Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 508: Saving the city

Chapter 508: Saving the city

The city erupted into action within minutes. Soldiers hastily donned their makeshift armor, grabbed weapons ranging from crude swords and spears to sharpened bones scavenged from fallen demons, and rushed toward the western walls.

Civilians too weak to fight—elders, children, and the sick—were escorted to whatever shelters could be found. Some huddled in basements, while others crammed into half-collapsed buildings, whispering prayers for survival. The air was thick with fear, urgency, and impotence. There was nothing they could do other than wait and hope things would work out in the end.

Rayland stood atop the city’s west wall, flanked by nearly twenty thousand soldiers. His weathered face betrayed no fear, but the grim set of his jaw revealed the weight he carried. His sharp eyes scanned the horizon where the scouts had reported the approaching horde. Even from this distance, the sheer magnitude of the demon army was staggering. A seething mass of chaos stretched across the horizon, its grotesque forms a harbinger of destruction. Their numbers dwarfed the defenders, easily exceeding two hundred thousand.

The soldiers standing beside Rayland were a motley crew. Most had been farmers, merchants, and craftsmen before the apocalypse, and now they were forced to take up arms to defend their homes. Although many had risen within the Level System, over 95% of them were only Mortal Tier lifeforms. Despite their lack of overwhelming strength, there was a resolute fire in their eyes. Even if they did not have proper training, the brutal fight of the apocalypse had honed their minds and souls.

The demon horde advanced, their guttural cries reverberating through the air like a macabre symphony of death. The ground quaked beneath their weight, making it clear just how massive the horde was. Hulking brutes with claws like scythes marched alongside lithe, predatory demons whose razor-sharp tails glinted ominously in the dim light. For the people in the city, their grotesque forms defied nature, a cacophony of flesh and bone warped into unholy creations.

Rayland’s voice cut through the growing tension. "Hold your ground! These demons think they can take what is ours, but we’ll show them otherwise. Today, we fight not just for ourselves but for every innocent soul behind these walls. Outnumbered or not, we will not falter!"

A ragged cheer rose from the soldiers. It was not a cheer of hope or confidence but of raw defiance. They knew the odds were against them, but the alternative to fighting—a massacre of everyone they loved—was unthinkable. They would rather die on the walls than allow their loved ones to fall into the hands of the demons.

"Archers, ready your bows!" Rayland commanded.

The archers stepped forward, their bows creaking as they drew the strings taut. Their quivers were filled with bone arrows, each infused with what little Force they could muster. Though their numbers were few, their determination lent them strength.

"Mages, prepare your spells!" he added.

A small contingent of Mortal Tier mages stepped up, their faces pale but resolute. They began chanting in unison, their voices weaving together an incantation that caused their hands to glow with elemental light. Though their power was modest, their contribution would be vital.

The demons, sensing the defenders’ fear, let out guttural roars and quickened their pace. Their twisted grins spoke of their eagerness to rend flesh and spill blood. At the head of the horde slithered a gargantuan Worm Demon, its grotesque body undulating as it tore through the terrain. Its sheer size and speed struck terror into the defenders.

Rayland’s heart pounded, but his expression remained resolute. He could not falter. His people depended on him to lead. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand, preparing to give the order to unleash their arrows and spells.

And then, it happened.

"BOOOOOOOOOOM!"

A thunderous explosion rocked the battlefield as a figure descended from the sky, landing directly on the Worm Demon. The impact obliterated the grotesque creature, scattering its remains in all directions. A massive shockwave erupted, sending nearby demons flying like ragdolls. Bones shattered, and the air was filled with the grotesque sound of snapping limbs.

For a moment, silence reigned. The entire demonic horde froze, their expressions of savage glee replaced with terror. The defenders on the wall were equally stunned, their eyes fixed on the figure now rising from the crater.

It was a young man with stark white hair, his presence radiating overwhelming power. He was just one person, yet he generated an aura that suffocated the hundreds of thousands of demons.

The defenders could scarcely believe their eyes. A single man—no, a being of incomprehensible strength—had brought the demonic advance to a standstill. Who was he? What was he? Questions raced through their minds, but Vlad gave them no time to ponder.

His eyes glowed brighter, and beams of energy erupted from them, transforming into devastating cannons. The attack tore through the demonic ranks, incinerating everything in their path. The grotesque creatures shrieked in agony as they were reduced to ash, their remains scattered by the force of the attack.

Rayland and his soldiers watched in awe. The power displayed by this lone figure was beyond anything they could have imagined. He was no mere man—he was a force of nature, a living god.

But Vlad was far from done. He propelled himself forward with such speed that he generated multiple sonic booms, each one rattling the walls. He tore into the demon horde with his bare hands, his movements a blur. His fists shattered bones, ruptured organs, and sent demons flying. Yet, to the defenders’ surprise, he did not kill them outright.

The Xaos Kingdom had clear objectives: capture as many demons alive as possible. Vlad’s earlier display of destruction had been a statement of his power. Now, he focused on incapacitating the demons. Each strike left them critically wounded, unable to move but still alive, their vitality preserved for later use.

The battlefield was a chaotic storm of destruction. The once mighty horde descended into panic, their demonic instincts warning them they were against an entity much higher than them in the food chain.