Chapter 130: Trench Warfare

The High Elven trenches were already a chaotic slaughterhouse of mud, blood, and heavy artillery fire. The front line was completely pinned down by Silas’s steam tanks.

They never expected the true nightmare to come from behind.

A massive, blood-curdling howl shattered the air. The thick trees at the rear of the Purist encampment violently exploded outward.

"YOU CANNOT STOP ME!!" Rolf roared.

Rolf did not use stealth. The Silver Wolf hit the Elven rear guard like a thousand-pound iron truck. He was a pure, unstoppable blur of silver fur and visceral violence.

He crashed completely through a solid granite barricade as if it were made of fragile glass.

"Come and face me, you cowards! Today shall be the end of Vane Dynasty!"

His massive claws tore through silver armor, and his jaws snapped Elven spines with sickening crunches.

Rolf purged the pathway forward with absolute brutality, throwing broken bodies into the mud to clear the road for his King.

"He sure is enjoying himself. Now that I think about it, he must have been pretty fed up with all those machines in the Stratas. Good for him." I said as I stepped out.

I stepped out of the burning tree line. My heavy Ironclad boots sank into the bloody mud.

"We are surrounded on both sides! There is no escape for us!" an elven soldier screamed.

The harsh reality had hit them pretty hard.

I looked down into the sprawling trenches. Thousands of Elven soldiers turned around.

Their eyes were wide with absolute panic. They were trapped between a mechanical storm and a monster.

"Move The Blood-Crowned Goblin is here! Move it! Let me go!"

"I do not want to die!"

They screamed as they saw the death itself.

I did not draw a weapon. I reached deep into my soul and completely unleashed my newly awakened Law.

A heavy, suffocating wave of dark magenta mist poured from my armor.

The Venom of Desire rolled down into the trenches like a toxic flood. It washed directly over the High Elven ranks.

The results were immediate and absolutely horrifying.

The Purist soldiers with weak magical psyches dropped their elegant weapons instantly. Their minds completely shattered under the overwhelming weight of the feral domination energy.

Their pristine discipline vanished. Reduced to basic, ravenous animals, they tore furiously at their own armor.

They dragged each other down into the filthy mud, completely losing their minds to violent, uncontrollable lust.

"How barbaric! And they have the galls to call me a gutter-goblin."

The proud and elegant Elves abandoned the war entirely to assault one another in the dirt. It was utter, humiliating domination.

"Stop falling for these petty tricks, soldiers! Stay calm! You are stronger than this!" an Elven Commander screamed his lungs out to stop these blithering fools.

The higher-ranking officers and mages with stronger willpower managed to resist the psychic venom.

But surviving the spell was worse than falling to it. They backed away in pure, suffocating horror.

"No! Stop it! Get up from this horrifying Illusion!"

They watched their proud brethren squeal and writhe like beasts in the mud. They realized they had provoked a power they could not even begin to comprehend.

As most of the forces had dropped their weapons and were engaging in the lustrous activity amidst the chaotic battlefield, something was beginning to change about my Law.

As I marched forward through the chaos, my native Fire of Rage naturally ignited around my heavy armor.

But something was different.

The conscious Elves were radiating a heavy, paralyzing terror. As my crimson flames licked the air, they gently brushed against that ambient fear.

The bright red fire subtly flickered. The edges of the flames turned a shade darker, silently feeding off the dread of my enemies and burning slightly hotter.

I did not notice the subtle evolution of my Law. My glowing red eyes were locked entirely on the command pavilion.

Lord Sylas Vane stood in the center of the command trench. His pristine armor was stained with soot.

The Patriarch of House Vane watched his army act like breeding dogs in the mud. His Elven pride completely and utterly broke. He could not comprehend the sheer depravity of my magic.

"Stop him!" Vane screamed. His voice was completely frantic.

He turned his back on the frontline and sprinted desperately toward the inner fortified bunker.

"Vanguard Commanders! Intercept the Goblin! Buy me time! I will come back and deal with that gutter rat in no time. Let me prepare for this battle!"

Vane fled like a coward, leaving his strongest forces behind to die.

"YES, MY LORD!" the Commanders obeyed in unison.

Almost all of the armies were brainwashed by Vane by his purists ideology. They followed hi blindly as they really believed that this world shall be cleansed from the Impurities.

Four heavily armored High Elven Commanders leaped out of the command trench.

They landed heavily in the mud, blocking my direct path to the bunker.

They wielded glowing broadswords and radiated dense, high-tier Wind and Earth magic.

Kaelith, Nyssa, and Anise immediately fanned out behind me, raising their rifles to lock down the rest of the surviving Elven reinforcements.

I prepared to step forward and crush the Commanders, but a soft hand touched my heavy brass shoulder.

Lysandra stepped past me.

The tall Succubus folded her dark wings tightly against her back. Her glowing pink eyes locked onto the four Elven Commanders.

The chaotic battlefield around us seemed to freeze. A dark, terrifying smile spread across her beautiful face.

She recognized them.

"Well, well," the lead Elven Commander sneered. He gripped his heavy greatsword, trying to hide the tremor in his hands behind a wall of pure arrogance.

"The broken half-breed. Did you miss the chains we kept you in, Lysandra? Or did you just come here to spread your legs for a gutter goblin?"

Lysandra did not flinch at the provocation. Her B-Grade core flared violently, cracking the muddy earth beneath her boots.

"I was going to warn you to say your last words," Lysandra whispered. Her voice was cold enough to freeze blood.

"But you just wasted them."

Lysandra looked back at me over her shoulder.

"Go after Vane, my King. Leave these dead men to me."