Charles looked up at the devils and spellcaster mercenaries stationed at the firing ports and casting platforms of the spired tower.
He showed what he believed was a friendly smile.
Yet to every devil and mercenary, that smile was utterly terrifying, and they cried out in horror.
The next moment, Charles's fists hammered relentlessly against the tower's defensive shield.
After just two or three punches, the shield shattered completely like a bubble.
Then Charles slammed into the tower directly, crashing it to the ground.
He followed with a heavy stomp, and beneath the tower, a stream of scorching magma erupted like a volcano.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Amid the surging lava, the shattered, collapsing tower was forcibly propped up as though its life had been extended.
But the defenders within felt no joy.
Magma spurted outward from every firing port and every casting platform.
As for the defenders inside, they could only embrace an even more scorching and violent future.
"Aoo!"
"I'll wait for you amid destruction!"
Not far away, the demon that had previously been besieged and severely wounded finally died.
Yet before his death, he still hurled a deadly curse at the Pit Fiend attacking him.
Layers of cursed runes, spoken in the Greater Demon's final soul-language, wound around the devil baron.
His expression darkened. A death curse like this could easily be dispelled if he had time to rest for a while.
But on such a fierce battlefield, where would he find the time to remove the curse?
The next moment, his face turned even uglier.
Because on the ruined street not far away, Charles was slowly approaching, carrying the corpse of a devil baron that had been beaten into a puddle of mush.
Charles smiled. "Not bad, not bad!"
"You did well. You finally killed that noisy