Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

Ryan sat in the back seat, watching the scenery rushing past the window, and suddenly asked, "Your field... can it really make any supernatural being manifest?"

“As long as it’s more than five centimeters off the ground.” Dean turned around from the passenger seat, grinning. “So you’d better not even think about flying in.”

“I don’t have that ability,” Ryan said calmly. “But I know some people do. If Heaven and Hell were to launch a large-scale attack, they would send out units that can operate at high altitudes, such as certain high-ranking angels or flying demon variants.”

Bobby stroked his chin: "So we need air defense?"

“What we need is to extend the visibility range upwards,” Ryan said. “Although my abilities are mainly related to contracts and gambling, I have lived for eight hundred years and have seen many formations. If there are enough materials and energy to support me, perhaps I can help adjust the ‘recognition height’ of your field.”

“Our range is about three meters, or what Lor called ‘three feet above the head.’ If you really have a way to extend that range, that would be great.” Sam glanced at him in the rearview mirror: “When we get there, you can talk to the chairman.”

Two hours later, in the Balanced Field, at the Witcher's Command Center.

The atmosphere was more tense than ever before.

On the massive tactical hologram, the area representing the Hell's Defense Line is flashing rapidly red.

The 3D projection showed that about 20 kilometers outside the defense line, dozens of regular vibration sources appeared on the ground, as if giant beasts were beating drums underground at the same time.

"The vibration frequency is increasing," the monitor quickly reported. "The energy readings are rising continuously, exceeding the standard for a Level 3 Demon Tide, and the epicenter is moving, advancing towards the defense line in a semi-encircling manner."

In front of the command platform, Wu Heng quietly looked at the map.

Standing beside him were Dean and the others who had just returned, as well as the commanders of each squad.

“It seems this is not a test,” Wu Heng said calmly. “This is the prelude to a formal attack. They want to flatten our defenses from the other side of Hell and then destroy the Gates of Hell from the inside, so that the field will collapse.”

Dean clenched his fist: "Then what are we waiting for? Let's charge in!"

“It’s already being done.” Wu Heng pulled up another screen, which was a real-time monitoring of Hell’s Defense Line.

On screen, Commander Raynor's Witcher squad has all taken their battle positions.

The steel fortress's turrets began to rotate, the barrier generator emitted a low hum, soldiers checked their weapons behind cover, and the air was filled with the smell of sulfur and blood.

"Reynolds reports, a large number of demons have been observed gathering on the horizon at the front." The communications officer turned to report, "The initial estimate is that the number exceeds five thousand, including various variants, and energy signatures suspected to be Hell Lord-level beings have been observed, at least three."

Five thousand demons, three lords.

Sam gasped; this was far larger than any previous conflict.

Wu Heng remained calm.

He surveyed the crowd in the command post: "Execute the Dusk Plan. All non-combat personnel in the area, immediately enter the underground shelter. All combat teams, take your positions as designated. Dean, Sam—!"

The two of them straightened their bodies.

"You will lead the elite squad to reinforce Renault through the Gates of Hell. Your mission is not to hold the line, but to disrupt the enemy's formation and buy them time."

"Bobby, you're in charge of coordinating all the fixed defense points within the area. Use all the special ammunition we've stockpiled."

“Ryan,” Wu Heng said, looking at the newly joined wizard, “come with me. I’ll take you to the logistics department first.”

"Once this battle is over, we need to talk about the issue of 'altitude recognition.' If there really are flying enemies, I hope they will light up like light bulbs as soon as they enter the area."

Orders were issued quickly.

People moved about in the command post, and the communications channels crackled with the sounds of squads confirming their orders. Dean and Sam headed toward the equipment area, encountering the blacksmith Grayson distributing ammunition along the way. The old man tossed Dean a newly forged hunting knife, its blade gleaming with a strange dark blue sheen.

"It's mixed with angel feather powder and hellfire iron," Grayson said briefly. "It cuts demons like butter and does extra damage to angels. It's a trial version, remember to give feedback."

Dean took the knife, weighed it in his hand, and smiled. "Thanks, old man."

"Don't die in hell, or who am I supposed to get feedback from?" Grayson muttered as he turned and went back to his work.

In the equipment area, the demon hunters were silently and swiftly arming themselves.

They inspected the firearms, reloaded the magazines, put on the amulets, and injected short-acting boosters. No one spoke; there was only the clanging of metal and suppressed breathing.

Sam steadily loaded the specially made salt bullets into the shotgun, one by one.

He glanced at Dean and saw that his brother was doing the same thing, except that Dean had a slightly excited smile on his face.

“You seem pretty excited,” Sam said in a low voice.

“We’ve been holding back for too long.” Dean tucked the last dagger into his boot. “All this patrolling, catching small fry, and building things up all day, it’s time for a real battle, to let those winged and horned creatures know that humans are not to be trifled with.”

Once they were fully equipped, the two headed towards the Gates of Hell.

Along the way, they saw groups of witchers running to their respective defensive positions. Some nodded at them, some gave them a thumbs up, and some whispered 'good luck'.

"Good luck!" the two replied as they walked.

Before the Gates of Hell, a 500-strong "Sharp Knife" squad had gathered, all of them the guild's most elite demon hunters, who had experienced numerous life-or-death battles.

They wore identical black combat uniforms, their weapons varied but all gleamed with an enchanted glow, and their eyes held no fear, only fighting spirit.

Dean walked to the front of the line, and without giving a long speech, he simply said:
Do you remember why we're here?

"To keep those scum from stepping into our world!" someone in the group shouted.

“Yes.” Dean drew the new hunting knife Grayson had given him, its blade gleaming coldly in the lamplight. “So today, we’ll go to their world, take them down, and let’s go!”

The steel shell of the Gates of Hell slowly opened, revealing a channel through which cooled magma lay.

A faint, growing roar came from behind the door, along with the muffled thud of the earth shaking.

Inside the Hell Passage, the temperature suddenly soared.

Dean's elite squad had barely passed through the Gates of Hell less than a hundred meters when the seemingly solid, dark red rock walls on both sides suddenly began to writhe like melting wax.

"Alert!" Dean roared, his new hunting knife already drawn.

But it's too late.

Hundreds of shadowy figures burst forth from the rock wall—a pack of invisible hellhounds. Immediately, two demon hunters carrying containers sprayed exorcism water forward.

With a corrosive sound, a group of strange hounds with scorched skin appeared.

They were larger than the common models, standing over 1.5 meters tall at the shoulder, with fangs dripping corrosive saliva and deep green flames burning in their eye sockets. (End of Chapter)