The Extra Can't be A Hero

Chapter 337: Leon Bright, Hero of the World (2)

While Leon stood at the forefront, locked in a suffocating standoff against the two Apostles, the battlefield beyond him had already descended into chaos. The warriors of the Eldorin Order did not falter. Scattered across the jagged slopes and shattered ridgelines, they clashed head-on with the relentless forces of the Demon Empire.

"Hahaha! Die! Die! Die!"

Lutz unleashed hell with his twin blasters while two of his trusted automatons followed suit. Each one of his automatons were built from scratch, powered by the best quality aether crystals and designed with the finest technologies developed by none other than the master artificer himself.

They charged through the demons and cultists like a hot knife through butter, showing even greater mastery than the Solaris Knights themselves.

However, no matter how perfectly calibrated Lutz designed his machines, they were still unable to overcome the sheer difference in skill of a Great Demon.

A nether bird howled as it swooped down from the skies, creating a crater as it landed on one of Lutz's automata.

"No! Fatty the fifth!"

The artificer cried out as his masterpiece was ripped apart by the nether bird. He attempted to use his blasters to stop the destruction, but it only served to irritate the Greater Demon. Pure demonic mana churned within its beak as it prepared to launch a deadly strike, one that could annihilate his chubby body in an instant.

But before the nether bird could unleash hell, a beam of light pierced through its skull, preventing the demonic mana within from escaping and detonating within its beak.

Oswin slid through the gap of the bird and leapt in front of Lutz, his twin pistols showing signs of overheating in the process.

"Kid, retreat from the frontline."

"Oswin, Fatty was destroyed!"

"I know, and if you stay here, you will be the next fatty to fall!"

"Hey! Rude!"

Lutz clicked his tongue, but didn't protest. After years of demon hunting, he knew when he was outmatched. Fortunately, the path for his retreat had been cleared long ago.

The two warlock brothers, one with the connection to the darkness of the world, the other with the light, held the flanks with their supreme resonance. Verso sent pillars of light to exorcise the demons and cultists that stood by his path.

Each time his prism moved, kladesopic light struck without mercy. It felt like a heavenly intervention, as the Lord of Light sent his mystic rays to vanquish all that was evil.

Recto, on the other hand, creating a battlefield of despair. Darkness unfurled from every corner, grabbing onto every Greater Demon in his path. Shadows that turned into unbreakable weapons sliced through the Demons with ease while numerous bullets hailed from below.

It was a perfect symphony of light and darkness, something the two warlock brothers had perfected during their reclusive training.

"You best not slow me down, Verso."

"Heh, it's been a long time since we fought like this in battle, Recto. Let me enjoy this for a while longer!"

While the brothers cleared the rear, the vanguard was being whittled down by the rest of Eldorin. Khali danced through the waves like a seasoned surfer, particularly targeting the cultists and the commanders organising the demons.

With her speed and agility, there were few who could catch and actually deal damage to her. So her chakrams sang as they moved through the air with her dance, and cleaved the weaker cultists that barely had any protection.

Of course, there were many amongst the Demon Empire forces that sought to capture her, but unfortunately, each time they tried, they were stopped by Fenric Ashglyph, the Runic Monk. His body was as unbreakable as diamonds, and nothing could harm him.

Every blade would bounce right off, and magic would be negated the moment it touched Fenric's runes. But that wasn't the worst part.

With Fenric's unstoppable fists, he could blow apart any foe's head with a single punch. Little by little, the Demon Empire's forces lost their confidence as their allies were blown apart into headless chickens.

And if that wasn't scary enough…

Zombies clawed their way from the broken earth while wraiths seeped into existence like ink bleeding through the veil of reality—vengeful remnants of the fallen, denied rest and driven by a hatred that transcended death itself.

They fell upon demons and cultists alike without distinction.

Translucent hands seized flesh and spirit in tandem, dragging screaming victims into a half-seen abyss, where gnashing jaws and spectral forms tore into them even as their bodies still lived. The air filled with a chorus of overlapping shrieks—some human, some not—until it became impossible to tell where life ended and undeath began.

At the heart of this grotesque tide stood Eris Umbrelune, Eldorin's necromancer, the architect of the nightmare unfolding across Morzerth. Shadows coiled around her like a living mantle, and the ground at her feet pulsed with necrotic sigils that stretched for leagues.

Her control over the dead was absolute, yet there was nothing triumphant in her expression—only fury, sharp and unrelenting, burning behind hollowed eyes.

She fought like a woman possessed, not out of malice, but necessity.

Each soul she commanded was one stolen from its rightful rest, each wraith a fragment of anguish she was forced to wield as a weapon.

The countless dead of Morzerth answered her call, rising in endless numbers, their sorrow twisted into instruments of war.

And though her enemies saw only horror, those who knew her understood the truth—Eris bore the weight of every soul she bound, her wrath the only thing keeping her from breaking beneath the burden.

"The dead are screaming."

Eris whispered with righteous fury.

As Eldorin steadily forced the Demon Empire's legions into retreat, Johann asserted his presence upon the battlefield from the heavens above.

Suspended high in the storm-laden sky, the archmage became a living conduit of arcane devastation, his form wreathed in radiant sigils and shifting constellations of mana. With a mere gesture, the firmament itself seemed to answer him.

From above, countless magic missiles rained down in a relentless cascade, resembling a celestial meteor shower. Each streak of light burned with concentrated arcane power, descending with terrifying precision. Upon impact, they erupted in bursts of raw energy, tearing through demonic ranks and shattering even the hardened bodies of Greater Demons as though they were nothing more than brittle glass.

Yet what made Johann's assault truly transcendent was not its scale, but its control.

The missiles did not fall blindly—they moved with purpose, weaving effortlessly through the chaos below.

They curved around Eldorin knights mid-charge, split apart to avoid allied formations, and then converged upon their targets with unerring accuracy. It was as if each projectile possessed its own will, guided by Johann's absolute mastery over the arcane.

From the ground, Sir Arthur and his elite Paladins could only watch in stunned silence, their breaths caught in their throats as the sky itself became a weapon in Eldorin's favour.

To witness such overwhelming power was both awe-inspiring and humbling.

And yet, even amidst this display of near-divine might, a single thought lingered among them all—This was Eldorin's strength… without Amon, without Yue, and without Leon.

"Could we do that?"

One Paladin asked, only to be met with silence.

Eldorin was far more advanced than they were, despite being many years younger. Compared to their archaic ways of only sticking to Paladin Knights… Eldorin were a far more cohesive unit.

"Perhaps we should incorporate mages into our Order."

One of the Paladins spoke off-handedly, and it drew multiple nods from the others.

The battlefield intensified by the minute and the legions of demonic humans and demons were reduced by half. It was a great achievement, given that Eldorin was outnumbered ten to one. Alas…

"... but the fight won't be decided there."

However, the seasoned Arthur Pagiel understood that even if the rest of Eldorin eradicated all of the Demon Empire's forces, they wouldn't win.

For the true battle lay in the sky.

Notwithstanding Leon's fight with the two Apostles of Vengeance, the three Demon Nobles stood at the pinnacle of the battlefield.

Even if all of Eldorin wiped out the entire demon race in Morzeth, they were just ants waiting to be stomped upon if the Demon Nobles descended.

That's why…

Yeon, the Witch of Oblivion—renowned as one of the most formidable ice mages to ever walk the world—stood unflinching before the crimson abomination. Its grotesque mass writhed with pulsing tendrils, each one exhaling waves of searing flame and suffocating smog that tainted the very air. The ground beneath it blackened and melted, unable to withstand its corrupt presence.

Yet Yeon did not retreat.

A cold disdain curled across her lips as frost began to gather at her fingertips. With a single motion, she unleashed a blizzard of absolute zero, a storm so frigid it devoured heat itself, colliding violently against the creature's infernal aura as ice and fire waged war for dominion.

Not far from her, Bawi—the inheritor of the Sword Saint's legacy and the greatest swordswoman within Eldorin—faced the towering Lycan with twelve wings.

The creature's monstrous form loomed like a fallen seraph, its wings beating with enough force to shatter stone and send shockwaves across the battlefield. But Bawi stood calm at its centre, unmoved by its overwhelming presence.

Around her, thousands of ethereal blades hovered in perfect formation, each one humming with lethal intent. They shifted subtly with her breathing, responding to the slightest flicker of her will, ready to descend in a storm of steel the moment her opponent made a single misstep.

And then there was Manon—the Sky Spear, a warrior once destined to inherit the Divinity of the Sky Titan.

He stood alone against a six-eyed obsidian demon, a being whose body seemed carved from living darkness, its surface pulsing with an immense and suffocating concentration of demonic mana. Each of its six eyes burned with malicious awareness, tracking every movement with unnatural precision.

Yet Manon did not waver.

His spear crackled with gathered winds, the air around him spiralling into a rising tempest as if the sky itself answered his call. Where the demon embodied oppressive weight and ruin, Manon stood as its opposite—light, speed, and piercing force—poised to strike with the wrath of the heavens.

The fight for Morzerth… would be decided by these three.