Beyond the Apocalypse -
Chapter 390: Freya’s retreat
Chapter 390: Freya’s retreat
The hive mind, ever-adaptive and relentless, quickly adjusted its battle strategy. The aerial drones, initially held back in reserve for a more strategic deployment, were now sent to the forefront. Such maneuver allowed the Leviathans to intensify their pressure on the Xaos Forces and the Turkin soldiers significantly.
While the regular ground drones possessed only moderate strength, comparable to Level 5 life forms, the aerial drones were far more formidable. These airborne units could match Champion-level demons in battle power, and under the hive mind’s guidance, their effect on the battlefield was amplified significantly.
Freya clenched her teeth as she swung her mace and shield with renewed urgency, her movements almost a blur. She was forced to accelerate her attacks, constantly fending off the relentless onslaught from dozens of aerial drones targeting her from every direction. Though a single drone posed no real threat to her, the sheer number of them on the frontlines made it difficult for her to focus on the Leviathan warriors.
A sharp pain shot through her leg as the viking princess sidestepped a strike from an insect-humanoid warrior. She looked down to see one of the aerial drones’ pincers had pierced her skin. With a swift, forceful blow from her shield, she shattered the drone into pieces. But the wound, though small, sent a chilling reminder of her own limits.
Exhaustion had begun to take its toll on the viking princess, and the slightest lapse in focus had opened her up to attack. That was extremely bad news for the Xaos Forces. If she, a power warrior with a Level 16 body and a Guardian Tier Life Level, was starting to slip, she knew the rest of the Shadowstrike Legion must be even worse, maybe nearing their breaking point.
The viking princess’s sharp eyes looked around, and as she spected, fatigue spread across the ranks. Even these elite soldiers, hardened through endless clashes with demonic hordes, were human, and prolonged combat against the relentless Leviathans was pushing them to their limits. Flaws began to emerge, minor errors and missteps, as their bodies strained to keep up with the demands of battle.
At that point, a golden glow illuminated the communication gems embedded in the gauntlets of every Shadowstrike Legion soldier. It was Overlord’s signal, and they all knew what it meant.
In an instant, the soldiers from the Shadowstrike Legion shifted their formation, no longer pressing forward but instead retreating in a controlled, organized manner. They tightened their ranks, moving back in unison, not giving the Leviathans any openings to exploit.
Freya’s eyes remained sharp as she moved alongside her comrades, her mace smashing through drones while her shield deflected incoming attacks. She carefully coordinated her retreat, trusting in Overlord’s guidance. The Leviathans intensified their assault, hoping to incite panic and disrupt the human formation. One crack in their unity was all the hive mind needed to transform an orderly retreat into chaos. Yet, the Shadowstrike Legion held firm. These were soldiers trained to remain calm under even the worst circumstances.
Years of rigorous military training and countless battles against overwhelming odds had forged their discipline, and their spirits would not shatter so easily. They moved back steadily, maintaining formation and refusing to break, even as the Leviathans swarmed around them.
As the Shadowstrike Legion pulled back, the Turkin riders shielded their retreat. They attacked the Leviathan flanks, preventing them from encircling the Legion. Meanwhile, the Golden Wave Legion approached, their presence lending a powerful sense of reassurance.
The golden-armored soldiers marched side by side, their energy radiating a quiet but potent strength. Just as they were about to intersect with the retreating Shadowstrike Legion, they split down the middle, opening a path for Freya and her soldiers to pass through and pull back to safety.
The gap closed once the Shadowstrike Legion was behind the Golden Wave Legion, and the golden soldiers took the frontline. With a resounding battle cry, they clashed head-on with the Leviathans. Grand Marshal Anglius led the charge, his massive halberd cleaving through drones with formidable force. Behind him, spells erupted from the mages in the rear, targeting Leviathan warriors and aerial units alike.
As the Golden Wave Legion plunged into the dark tide of Leviathans, it was as though they had entered a sea of shadows. But their formation held steady, honed by years of discipline and training. The clashing of weapons and the splatter of black blood filled the air, an unending cacophony of battle.
Anglius, towering above his comrades, was a beacon of strength at the center of the fight. His halberd moved with astonishing speed, belying its size and weight. Each swing crushed drones and sent waves of Force rippling through the enemy ranks. He was the bulwark against the Leviathan swarm, taking on the strongest foes with an unwavering resolve. At one point, he backhanded a charging Leviathan warrior, sending it tumbling across the ground.
Although known for his strategic prowess and leadership, Anglius’s strength as a warrior was equally remarkable. Already a High Champion, he had recently advanced to Level 15, shy of the Guardian Tier. His power radiated across the battlefield, inspiring those around him to stand firm.
Freya and the Shadowstrike Legion, now positioned in the relative safety of the rear, finally allowed their exhaustion to show. Their faces were pale, and their bodies trembled as they fought to catch their breath. Despite their fatigue, they remained focused, controlling their breathing and attempting to recover as quickly as possible. The battle was far from over; they had barely made a dent in the Leviathan forces, and the swarm continued to press forward, undeterred.
The Golden Wave Legion held strong, but the pressure was mounting. The unending tide of Leviathan drones, reinforced by the powerful aerial units, was pushing even these elite soldiers to their limits.
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Minutes passed, turning into hours as the cacophony of explosions and the relentless clash of forces filled the battlefield. The Golden Wave Legion fought with unwavering resolve against the stronger Leviathan units, their intense engagement grinding down both sides. The sun now blazed at its peak, casting harsh shadows over the grim landscape when a sharp light suddenly appeared on the gauntlets of the Golden Wave Legion. The signal to retreat had finally come.
Grand Marshal Anglius narrowed his eyes at the sight. A frown creased his face, for he still had energy coursing through his veins, and his golden soldiers seemed ready to carry on for at least another hour. That could mean the deaths of tens of thousands of Leviathans, yet he understood the decision.
Glancing to his side, Anglius noted the faint signs of fatigue creeping into the movements of the Turkin riders. It was subtle, barely perceptible, but undeniable. Even though they had been facing only drones, the men were strained after hours of continuous fighting, during which they had shattered over a hundred thousand drones. Without their support, the Leviathans would be free to execute a pincer maneuver on the Golden Wave Legion, which could spell catastrophic losses.
Resolving himself to the decision, Grand Marshal Anglius signaled his troops to fall back. He shifted his halberd from an aggressive stance to a wide defensive arc, aiming to repel the aerial drones that swarmed toward them and deter any advances by the Leviathan warriors.
The Leviathans, sensing an opportunity, pressed forward with bloodthirsty intent. Their cold, calculating eyes reflected a voracious hunger, eager to consume the human forces and add their strength to the hive. Although the human forces had endured some losses—fewer than three hundred Turkin riders and fewer than eighty Golden Wave soldiers—the overall casualty count was minuscule compared to the Leviathans. This discrepancy only deepened the hive mind’s determination to eradicate every last human on the battlefield.
As the Golden Wave Legion pulled back, the pressure on them intensified. Every step of the retreat counted, each becoming a test of their discipline and strength as they endured the relentless attacks from all sides. Yet, the Golden Wave Legion maintained a rigid formation, their training holding them together as they carefully retreated, each man and woman focused solely on the steps ahead, with no room for hesitation or missteps.
Here and there, soldiers on the frontline fell under the brutal onslaught of the Leviathans. Some were struck down by the razor-sharp claws of the Leviathan warriors; others were overwhelmed by swarms of drones, their armor breached, and their bodies torn apart. The sight of their fallen comrades stirred an instinct to retrieve their bodies, to honor their sacrifice. But the command to maintain formation was absolute, and even in the face of such brutal deaths, they held firm.
Their expressions were grim yet resolute, honed by years of rigorous training that had prepared them for moments exactly like this. Their minds remained razor-sharp, honed to an edge that could withstand even this nightmare.
Grand Marshal Anglius felt a pang of loss each time he witnessed a soldier fall. These were men and women who had fought beside him for years, comrades he respected and trusted. But he, too, could not afford to falter. He was the pillar of the Golden Wave Legion, the unyielding force that anchored their courage. As long as he stood strong, his soldiers would find the strength to endure, to resist the terror clawing at the edges of their resolve.
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