Chapter 115: The Autumn of Adolf (Part Two)
In the distance, between the Demon Mountain and the Demon Sea.
A bright red light flashed, piercing his dry eyes.
Madame Kisliv, with her black beard, blinked and instinctively looked over.
The Chosen of Eternity stood at the highest position, swinging his Fire Wolf longsword forward.
This commander, who led the army of world destruction, vowed to annihilate the Four Gods, while Adolf was merely a stone on his great journey—insignificant compared to his goal.
The Chosen of Eternity, this great commander, did not swing his sword to send a large group of demons and demonfolk to try and break through to Adolf again.
Instead, he ordered the “mouths of the driven” to march forward, exterminating the wise beings that the army of destruction had swept away.
The Chosen of Eternity was long-sighted; he had foreseen the predicament of the insufficiency of the demon winds in the territory of Reik months earlier. Although he did not know why, he ordered that efforts be made to leave survivors.
Now he understood that there were too many demons gathered in the Reik territory; even if the mortal demon winds had already surged, they would not be enough.
And the “mouths of the driven” could satiate the demons. Souls could be consumed, and extreme emotions before death were also good nourishment.
The followers of color transgressions and the demons wielded whip-like stingers smeared with special poison, lashing at the mutilated backs of the “mouths of the driven.”
Even the most numb, the most unyielding, jumped up with a scream under this whipping, grabbing shovels and charging towards the walls of Adolf.
Many recognized this as the capital of the Empire, arguably the last bastion of the Empire.
Some veteran captives shouted in the crowd: “Let’s fight ‘til the end!”
The veteran, holding a stone high, rushed into the crowd towards the followers of color transgressions.
“Crack! Crack!”
Several whips lashed out simultaneously at him, striking his emaciated body, tearing open wounds that emitted pink smoke. The intense pain felt like a rusty, dull knife slicing through his nerves.
Physiological spasms pulled at his muscles. He fell to the ground, the stone he intended to use as a weapon dropped beside him. Under the whips, he screamed in agony, suffering endlessly.
Some individuals, like the veteran, resisted, but more rushed towards the capital of the Empire under this terrifying flail.
“I never expected that there would still be mortals who could resist my poison even a little.”
A demon of color transgressions, her backside extraordinarily plump and round, resembling a bee’s abdomen, with several thick thighs supporting her figure, making her look even more like a bee.
This bee-like demon of color transgressions, behind a veil, gently caressed her lips, softly exhaling: “Be gentle with my treasure.”
The followers of color transgressions parted the way, either infatuated or frightened, watching the “bee” demon.
The “bee” demon of color transgressions lifted her lithe thigh and turned the veteran’s cheek with her pure white hoof, caressing his chest lightly, humming softly: “Without the blessings of the false god Sigma, to resist my poison solely with willpower, how rare.”
She displayed an appreciative expression on her face, “You will make a very good experimental subject.”
Saying this, she flicked the veteran with her hoof, and his body instantly became as light as a feather, floating backwards like a leaf in the breeze, landing inside her tent. Outside the tent, a row of crosses stood, with living people nailed to them, their eyelids cut away, forced to watch as Adolf would eventually fall.
This would be the veteran’s fate. However, after the experimental value was exhausted, if they were still alive, they would be nailed to the crosses, forced to witness Adolf’s downfall. For those willing to die in loyalty, this would be unimaginably painful.
Enjoying the torment’s power emanating from the suffering souls, the bee-like demon of color transgressions gazed at the ancient, thick walls of Adolf, spreading her arms and softly laughing: “So many, so many souls, waiting for my torment, welcome me.”
The “mouths of the driven” were rushing towards Adolf’s city walls.
Adolf had a moat, and beyond the moat, there were layers of fortifications: roadblocks, spikes, and trenches. But under these days of intense siege, they had either been filled or removed.
Tonight, the task of the “mouths of the driven” was to fill the moat.
Outside the walls, prepared large shields were used to defend against the arrows of Adolf’s defenders. But there were simply too many “mouths of the driven,” and the large shields, propped up on the land, were already inadequate. Many were exposed within the range of fire, rushing towards the city walls.
An officer wearing a black feathered hat roared:
“Solders! Fire! Fire!”
Crossbow bolts and arrows ruthlessly shot down towards their compatriots below, knocking them to the ground, cries of agony spread everywhere.
Some soldiers of the Empire heard their hometown accents, their hearts softened, and they raised their heavy crossbows by an inch, letting their ammunition fly.
To conserve magic power and ammunition, the responsibility of killing these “mouths of the driven” fell entirely on the crossbowmen and archers; Adolf currently lacked various military supplies.
The officer with the black feathered hat noticed that the arrows fired were not as deadly as before. He said coldly:
“They have betrayed Sigma! Betrayed the Empire! They have been corrupted! Now they want to attack the Empire’s most solid and critical city.”
“Kill them!”
The soldiers roared, yet the dry corners of their eyes became moist, aiming at the chest of a “mouth of the driven,” and pulling the trigger.
The short crossbow bolt pierced through the “mouth of the driven’s” chest, and he fell to the ground.
The “mouths of the driven” braved the rain of arrows and rushed to the moat, dumping all the sandbags they carried into the water, then desperately ran back.
At the same time, many “mouths of the driven” fled in terror. The magical troops used the poisoned whips devised by the bee-like demon to constantly drive and whip them, forcing them to continue surging towards the city.
Some “mouths of the driven,” at the moat, unloaded their sandbags, kneeled down towards the imperial guards, raising their hands in prayer for salvation.
But the officer said they could not risk saving anyone; the city stood in the way, and furthermore, the demon folk had employed this trick before. Disguising themselves as old men, veterans, young girls, and children, to deceive the guards into saving them was not uncommon.
No one was saved.
Thus, they ran back and forth among the two armies, leaving one body after another on the charred land, the bright red blood staining the ground below them. They seemed to be tossing in a pot; in this tossing, the numbers grew smaller.
The cries gradually diminished, not only because many had died, but also because people became numb, numbly accepting their roles as sacrifices, driven towards the city walls by the demons’ whips, only to die under the arrows of their fellow countrymen.
To “inspire” the “mouths of the driven” to perform better and also to show off before the Chosen of Eternity,
the eloquent among the followers of the Lord of Deceit stood up, using loud voices to stir the anger of the “mouths of the driven.”
“Look, this is how your compatriots treat you. They kill you like livestock.”
“They won’t even raise their crossbows an inch, only wishing to kill you.”
“Look, they pour boiling oil on you.”
“They are all citizens of Sigma, but do they treat you as citizens of Sigma?”
“Go for it! As long as you can survive and return, you will receive the mercy of the Four Gods!”
The numb “mouths of the driven” looked towards the walls of Adolf, their gazes filled with a bit more anger. They roared, exerting themselves to throw sandbags into the city, dragging the corpses of their fallen comrades and tossing them into the moat.
With each splash they heard, their internal resentment decreased a bit, while their satisfaction increased a bit.
After three hours of “herding” the “mouths of the driven,” less than one-tenth of them remained alive.
On the ground between the two armies lay many wounded, unable to stand.
To save ammunition and out of compassion, the defending forces did not shoot those wounded.
The eloquent among them fulfilled their promise, gathering the remaining one-tenth of the “mouths of the driven” to bestow blessings upon them.
The demon of color transgressions arrived, pouring red sand upon them. The sand quickly sublimated in the air, turning into rolling red smoke, which infused into the mortals, causing extreme rage, bulging veins, and the loss of reason, unleashing beast-like roars.
Under the influence of the drug, the “mouths of the driven” crazily surged towards Adolf’s moat, and even when struck by arrows, they could not stop. They surged into the moat, filling it with their own bodies. One after another, they filled the moat, and the later arrivals stepped over the corpses, crashing into the walls of Adolf, frantically clawing at the walls with their hands, even biting.
Until one crossbow bolt pierced through the top of his head, he finally stopped and died as a human.
