Pretending to be a noob in a world scaled by power level

[177] Retreat

In a sudden, terrifying moment, the skies darkened as a massive, flaming meteor descended towards the battlefield. It was an eerie sight, the meteor's fiery tail lighting up the dusk sky with an ominous glow, its passage through the atmosphere creating a horrifying spectacle.

The ground beneath shook violently as the meteor crashed into the beach, the impact zone immediately swallowed by an explosion of flame and debris. A shockwave of pure, destructive force expanded outwards, leveling anything and everything in its path. Trees were uprooted, rocks and sand were blasted into the air, and both the allied forces and the demonic horde were scattered like leaves in a storm.

The ear-splitting roar of the impact and the following silence were stark contrasts. Smoldering craters and scorched earth marked where valiant fighters once stood, and the beach was clouded by a pall of smoke and ash. Ally and foe alike were obliterated in the catastrophic event, a testament to the horrific power of the demon king.

On the horizon, the demon king's flagship ominously approached. Its imposing figure cut through the water, and the remaining demonic horde around it seemed to rally, their screams of fury and bloodlust filling the air. The demon king, his form silhouetted against the glow of the sinking sun and the still-burning meteor crater, stood tall and unyielding on the deck, his magic still resonating from the devastating attack.

Gazing at the catastrophic aftermath, a knot tightened in my stomach. As the dust settled, the full extent of the destruction revealed itself - fallen soldiers, charred remnants of our defense line, and the dread that came with the sight of the demon king's flagship drawing closer.

"Fall back!" I shouted into my magic orb, the command magically amplified and echoed across the battlefield, "Everyone, retreat!"

The order was met with a wave of reactions. Some were hesitant, torn between the desire to fight and the need for survival. But the sight of the destruction on the beach served as a painful reminder of the enemy's power.

Quickly, I dispatched a group of swift beastkin runners and flying familiars to relay the command to those who couldn't hear my call. Flags of retreat were raised high, and signal flares fired into the sky. Horns and drums sounded the retreat, their urgent tones ringing through the air.

Commands were shouted by ranking officers, reorganizing their disarrayed units and leading their soldiers away from the impending onslaught. Lines of armored soldiers, orc berserkers, and the remains of our valiant defenders began moving inland, their orderly retreat a testament to their training and discipline. The survivors of the demon king's meteor spell assisted their fallen brethren, carrying the wounded and supporting each other as they too joined the retreat.

The retreat wasn't a symbol of defeat, but a strategic move for survival. We knew that we had to regroup, reassess, and retaliate with a counteroffensive, turning our defeat on the beach into a fight for our homeland. And I intended to lead them through it.

Q: Do you play "Clash of Clans"?