Wizard: Starting from the Skill Tree-Chapter 440: Rout

On this ancient battlefield, during the brief ceasefire, it seems to silently ferment deeper despair and curses.

Duke and Vivian have also taken a good rest over these three days, as they actually had little rest during the war.

At least compared to the Native Alliance Army opposite, they were relatively relaxed.

At least the manpower was sufficient, so no one had to stand guard at a post for three days and nights without even a chance to shut their eyes for a moment.

From this war, Duke learned a lot; whether it was Apostle-level battles or the terrifying rule-level power of the saints, it greatly broadened his horizons, giving him a more intuitive understanding of higher-level powers.

He also realized more clearly that in this level of warfare, the insignificance and greatness of individual power are simultaneously highlighted.

Insignificant in the torrent, great at the peak.

In plane warfare, individual power is very weak, but at the same time, it can also be very strong.

If the Devourer Plane had a Level 6 Life here, then the course of the war might have been completely different.

At least the United Legion could not have advanced so unscrupulously, but because the Devourer Plane lacked such top-level combat power, even a Level 4 Saint like Maragon could only reluctantly accept Oswia’s negotiation.

When individual power is weak, in war it is as insignificant as a feather.

But if individual power is strong enough, it can sway the fate of two planes.

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

As the first light of dawn, like a cold blade, pierced through the smoke and deathly mist over the Sobbing Blood Plain, the fragile truce agreement also came to an end.

The air was so heavy it seemed it could drip water, and a deathly silence signaling a storm enveloped the positions of both sides. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

No horns, no war drums.

What broke the silence was the sudden glow from the rear of the United Legion, a more intense and brilliant blue light than three days ago.

The main cannons of more than ten Destroyer Warships, together with several hundred reinforced magic-guided cannon clusters on the ground, roared destruction at the same time.

This time, the volley did not scatter the attack but, with absolute rationality and efficiency, poured all firepower to extremely concentratedly target several key and relatively weak nodes on the Native Alliance Army’s defense line.

The earth-shattering noise even transcended the scope of sound, turning into pure energy shock waves that pounded on everyone’s hearts.

The Native Alliance Army, relying on hastily constructed fortifications and remaining protective energy shields over the past three days, was as fragile as paper in the face of this saturation-style precision strike.

As the light faded, several enormous gaps appeared on the coalition’s defense line.

The fortresses, trenches, and arrow towers, together with the garrison troops that originally relied on the terrain, were instantly vaporized and leveled to the ground, without even a chance to scream.

In the next moment, a new round of iron torrent from the United Legion launched a full-scale assault with far more ferocity and orderliness than three days ago.

The initial wave remained a tide of slave creatures, replenished in number.

Yet they were no longer chaotic in their charge but precisely surged toward the breaches just blown open, under the cover of golems and energy weapons from behind.

Newly introduced Level 3 slave creatures took coordinated action with the secondary cannon firepower of the Destroyer Warships.

A Level 3 creature, resembling a giant spider capable of ejecting ultra-tough metal webs, coordinated with the warship’s energy cannon to instantly trap, stun, and kill a large group of Native Alliance Army soldiers and Awakened trying to seal the breach, then were overrun by the following tide of slave creatures.

The green-skinned orc troops formed a more elite assault spearhead, operating as squads equipped with explosive guns specialized in armor-piercing and individual energy shields. Under the heavy armor cover of the golems, they sliced into the injured part of the Native Alliance Army’s defense line like a scalpel, frantically expanding into the depth and dividing the positions of those still trying to resist.

In the sky, more Floating Airships provided unprecedentedly dense fire support; they blasted any Native Alliance Army units attempting to regroup for counter-attacks, leaving them in disarray.

The reinforcements of manpower and equipment the United Legion had gathered over these three days, plus tactics optimized based on previous combat data, formed an overwhelming advantage at this moment.

On the side of the Native Alliance Army, although the soldiers still mounted a desperate resistance under the remaining Awakened’s leadership, relying on their last will to defend their homeland, the gap in power had become an insurmountable chasm.

The frontline broke again and again, casualties rose exponentially, and structured units were segmented, surrounded, and annihilated.

A Level 2 Awakened ignited their life, turning into a flame whirlwind that burst into an orc squad, killing several orcs, yet they themselves were shot to pieces by an energy gun.

A company of Native Alliance Army heavy infantry held fast to a narrow pass, using spears and shields to stubbornly hold off the slave creature assault, until they were completely swallowed by the alchemy bombs thrown by golems from behind.

The rout had begun.

When sacrifice could no longer yield any gains, when hope was completely crushed by absolute power, even the bravest warriors’ will would collapse.

First, the flank units began to lose control, fleeing backward like the first cracks on a dam. Panic spread like a plague across the entire battle line.

"Defeated! Run away quickly!"

"The defense line is done for! Can’t hold out any longer!"

Cries and wails replaced battle cries.

The soldiers abandoned their weapons, broke free from the officers’ restraints, and instinctively fled to the rear, away from this deathly ground.

The coalition’s battle line completely disintegrated into countless panicked stragglers, each scrambling for safety.

The United Legion’s slave creatures hunted them down like a pack of wolves, mercilessly pursuing, tearing into these fleeing soldiers.

Duke stood on a high ground at the rear, watching this avalanche-like scene of collapse.

Under the war torrents, individual courage seemed so small and powerless.

The United Legion, with its terrifying and vast war resources and ruthless tactics, ultimately crushed all resistance with absolute might.

He knew that the Battle of the Sobbing Blood Plain had thus reached its conclusion, and the central gateway of the Buren Continent had already been flung open.

And that Saint Maragon, as well as any other possible high-level Allied forces, did not make another move.

They had adhered to the agreement, or rather, they were forced to accept the reality.

With the army below completely collapsing, even if they intervened, it would not salvage the defeat, only invite equivalent retaliation from the opponent’s Level 4 Mage, plunging the war into a deeper uncontrollable abyss.

The flag of the United Legion began to be planted amidst the ruins of the Sobbing Blood Plain.

While the routed Native Alliance Army fled desperately further inland.