Commander Stride observed the oncoming horde with a cold, calculating gaze. He was not impressed. The demons were barely at the level of Apprentice Rank, with only a scattered few showing signs of reaching Rank 1. They charged without formation or discipline, more like wild beasts than an organized force.
Still, they were enemies of the Goddess, intruding upon sacred ground. That, combined with their sheer numbers, made every kill far more rewarding than usual. Each one offered a surge of experience that would push the soldiers closer to their next rank.
"Tower formation," he ordered, voice firm and precise.
His soldiers responded immediately. They split into forty units, each consisting of five soldiers. Within each group, three faced forward while two guarded the rear, forming tight circles with their backs to one another. This allowed them to defend from all directions without needing to constantly reposition.
These units then dispersed across the field in a loose, staggered pattern. The gaps between them resembled holes in a sieve, carefully planned to give the illusion of choice and allow the enemy in. Isolated yet coordinated, the formation was designed to let the enemy wash over them, funnel into tight lines, and be systematically butchered.
Stride and the captains stood at the front, ensuring that nothing stronger than an Apprentice Rank would make it past them. They formed a spearhead of Rank 2 soldiers, prepared to hold the line and break through wherever the battle raged fiercest.
As the last of the groups settled into position, the first wave of demons broke through the treeline, then another, and another. Their numbers swelled to well over a thousand, pouring from the shadows of the forest with savage hunger in their eyes. The ground shook beneath their stampede.
And yet, the formation stood calm, weapons at the ready, eyes sharp and unflinching, their will as unyielding as steel.
After a tense moment, the first wave of demons reached the defenders. There was no clash, no desperate struggle, only merciless slaughter. Commander Stride and the captains held their ground, cutting down every demon that charged toward them. Not a single step was taken back.
The formation had been deliberately designed with openings. Obsessed with the immense concentration of life force within the academy, the demons surged through, unaware they were stepping into a carefully laid trap. Each line of soldiers waited in readiness, positioned to strike as the demons poured in.
The soldiers, like their commander, did not waver. Steel met flesh with brutal precision as they stood calm and composed, slaying each demon that came within reach. The formation allowed some of the demons to move deeper, but every layer they passed through whittled their numbers down further.
By the time the demons broke through to the rear, less than a hundred remained of the original thousand. They continued toward the academy, but their numbers had been devastated.
What could have been a catastrophe was now manageable. A thousand demons might have overwhelmed the students, but a hundred could be contained. The students may have only been Apprentice Rank, but if each one could kill just a single demon, they would hold the line.
As for the formation, it held strong and unshaken. The soldiers were not trying to block the horde entirely. Instead, they cut down only what they could handle, allowing the rest to pass through while thinning their numbers with ruthless efficiency. Nearly 90% of the demons were slain before they could break through the final line.
It was a brilliant strategy, one best suited against a mindless tide. The demons, driven by instinct rather than tactics, fell perfectly into that role.
The captains occasionally stepped out of formation to intercept rampaging Rank 1 demons. With swift and precise strikes, they eliminated the threat before immediately returning to their positions. This ensured that only the weaker demons slipped through, just enough for their soldiers to manage without being overwhelmed.
As for the demons that managed to survive the kill zone, they rushed toward the academy only to meet the waiting defensive line formed by the instructors of the Training Grounds. These were veteran Rank 2 adventurers, seasoned by countless battles and hardened by experience.
Behind them stood the professors, their magic already prepared as the air around them thrummed with compressed energy. All of them were experienced wizards at Rank 2.
When the first wave of a hundred demons finally broke through and charged the defensive line, no commands were needed. The moment the demons entered range, a barrage of spells rained down upon them. Magic missiles, fireballs, ice lances, wind blades, and more struck with devastating precision.
They were obliterated before they could even enter the school grounds.
"Commander Stride seems to be doing well," the headmaster remarked as he watched the battle from a distant vantage point.
"A little too well, if you ask me. We old academics could use the experience too. He should learn to share," grumbled another elderly mage.
"You're welcome to run over to their side of the battle if you're that eager," someone offered dryly.
"Too far," the old mage replied with a sigh.
The headmaster turned his gaze to a nearby dwarf working on a cylindrical contraption.
"Hammerfist, what is it you're working on over there?"
"Bastion had an interesting concept, and I think I may have finished it," Hammerfist said while fiddling with the interior of a reinforced magic bag.
Before him stood a Rank 2 prototype of a six-barreled rotary autocannon, a brutal arcane-engineered weapon with enough firepower to bring down an entire army of Rank 3 opponents.
Unlike Bastion's version, which relied on explosives, Hammerfist's design was purely arcane. It drew mana from embedded mana crystals to power the entire system and propel the bullets with even greater force than Seraphina's Rank 1 explosive rounds. It even featured an enhanced air cushion enchantment designed to absorb the weapon's recoil completely.
As for the linkless feeder he had been struggling with, he replaced it with a purely magical mechanism that automatically loaded ammunition each time the weapon fired and rotated to the next barrel.
The trade-off was its high mana consumption, something Hammerfist had come to accept as a necessary flaw. He was not like Bastion, who had to work around limited mana reserves.
"Ah yes, the Rank 3 cannon. Well, do be careful. We aren't strong enough to withstand the blast if it explodes," the headmaster warned.
Hammerfist gave only a grunt in response and continued fiddling with his magic bag.
The battle continued without issue, but something felt wrong to Commander Stride. It was difficult to believe that the demon worshipers would send only this. Surely, they had more in store.
And yet, half an hour had passed since the fighting began, and only the same mindless rabble emerged from the treeline. By now, over a thousand demons should have broken through and reached the academy unharmed, especially given that more than ten thousand had already fallen to the small force of two hundred soldiers under his command.
Unbeknownst to the commander, the battlefield reeked of foul, corruptive mana that continued to spread with each demon that was slain. The dark energy thickened into a mist, creeping steadily northward past the academy's dungeons.
Deep within the forest, hidden from sight, a complex array of magic circles struggled to contain the overwhelming energy radiating from the Sword of Power. This sacred relic held the Demon Lord sealed within, and now it trembled under the pressure.
Cracks had begun to form in the barrier, strained from three converging forces. The first was the sheer pressure of the Demon Lord's corruptive aura. The second came from the desanctification ritual performed by the demon worshipers. The third was the relentless stream of corrupted mana being funneled in by the head priest's ongoing ritual.
Although the enchantments tried to mend themselves, the cracks continued to grow. The sealing array was buckling under the immense clash of energies. It was only a matter of time before it broke.
Meanwhile, Bastion had finally regrouped with the rest of the party. They stood at the center of the dungeon plaza, where students usually gathered to wait their turn before entering the surrounding dungeon entrances.
The others stood in a tight formation around Aurelia, weapons ready, eyes scanning the horizon. They had been bracing for a demon horde, but the surroundings remained eerily quiet.
"I thought we were supposed to be fighting an army of demons," Lilia said, glancing around awkwardly.
"That's what Seraphina told me," Bastion replied, "but even she might not have everything figured out."
"I'm certain something is coming," Aurelia said, her voice calm but resolute. "The mana in the air is wrong. It's getting heavier, thicker by the second. I think this is what finally breaks the seal on the Demon Lord."
"So… no army? Just straight to the boss fight?" Lilia asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It's fine," Cyrus said with complete confidence. "My sister said she'd handle it. Whatever happens, it won't be a problem."
Meanwhile, Seraphina was in her room, carefully adjusting the magic circuits that ran throughout the castle. These circuits powered the many enchantments, arrays, and magical fixtures. They were the magical equivalent of a modern home's electrical wiring.
"Just a bit more adjustments and it should be ready to go. Here's hoping the Demon Lord doesn't have i-frames when it transforms."
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In fighting game terminology, invincible frames (often shortened as i-frames) refer to specific frames during a character's animation in which they cannot be hit or take damage, even if the opponent's attack overlaps their character model.
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