“Then let’s give them something to think about.”
Gran replied, drawing his blade.
The weapon gleamed briefly in the flickering firelight before he swung it in a wide arc, sending a shockwave of energy toward the nearest group of Demonsoul Candles.
The wave struck true, dispersing three of the creatures into bursts of flame and smoke.
The remaining creatures reacted immediately, their movements becoming more aggressive. Fireballs began to form in their hands, the glowing orbs of flame growing in intensity before they hurled them toward Gran and Machivel.
Machivel raised his hand, a shimmering barrier of energy forming in front of him just in time to deflect the incoming fireballs.
The explosions rocked the room, the heat searing against their skin even through the barrier.
“We can’t let them pin us down,” Machivel said. “We need to keep moving.”
Gran nodded, already stepping to the side to avoid another fireball.
He closed the distance to the nearest group of Demonsoul Candles, his blade slicing through them with precision.
Each strike caused the creatures to explode in a burst of fire, the force pushing him back slightly but failing to break his momentum.
“They’re not particularly durable,” Gran noted.
“That’s not the problem,” Machivel replied, his eyes darting around the room.
“It’s their numbers. Look.”
Gran followed his gaze and felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. More Demonsoul Candles were emerging from the walls, their fiery heads illuminating the room in a hellish glow. The number had already doubled, and there seemed to be no end to the onslaught.
“This isn’t sustainable,” Machivel said, his tone grim.
“We need to find a way to stop the source.”
“Easier said than done,”
Gran replied, cutting down another group of the creatures.
Machivel closed his eyes briefly, his energy flaring as he focused. He extended his senses, trying to trace the magical flow that was fueling the Demonsoul Candles.
The effort took only a moment before his eyes snapped open.
“There,” he said, pointing toward the far wall.
“The spell’s anchor is behind that section. If we can disrupt it, we can stop the summoning.”
Gran glanced at the wall, noting the thick cluster of Demonsoul Candles guarding it. “Of course it couldn’t be easy,” he muttered.
“I’ll cover you,” Machivel said. “Get to the anchor and destroy it.”
Gran hesitated for only a second before nodding.
“Understood. Don’t let them swarm you.”
“Worry about yourself,” Machivel shot back, a small smirk playing on his lips despite the situation.
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Gran surged forward, his blade cutting a path through the Demonsoul Candles.
Machivel stayed behind, erecting barriers and unleashing bursts of energy to keep the creatures off Gran’s back.
The room had become a furnace, the heat nearly unbearable, but neither man faltered.
As Gran approached the anchor point, he saw a glowing rune etched into the wall, its intricate patterns pulsing with fiery light.
The magic radiating from it was intense, the source of the Demonsoul Candles’ power.
“Found it!” Gran called out, raising his blade.
Machivel didn’t respond, too focused on holding back the swarm.
Gran didn’t waste time. Channeling his energy into his weapon, he brought it down on the rune with all his strength.
The blade struck true, and the rune shattered in a brilliant explosion of light and heat.
The effect was immediate. The Demonsoul Candles froze in place before collapsing into piles of ash. The oppressive heat in the room began to dissipate, leaving Gran and Machivel standing in the aftermath of the battle.
Graham let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Well, that was… something.”
Machivel approached,
“Good work. Let’s hope that’s the last of it.”
Machivel noticed that one of the Demonsoul Candle shoots a weirdly colored fireball towards to Gran.
“Gran, don’t underestimate their fire! He shouted, his voice cutting through the crackling chaos.
Gran sidestepped a sudden burst of flame from one of the creatures, its molten body surging forward with intent.
“I’m not! But I can’t just dive into this blaze without knowing what I’m slashing.
Gran shouted back, his eyes narrowing as he watched the Demonfire Candles maneuver.
“They’re relentless.”
Machivel’s gaze never wavered from the advancing enemies.
From the outside, it might seem foolish for him to rely on fire spells against these creatures, whose very essence was forged in flames.
But he understood the nuance of their nature—their strength came from an inherent, sacrificial ability, not from resistance alone.
“They’re not invincible.”
Machivel said, his voice low but resolute.
He raised a hand, and a shimmering circle of fire materialized around his fingers.
“Their bodies are made of flame, yes, but their power is tied to their sacrifice. They’re burning themselves out with every move they make.”
Gran shifted his stance, his blade glinting as he prepared for the next wave.
“So they’re like candles. They burn bright until there’s nothing left.”
Machivel nodded, his eyes locked on a cluster of five Demonfire Candles surging toward them. He whispered under his breath, “Circle of Fire.”
Flames spiraled from his hands, forming concentric rings that shot forward like homing missiles.
The fiery circles collided with the advancing creatures, encasing them in glowing spheres that began to shrink.
The demon fire candles’ bodies twisted and flared, their movements growing frantic as the circles compressed around them.
With a final, searing flash, the five creatures were extinguished, their forms collapsing into smoldering heaps.
Gran exhaled sharply, stepping back to reassess the battlefield.
“That’s one way to snuff them out. But there are still too many.”
More Demonfire Candles emerged from the wavering walls, their numbers now exceeding thirty.
Their heads burned with intense, white-hot flames, and their bodies left trails of molten residue as they advanced.
Some moved in pairs, launching synchronized bursts of fire that crisscrossed the room in deadly patterns.
Others hung back, their flames flickering ominously as they prepared stronger spells.
Gran dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding a streak of fire that scorched the ground where he’d stood.
The residual flames continued to burn, leaving the stone blackened and warped.
“Their fire doesn’t just burn,” Gran muttered, his eyes scanning the battlefield.
“It’s persistent. Even if it doesn’t kill you outright, it’ll wear you down until you can’t fight anymore.”
“Exactly,” Machivel said, his tone grim.
“They’re not aiming to overpower us in a single strike. They’re playing the long game, and if we’re not careful, we’ll be too weakened to finish this.”
Gran tightened his grip on his sword, his muscles coiled like a spring.
“Then we end this quickly.”
Machivel smirked faintly, the flames around his hands flaring brighter.
“Now you’re talking.”