Infinite Potential System

Somewhere amidst the vast landscape of the Hell Realm, a former Gold-Ranked Adventurer stood on a hill, a pair of horns curling around the sides of his head in an awkward and spiraling manner.

His skin was a deeper red than blood, but his beard remained thin, and his hair was still held up in a ponytail like it had been for most his life.

In the distance, the Adventurer faced an approaching army of beings that were even further from human than he was. Their faces were grotesque, and each grunt was a guttural scream that couldn't be compared to any common language across the Mortal or Ascended Realms.

Their skin was pigmented the same color as everything else in Hell, and their horns were twisted and deformed in ways that even put the Adventurer to shame. What more, in their hands were metal or wooden weapons of poor craftsmanship, while their chests and legs were wrapped in tough leather.

"General Torc, the Broken Drawmor Clan will be here in two hours." a humanoid figure with two nubs for horns knelt down in front of the Adventurer.

Torc nodded, "Do you an estimate? What's the strategic situation?"

"Of the one and a half million Clan members, we estimate eight hundred thousand have gathered together to halt Hel the Divine's advance. If we lose this battle, our efforts from the last two years will have been wasted."

"How many do we have?"

"Fifty thousand, Sir."

Torc sighed, somehow feeling as if his beard had greyed some more. He hadn't expected the Broken Drawmor Clan to value this patch of land so much, and he was left with only a fifth of the troops he started the war with. Stay tuned for updates on empire

It was an almost hopeless task.

"Are there any other variables?" he asked the kneeling figure.

The subordinate shook his head, "They're underequipped. It's about the only advantage we have other than the terrain."

Torc nodded, "Have the others improve their defensive positions until the enemy arrives. We need to cut their numbers down."

"Sir, you're still willing to fight? If we only wait a few more years, we might be able to compete with them. I'd follow you anywhere, but not everyone can fight two hundred opponents by themselves like you can."

Almost a year ago, Torc's position was elevated to General after he singlehandedly wiped out over two hundred members of the Naveis Clan. His original mission was to lead a small team of five and collect information, but an ambush from the opposition led to the death of everyone except him.

After three long days of fighting, the Naveis Clan was forced to retreat with heavy casualties. In the following months, the Clan was wiped out using the information Torc gathered.

Torc turned his head with a fierce look in his eye, "Didn't you say our effort would be wasted if we lost? Then we won't lose! Have our units prepare for battle. We'll use every trick in the book if it means killing one more of that damned Broken Drawmor Clan!"

"Yes Sir!" the subordinate stood up and performed a bow before heading towards the friendly encampment.

Torc stared at the approaching army with furrowed brows for a long time. The odds were heavily stacked against his group, and each passing minute without action was a lost advantage. If he didn't make a move now, the enemy would trample over their defense.

He lowered his head slightly, mumbling a few words while his eyes glowed red-hot. This was one of the extremely rare abilities that Torc acquired in the last year, of which only a few in the Hell Realm were alive to witness.

If he blinked, his eyelids would be no more, so he had to maintain perfect focus. The longer he gathered focus, the more powerful his attack would be. It was time to push the limits of his ability.

One minute, two minutes, three. The temperature around Torc rose to unbelievable levels, steam rising from his body in thick clouds. His pupils were no longer visible, the eyeball replaced by a red marble of nearly two thousand degrees Celsius.

At this point, Torc's powerful body could no longer sustain the heat. He raised his head, firing off a red beam towards the third row of the Broken Drawmor Clan's line. Despite being thousands of kilometers away, Torc's attack reached them in less than ten seconds.

Over a thousand enemies silently exploded into a blood mist, a shockwave spreading throughout the army and knocking over a few hundred more. The army was thrown into a state of panic while the Broken Drawmor Clan searched for the origin of the attack.

My power has grown since last year, but it's still not enough... Torc sighed in disappointment, but he didn't allow it to show on his face. He was a leader now, and any hesitation would reflect in his subordinates.

Instead, he gave an inhuman roar while raising his left fist to the sky. In his right hand, a long spear as dark as midnight appeared. According to Hel, contained within the spear was a power far surpassing Torc's own, enough to make up for his lacking ability.

At the same time, using the spear before he was ready would lead to severe injuries, as Hel warned. But Torc didn't care about that. He lowered his left fist and raised the spear, signaling for his group to prepare for battle.

A few kilometers behind Torc, his subordinates roared to the skies and rushed for their equipment. If their leader was going to risk his life, they couldn't fall behind.

Some of Torc's followers sprouted wings and took to the air, forming a battalion of fierce fighters, while others summoned Magical Beasts native to the Hell Realm and used them as mounts. In a few minutes, Torc had a truly formidable army that was unique across the Hell Realm.

He wiped the residual moisture from his steaming body, then lowered his head once more for another beam attack. His opponents were forced to scatter again and again to avoid death, but hundreds were still caught in every blast.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Again and again, for dozens of minutes, Torc tirelessly fired beams at his enemies, crippling their numbers down to seven hundred thousand before they could reach Torc's forces.

"Roar!" the first enemy entered earshot but was quickly cut down by a thrown javelin made of sharpened stone. His body crumpled to the ground before he could roar a second time, a pool of blood rolling down the hillside.

"Preserve your weaponry! Don't give them equipment!" Torc issued orders to his units as he jumped from the hill and slammed down on a group of ten Broken Drawmor Clan members. His ponytail flipped from side to side as he cleaved his enemies apart in a single move.

He jumped forward into another group, surrounding himself completely with enemies but showing no fear. He didn't even have to see the battlefield to know exactly how to organize his units. The predictable enemy formations combined with his experience on all types of battlefields gave Torc everything he needed to know.

"Air troops, target the leaders! Cavalry, seek out a flank! Everyone else... kill everything in sight!"