Tonight was destined to become a lifelong nightmare for many Atlanteans.
In the first half of the night, they successfully ambushed the Athenians' encampment, causing the Athenians to suffer a crushing defeat and securing a resounding victory. Poseidon himself praised their military achievements, even sending fine wine, delicious food, and beautiful women to host a celebration feast for them.
In the latter half of the night, as their celebration feast was in full swing, with most of them drunk and many Atlanteans even having slipped into tents with the Mermaid Dancers, all Atlanteans suddenly heard a terrifying roar.
"For—Sparta!!"
This roar echoed through the night sky, as if a group of terrifying giants from the depths of Tartarus were attacking. Upon hearing this sound, many Atlanteans who were still somewhat sober were startled awake, and those friends who were "busy" trembled with fright. If they were to survive, they might develop some unspeakable ailments.
Accompanying this roar, the Atlanteans saw a group of Spartan tough men, clad in crimson cloaks and wielding long spears and round shields, charge out from the area where they stored the Athenians' supplies. They attacked all living beings indiscriminately along their path, whether Atlanteans, sea creatures, or merfolk. In an instant, countless lives were lost and wounded before these rabid dogs of Ares.
Hearing the commotion, the Atlantean commander, who was discussing a multi-million business deal with the leader of the Mermaid Dancers, also rushed out. He didn't even have time to put on his armor, only wearing his underwear. Seeing the crimson-cloaked warriors freely slaughtering and mercilessly taking lives with their spears at the feast, the Atlantean commander was utterly stunned.
"Spartans? Why?"
However, there was no time for him to ponder. The Atlantean leader quickly raised his sword and loudly organized the Atlanteans, who were already in disarray.
"Do not be afraid! Children of Poseidon, there are only one hundred and fifty of them! Pick up your weapons and send them to Hades!"
Hearing his voice, the panicking Atlanteans seemed to find their backbone. Finally, some of them began to pick up their weapons, attempting to resist these ferocious Spartans.
However, cruel facts followed. Just after the Atlantean commanders finished shouting, "There are only one hundred and fifty of them," a large group of people suddenly rushed out from the Athenian supply depot. Although they were not Spartans, their eyes were fierce and full of fighting spirit, and their numbers probably totaled four or five hundred.
These people, wearing armor and wielding swords, followed behind the Spartans and quickly joined the battle, causing the Atlanteans to be thrown into chaos. Although their fighting skills were far less refined than the Spartans, they exuded an aura of fearlessness. The Atlanteans saw more than once someone, even after being stabbed multiple times in the chest, desperately bringing their sword down on the head of an enemy in front of them.
Seeing these wolf-like enemies charging, the Atlanteans, who had not yet completed their formation, were utterly unable to resist. In the end, only a few warriors managed to arm themselves fully and followed behind the Atlantean commander, desperately trying to delay the Spartans and Pelasgians, buying time for their allies who hadn't yet grasped the situation.
Unfortunately, during this process, the Atlantean commander was targeted by the Spartan commander.
"Whoosh!"
Spartans are not verbose, and this was a battlefield; the Spartan would certainly not kindly remind the Atlantean commander to be careful. The Atlantean commander was entangled with a Pelasgian, wielding his trident. Just as he was about to slay this Pelasgian, a fierce wind, accompanied by a whooshing sound, attacked him from behind. The Atlantean commander only had time to quickly turn and horizontally hold his trident in front of his chest before he felt a tremendous force strike his trident.
That was a spear. The most terrifying aspect of the Spartans, created by Ares himself in the Age of Gods, was that their strength was enough to arm-wrestle with giants. Others' long weapons were made of wood, with only the sharp tip made of metal, but their spears, like Ares', were entirely forged from heavy bronze.
Yet, despite being such heavy weapons, these Spartans could wield and throw them with ease. Perhaps the bloodline of Poseidon played a role; in the instant the Atlantean commander turned, in his peripheral vision, his dynamic vision clearly captured that the Spartan's descending spear was already slightly bent.
Such power was naturally beyond the resistance of someone like him, whose divine blood had been diluted through countless generations and was almost gone. With a crisp snap, the trident in the Atlantean commander's hand was directly split in half. Fortunately, he quickly rolled on the ground, thereby avoiding the spear tip and not meeting the same fate as his trident.
Had Ares found a bunch of demigods to be his subjects from somewhere?!
While rolling on the ground, the Atlantean commander thought in despair.
However, his emergency measure did not salvage his dire situation; instead, it plunged him into an even more terrifying predicament. Seeing the Atlantean commander perform a desperate roll, the Spartan commander also silently took countermeasures. He slightly lifted his foot, then stomped heavily on the ground.
With a dull thud, the ground directly cracked with spiderweb-like fissures. Crimson magic spread along these cracks, then transformed into a magical light, erupting and scorching the Atlantean commander's back.
"Ah!"
He only managed to let out a scream before his entire body was jolted into the air by the magical light. Then, the Spartan commander lifted his leg again, kicking his body upright, while deftly changing his grip on the spear, maintaining a throwing posture. The Spartan commander forcefully hurled his spear towards the Atlantean commander, who was in mid-air and had nowhere to dodge.
Pfft!
The spear easily pierced through the Atlantean commander's chest. The immense force carried him forward, then impaled him onto a wooden stake within the encampment, producing a dull "thud" sound.
"Your commander is dead! Atlanteans!"
After successfully slaying the enemy leader, the Spartan commander let out a deafening roar:
"Who else isn't afraid to die! Come forward!"
Hearing his words, and seeing their commander, one of the ten kings, impaled on the stake with his eyes still open in death, the Atlanteans' morale instantly collapsed. The formation they had painstakingly put together disintegrated in that very instant.