Chapter 509: Good day, people of Oceanis. I am Alonz
Rayland stood atop the western wall of the battered city, his heart pounding in disbelief at what he was witnessing. Mere moments earlier, he and his soldiers had prepared for a brutal, bloody confrontation against a massive demon horde. Their plan involved archers, mages, and every last ounce of will they could muster just to hold off the onslaught, perhaps buying enough time for the most vulnerable—children, elders, and the sick—to flee deeper into the city’s half-collapsed buildings.
Yet, in the span of a heartbeat, everything had changed.
A lone figure, a young man with white hair and an almost casual demeanor descended from the sky like a bolt of lightning. Before any of Rayland’s soldiers could release a single arrow or cast even the weakest spell, this stranger had charged straight into the demon horde, dispatching them in droves with nothing but his fists.
The entire spectacle defied logic. Indeed, Rayland’s mind struggled to grasp the level of power on display. Every time the young man’s fist connected, it left a demon crumpled on the ground—broken, gasping for breath, yet somehow still alive. The man was so precise in his strikes that it became obvious he was avoiding lethal force, choosing only to incapacitate rather than kill. Given the raw destructive energy he exuded, that restraint seemed even more astonishing.
"How can there be someone so powerful in this world?" Rayland murmured under his breath, eyes wide in bewilderment. The question echoed inside his head as he watched the young man neutralize hundreds of demons each passing second, never once faltering or slowing his momentum.
"Rayland, should we attack?" one of his deputies ventured, clearly echoing the doubt gnawing at many on the wall. Archers stood with bowstrings taut and mages clutched glowing staves, waiting for an order. But Rayland’s hand remained raised, signaling them to hold. His thoughts raced.
Rayland drew a deep breath, ordering his thoughts. Then, keeping his hand elevated only a moment longer, he finally lowered it in a gesture of ceasefire. "If we march onto that battlefield," he said in a measured tone, "we’ll only become a burden to that man. We can do nothing but wait and watch."
The relief among the soldiers was palpable. They had braced for a catastrophic clash that promised heavy losses, only to find the demons vanquished—at least in spirit—before the fight had even truly begun.
As the defenders looked on, the young man maintained his relentless onslaught. Each blow sent demons flying. One massive Abyssal, presumably the horde’s leader, was slammed into the ground with such force that it spat blood and ceased all attempts to rise. In under half an hour, every demon within view lay incapacitated, groaning in pain and crawling feebly if they could still move at all.