Jonathan raised an eyebrow, and saw that the mage and warrior had retreated into the depths of the army. It seemed that one of them had cast an illusion of their forms. Rather than waste the energy contained in his muscles and bones, he took another step, accelerating at thousands of miles per second. This time, there were no illusions waiting for him. He made sure of that by expelling a wave of Void energy before him, which washed over all of the soldiers in the area. It was too weak to do much, but had there been any illusions, they would have been destroyed instantly.

The sword wielding warrior dashed forwards, using a movement ability of her own. However, it was far too slow. Jonathan met the woman’s swords with his fists. In the tiny battle, a microcosm of the wider war, his fists won out, breaking apart her guard. Both impacted the center of her chest, and loosed their devastating charge. Red and purple light warred for dominance as they ravaged the fighter through her flimsy armor. Well, it was likely made from some high Tier 3 beast, but leather would always be weaker than metal at a comparable level. Likely, she had enough confidence in her speed that she thought herself safe from most attacks.

Blood exploded from her mouth as she doubled over, her feet lifting off the ground. That spelled the end of the battle. At this point, Jonathan was far faster than something as paltry as gravitational acceleration. A hundred blows landed in the blink of an eye, each containing their own charge of Void energy and Divinity. The end result was an explosion of flesh and blood that was caught by the wind, rising up into the air and coating the nearby fighters.

Jonathan lowered his fists and scanned the horizon for the mage. However, they were nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile, Edgar and Eva fought side by side, taking this as an opportunity to level the weaker elven woman. Edgar toned down his skills somewhat as he worked, focusing more on corralling the fighters towards his girlfriend. Then chains of wind bound them in place, letting Eva skewer them with her spear.

Hushar trampled a path of ruin through any soldiers he could find, cutting a line through the army. With his brute strength and sword, he could simply force weaker fighters out of the way, whether they wished to be moved or not. Sometimes, they weren’t even alive after the experience.

Blades of obsidian cut through the soldiers like a scythe through wheat, paving the way for the rest of the tiny force to charge Slothari’s army. Had it not been for Jonathan, Edgar and Hushar, the battle would have been impossible. In a world where a peak Tier fighter could take out thousands, if not tens of thousands of lower level warriors, then someone like Jonathan, fueled by titles, Divinity and an incredibly powerful element was nearly unstoppable against all but the most talented of individuals. Individuals like Slothari.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Hushar found himself wondering what would have become of his leader had he been allowed to stay in Telvaria. His initial leveling speed would have been lower, but eventually, he would have found a niche for himself. The Uthraki had known of the existence of a world beyond Tartarus, and of another beyond that, but it had been in a more academic sense. He had no sense of what Telvaria was like, or any inclination to go there.

All he wanted was the opportunity to grow stronger, and to take revenge against those who had tried to stop him. Now that he had a taste of power, he could never go back, not even if Death’s eyeless sockets stared at him. He would rise above the challenges in his path, and fight alongside Jonathan until they either defeated the Hells, or died together.

Jonathan noted the position of his lieutenants as he fought, and saw that they were safe. As for the rest of his army, there were already some casualties, but that was to be expected. Unlike most of the times he had fought, this time, he had some healers working for him. Those of his men still alive were pulled back from the battle, and given medical attention. Of course, some were too far gone, and were simply left there on the muddy ground.

Jonathan eked out his revenge for their deaths, his fists and energy fighting as one. Every punch claimed a life, and every moment he had free, spears of the Void lanced out, punching through armor and flesh alike. Whenever he was able to muster enough power, he sent out pulses of Maw of the Void, dissolving everything in his way.

Eventually, he found the mage, who had retreated to the very back of the army, and was working on some grand spell. The staff with the storm crystal on it was at the center of a whirling maelstrom of power, growing more and more powerful by the second.

Jonathan pushed off the ground, stamina coursing through his muscles. The mage pulled off his hood, revealing a bald head covered in glyphs. Those glyphs lit up, and the storm exploded outwards in size, suddenly a mile tall. The glyphs started to burn his body, but he continued his work. Winds fast enough to level forests and stir up tidal waves buffeted Jonathan, forcing him backwards. Before he was forced to do anything drastic, he felt a stirring in the elemental plane behind him, and an opposing gale blew in, warring with the storm. Edgar had entered the fray, and he would not tolerate another competitor in his domain.