Knight Lord: Start with Daily Intelligence.

Chapter 527 The Doomsday Alliance Appears
War broke out in full force along the long defensive line at the edge of the Green Moss Marsh, far exceeding the intensity of any previous phase. Like a beast driven to the brink, Litanel launched a frenzied, all-out assault. His tactics were simple yet brutal: using his relative numerical superiority, he attacked multiple nodes of the Blacksene Territory's defensive line simultaneously, forcing the limited number of Blacksene air cavalry to choose—rescuing one meant that the others would have to bear the pressure alone.

He was trying to use this brutal war of attrition to slow down or even disrupt the Black Forest Territory's deadly "Heart of the Tide" deployment; this was his last chance.

At this moment, he no longer cared about casualties. After all, if he didn't fight desperately now, he would be completely trapped in this impenetrable encirclement. At that point, he wouldn't even have the chance to fight back.

However, in this desperate world, even "fighting to the death" is often a luxury. An absolute gap in strength cannot be bridged by courage and sacrifice.

At the Bloodmoss Pass, a dark mass of swamp goblins and monster minions roared as they surged towards the not-so-tall stone and wood fortress like a tidal wave. However, before they could even get within the effective range of their arrows, a dense volley of missiles whistled through the air from behind the fortress.

Two squadrons of amethyst armored soldiers stood calmly behind the wall, their uniquely designed amethyst launchers unleashing deadly storms of death! A purple wind of death swept through, instantly engulfing the charging enemy ranks. Their sturdy scales were like paper before bullets capable of piercing steel plates; the charging monsters fell in droves, their blood instantly staining the muddy ground red. An entire squadron of monsters, without even touching the edge of the city wall, suffered more than half its casualties under this devastating long-range attack. The survivors, terrified, howled and fled in disarray, shattering the formation of the following troops.

At the Rotten Wood Bridge stronghold, the situation was even more desperate. The Black Forest Territory garrison deliberately feigned weakness, luring a large number of monsters to the foot of the city walls, some of whom had even climbed over them, and the defensive line was on the verge of being breached. Just at this critical moment, a deep and enormous roar, unlike any other creature's wings, came from inside the stronghold!
Three squadrons, a total of twelve Warhammer dwarven helicopters, took off from behind the stronghold like a swarm of steel bees! They swiftly swept over the city walls, their side-mounted gyro-cannons and sulfur guns at the hatches unleashing a devastating barrage of bullets upon the densely packed horde of monsters below! Flashes of fire, flying shrapnel, and continuous explosions filled the air. The once-mighty monster army was instantly engulfed in a storm of steel and fire, limbs torn apart, shredded, melted, and reduced to charred remains. The offensive crumbled instantly, and the surviving monsters, terrified, scrambled back into the swampy mist.

On many other battlefields, Litanel's army had to confront their worst nightmare—the Chosen Knights.

When those figures clad in shimmering runic armor transformed into towering, thirty-meter-tall divine generals on the battlefield, Litanel, through his third eye, clearly sensed a despair that sent shivers down his spine.

The Blackwood Territory had experienced this despair firsthand. In the fierce battle between the Blackwood Territory and the Dwarven Alliance against Khorne's Chosen, Skal, a single Chosen Demon almost single-handedly shattered the alliance's lines, bringing the entire army to the brink of collapse.

In the end, it was the dwarven commander who sacrificed his life to hold off the monster, and only with the combined fire of countless ballistae and the volley of dwarven musketeers was it finally killed. It was a victory built on countless lives, a victory so brutal it was almost unbearable.

And now, on this battlefield in the swamp, there are not just one, but nearly ten Chosen Ones as terrifying or even more powerful as Skar!
These towering, indomitable gods were like walking natural disasters. With each swing of their massive weapons, they cleared a vast area, crushing swamp warriors and terrifying swamp beasts like clay chickens and earthenware dogs before them.

They marched heavily through the enemy lines, unstoppable, with no force able to halt them for even a moment. No matter how many troops Litanel committed, before these divine generals, they were like waves crashing against rocks, futilely shattered into pieces.

Fighting to the death? With such a disparate power imbalance, fighting to the death would only add more unnecessary bloodshed and death to this crushing war.

Litanel could clearly feel the swamp on which he depended for survival groaning in agony under the iron heel of the absolute military might of the Black Forest Territory, while his army was being rapidly and ruthlessly eroded. That deep-seated sense of powerlessness was heavier and more suffocating than any other situation.

However, what terrified everyone in the swamp territory, from generals to the lowest slaves, was not just those towering, indomitable generals, but the Black Forest Territory's seemingly tireless aerial cavalry legion.

Litanel's all-out attack, a gamble he had wagered on, was originally intended to exploit the limited number of air cavalry to wear them down. But he never imagined that this desperate gamble would instead provide the Black Forest Territory's air power with an unprecedented and vast hunting ground.

To completely hunt down and crush the monster army surging out of the swamp, the massive air cavalry force of the Black Forest Territory displayed an astonishing ability to sustain combat. Crimson dragons, griffin riders, horse eagle riders, swan riders, dwarven helicopters... they almost never stopped, like a never-ending storm of death, circling the battlefield day and night.

Dragon breath, like divine punishment, intermittently cleansed areas densely populated with monsters; Griffin and Egret riders formed formations, swooping down and attacking time and again, tearing apart enemy formations with lances, warhammers, and claws; Swan riders, like elegant reapers, harvested stragglers or groups attempting to regroup with precise arrows and agile assaults; The roar of dwarven helicopters became the background noise of death, their firepower covering any enemy forces that dared to assemble.

Even Su Li himself rode the green dragon Eliria, joining this grand hunt. Wherever the dragon went, its terrifying might and deadly breath brought widespread rout and death. The lord's presence at the front lines greatly boosted the morale of all the air cavalry.

Litanel's desperate efforts were completely transformed into a one-sided, highly efficient massacre by the relentless attacks of the Hessian air cavalry. They fought day and night, utilizing rotations for rest and regrouping to ensure an almost uninterrupted aerial assault. No matter the direction or time of attack, the Swamp Territory's army would almost immediately face a devastating aerial counterattack.

Through that demonic eye that could only see into the distance, Litanel watched his army fall like harvested wheat, and watched the air cavalry soar and kill in the sky like perpetual motion machines. His heart was filled with incomprehensible shock and despair.

“Don’t they…don’t they need rest?! Are their mounts and their soldiers made of iron?!” Litanel growled from his throne in Mudcrown Castle, his voice filled with confusion and a hint of fear.

He was well aware that human armies, especially legions with unwavering faith, often displayed a tenacity and discipline far surpassing that of other races. Throughout the Empire's long history, there were countless examples of those who fought to the death without retreating.

However, the resilience of the Hessian Sky Cavalry—the ability to maintain such a high-intensity combat rhythm almost without stopping for several days and nights—completely exceeded his understanding of "human armies"!

It was as if it were blessed by some supernatural force, like a tireless undead or construct from legend, filled with some unsettling, "inhuman" qualities.

As he watched the images reflected back from the demonic eyes—his own army being slaughtered and routed on all fronts—Litanel slumped onto his twisted throne. An unprecedented chill of despair crept up his spine and into his heart, almost freezing his blood.

He had originally hoped that this desperate, all-out counterattack would buy him time, until the promised "game-breaking force" intervened. Perhaps it would be the more direct intervention promised by Lord Joachim of Maleiburg, or perhaps it would be a more powerful reinforcement secretly arranged by the bureaucrats of the Electoral Council... This was his only, and last, hope.

But now, watching the Black Forest Territory operate with the efficiency of a never-ending war machine, crushing everything in its path, a terrible thought uncontrollably began to grow in his mind:

Can he really hold on until that moment?

The advance of the Black Forest Territory was too swift and destructive. His desperate efforts seemed utterly futile in the face of their overwhelming power, only accelerating the depletion of his own strength. Every day, he could feel his control over this swamp weakening, and his living space being relentlessly compressed.

As Litanel feared, the war turned into a one-sided affair under the overwhelming force of the Black Forest Territory's superior military might.

The edges of the Green Moss Marsh have been almost entirely lost, with Blacksem's fortifications and watchtowers driven deep into the marshland like nails. Litanel's actual control has been drastically reduced, leaving only a few possible nodes around Mudcrown Fortress and the core area near the Blackwater Canyon passage. The once vast and dangerous swamp is now largely covered by Blacksem's Bauhinia banners.

Meanwhile, the continued use of the "Sky Horn," coupled with the alterations to the terrain caused by successive battles, has catastrophically damaged the inherent ecosystem of the Green Moss Swamp. Large areas are shrouded in thin mist, the mud is dry and cracked, and strange plants are withering in swathes. This swamp, which nurtured the power of Litanel, is rapidly losing its mystery and protective abilities, becoming increasingly "ordinary" and easily traversable.

For the Hessian Territory, Litanel's frenzied attacks were practically a gift of wealth and manpower. Through ambushing supply convoys from the direction of Maleburg and scavenging spoils on the battlefield, the Hessian Territory reaped astonishing gains.

The total number of captured human soldiers, servants, and some weaker monsters has reached nearly five thousand, all of whom will be converted into valuable labor or tradeable "goods".

The gold crown, silver shillings, and various valuable goods and works of art that were captured were of inestimable value, but more than enough to support a large-scale war in the Hessian Territory, and even had a large surplus.

Mountains of food, weapons, armor, and arrows, along with magical materials, scrolls, and artifacts plundered from enemy officers and wizards, greatly enriched the Blacksin Territory's warehouses and armaments. Litanel's desperate struggle, far from achieving its strategic objectives, instead became nourishment for the Blacksin Territory's war behemoth. His territory, his army, and the environment upon which he depended for survival were being rapidly devoured. And the "hope" that could allow him to turn the tide seemed increasingly unattainable in the face of ever-approaching destruction. Despair, like the deepest silt of a swamp, was slowly dragging him into the abyss.

However, even in the almost suffocating despair, there were still variables. Under the devastating pressure brought by Su Li, and especially under the threat of the "Heart of the Tide" project, which was capable of altering the terrain, the shadow of annihilation finally forced all the forces in the deepest and darkest corners of the Green Moss Swamp to step forward.

The instinct for survival overwhelmed everything, even surpassing the age-old feuds and fears between races.

A primal, frenzied force of cohesion was brewing and spreading in every corner of the swamp. In addition to the originally scattered swamp demon tribes and the twisted creatures, two powerful forces that had been lurking beneath the surface (or on the ground) were also awakened by this final crisis and forced to join this last-ditch effort.

First, there was the threat from deep underground. The ratmen, these incredibly prolific, cunning, and despicable creatures, had long since established a vast network of tunnels and filthy nests filled with bluish-green poisonous gas beneath the soft earth of the mossy swamp. They were perpetually shrouded in a stench of disease mixed with corroded metal, and many ratman soldiers even had rashes or moss that emitted a ghastly green glow on their bodies.

They were originally content to sit back and watch the humans and monsters on the surface fight each other, even occasionally taking advantage of the chaos. But the "Heart of the Tide" project made them realize that once the swamp's core was flooded, their underground kingdom, built up over many years, would be completely destroyed, and countless rats would drown in the filthy water prison. Faced with life and death, they could no longer remain indifferent.

After several piercing, threatening "yes-yes!" screams, the ratman clans, large and small, were forced to unite. They poured out of countless hidden burrows, forming a terrifying army of up to twenty thousand. These ratmen, equipped with crudely made but numerous weapons, pushed bizarre war machines that constantly leaked green toxic smoke, like a moving, filthy tide reeking of plague and conspiracy. They screamed, forced to fight to defend their filthy homeland.

Litanel's tactics of ambush and harassment, relying on the swampy fog and complex terrain, were almost ineffective against the Skaven, who were accustomed to underground movement and could even dig their own tunnels. In the past, the two sides had mostly been wary of each other and engaged in occasional small-scale conflicts, and Litanel had never been able to truly eliminate these underground threats.

Another force comes from the swamp's most primitive and savage inhabitants—the river trolls. These enormous monsters, with their incredible regenerative abilities, are like predators at the top of the swamp's ecosystem, feeding on swamp monsters and other creatures. They emit a nauseating, pungent stench, like hundreds of rotting corpses fermenting in a sweltering swamp, which can be smelled from a great distance.

Their scattered tribes and warbands have always roamed the swamps with impunity thanks to their terrifying individual strength. Litanel's ingenious swamp tactics have had little effect on them—these trolls are thick-skinned and highly resistant to poison gas and fog, and they are simple-minded, rarely being deceived by complex traps and feints. When they encounter them, they can only rely on head-on confrontations.

Therefore, Litanel has had little recourse against these monsters with their powerful regenerative abilities, and the two sides have maintained a dangerous balance and tacit understanding primarily through sheer strength.

At this moment, sensing that their homeland was about to be completely destroyed, and... the "delicious" description brought by the messenger of Litanel of the Black Forest army of "fresh meat and abundant energy", these greedy and foolish trolls were also tempted.

Driven by several hearty meals and a thirst for new "food sources," river troll gangs emerged from their deep, muddy pools and joined the coalition. Wielding massive bone clubs and rusty swords, they dripped foul saliva, their every step shaking the earth and leaving behind a lingering, pungent stench reminiscent of rotting entrails.

So, just as Litanel himself was about to give up, a chaotic yet unprecedentedly large doomsday coalition, composed of swamp monsters, various dark creatures, a green gas ratman army forced to join the war, and river trolls emitting a pungent stench, spontaneously and compelled by circumstances, gathered deep in the swamp.

This coalition was not only enormous, but its very existence was a torment to the senses—the green toxic fog mixed with the soaring stench, forming a suffocatingly poisonous area.

They even turned around and pressured the nominal "King of the Swamp".

Several of the most powerful leaders—including a festering, green-glowing ratman warlord and an exceptionally large, foul-smelling river troll—stormed into the throne room of Mudcrown Keep. They conveyed their final will to Litanel in their own ways, through howls, screams, or muffled roars.

"We can't wait to die any longer! My king! Lead us!"

"For the nest (for the food)! Fight back!"

"Tear them apart! Destroy their evil ritual!"

This frenzied will, a mixture of despair, madness, greed, and the will to survive, was like a final, powerful dose of medicine, injected into Litanel's nearly numb heart. His inhuman demonic eye flickered violently. Yes, rather than waiting to die, he would gather this last, most chaotic, and most "infamous" power and fight to the death!
Despair and madness led to the final decision.

"Good!" Litanel abruptly rose from his throne, his grotesque claws tearing through the armrests. "Then assemble! Assemble all forces. Target: the 'Vulture Hollow' to the northeast! Destroy everything they're setting up! For the swamp! For survival!"

Under his orders and the influence of various forces, an unprecedentedly large and extremely complex army, imbued with poisonous gas and a foul stench, was forcibly cobbled together in the final core area of ​​the Green Moss Swamp. This allied force was chaotic and ferocious, filled with internal suspicion and instinctive antagonism, yet under the external pressure of extermination, it temporarily coalesced into a fist with a tragic and mad spirit of facing death.

Their objective was clear: to no longer disperse, but to concentrate all remaining forces and launch a desperate, final assault on a key node of the Blacksene Territory defense line—the stagnant depression where "Heart of the Tide" had been confirmed to be being buried in large quantities!

Litanel also personally left his fortress and appeared at the forefront of the allied forces. His third eye burned with the flames of destruction; he wanted to witness firsthand whether this desperate counterattack, which gathered the last strength of the swamp, could crack the iron wall of Black Forest Territory, or merely bring about a grander and more thorough destruction.

Standing before the massive army, a mass of filth, poison, and stench, Litanel's demonic eye coldly surveyed this seemingly formidable but internally fractured doomsday coalition. A year ago, or even just a few months ago, possessing such an army would have filled him with boundless ambition, intending to sweep across the entire northern border princely territory.

But now, the successive crushing defeats, the despair-inducing absolute strength of the Black Forest Territory, especially the numerous "divine generals" who trampled across the battlefield like gods, had already shattered all his arrogance and unrealistic fantasies. The cruel reality, like the icy water at the deepest part of the swamp, seeped into his soul.

He had not a single hope of victory in his heart.

This hastily assembled army, though impressive in number, was riddled with chaotic command, filled with hostile races, and its morale forcibly bound together by despair and external pressure. How much of its fighting power could it possibly exert against the disciplined, well-equipped, and highly capable steel legion of the Black Forest Territory? He knew perfectly well.

“Victory…is already a pipe dream.” Litanel was very pragmatic.

He gathered all his strength and launched this all-out charge, his goal almost humble in its realism: he only wanted to create a crack in the seemingly impenetrable wall of Black Forest Territory.

He only wanted to launch a successful counterattack, even if it meant only reclaiming a small piece of territory occupied by the Black Forest Territory.

The only area he must fight for, and the only one worth paying such a price for, is the key node area where the "Heart of the Tide" has been confirmed to be being planted at a rapid pace! As long as he can reclaim that area, destroy or at least severely damage those damned blue beads, and delay or even prevent the inevitable catastrophe, then all the sacrifices he has made today will have meaning.

This is the entirety of Talitanel's strategic intentions and final hopes as he, the "King of the Swamp," faced his most desperate moment.

He wasn't fighting for victory, but for survival, for the swamp that gave him birth, nurtured him, and made him who he was, to fight for a slim chance of continuing to exist.

(End of this chapter)