A Journey That Changed The World.

Chapter 1503: Leave None Standing!

Archer and Ashoka greeted each other just as another swarm of undead attacked. He looked at the Tigress and commented. ʼʼThis looks bad, seems like the western lands have fallen to the Terravians.ʼʼ

ʼʼUnfortunely so,ʼʼ the woman replied while looking at the zombies being turned to dust by their cannons. ʼʼItʼs like every city within a few miles has been destroyed and turned into these things.ʼʼ

Once he heard Ashokaʼs complaint, he decided to thin the herd out to help the soldiers rest for a while and teleported to the air above the horde before appearing behind it, miles away. This fascinated him as there were so many undead that they covered the ground like a carpet.

The tide of undead dwindled, their moans fading into a mere trickle. Archer descended with a resounding thud, his heavy boots cratering the blood-soaked ground. He quickly opened a portal to the Domain.

Seconds later, Thalion, the commander of the Oathkeepers, appeared from a portal that opened nearby. Moments later, they aligned in perfect order in front of him, a formidable legion ready for battle.

ʼIʼm glad the girls created these warriors,ʼ he mused.

Following that, Archer watched the swarm shambling in the twilight, his lips curled into a fierce grin. He inhaled deeply, his chest swelling, and unleashed a torrent of searing dragonfire from his core.

The blazing stream roared forth, a cascade of violet flames engulfed the horde, reducing their decayed flesh to smoldering ash in mere moments. The air crackled thanks to the heat of his dragon flames.

Archer instantly smelled the stench of charred remains hung heavy as he surveyed the devastation. Afterward, he let out a commanding shout, rallying the Oathkeepers. ʼʼSlaughter the enemy! Leave none standing!ʼʼ

At his command, the faint knights charged forward, an unstoppable tide of black-armored warriors, their towering forms clad in obsidian plates that gleamed ominously under the night sky.

The undead horde, sensing the imminent threat, turned their hollow gazes toward the oncoming knights, but their brittle, rotted frames were no match for the might of the mana-created men and women.

Wielding massive, rune-etched greatswords, axes, and all kinds of weapons, the giant warriors carved through the enemy ranks, their blades singing as they cleaved through decayed limbs, shattering brittle bones.

Blood sprayed in arcs, painting the battlefield in a grim scene of destruction, as the knights pressed forward, undeterred by the writhing mass of undead. Archer hovered above the chaos, his piercing eyes tracking the carnage below.

As rivers of blood pooled across the earth, a smile spread across his face, a spark of savage satisfaction glinting in his eyes. The efficiency of his knights, coupled with the ashen remnants of his dragonfire.

While observing the slaughter, he mused. ʼAt least we can clear Avalon now and rescue anyone still alive.ʼ

Following that thought, Archer surveyed the battlefield, his silhouette framed against the horizon. Below, the Oathkeepers Knights surged forward. The undead horde shambled to meet them, their guttural moans echoing across the desolate plain.

The air was thick thanks to the stench of rot and the faint crackle of lingering mana from his earlier dragonfire. Moments later, the Oathkeepers moved as they closed the distance to the fortress gates.

Towering above the undead, they carved through the horde like a scythe through grain. Weapons slicing through decayed limbs and splintering brittle skulls. Black ichor sprayed in chaotic arcs, staining the cracked earth.

Archer watched the carnage unfold as the Oathkeepers were a force of nature, their disciplined ranks unbroken even as skeletal hands grasped at their armor and jagged claws scraped against their shields.

The fortress loomed closer now, its iron gates battered and scarred, a final bastion of the necromantic forces that dared to defy them. His voice boomed across the battlefield, sharp and commanding. ʼʼPress on! We need to help the fortress!ʼʼ

Emboldened by his words, the knights surged forward, their blades singing a dirge of destruction as they cut a bloody path toward the fortress, leaving a trail of shattered corpses in their wake.

Hours slipped by like whispers in the wind as the Oathkeepers cut the horde down until half remained. Once that was done, the Draconian defender took over and rained down Mana Shell, which wiped out the remaining undead.

Following that, Archer returned to the womenʼs private quarters, a secluded haven where Ashoka, Inara, and Maeve unwound from the dayʼs demands. The air was warm, laced with the faint scent of roses and the soft murmur of water.

His keen senses picked up the gentle ripples from the bath, where Ashoka reclined in a hot bath while relaxing. Her fingers glided through her long, chestnut-brown hair, brushing it to clean it from all the blood.

In another room, Inara moved, her form flowing through a series of exercises that spoke of discipline and power. Her muscles flexed under the dim glow of the lanterns, each motion a testament to her years of training.

Archerʼs gaze lingered on the older lioness, captivated by the blend of elegance and ferocity in her movements. His presence, silent yet commanding, drew the attention of the two women.

Maeveʼs grey eyes lit up at the sight of him, propelling her to her feet in an instant. She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him in a warm, enveloping cuddle.

Her lips found his in a fleeting but affectionate kiss, a spark of warmth passing between them that seemed to brighten the room. Ashoka, stirring from her sleep, glanced over with a knowing smile.

As Inara hesitated, her usually sharp demeanor softened, a warmth flickering across her features. She stopped working out and greeted him, beaming. ʼʼArch! Thanks for helping out.ʼʼ

Archerʼs lips curved into a faint, reassuring smile, his face betraying a mix of relief and quiet confidence as he addressed the trio before him. ʼʼGreetings, you three, Iʼve swept through the area and cleared out the undead. You should have a couple of daysʼ rest before they stir again.ʼʼ

When the two women heard this, they got excited as Maeve commented. ʼʼThank the goddess, those zombies were becoming annoying. They were attacking constantly, and our Mana Shells are running low.ʼʼ

His eyebrow rose and scanned the fortress, only to realize the Dragonfire Company only had a dayʼs worth left. Archer sighed and informed the duo. ʼʼIʼll go restock it, by the time Iʼm back, hopefully Ashoka is out.ʼʼ

Following that, Archer teleported to the warehouse that was guarded by Legionnaires who knelt in respect when spotting him. He waved them away while stepping inside and noticing the empty pallets all over the place.

Without wasting any time, he waved his hands as a stream of mana poured out of him and started creating Mana Shells. After twenty minutes, there was no more room, shocking the soldiers who appeared in the warehouse.

ʼʼWow My Lord,ʼʼ a man muttered. ʼʼWe can kill so many undead using this stuff.ʼʼ

Archer nodded in agreement and chuckled. ʼʼThatʼs the point, Commander. Go tell the leader of the Dragonfire Company.ʼʼ

After completing his tasks within the warehouse, Archer stepped out into the open air, the heavy door swinging shut behind him with a dull thud. Without hesitation, he summoned his wings, their radiant shimmer briefly illuminating the darkening sky.

With a powerful beat, he launched himself into the air and soared above the fortress, surveying the surrounding landscape with a calculating gaze. His next priority was clear: strengthen the outer defenses before the undead arrived in force.

Descending beyond the walls, Archer began carving a series of ditches into the earth, carefully planned to disorient and hinder the incoming undead horde that would be attacking once again.

These were not simple trenches; each one was engineered with sharp angles, deep inclines, and sudden rises that would force the mindless creatures into confusion and slow their relentless advance.

The terrain itself would become a weapon. Channeling his mana through his hands, he extended his reach across the battlefield. The ground trembled and split beneath his power as he shaped vast, uneven troughs and treacherous ravines.

Some were so deep they seemed to vanish into shadow, while others were positioned to funnel the undead into tight bottlenecks, perfect kill zones for the archers and cannons atop the wall.

While Archer was busy with that, the soldiers and women watched him work, only to be shocked when they finally realized what he was doing. After another few hours, he was done and collapsed just outside the protective zone.

He left a path through it that the archers can target anything coming down it, allowing the Avalonian survivors to enter safety. While sitting there, someone appeared beside him as Nyx stepped out of a portal.

The Chaos Dragon beamed before jumping into his lap and cuddling up to him. He chuckled before greeting her with an affectionate kiss, making the woman happy as she squirmed in his lap.

Archer felt her ass rubbing against him prompting him to give her a knowing look as he commented. ʼʼAre you here to tease me, Nyx?ʼʼ