Chapter 661: Executing the Plan
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 661: Executing the Plan
"Are you ready?"
Abel looked up at the sky. The yellow sands swirling over the Abyss still obscured the heavens, making it impossible to tell if it was noon or dusk—much like the uncertain future that lay ahead of them.
Vik was also looking at the sky. He missed the sunsets of his hometown dearly. A river ran right through that little village, and whenever the sun dipped toward the horizon, the crimson glow of the twilight would spread in layers across the shimmering water, like the blushing cheeks of a young girl.
Back then, however, he never actually looked at the beautiful sunset. Because there, by the river, beneath the creaking windmills, that same blushing girl would be sitting right by his side.
"Ready," everyone answered in unison.
"Good. Vik, keep the time."
"Yes, sir!"
Vik gripped his pocket watch tightly. The freckled girl on the watch cover was still smiling. He wondered if he would ever see the sunset on her face again.
It was a pity; the Abyss had no sun.
*
"Lo... Lord Solin, what brings you here?"
In the demon camp, a blue-skinned demon wiped the sweat from his brow, bowing and scraping as he hurried to keep pace with a tall figure.
The tall figure was encased in silver armor—hard, polished, and gleaming. It was a world apart from the scrap-metal junk worn by the common demons, a constant testament to the wearer’s noble status.
Most importantly, the skin occasionally visible through the gaps in the armor was not the blue or red common to Low-Class Demons. It was a pale complexion, similar to a human’s yet distinctly different.
A High-Class Demon.
The blue-skinned demon trembled slightly. He was the leader of this camp, with the authority to command over a hundred Low-Class Demons, yet in the presence of this lord, he didn't even have the courage to lift his head.
This was the natural pressure exerted by High-Class Demons over their lower-tier kin within the rigid hierarchy of the Demon Race.
"I am here to inspect," the High-Class Demon known as Solin said, his voice cold. "This shipment of supplies is vital. The Demon General will send someone to collect it tomorrow. To prevent any accidents, I have come to see it for myself."
"Wh-what accidents could there be?" the leader said with a forced smile. "Those idiots might not have much in the way of brains, and they might love drinking foul horse blood, but they wouldn't dare touch anything intended for the Demon General."
"You think I’m worried about those idiots?"
Solin whipped his head around, his haughty gaze treating the leader as if he were just another lowly fool.
"According to Komud, there are still many human remnants fleeing through our hinterlands. You had best be careful. If anything happens to those supplies, I will personally twist your head off!"
"Rem... remnants? Lord Solin, you jest. If they are mere remnants, they are hardly a concern."
The leader grinned, dismissive of the so-called human survivors. Humans were weak creatures who only possessed a modicum of combat power when they gathered in great numbers.
In a place like the Abyss, those puny humans would show their true, frail colors. They were fit for nothing but demon food.
What could a few stragglers possibly do to him? This camp was garrisoned by a hundred elite demon soldiers!
If any human were actually bold enough to try something, he wouldn't need Lord Solin to do it—he’d twist his own head off...
BOOM!
Suddenly, the sound of an explosion rang out.
"...For real?"
The leader’s cheek twitched. He snapped his head toward the source of the noise.
But before he could react, there was another.
BOOM!
As if specifically timed to slap him in the face, the deafening blast erupted from the camp’s main gate, kicking up a massive cloud of dust and causing the very ground to shudder.
"Alchemy bombs?"
The leader snapped out of his daze, his eyes flickering with terror.
Though he looked down on "frail" humans, the alchemical magic weapons they used had dealt a heavy blow to the Demon Race, especially to the Low-Class Demons who charged the front lines. He had personally seen one of his kin turned into a slurry of flesh and bone by a single, unremarkable-looking black alchemy bomb.
He knew exactly what was attacking them just by the sound.
His previous composure vanished instantly, replaced by a cold sweat.
"This is your 'absolute safety'?" Solin’s expression turned icy.
"No, no... Lord Solin, please calm yourself! This must be some blind fool looking for death. We’ll handle it in—"
Before the leader could finish, BOOM! A third alchemy bomb detonated. The camp gate—the one the leader had personally supervised and taken such pride in—collapsed in a heap of rubble before everyone's eyes.
Three of them!
Even the lowliest demon knew that alchemy bombs weren't something humans threw around lightly. This wasn't a suicide run by a blind fool; it was a coordinated assault!
"Useless trash!"
Solin kicked the leader aside and roared, "The gate is down and you’re still standing there dazed?"
"I'm going! I'm going...!"
The leader rolled several times across the ground before scrambling up. He ran toward the smoke-shrouded gate on all fours in a comical, desperate dash, leading his men with him.
Solin began to follow, intending to stabilize the situation just in case.
But after two steps, he stopped abruptly.
"Wait."
A sharp glint flashed in Solin's eyes. He muttered to himself, "The human defense lines have retracted. Those wandering the Abyss now are indeed only small groups of remnants. Would the habitually cunning humans really do something as stupid as striking a stone with an egg by launching a frontal assault on the gate?"
"So... what are they actually trying to do?"
*
"The explosions started."
"The timing is perfect."
"The sentries' attention has been drawn away. Let's move."
"Yes, sir!"
Amidst the wind and sand, several figures crouched low, carefully creeping along the base of the camp walls.
They were smeared with a green sap extracted from a common Abyssal plant. It was poisonous and caused intense burning and itching when applied to the skin.
However, the sap masked their scent, preventing the roaming Demon Hounds from detecting them.
Even Vik, who had never experienced such things before, gritted his teeth and endured the pain, advancing in silence.
"Wait."
Abel, leading the way, suddenly stopped and signaled with his hand.
Polly and Morse nodded in understanding. Limping but silent, the two slipped around the other side of the wall.
Soon, after two nearly imperceptible thwips, the two poked their heads out, stained with blood, and nodded toward the group.
"Move out," Abel commanded.
Vik followed closely, but his gaze reflexively drifted to the two Low-Class Demons who had been silently dispatched. A pang of envy hit him.
He wondered when he would become as experienced and skilled as Polly and Morse. Maybe then his legs wouldn't shake with fear when facing the brutal demons.
"The Low-Class Demons have all cleared out. Looks like Guri successfully lured them away," Morris muttered, wiping blood from his dagger.
"Yeah." Abel nodded. "We need to move faster. Guri won't be able to hold out for long."
Once they confirmed the area was temporarily safe, they quickened their pace and soon reached the supply depot they had scouted earlier.
In moments like this, the difference between humans and demons became clear. Items like telescopes, which were incredibly useful in war, were standard issue for almost every Imperial squad. For the demons, however, they were "luxuries" reserved for a tiny elite of High-Class Demons.
"Thank goodness the sandstorm isn't bad enough to kill visibility," Abel whispered gratefully.
"Goddess... Goddess be praised," Vik added in prayer.
"The Goddess has no power in the Abyss," Abel spat quietly. He ordered the others to keep watch outside the tents while he hurried toward the clustered wagons.
Most of the horses had already been slaughtered or penned elsewhere. All that remained here were the supply wagons, their black wooden crates stacked like a chaotic pile of giant coffins.
Abel moved with practiced efficiency. He pulled out a small magic scroll, unfurled it, and pressed it against a central wagon.
Then, he carefully took out a piece of inferior magic stone, no larger than half a fingernail. He licked it with his dry tongue and stuck it onto the scroll.
Magic scrolls could only be triggered by mana, and people with magic talent were few and far between. Thus, this setup was a rare commodity he’d secured through his own connections.
He started to miss the guy from logistics. The man hadn't liked war and had enough family connections to stay in a safe rear-line position... but when the Abnormal Mutation occurred, he had charged the encroaching demons without a second thought.
He deserved to be torn apart. He hadn't even killed a single demon piece of filth. He was a coward and a loser, even worse than a rookie like Vik.
Abel wiped his face hard, his movements growing even faster as he silently completed the final steps.
"Done."
A simple trigger mechanism had been set on the scroll.
In about three minutes, the pre-heated magic stone would release its mana, fully activating the magic scroll.
Simple, but effective.
Most importantly, three minutes was enough time for them to escape.
Abel let out a soft breath and checked the setup one last time. Satisfied, he prepared to withdraw. Every extra second spent here was a second spent in mortal danger.
"..."
But after only a few steps, Abel stopped. He turned back to look at the pile of black wagons once more.
He still couldn't understand why the demons had been able to capture these supplies in the first place.
Never let the demons get their hands on our scarce grain; it will become the stepping stone they use to crawl out of the Abyss... This was the consensus of the entire Imperial Army on the Abyss Defense Line, a lesson drilled into him since the day he enlisted.
Therefore, even if they were surrounded or overrun, Imperial soldiers would always burn the supplies at the last moment. They would never leave a single scrap for the demon filth.
All it took was a spark, an alchemy bomb, or a simple spell... These supplies, dried thoroughly for preservation, were incredibly easy to destroy.
And yet...
Right in front of him sat a hundred wagons of grain, captured intact by the demons.