Ten thousand archangels lined the horizon, silhouetted by the setting sun, smoke from the battlefield turning the bright star blood red.

Lord Arkon approached the commanding archangel, the first and original of his horde.

“There is nowhere for them to run, Tamrael,” he said, smiling proudly, looking up at the winged and powerful warrior beside him. “They are too deep inland. If they don’t attack, we’ll starve them out.”

“Perhaps,” Tamrael replied stoically. His dark skin was lined with blood and tattooed glyphs alike. “The demons grow in number every second.”

The archangel lifted a flaming sword to the sky and waved it horizontally, a signal for the right flank to shift. Lord Arkon wasn’t privy to the specifics but why worry about micromanaging when you have throngs of heavenly warriors at your disposal? Delegation was as important a tool as plotting and tactics.

“Every Archangel is worth a thousand of the bastard imps,” Akron suggested.

“And they have millions,” Tamrael replied flatly.

Before Lord Akron could counter with another attempt to give himself confidence that victory was all but assured, the earth shook and the air grew heavy and hot with pressure.

Lord Akron activated one of his many Artifacts, giving himself the power to keep standing rather than fall flat on his face.

“What’s happening?” He asked, exerting more energy than he expected just to talk.

Tamrael frowned, an unusual expression for the Archangel. Lord Akron doubted he had seen him express emotions more than a handful of times.

“Someone just teleported into the middle of the enemy forces”, he said, looking off into the distance. Archangels have incredible eyesight. Lord Akron wasn’t sure if it was simple seeing like he did, or something more magical and divine.

Tamrael’s face darkened before lighting up in confusion, breaking all records of emotion showing.

“It’s a Hero,” he said.

“Ah well, he must be powerful to jump among so many enemy troops. I had no idea we’d be receiving reinforcements. Who sent them?”

Tamrael didn’t respond for a moment before suddenly being lit aflame with heavenly power. His black eyes burned with rage and fire.

“They’re not here to help us”, he said. He then lifted his burning blade into the air and swept it sideways. Immediately a few hundred archangels, which were in staggered positions among the heavenly line, shot forward, their massive white feathered wings propelling them towards the enemy hoard.

“What do you mean? What else would they be doing?” Lord Akron didn’t understand Tamrael’s words. If a Hero was truly here, and one with such a powerful aura, surely this battle was all but over.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The archangels reached the enemy front-line, tearing into the imps like butter, killing hundreds with each swing.

There were too many of them for a perfect route, however. Occasionally they would overwhelm an Archangel by sheer number and bring them down, tearing them apart like a wild animal.

The thought was almost a joke, however, for as soon as they had their fill and moved on, a fellow Archangel would wave their sword and Resurrect the fallen companion, who would begin slaughtering imps again without even a slight pause.

Lord Arkon watched as a newly resurrected Archangel ripped itself up from the ground and tore a flaming blade through the backs of hundreds of imps.

He smiled, wishing that Tamrael had agreed to this sooner. This wasn’t even worthy of being called a battle. It was a slaughter.

He glanced up at the Archangel beside him, confused by the man’s expression.

One of terror.

As the Archangel line pushed through the enemies with hardly any resistance, they would have no way nor mind to be prepared for what was about to happen, for without warning a bolt of thick, vibrating lightning ripped through them, tearing down the entire battle line, completely agnostic, searing imp and archangel alike.

After what felt like an eternity, but in reality was merely a few seconds, the chain of energy dissipated, leaving thousands of burnt corpses. Nearly every single Archangel had been turned to ashes, save for a small handful, who were so injured as not to be much more use than their dead companions. Even if they used Resurrect, it would take a long time to regain the mana to cast it again, let alone hundreds of times.

Sure a few thousand imps were incinerated alongside them…

But millions more were already moving forward to fill the emptiness.

“Wha…what was that?” Lord Arkon stuttered, activating every artifact in his arsenal. He felt his power soar and his body solidify to match his newfound might.

He still felt weak against the aura emanating from the center of the enemy army, however.

"I told you," Tamrael said, sweat beginning to appear on his heavenly brow.

"A Hero."

"But that's impossible," Lord Arkon assured the Archangel. "If a Hero was truly here, surely they would have stopped that!"

Tamrael lowered his wings and brought his hover to the ground, lowering himself to stand next to Lord Arkon, who was, at present, the commanding officer of this entire army.

"They didn't stop it, my Lord, because they cast it." The Archangel lifted his burning blade into the air and brought it down before him in a fierce motion, sending cracks out from the point of impact. At this signal the heavenly host of thousands lifted their identical blades in unison and bolted forward towards the enemy front line, streaks of feather and fire crashing into the line of imps, who smiled their creepy, knowing smiles as though their imminent death was nothing but a mere inconvenience.

Lord Arkon didn't know what to say. His family and friends would make some jokes about how it was the first time he had ever been speechless.

A Hero. Commanding the enemy army.

The only reason the forces of Good had even been able to survive the dark onslaught for these past few years was due to the Heroes. They were powerful, able to use and equip any artifact, but most importantly and the actual real reason for their prowess, was the ability to cast spells.

Lord Arkon himself may be able to use and equip low level artifacts, but he was no Hero. He was simply a local Lord with deep pockets.

There had never been a Hero on the other side of the battlefield. There had never been a need to fear lightning bolts or fireballs falling from the sky.

But as Lord Arkon watched the smoldering ashes of hundreds of Archangels, and the forms of hundreds of fire elementals begin to form and rise from the embers, he realized that everything had changed.