The demon brought down its mace with a force capable of shattering a rampart. Being much faster, Sulyvhan had no problem reading the trajectory. He did not seek to parry the brute force; he performed a hip pivot, the mace brushing his shoulder and pulverizing the ground in an explosion of fire and rock dust.

Without losing his momentum, Sulyvhan responded with a violent sword strike.

The aura blade shot upward abruptly, starting from the ground and ending its course toward the sky. The sword sliced the demon from shoulder to hip. The monster did not even have time to stop its roar. The two halves of its massive body separated, falling on each side with a spongy sound of torn flesh and vital organs spilling onto the battlefield.

Sulyvhan did not look back. He lowered his sword for a brief moment to smooth his hair back with a mechanical gesture, a mocking smile stretching his lips.

"Ashborn! Silvernight! Do not let the siege beasts break the formation!" he ordered, his voice dominating the clamor of combat.

Around him, his generals were working wonders. Ashborn, with his sword, decapitated demons with impressive brute force, while Silvernight directed his men to riddle the monsters’ flanks with javelins. But the horde seemed inexhaustible. For every monster slain, two others took its place, driven by fanatical fury.

The demonic mana in the air is densifying..., thought Sulyvhan as he observed the tops of the hills where a horned demon stood.

He tightened his grip on his sword. "The real battle was only beginning, and the ground of the Black Plain was going to be saturated with your blood before the moon rose," he shouted.

He sprang again into the melee, a silver shadow slicing through the darkness, ready to transform this plain into a monument to glory.