Chapter 137

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Chapter 137: Summons

The entire second day passed without incident, and the morning of the third day was the same. When the sun reached its peak on the third day, the spatial turbulence near the Abyss Passage slowly began to dissipate.

Drones hovered near the passage, providing Tasha with various perspectives through the watchtower. She gazed at the opening of the passage, waiting for a "sign."

The type of enemy that would come next was not entirely unpredictable.

After expanding again, the new enemies will be stronger than before. We can roughly categorize the monsters into three types: the melee enemies are stronger than the large Little Devil, the flying enemies are more powerful than the Death Crow and the Stone Demon, and the magic enemies are stronger than the Demon Spirit and Phantom Shadow. Victor still cannot pass through the passage, so the higher-level demon lords have not yet been able to enter the Primary Material Plane. The demons are generally classified into two groups, with one more likely to take shape and not too many variations.

The chaotic space turbulence is becoming calmer, and the abyssal aura from one end is spreading again. The scar in the air is twisting and distorting, the space on both sides seems like glued paper, easily tearing apart with a slight movement.

As if a pocket full of black smoke has been opened, billowing black smoke emerges. Little Devils and Will-o’-Wisps appear together, as the weakest combat units in the abyss, they also have their own advantages, such as numbers and the ability to slip through cracks. Just as the passage is restored, these old foes continuously arrive on the battlefield. Aryan’s army mobilizes and charges forward.

The region that has been calm for a day and a half is slowly changing, hinting that real trouble is yet to come. The clouds in the sky are twisted into spirals, with distorted cloud layers visible for kilometers. Griffins anxiously dig the soil, screaming loudly with knights struggling to hold them. Unicorns walk restlessly, nudging their companions with their bodies, trying to lead them away. Tasha’s ghostly avatars float in the air, sensing the surging magical fluctuations.

Magic-type demons.

Several bizarre heads popped out.

The pale faces gleamed, with long and comical noses raised in the middle, these faces were long and symmetrical, each subtly different. They resemble the masks of clowns from certain festivals in the southern part of Aryan, in fact, the clowns imitate them – clowns wearing the faces of Demonic Sorcerers as they roam the streets, symbolizing death following them wherever they go.

If you take off their masks, you won’t see a face, just a blurry mass of flesh. These are not masks, but their actual faces, these intermediate-level magic-type demons have horned faces like insects. Each facet of the face is angular, whimsical eye sockets emit eerie light, the moist feeling of the eyeballs is unsettling. The lower part of the face’s plates open up and rub against each other, making a rustling sound in the mouth, no one would want to see how their mouthparts work. The spellcasting of the Demonic Sorcerers is so fast that it is hard to follow, it’s not surprising since they have six hands.

Six clawed hands extend from their chests, weaving various spells rapidly as one, at the speed of a spider spinning a web, the vile magical energy gathers in the air and is then hurled down.

A variety of spells rained down like a storm, preventing any attacks against the Demonic Sorcerer from getting close. Some spells landed on the open ground, while others struck the warriors.

Soft water, under the control of the Demonic Sorcerer, turned incredibly sharp. Some warriors fell without any apparent reason, and it took a while before blood trickled from helmet-sized gaps. Blades of wind descended in spirals, and people felt a rush of air coming towards them, possibly saying goodbye to a part of their body. The land of Aryan was tainted by dark magic, sharp stalagmites rose abruptly, piercing bodies that couldn’t dodge in time. Even flames, in the form of successive fireballs, could shatter shields, engulfing those in flames.

Cries of pain echoed across the battlefield as people fell everywhere.

Many were not directly hit. A cloud of smoke, a pool of murky liquid, a wisp of fog… they landed not far away, only splashing on the skin. Injured soldiers grabbed at their wounds, areas touched by spells instantly sprouted blisters, with a decayed green color spreading under their skin. Even the most inconspicuous grazes could lead to dreadful consequences. Apart from the four elemental magic, the plague spell was also a specialty of the Demonic Sorcerer.

Flame shields repelled fire spells but were powerless against attacks of other attributes, their versatility too limited. The mechanisms of magic were intricate; there was no universal defense against all spells. Magic shields that enhanced resistance to various types of magic were rare and valuable, not something mass-produced in factories. Despite Aryan’s efforts, only the most versatile shields could be prepared.

But Aryan was not helpless.

Mercury, wings of green beetles, fragments of a magical shell, firefly grass, and a mixture of Magic Stone dust poured out from numerous test tubes. Magic plant seeds brought back from the Ancient Mage Tower successfully propagated in Aryan. In recent years, materials for casting spells were conveniently packed by wizards, following the requirements of each spell. Young wizards repeated the same incantations with unwavering focus, ignoring the screams of their comrades nearby, tuning out the imminent magic fluctuations. Their hands were steady, their pronunciation clear, the preparation slow but flawless.

The wizard’s team had gathered, with young wizards who had recently graduated from the Wizard Academy, lacking the expertise of seasoned wizards, appearing weak when fighting alone — but as a group, they were a different force.

If magical waves were a form of heat, people within a thousand miles of the battlefield could feel the warmth rising under their feet. Magic circles arose from the ground, shining like mercury, like pearls, like the faint light driving off pollution. Milky-white shields ascended from all directions, creating a semi-sphere that enveloped the battlefield.

When the huge Magic Shield rose up, countless spells hit it. Flames, water, earth, and air magic all fell on the shield, like a sudden rainstorm, bouncing off like raindrops. The shield absorbed the impact, causing the spells to bounce off as if hitting something incredibly elastic, dissipating in the air before losing their power outside the shield. The thin shield, resembling a soap bubble, remained undamaged, not even fading in brightness.

Little Devil, Will-o’-the-wisps, and Aryan’s guards could freely enter and leave the hemisphere, but no elemental magic could pass through.

The Paladin’s mount revved up, the heavy motorcycle roaring like a dragon as it charged towards all sides of the battlefield. They were large targets, both the riders and their vehicles, vulnerable to various attacking spells raining down until the Magic Shield was raised. The plague spells could still be cast, but the Paladin himself was immune to diseases. Their blessed radiance could to some extent repel the plague spread by the Demonic Sorcerers, making it the right time to join the battlefield and heal the wounded.

The storm of spells gradually slowed down. After a few minutes, for a brief second or two, there was a moment of peace as no attacks landed on the shield.

Instead, it was a frightening development.

While Little Devil and the will-o’-the-wisps continued to fall, more and more Sorcerers stayed suspended in mid-air, observing the semi-transparent Magic Shield. Their strange and eerie faces were solemn, with chilling lights flickering from the eye sockets of their masks.

No, it wasn’t a savage gaze; the Horned Demons were much more savage, nothing unusual among abyssal creatures. What was terrifying was…

Rationality.

Those were the eyes of intelligent beings, akin to the gazes of the wizards on the ground.

Yes, wizards are calm and wise, while Demonic Sorcerers are a type of demon, with a madness in their eyes that reminds you of abyss creatures. But they are also spellcasters, no longer just monsters, but intermediate demons whose souls and self-will grow in their bizarre bodies. Beyond their crazy desires, Demonic Sorcerers think and weigh the pros and cons.

So they no longer engage in useless attacks.

So they ponder.

The next moment, scattered attacks resumed as if they never stopped. If it wasn’t for Tasha’s precise and holistic calculations, those who only focused on a corner of the huge shield would completely miss this. Demonic Sorcerers continued their sloppy attacks seemingly unaware, like inflexible spell puppets.

The drones rushed forward. Earlier, the air force had been constantly suppressed by spells, unable to approach, but now they seized the moment when the Demonic Sorcerers slowed down their casting, launching suicidal attacks against the enemies in the sky. Most drones were shot down before they could get close, but a few managed to scatter the Demonic Sorcerers. Unfortunately, this delay did not last long, as soon the spells prepared by the Demonic Sorcerers descended.

Few noticed it – this spell was colorless, tasteless, soundless, and invisible.

No movie or show would design it like this, it’s not visually appealing or eye-catching. No game would design it like this, how would one make both sides aware of the invisible spell being cast? How would you give the attacked party a fair chance? But in a world where magic truly exists, spells that are unseen, unheard, unfelt, or even scentless do exist, without being overly complex.

Like the one in front of us.

Only magical fluctuations could prove its existence. These fluctuations, hidden amidst the chaos of spells on the battlefield and shielded by other Demonic Sorcerer’s spells, were hard for even those with magical sight to detect. They did not belong to any elemental magic; effortlessly passing through the massive shield and landing on the battlefield.

A soldier fell to the ground, breathing heavily, feeling weak and powerless. His weapons dropped from his hands, and the strong warrior seemed to turn into an old man, while Little Devil’s steel fork was raised behind him.

Another soldier fell, clutching his chest, staring in disbelief at the killer who was just fighting alongside him. The killer looked even more shocked than the dead. The warrior’s blade was stained with his comrade’s blood, and he tried to scream, but his tongue felt numb as the blade was raised again.

These incidents happened all over the battlefield. Unlucky ones died under the enemy’s or comrade’s weapons, while the more unfortunate ones felt a sudden chill, limbs numb, uncontrollably swinging their weapons. They were not completely betraying their side—manipulating a person completely was too advanced, costly, and ineffective. The attacks were directed at the demons, turning the once clear battle into indiscriminate violence.

There were curses of weakness, weakening strong people to be defeated easily. Curses of chaos, theoretically harmless but capable of causing great harm.

The reason why only drones could attack the Demonic Sorcerer was because cavalry, griffon legion, or dragons, as powerful as they were, would cause worse consequences once controlled. Such spells were unpreventable and had to be dealt with as they happened.

The magic environment of Aryan never fully recovered to its prime. While the number of professionals increased, their individual powers were not the same as before. Their endurance couldn’t match the past professionals, especially the spellcasters. Their magic was limited, slow to recover, and the wizards’ protective shields were on a countdown as they could not run for a long time; the minstrels faced the same issue in their spellcasting.

But they could counter moves with counter-moves.

Armored vehicles with huge horns were already hidden on the battlefield edge.

They had conducted enough experiments to find the best amplifiers that could resonate with the minstrels’ songs, the magic device’s power resonance to extend extraordinary strength, considering terrain, weather, and other battlefield conditions. The battlefield was divided into small sections covered by the corresponding amplifiers’ effective range. Once ordered, the armored vehicles could charge to a specific location.

Tasha noticed something strange happening with the Demonic Sorcerer just before the armored vehicles rushed into the battlefield. In a few minutes, they were all in position.

The roar swept through the area, which was becoming chaotic.

Jacqueline’s song had no lyrics, only melody, only tune, only the gentle magic that soothed nerves. The Calming Song, which dispels negativity, was not a specific song, but a medium for minstrels to convey emotions. It could be any song, using any instrument. The lead singer with fairy blood started, followed by other minstrels, turning a solo into a choir. The threads of magic converged, forming a delicate yet strong rope.

Invisible ropes pulled on the backs of the weak, whipping away the curse of weakness, restoring strength to them. The five-star ropes caught falling souls, and those under chaotic spells regained control of their limbs, as if coming out of a snowstorm into warm sunlight. The chilling cold dissipated, they fought to reclaim ownership of their bodies, then another wave of warmth covered their hearts, temporarily banishing grief.

The minstrel’s songs were just a medium; the real effectiveness came from different magics—so the choir was not singing the same "song." Among the different parts, there was not only the Calming Song to drive away weakness and chaos but also uplifting battle songs.

It’s not your fault; the encouragement in the battle songs is soothing the recently controlled victims. The real culprit is the demon in the sky; you are all victims. It is not a time for mourning now, do not give up your spirit and yourself, fight! Fight! Wash away the sadness with the demon’s blood!

Armored vehicles with horns roamed the battlefield, their onboard radio transmitting information, guiding them to avoid enemies that could destroy the loudspeakers and approach those in greater need of rescue.

The wizard and minstrel’s spells started a countdown when they began to use them. Simply defending would only lead to depletion, while on the other hand, the attack arrows were already drawn.

"Don’t die here," the nameless Shadow Witch said. "I have your body reserved, protect it."

"That’s what I wanted to say, Mom," Flame Witch Abigail laughed, "Don’t die yet! I’m still looking forward to our showdown next year!"

The magical environment revived, and witches no longer had short lives. The unknown Shadow Witch was still barely alive, for now she hadn’t taken over Abigail’s body, but that didn’t mean they would always get along peacefully – the unknown witch agreed to Tasha’s deadline to act, and next year would be her final chance. They would eventually fight, if they survived this war.

The witches bid farewell to each other before the battle, boarding the airship.

These semi-magical creatures had very high resistance to magic; they were not afraid of most curses and could withstand chaos and weakness. Protected by runes, the invisible airship carried them to the battlefield in the sky. While drones continued to divert the attention of the Demonic Sorcerer, the witches acted.

The firebird charged towards the abyssal wizard, this firebird was much larger than when Abigail first awakened. Its broad wings carried high temperatures; as it flew by, the airflow twisted, creating small whirlwinds that caused the Demonic Sorcerer’s body to sway in the air. It completely disregarded the spells cast at it and plunged into the densest area of demons, suddenly exploding.

This was not a harmless firework – the scorching flames licked at the twisted limbs of the Demonic Sorcerer, gnawing at its flesh, disrupting its spellcasting. Even as Abyssal monsters, with some resistance to flames, they were still disturbed and drawn in.

Reacting, the Demonic Sorcerer launched attacks; curses fell on the witches, but they remained unruffled. Elemental spells attacked the airship but were blocked by runes and shadows. The airship’s high cost and large size allowed for various resistant runes to be inscribed on its shell, also enabling the Shadow Witch to remain hidden. Countless shadows leaped among the airships, spells hitting a mass of darkness, disappearing without a trace.

Just as Flame Witch attracted a lot of firepower, the Echo Witches completed their spellcasting.

Ice Element condensed in mid-air, forming a floating miniature iceberg, two fists as large as a small house crashed into the demon masses, sending them flying. Pure icy frost surrounded the massive fists; the attacks came with freezing effects. Sorcerers hit were instantly frozen into ice blocks, which shattered into many pieces upon impact. The witch Sandblast wasn’t done, her hands turned into claws, veins bulging as she seemed to be dragging something from the void.

Ten meters away from her, an angry thunder elemental was being summoned. It was as tall as a two-story building and was immediately hit by multiple blasts from the Demonic Sorcerer. The furious elemental creature crackled with energy, turned abruptly, and anyone who had provoked its anger would not have a good outcome once it emerged.

The oldest witch among the living witches, Ophelia, was surrounded by small winged creatures no bigger than thumbs, resembling little fairies from fairy tales, but with sharp teeth. Beings specializing in magic allowed for summoning a variety of creatures, and among fairies, there were countless subspecies. The ones before her, without getting into lengthy scientific names, were once known as "mischief-makers."

"Go cause mischief, darlings!" Ophelia raised her index finger, adorned with sparkling gemstones, "Show those ugly creatures who’s boss!"

Hundreds of mischief-makers joined the battlefield, slightly larger than flies but more troublesome than wasps, even to those who weren’t human. Their magic wands could only cause a palm-sized numbness, but they could not be attacked, only repelled by natural enemies, another subspecies of fairies’ powder, something these interdimensional invaders hadn’t prepared for. During the summoning time, these little troublemakers were invincible.

With a single wave of the magic wand, groups of missile creatures could turn the entire Demonic Sorcerer to stone. Flight wasn’t a natural ability of the Demonic Sorcerer but a spell. If paralyzed without a pair of hands or a tongue to cast spells, they would plummet down with a thud!

A group of stone demons suddenly appeared in mid-air, surprising nearby Demonic Sorcerers because this wasn’t the area where the portal opened. The stone demons’ faces remained stiff as always, and as soon as they appeared, they lunged at their own kind, their stone arms grabbing the small bodies of the Demonic Sorcerers, cracking them in half.

"How does it feel to be taken down by your own kind?" Echo Witch Aphra chuckled.

Before the Abyss Passage opened to the Primary Material Plane, Aphra was the most useless witch; she couldn’t summon anything. She had once felt discouraged, thinking she was a crippled witch. But just two days ago, when the Abyss Passage opened, Aphra had an epiphany.

A witch’s abilities were predetermined, each specializing in a specific area, with different classifications among Echo Witches. Sandblast specialized in elemental creatures, Ophelia in magical beings, while Aphra focused on creatures from the abyss.

When the passage opened, her home ground also opened up.

Strange patterns kept moving on Echo Witch’s skin, tiny voices whispered in their minds, screamed, and then were suppressed. They were the masters of summoned beings, their bloodline commanding their slaves.

The breath of the abyss was thick outside the passage, and Aphra’s summoning pool was so close to her. While the excitement of other Echo Witches had passed, she was feeling her innate power for the first time in her life. How much demons could she summon? What kind of enemies could she control? Let’s try slowly. In front of the gates of the abyss, Aphra showed a crazy and joyful smile.