The Miasma of Death was slowly gathering in the forest around the city. For now, it was barely a dispersing mist, causing nothing more than mere discomfort in those who face it. They had no plans of stopping here. This was a large investment, one that will yield an even greater reward. So many apostles and beasts have been gathered here, to leave only suffering in their wake, all of which will only empower them.

Death, friend and foe alike, will only empower the Miasma of Death, empower the ones who revel in it, and bring despair to its prey. It will eat and eat until there is nothing left but a terrible fog covering this entire place, as far as it stretches out. A grand sacrifice for their God, The Bringer of Doom, Suton, one that will surely bring about great rewards, at least to the ones who survive.

Hazathel has served their God for a very long time, and by his own terms would put himself into the upper middle of their rankings. Looking like little more than an elevated old man, he held more than enough power to destroy a place like this with only minimal sacrifice of his own troops, yet there were three others like him. There was little reason for so much power to be gathered here except to guarantee victory, since there always may be an exceptional few, but neither he, nor such enemies, could bring about their full power here.

A weak region that held barely any mana, it felt suffocating to someone like Hazathel. A perfect place for a gathering of cowards, a hunting grounds to raise new subjects at best. This sacrifice would be the greatest thing these weaklings will ever contribute to.

“It looks like it is beginning. Fires have started in some places,” spoke Jadon, currently Hazathel’s assistant. Though he currently lacked power, he has proven his worth through his intelligence, the makings of a great mage, if he were to be nurtured. Currently, he was looking over the plains through a small magical device, one that allowed sight over long distances, though terribly bright during daytime.

Hazathel could see quite far himself, even without the crutch of magical items, but it was not quite enough, as he could barely make out the rising smoke that was thickening. “So it would seem. I would love to join them, but we must wait.”

His job was to, along with his underlings, hold the currently only open exit from their siege. It was a simple funnel strategy, the prey would flee towards the one spot they see salvation in. Then, when they thought they had gotten away, they would clamp on them like the maws of a beast, crushing the remnants of resistance. An important job, however boring it was.

“Start patrolling. We haven’t seen any attempts to leave the walls yet, but there may be some blue-blooded cowards that are already sneaking out,” Hazathel ordered towards his underling, who would move on to relay it onto other positions.

Jadon did a quick bow, before turning to move. As he was about to leave, they both froze as a deep but muffled voice rang through the forest, carried by a wave of magic.

“Come out, ye pests. Come out, hiding shall do thee no good. Thine suffering shall be swift regardless.”

Hazathel recovered quickly, frowning in the direction of the voice. “Nothing changes. Bring up the fastest beasts and get rid of the intruder. Move fast, so we can clean up before anyone notices our presence here.”

With his orders, Jadon started running in a direction, but Hazathel had no thoughts of staying idle either. He instead set out directly in the direction of the voice, using magic to lift off the ground and directly empowering the haze around him to obscure himself.

Crossing the hundreds of meters in mere minutes by gliding above the treeline, he quickly found the nuisance. Wearing armor he couldn't recognise, far too simple to belong to any order, the knight stood next to a beast's corpse, wielding an axe the size of a person.

Keeping his distance, Hazathel could sense the others quickly arriving, so he elected to watch for now. Observing the Knight further, he frowned. The beast had been slain in one blow, its neck cut open. It was an obvious outcome considering the weapon of choice, but it was still a considerable show of power. The wolves they had gathered were no weaklings, instead opting for powerful loners spread throughout. This was not a cheap operation by any measure.

With a howl, more of them ran out of the forest, Miasma and acolytes following shortly behind.

—

The first wolf ran directly at her, then jumped at the last second instead of ramming. A smart beast, trying to claw at her with speed instead of direct contest of strength, but that would not be enough. Barely dodging the hit, the wolf landed on the other side, and then fell down, its underside cut open by the massive axe.

It had ended in an instant, yet that was enough for the remaining ones to encircle her. Six of them at once would be a threat to even the greatest warriors this kingdom could offer, not to mention the enchanters emerging from the forest behind them, but she could not be compared to someone who laid in the safety of this place.

Time would be a concern, since more reinforcements could come behind the beasts, or even from the other side of the forest, but that would just make her job easier. The only one worth mentioning, standing far above the padding that was currently attacking her, was standing still in the air, not joining the fray.

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Turning her attention back at the wolves pacing around her, they still weren’t making their move. A wise decision, considering the fate their vanguard met, but a wiser one would’ve been to not be here in the first place. She pressed down on one foot, bursting forward through the encirclement towards the enchanters, taking another wolf down with a bodyslam in the process.

They were all surprisingly competent, as she crossed the distance between her and the nearest mage, the beasts instantly stopped pacing and rushed after her, while the mage, although obviously surprised, managed to throw himself off to the side, dodging the axe slamming down where he previously stood.

Using the axe now stuck in the ground as an anchor, she lifted herself into a horizontal spin, kicking the enchanter in the head. Although the intention was to kill him in the first place, there was too much force behind the kick, decapitating him and throwing the head towards one of his allies in an omnidirectional splatter of blood, hitting him in the gut.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to cause panic in everyone, as the remaining ten threw spells at her right after, not to mention the wolves right behind her.

Ending the movement, she slammed into the ground, using her momentum to spin her axe around again as she knelt down. The arc of the axe was followed by a burst of flames, killing the nearest two with the blade, two more had their heads far too close to survive for more than a few moments after the hit.

As the last two wolves were about to slam into her, ready with their mouths open, abandoning any semblance of self-perseverance, they instead slammed into the bolts of dark energy that were aimed where her head was moments ago.

Now pretty much showered in the gore of blood and guts, she quickly moved to stand up, but one more magic hit her from above, a bolt resembling a great lance, much more powerful than what the others threw, the flying cultist joined the fight while she wasn’t paying attention to him. Losing grip of her axe in the unexpected attack, she flew several meters backwards in a roll, barely landing on her hands and knees.

—

“I do not know who you are, but unfortunately, that does not matter. I admit, you wield great power, but this place is destined to fall. You have chosen the wrong place to be chivalrous, Knight.”, Hazathel spoke, descending, a black ball of energy gathering above his open palm.

“You…,” the Knight tried to speak, slowly climbing to her feet as the man neared. “You fucking dumbass.”

Before he could react, he was once again flying through the air, this time not out of his volition. The Knight had risen with explosive force, putting a fist to his face about as gently as one can when the rest of their body is moving into an uppercut, cutting right through his passive Shielding.

Nearing the ground, he once again picked himself into the air, forcibly stabilizing his movement before he hit a tree. Not quite reoriented yet, he still felt his magic he was channeling before now fueled, so he threw it in the general direction his enemy should be in the shape of a sweeping claw. Though there were acolytes in that direction, he paid them no heed.

As his vision finally cleared from the ringing feeling he had from the hit, the acolytes stood strong, at least their lower halves, as the rest got cut apart by his magic. Hazathel could see the Knight's axe still stuck in the ground, but not her.

Out of instinct rather than reason, he jumped further into the air, a great spear cut through where his feet would’ve been. The Knight had jumped from his side, sweeping for his legs, but barely missing as he was too high.

“Why don’t you stand still for a moment and let me crush you, it will be far less painful for you,” the Knight spat in frustration.

Hazathel barely registered her words, rather focusing on the danger she posed. She had taken his bolt head on, yet he saw nothing more than a few scratches and dents in her armor, some probably even from before he attacked, and although he was yet to be stabbed, he could tell that her power wasn’t lacking compared to her defense.

This would be a moment of great panic to anyone who lacked experience in fights, but Hazathel had already bathed in the blood of countless foes, including some that should’ve outmatched him. By definition, he would be a Scholarly Warlock, though there was no such name in the system, but a spellcaster nonetheless. As one who amassed power through knowledge, he was quite frail with formidable offense.

His opponent was a physical all-rounder, so all he needed to do was either to find a weakness in her defense, or keep hitting until either her armor or her bones crack. There is no strength in armor if your brain gets shaken in the tin can.

Or, if necessary, he could burn through his own mana reserves. Until then, environmental mana would do, even if it was scarce.

For now, his first move was obvious. In the time he was thinking, the Knight used trees as jumping points to reach him, going for another swipe with the spear. He had no advantage here in the forest, since the Miasma had already been spread out, so he dodged back towards the field of corpses that now covered the ground.

Dashing right behind him, the Knight kept swiping with her spear, cutting under Hazathel. His flight wasn’t true flight in any sense of the word, it was closer to pushing himself up with magical, growing stilts, and she was currently forcing him to lower rapidly.

In a hurry, he blasted himself upwards again, pushing them apart and blowing up a smokescreen of dust. Catching himself in the air again, he started channeling water in his hand. Though he saw her use flames, water and frost could still prove to be very effective, as they were against many armored foes.

In a blink, he dodged as he felt the air shift, the spear flying from the dust with such pressure it pushed him further to the side. He still growled in pain, as the spear was directly followed by the axe that he led her back to unwittingly, and departed with his leg.

Cursing, he paused his channeling to instead stop the blood flowing from his newly acquired stump. Not the first time he has lost a limb, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant.

“A commendable effort, for a pest. I had expected to end this fight much earlier, yet you have lasted too long. Forgive me, but I have guests to greet,” the Knight’s voice resounded from the smokescreen.

Hazathel opened his mouth to curse back, but staggered, as he found his heart pierced by a shortsword. “You… will regret this,” he whispered.

Then, he opened his eyes again.