"I thought I might let you all leave, but I've changed my mind." A smug smile appears on the bizarre figure's face. An oppressive pressure covers our party clearly indicating this necromancer is much stronger than we are.
"Who. Are you?" The shadowbirds are on guard against the powerful figure. "Are you a necromancer as well?" I ask this seemingly obvious question, but his power is fundamentally different from the other person's.
"A necromancer? HAHA! It's been a long time since I could be considered a mere necromancer!" The shadowy figure begins laughing hysterically. "Child I am no mere necromancer, I have transcended past the mystic level into the saint level! I am a Saint Soulbinder."
"Saint level?" I question to myself quietly.
"Of course you wouldn't know what saint level means. You are so weak, but I guess I could tell you a few things. Haha." The man chuckles to himself proudly. "Every mortal class has three ranks. Each class has different level requirements before they can reach the bottle neck and advance to the next rank. The further one progresses down a branch of their respective path the further they diverge from others in training. Of course reaching the saint level is not the limit, but breaking through this bottleneck is exceptionally hard." The man rambles constantly and I begin to make sense of how truly vast this game is.
"Hoo, don't you think you are getting a tad ahead of yourself Sheeron? Even thinking about becoming a deity at your level is too naive." A hot wind blows into the snowy wasteland following the familiar voice. The voice belongs to none other than the saint whom I met in the forest.
"Tarin, why have you invaded my territory? Are you trying to make an enemy of me?" The purple man, Sheeron becomes hostile at the appearance of Tarin. The oppressive aura he gave off disappears along with the his proud attitude.
"Your territory? Ha! You know fair well neither of us are powerful enough to truly hold our own territory in the face of the true master of the land. Don't be so conceited!" The green Tarin seems much more fair and less childish than the purple Sheeron.
"Conceited? You are truly getting on my nerves Tarin. I'll teach you not to look down on me!" A purple light envelopes Sheeron and his hazy form vanishes with a poof, but in the blink of an eye a physical form of him appears. "Release your astral form and fight me!"
"Ha! You fool, you know fair well the consequence of fighting in a mortal plane. While we saints are mortal we are at the precipice of godhood, and as such we are held to strict guidelines. At least my punishment will be light as you have instigated this fight." A green light envelopes Tarin in a similar way and he transforms into his physical form.
All our small group can do is look on in awe of these two powerful figures as they prepare to do battle. As these two release their spiritual forms two incredibly powerful auras permeate the air. A feeling of helplessness consumes all of us, we stand completely unable to move our bodies.
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The purple robed man is the first to act. He extends his hands out releasing a black mist which sinks into the snow covered ground. "Armed battalion! Cast your gaze upon the enemy and strike them down!" Seemingly formed from the dark mist and snow over three hundred humanoid beings armed with swords and spears burst from the ground. The black mist shrouds their body and allows them to fly up to Tarin.
Not any slower than Sheeron, Tarin begins to envelope himself in a green energy which quickly flows into his mouth and nose. "Spirit enhancement: Bear form!" The green energy is expelled from his pores and shifts itself into the form of a bear around Tarin. With a fierce roar he dives into the massive horde of enemies. The difference in paths is quickly apparent comparing one man who controls and army of weaker soldiers and another who instead enhances their own strength to fight any number of enemies.
The two saints are about equal in strength. Sheeron's power is focused on fighting against large numbers while Tarin's is focused to fight better one on one. Tarin may easily win if he can get past Sheeron's soldiers and take out Sheeron himself, but Sheeron will certainly not make it easy on him.
While Tarin is focused on the huge number of soldiers Sheeron seems to be saying the incantation for a spell. The incantation takes just a few seconds due to Sheeron's incredibly quick speed. After the incantation finishes a large magic circle forms above him and the space around it distorts.
"Death's Art: Demon Gate!" Emerging from the distorted space is a pair of enormous claws. The claws don't quite fit through the hole and begin to tear the weakened space.
"Sheeron you fool! Who would have thought you would use such a ridiculous spell here." Tarin's face fills with rage and concern after the arrival the magic circle. Bursting out from the horde of enemies he looks towards our small group. "You two are filled with too much potential for me to allow such a horror to befall you. I can't be sure where this will send you, but it will surely be better than here." A rainbow of energy focuses into Tarin's hand and he hurls it towards our feet. His movement was too quick for any of us to react. When the orb hits the ground it transforms into a multicolored magic circle which quickly becomes brighter and brighter.
"Haha! You are too pathetic Tarin! You would risk your own life to safe those fools? Very well, I will allow them to leave, but you will die!" As Sheeron finishes his sentence the enormous claws enlarge the tear in space. A horrifying aura erupts from the tear which causes the mentally weaker shadowbirds to collapse. I feel myself becoming weak, but then the magic circle flashes with brilliant light. Causing a feeling not dissimilar to the orb in the tower the auras of Tarin, Sheeron, and the demon all disappear.