Abyssal Prison (1)

Ang stood guard before the Gate of Foul Spirits for an entire day, his gaze never truly leaving the bizarre portal.

He had thought that after releasing so many Foul Spirits, the Gate of Foul Spirits might show signs of fatigue or collapse.

Yet unexpectedly, the gate remained stable and silent, like an ancient altar that had never spoken.

Only the dark energy patterns on its surface flowed at an exceedingly slow pace, seemingly still drawing faint elemental power from its surroundings.

Ang frowned.

He could sense the elemental energy in the surrounding air being devoured bit by bit by the gate.

But the rate was far too slow, nowhere near enough to sustain the gate's continued operation.

Its energy source had to have another channel.

Meanwhile, the Lizardman tribe on the outskirts had already fallen into dire straits.

In just one day, the Gate of Foul Spirits had released more than a hundred Foul Spirits. Like savage beasts unleashed from a cage, those monsters charged into the Lizardmen's lines in packs.

Faced with enemies of exceptional brutality and immense combat strength, the Lizardmen's strategy was baffling. They did not send out their true warriors, instead having large numbers of ordinary tribespeople withstand the Foul Spirits' assault head-on.

That decision left many soldiers in the human camp astonished, and some were even angered.

"How is this resistance? This is simply sending them to their deaths," Dana said in a low voice, casting an unfriendly glance toward the distant Lizardmen camp.

The Lizardmen's attempt to use numbers against quality quickly exacted a terrible price.

By sunset, corpses covered the battlefield. The Foul Spirits had fought one hundred against one thousand, each Foul Spirit killing more than ten Lizardmen on average. Blood dyed the ground deep red, and bodies lay piled atop