Chapter 993: Battle for the High Tower (Twenty-Seven) (Patreon)

In DC World With Marvel Chat Group : Table of Content/Chapter List

XXX-----XXX-----XXX-----XXX

At this point, two-thirds of the combatants among the miner slaves had lost their fighting capabilities, while the casualties of the Demon army remained unclear for the time being.

During the chaotic melee, nobody paid attention to the casualties. However, once the frontlines extended and teams were organized, everyone had to confront their current situation.

At this moment, the most crucial thing was that, despite recognizing the disadvantage and the number of casualties, they couldn't retreat.

In the combat of the ancient army, losing one-third of the manpower in a short period typically spelled the failure of the battle. Such casualties would shatter the combat will of all soldiers, leading to a cascade of defeats.

Often, in ancient warfare, there weren't many casualties because the outcome of the confrontation became apparent within a few short minutes.

Once at a disadvantage, with the loss of will to fight, if one person turned back, a group would follow suit, quickly turning it into a chase. Throughout human history, true annihilative battles were rare.

Batman had initially completely disagreed with the decision to extend the frontlines. He didn't believe that this group of slaves could maintain their fighting will and achieve final annihilation upon discovering that two-thirds of their comrades had perished.

The human flow spread like a school of fish towards the east. Only after the frontlines were completely extended did everyone realize the extent of the bloody battle they had endured. Even the least intelligent slaves or soldiers could now discern the outcome of the battle.

Although the Demon soldiers outnumbered them, they lacked formation as they had suffered significant casualties. After the frontlines extended, their formation was irreparably broken. Such a formation no longer had any resistance capabilities on the plains of the battlefield.

However, the situation was even worse for the miner slaves. Corpses of their companions littered the surroundings, and the sight of blood and flesh everywhere made one's heart quiver at just a glance.

Even though Batman was human and arguably the most resolute genius among humans, being amidst such dense combat made him feel waves of dizziness.

Even though none of his kind had died, sentient beings faced with Death would be more profoundly shaken than they could imagine.

For a moment, the battlefield fell silent. Then, a roar emanated from the center of the battlefield, sounding like the mournful wind piercing through the deepest abyss, yet brimming with anger akin to a volcanic eruption.

Roar after roar echoed across the open battlefield, reverberating among the mountains of the mine.

The unparalleled sadness, anger, and indescribable emotions within it struck like a heavy blow, almost knocking down Batman, who was unscathed in the bloody air.

What were they shouting?

Why were they feeling sad?

And what caused their anger?

In Batman's incredulous gaze, the remaining miner slaves began to move. No one commanded them, no one taught them what to do, yet they rushed towards the group of Demon soldiers they had previously feared like tigers.

Batman stood there stunned, like a rock immovable for millennia on this vast earth.

As bloodshed resumed and fierce winds howled, all the remaining slaves, with a rage and hatred that Batman couldn't understand or feel, charged fearlessly towards the remaining Demon soldiers.

During previous drills, they had never shown such ferocity, let alone bravery.

Batman shook his head vigorously, took deep breaths repeatedly, trying to lower his heart rate. However, his heart kept pounding incessantly, like an unstoppable war drum.

Blood covered the last shreds of reason in his brilliant mind. In this moment, some barrier broke, and the emotions long suppressed were released.

The usually calm and composed, strategic Batman, like a foolish Demon, rushed into the reaping battlefield.

His pitch-black cape stained with blood, the desire for slaughter engulfed his rationality. When Batman finally stopped, only corpses surrounded him.

Standing at the entrance of the mine halfway up the mountainside, Alfred saw Batman, drenched in blood, slowly approaching him. The black armor had turned a dark shade of red, and he limped, holding a spear in his hand.

However, this bat finally, amidst the forging of iron and blood, shed the lingering fluff on its wings, stripped away the hesitant softness of its bones, and ground off the dull shells covering its sharp claws. On the road to becoming a warrior as unyielding as steel, it took a new step forward.

Yet Alfred took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and before Batman could discern his facial expression, he struggled to conceal the pain and sorrow on his face. He no longer looked at him with the gentle smile one would give to a child.

Alfred's expression gradually turned solemn. As Batman approached him, he extended a hand.

Batman lowered his head and saw the intricate patterns on the back of Alfred's hand, resembling the roots of a great tree surging from beneath the snow-covered soil, paying homage to the sprouting new seedlings of spring.

With trembling hands, Batman reached out and clasped Alfred's hand. The young master who never grew up and the steward who never aged saw themselves in each other's eyes.

After retracting his hand, Batman continued to gasp for air. The recent slaughter had drained almost all of his strength.

Alfred didn't say anything; he simply stepped aside, allowing Batman to pass. Batman silently walked past him and continued to climb upwards. He looked up towards the giant eyeball at the mountaintop, knowing that General Putrescent awaited there.

At this moment, Batman didn't even know where his courage came from. Despite having almost no strength left, he was about to face a powerful Demon of general level. Yet, he felt no fear, his steps resolute.

Reaching the summit of the Seventh Mountain, Batman saw a sturdy Demon walking towards him. It wasn't General Putrescent, but a stranger.

Batman prepared for battle, but to his surprise, the Demon extended a hand towards him and said, "You must be Batman, right? Someone wants to see you. Follow me."

Batman relaxed his fists. He thought, well, it seems this is a Godfather-like Demon who prefers to engage in pre-battle negotiations.

Below the eyeball, there stood a towering castle. This was the residence of General Putrescent. Batman followed the unfamiliar Demon into the castle's door, traversing long corridors until they reached the door of the great hall.

In the center of the great hall, there was an extremely long table, much like in all Gothic castles. The table was in the middle, chairs arranged in rows, with huge torches fixed on the surrounding pillars. Curtains hung between the pillars, and a long carpet led to the wall adorned with menacing Demon portraits.

Behind the long table in the great hall, Batman didn't see the evil dragon he intended to kill. He saw Schiller.

However, the scene before him was more shocking than bathing in blood on the battlefield.

Schiller sat at the head of the long table. He was still wearing a suit, with a tie, but he was covered in blood. A large nail clasp pierced through his collarbone, dragging a long chain, making him look extremely miserable. Yet, his expression was leisurely.

It was as if he wasn't injured at all, but rather, was enjoying a festive banquet with old friends. And indeed, he seemed to be reveling in such a feast.

Batman saw that there was a plate in front of Schiller, with some roasted meat on it, resembling tendons from the elbow part.

Behind him, hung on a huge hook, was General Putrescent, missing two arms and a leg.

A massive iron hook pierced through General Putrescent's neck, suspending him from the ceiling. The wounds where his limbs had been severed were very neat, without any signs of struggle during the amputation. There were a total of seven wounds all over his body, all of which pierced arteries, and the blood was drained cleanly, like a pig slaughtered with precision.

Schiller cut off the front half of the tendons with a knife and then cut them into smaller pieces along the patterns. He picked them up with a fork and put them in his mouth. Batman instinctively swallowed.

He found that his leg muscles were somewhat out of control, and his brain was urging him to run, but he came with questions, so he couldn't leave. He didn't even know if he could leave.

After finishing a piece of meat, Schiller looked up at Batman and said, "You're here, take a seat."

His tone was casual, as if teasing the last friend to enter a party.

Batman felt like he had been doused with cold water, but it wasn't entirely a bad thing. The soaring desire for slaughter had instantly calmed down, and then, he smelled the enticing aroma of food.

Batman took a seat at the first position on the side, hesitating for a moment, but didn't sit down. Schiller turned his head and looked at him again, and at that moment, the unfamiliar Demon who had led Batman here placed a plate and utensils in front of him.

Batman sat down nonetheless. Leaning back slightly, he lifted his head. Schiller took another bite of the food on the plate. In that moment, Batman noticed a smile on Schiller's face, a kind of madness in that smile that felt very familiar.

But the next moment, Schiller returned to normal, and Batman blinked, the smile on Schiller's face fleeting once again.

"That's not your imagination," Schiller's voice sounded in Batman's ear, as if accurately reading his thoughts. He continued cutting the meat, saying, "I suppose you must be curious about what I'm doing."

Afterwards, Schiller glanced at the large clasp piercing through his collarbone and shoulder, saying, "Lately, I've been injured quite a bit. I look very shabby, but I know you're not the kind of person to kick someone when they're down, or mock a victim."

Batman opened his mouth, pondering the word "victim" for a moment, and unintentionally asked, "Victim?"

Schiller nodded, paused his actions, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and looked at Batman, saying, "Not a victim of the Demons, but you, Batman, the victim."

Batman stared into his eyes, and Schiller smiled, then said:

"All of this, let's start from our first encounter."

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, and thanks for the invaluable support!]

XXX-----XXX-----XXX-----XXX

Next Chapter>>Chapter 994: The Battle for High Tower (Twenty-Eight)