Chapter 687: The final battle of the Korokor Mountains
Once again, the Korokor Mountain soldiers marched beyond their walls to meet the oncoming Voroe army. At a glance, the Graecia soldiers could tell that this new horde was even larger than the last—vastly so.
Tension gripped their hearts as they beheld a wave of Vorometallicae that stretched across the horizon, numbering well over one hundred fifty thousand. By far the bulk of these were High Champion Voroe, but that did not ease the tension.
While it was true that those brainwashed monsters only worked as cannon fodder, they had already proved themselves dangerously effective in the last battle. Their relentless advance had drained the soldier’s stamina, generating openings that allowed the Voroe Sage to inflict numerous casualties.
Now, as they gathered in such overwhelming numbers, they appeared like a dark tide, their collective aura forming a roiling storm overhead. It was as though an ancient beast hovered in the clouds, ready to devour the fortress and all traces of light.
Granted, the Korokor Stronghold had received fresh reinforcements from various fortresses across the Land of the Three Calamities. Their total Sage count stood just shy of three hundred, and the Guardian force had grown to nearly five thousand. But when stacked against an enemy numbering over a hundred thousand—even if most were "only" High Champions—the disparity was astronomical.
At the front of the Greacian lines stood Vlad, his gaze unwavering. Despite the distance between the two armies, he immediately spotted Shitaru, the hulking Half-Step Legend who had nearly caved in his chest during their last encounter.
As one might expect, Shitaru’s eyes locked onto Vlad in turn, and a bloodthirsty tension crackled between them like static in the air.
Many among the Graecia forces felt the oppressive weight of this new threat, and the atmosphere grew suffocating, as though the oxygen had been sucked out of their lungs. But then three silhouettes rose from the highest tower of the stronghold—General Tiberius appeared once more, restored from his previous injuries and exuding an aura of even greater strength.
Accompanying him were two other Legends, both new faces to the rank-and-file soldiers. It seemed the wounds suffered by the original Legendary companions in the last battle had forced them to withdraw, but in their stead stood these two newcomers, expressions grim yet resolute.
The sight of three Legends again gave a measure of relief to the anxious Graecia ranks. They might be outnumbered, but at least the fortress had Legendary champions capable of standing toe-to-toe with the Voroe’s own top-tier fighters. Without them, the defenders’ already slim hopes would have plummeted further.
Tiberius didn’t need to speak to sense the undercurrent of fear and uncertainty among his soldiers. They had been overrun once, and now the enemy had returned in even greater force. Yet there was no tremor in his heart or wavering in his gaze as he floated above them, scanning the sea of Voroe.