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The list of names continued and the ball of dread in my stomach grew as the pain in my skull reached a dizzying crescendo. Along with Soul Union, Bloodwalk was unavailable to all of my people as well as the gate I opened at Grandring. Something was interfering. With no other choice available I growled through the pain and flew with all speed toward the battlefield.
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The moment Gray vanished from the Caldera and Niiya flew after him, the kingdom’s ambush was unleashed.
An opaque blue dome appeared high in the sky above and encompassed the entire mountain. The Bloodgate vanished as all magical communication and dimensional movement was severed by the barrier. A choir of chants could be heard from all around the edge of the extinct volcano as nearly a thousand white robed figures appeared from broken invisibility effects. They had been waiting at this exact place.
“It’s a trap!” Shouted Yugal as he broke into an earth shaking sprint toward the nearest enemy casters. “Interrupt their spells!”
From a hovering spectral platform above the Caldera, General Orkas or rather the one inhabiting him watched the scene unfold. The Black Knight’s prediction had been perfect, and Typhon had decapitated this incredibly fearsome force in a mere instant. Now, every single person in the army with any level of Holy magic was executing a ritual on an unprecedented scale. The only enemies Orkas needed to be wary of were the demonic pawns of the Usurper. Those Hellcats, Cambions, and Dark Alfar were troublesome opponents. The rest were fodder before Orkas.
They were quick to react, commendably so. The giant Yugal in particular showed battlefield awareness above the others. That name had briefly been of interest to the Red Knight as a potential host until he had become entangled in one of Typhon’s harvesting projects. It didn’t matter though, the ritual was finished.
A blinding white flash sparked in the clasped hands of each caster and a magic circle appeared above the Usurper’s army. In unison the chant reached a deafening conclusion as voices were taken in by the incantation itself and amplified a thousandfold.
“By the might of Armiel, Sword of The Heavens, perish from this world these stains of blight! Infernal Purge!”
An unnatural silence fell over the mountain then. Everyone froze, except for the several hundred holy magic users that dropped unconscious or dead from the strain of using a magic that was beyond them. Only a handful remained, and those would be useless for many days. The Red Knight gave a bitter smile beneath his blank helm. A necessary toll.
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Leza was just unleashing Null Roar at the line of spell casters when suddenly without so much as a sound her body dispersed into a golden cloud of light particles, and faded away in the span of a single heartbeat.
“No!” Tuara screamed as she watched her beloved comrades vanish all around her. Every Hellcat and Cambion was suddenly gone as if they had never been. She suddenly felt nauseous. Why did she remain? How could she face Lord Gray now?
From behind the line of collapsed magic users, an endless swarm of wild looking huge men and women began to appear at the lip of the crater, they carried spears with pale bone handles tipped with dark metal.
“Keep your head, Tuara!” Her aunt Kitha screamed. “Summon your beast! We have friends to avenge, and allies to protect until our master returns!”
Tuara nodded and her slack expression of despair hardened into one of grim resolve. Probably thanks to their innate anti-magic, they were the only remaining fighters blessed by Him. That’s right. This was not over. She closed her eyes, searching her skill until she found the best entity for this battle. Even her allies took several steps away reflexively as the enormous shadow formed.
“Zoggoth!?” One of the charging barbarians blurted in loud confusion, and the word echoed like ripples on a lake.
There was no mistaking the mythical beast. Zoggoth, the aspect of the white bear, tyrant of the tundra had appeared in all of his horrific glory. He was revered by the citizens of the north for his power, but also so dreaded that his likeness never graced their totems for fear that it might draw his attention. He stood the height of an ogre at the shoulder, and would be eye to eye with Thrym on his hind legs. His paws were the size of wagon wheels, his fangs were ivory daggers. His eyes were dark and glittered with cunning. His fur was a shade of pure white that redefined the color entirely, save for the permanent stain of crimson on his maw.
The barbarians slowed, but still came on. The lives of their families hung in the balance, and to die in battle against such a legend was a privilege.
“We think alike, I was going to go for him too.” Kitha said. “In that case...” The older Dark Alfar enacted her own summoning.
A second shadow appeared, rising high into the sky, dwarfing Zoggoth and even the giants. The appearance of this creature did stop the barbarian advance.
“K-Kukulkana! Kukulkana!” The barbarians named her with ease.
The feathered serpent was a practical goddess in her own right. She was eighty feet of muscle and magic power, armored in glittering purple scales. Two great wings with brilliant golden feathers kept the bulk of her body in the air. Only her delicate tail touched the ground. Her head was that of a python, with golden eyes matching the color of her wings. Unlike Zoggoth who was feared as a punisher of weakness, Kukulkana was openly worshiped and prayed to for protection from evil thoughts, bad omens, and nightmares. How could they both appear at once? How could they stand side by side as allies?
“Our punishment!” One withered old warrior decorated in beads and bones screamed in ecstasy. “Our prayers for a good death are answered my brethren! I come for you my love!” The wild eyed man bolted with surprising speed straight for Zoggoth, and fulfilled his wish.
A lazy downward swipe left nothing of the zealous tribesman but a chunky crimson stain against the frost bitten stone. Zoggoth moved forward, delighted to be summoned into such a wondrous playground. Kukulkana opened her mouth, displaying hundreds of needle sharp teeth as a dry voice carried the words of a menacing incantation.
“In my own name of Kukulkana, Mother of Dreams, let those standing as enemies of my master know despair. Let the chains holding Nightmare’s wrath crumble to naught! The mind withers, the soul falls to rot! Black Nirvana!”
A cone of dark purple mist erupted from her open mouth, enveloping at least a hundred enemies. Each one went suddenly rigid and pale, standing as still as sculptures with faces twisted in a look of horror that truly turned the stomach to see.
As the spirit beasts began to unleash their fury, the rest of the allied forces recovered from the shock of being ambushed and began their counterattack.
A deep war horn blown by king Thrym spurred the giants into action. Three of the largest giants bore no weapons but each carried a single great drum. Tree trunk sized arms rose and fell, and a beat echoed through the mountains. This was the highest magic of giants. It resonated through the stone and into the sky, filling the giant warriors with vigor and multiplying their power. It had an opposite effect on their enemies. The oppressive drums beat down like hammers, weakening resolve and inspiring dread. The giants sang in the ancient dialect of their ancestors as Thrym led them like a single boulder bouncing ahead of a landslide. Titanic blows turned throngs of fearless barbarians into pulp or sent them flying over the rim of the caldera to plummet onto the jagged stones below.
Not to be outdone, the small unit of dwarves moved in a wedge shaped formation. They mowed through the disorganized enemies, largely unnoticed until it was too late. Like a low swinging thresher, they left a grim harvest of mortally wounded barbarians in their wake.
The seemingly endless onslaught of barbarian slaves was diminishing rapidly. They were utterly powerless before the mighty forces of the Usurper even without the perceived trump card of Hellcats and Cambions. The red knight watched the battle unfolding and falling apart below. A tiny tug on his consciousness began to grow more insistent. It was the mind of Orkas, long subdued suddenly flaring up as the epic slaughter carried on. He was getting excited, it had been a long time since he had felt this from him. Orkas was his only truly willing host, happy to play a backseat role until a worthy enemy appeared.
“Orkas the Destroyer.” The voice coming through the thick vocal cords was almost never heard, and sounded more beast than man. “I hunger.”