The demon lord had revealed itself, and it had done so to absolute devastation. For a few precious seconds, the Daston regiment came to a halt, the eyes of the soldiers fixed on the area now void of everyone. In a moment, hundreds of people had been swallowed up. Now their bodies were gone, and all sign that they had ever been there had vanished but for the trampled red grass.
The world stood poised for the demon lord’s next move. As magic gathered around it, the red world turned to one of purples. The sky darkened above the citadel. The walls became cast in the eerie light of the demon lord’s magic. It pierced the fabric of the world, manifesting behind Hump and the army of soldiers, and before the fortification the army of Alveron had constructed over the last week.
“Get back, Nishari,” Hump commanded, sensing her fly closer. He conveyed his vision of the demon lord—the creature’s vast power, and the fear Hump had of its wrath. He sensed her sulkiness, but she seemed to understand the severity of the situation and backed away from the citadel.
For a painstaking few seconds, Hump waited in horror for what destruction might follow. Yet it was a wall that the demon lord manifested. A grand barrier that cut off the army’s retreat and trapped them in the plains between their encampment and Hell’s Pocket.
He had been too late. He sensed Nisha’s fear as she came face to face with the barrier. As he turned back, he saw her flying in the air, trapped inside with the rest of them. “Stay there and stay low.” He envisioned her near the ground, and she responded in kind.
Strong. Came Nishari’s thoughts in his head—not the word exactly, but the concept.
An image of the citadel filled Hump’s mind, but now there were no demons but for the lord himself, shrouded in dark energy, yet holding it. Hump wondered what foul magic might follow next, but instead, the demon lord spoke.
“As is always the case with mankind,” the demon lord said, its accent that of the perfect noble, “you sow the seeds of your own demise. Your flesh shall feed our world. Your souls shall nurture it. Your deaths shall be the fuel we need to spread across your lands and consume them.”
“I am General Jorvan Korteg,” the general barked, his voice loud and clear even from across the battlefield. “Your words have no power here. Name yourself, devil.”
A sly smile spread across the devil’s lips. “I am Draevor, Lord of the Red Sky, Keeper of the Emberstone. And on my word, you are all going to Die.”
The world resonated with the final word as if Draevor had unleashed a spell. Hump’s chest grew tight as he realised that he was holding his breath. He forced himself to breathe, short, quick gasps of air. His skin still twitched with the sensation of the demon lord’s essence. His soul shuddered from the sheer presence of such domineering intent. Yet that sensation gave him focus. He cast all fear to the river, calmed the waves of uncertainty in his channels, and steeled himself against the demon lord’s power. They had known it would be here and that they would somehow have to face it. Better it showed its hand now than while they were crowded in the city streets within the walls.
Draevor exploded into laughter, like the outburst of a child. “It appears my words have more power than you thought.”
“I shall not spar quips with an evil devil,” General Korteg said. “Today, you meet the wrath of the Pantheon. We shall purge your taint from our world and be free of you.” Then he addressed the men, the aura of Byzantius rising. The cube of fragmented essence that surrounded them started to shift, the fractures webbing out, becoming larger.. “Soldiers! Fear not the shadow of these fell creatures! Fight!”
Cheers sounded, quiet at first, but they built to a crescendo, until the soldiers of the Daston regiment joined them.
The demon lord snarled, gathering more power and hurling it indiscriminately upon the lines of soldiers. This time, the army was prepared. Chosen formed a steadfast defence, their blessings manifesting to meet it. Artifacts activated over the line, and a powerful Shield formed a wall over their heads—siege magic activated by a host of wizards. Along the wall, more greater demons made their presence known, spewing their own vile magics upon the battlefield—plagues of green sludge, waves of blood, flaming darkness. It broke against the army’s defences all the same.
The distraction was working. General Korteg had the attention of the demon lord and its army. Now Hump and the rest of the breach team had to make use of the time that had been granted to them.
“Forward, soldiers!” came Count Daston’s voice, enhanced by essence—calm, collected, and focused. “Chosen, blessings up. To those above the fourth circle, restrict your strength where you can. We will give nothing away until we must.”
With that, they were moving once more. It was less than a minute to the trenches set up by the forward regiment, but that time stretched on for an age. Soldiers fell to either side of Hump, dying to the enemy projectiles that made it through the layers of defence, though such attacks were few and far between. The air was thick with dust and smoke. Essence stung against Hump’s skin, a storm of dissipated spells and the residual power of blessings.
When they dived into the trenches, there were only a few moments of reprieve from behind the shelter of enchanted wooden barriers spread out in a wall before the walls before they were advancing again. Soldiers of the second regiment went first, working in groups to lift the wooden walls and carry them closer to the walls. The Daston regiment followed close behind. Ordinary soldiers formed tight shield walls, while Chosen and practitioners stood behind them and amplified their defences. Archers retaliated from the trenches, loosing arrows overhead. Most were swatted aside by the living wall’s many arms, but some made it through and felled demons upon the battlements.
The weight of bodies around Hump was crushing as soldiers crammed in tighter against the enemy attacks. All he could do was push forward into the unknown, barely able to see with all the soldiers in his way, their steel shields forming a wall against the enemy. Chosen were spaced out amongst them, their blessings protecting them from the enemy attacks from the walls. Explosions of light, magic, and debris created a haze that was almost impossible to see through. Hump caught glimpses of demons above, saw the hate in the eyes of imps and bloodhorrors, and the hunger of the living wall. And then it was gone again, hidden behind steel and bodies.
All Hump could do was follow Bud before him. Drums beat somewhere behind Hump. Magic exploded overhead. All around him, screams filled the air. The world was utter chaos as battle consumed everything. Demons stirred upon the walls as they drew closer, shooting arrows, magic, and launching massive projectiles upon the army.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
It was the glimpses Nisha gave Hump from above that made him feel some semblance of control. The demon lord and most of its army was still focused on General Korteg and the other regiments. The plan was working.
Hump marched forward, staff in hand. He focused on simple magic to deflect the enemy attacks—Parry Shield consumed little of his essence, and he knew he’d need all of it for the task to come. Lady Fentris clearly did not think the same. She used her crystal blessings to manifest barriers over much of the line. As beautiful as her spells were, gleaming in the dull red light of the dungeon, Hump wondered how much essence she would have left.
That answer would come soon. Before long, Hump reached the living wall. The red of its flesh was clearer now. From a distance, it could have been stone, but up close there was no doubt that Hump was staring at meat. Veins throbbed beneath the surface. Bumps and moles and grotesque pustules coated it. A single eye found Hump and stared at him. It was blue and all too human, yet like all the eyes upon the wall, there was a hollowness to it, like staring into the soulless eyes of a madman.
Yet Hump felt little fear. Blessings empowered him, their essence surrounding him and instilling them with all sorts of changes. Even this close to the living wall, all he felt was a rush. It was a strange feeling, like his mind was not entirely his own.
In that moment, Hump was hardly complaining: fear, doubt—they were the killers of wizards. In the chaos of battle, he felt more focused than ever. More powerful than ever.
“Maintain the shield wall,” Count Daston ordered. “Breach team, get to the task. Protectors, keep them safe.”
All around Hump, the first and second teams of soldiers, Chosen, and practitioners moved into position, his own party amongst them. Their task was to defend against enemy attacks and projectiles, and now that the regiment was no longer moving, the defence was even more resolute than before. The wooden barriers of Loften were planted in place, barriers of magic formed overhead, boons filled the air with mist of all colours.
And the breach team moved into position. Hump took his place amongst the Chosen of Osidium, Lady Fentris repeating the lessons of their training. They waited, watching as the offensive team moved into place. Owen was at the front, his great hammer hefted in his hands. Sorcerers huddled together, staffs and wands out as they focused their magic into a single, dense cloud. Their elements mixed together, somehow enhancing each other. At first, Hump didn’t understand how so many elements could interact without cancelling each other out, but he sensed more to it. Their powers stemmed from the divine—in that, they were all connected.
Randall Ferrand was amongst them, pouring his Frostfire into the pool of magic. Not far away, Madeliene defended him, shield and sword in hand, a valkyrie of Byzantius that used her blessings to draw the enemy attacks to her. There was no sign of Skander, but no doubt the rogue would be somewhere nearby.
Different colours flashed within the pool of essence, flickering constantly in a rainbow of light. It became more erratic, the flashes brighter. Streaks of essence lashed outward, striking at the wall and ground, tearing it up or sowing fire in its wake. Then all at once, the Chosen unleashed their power at the wall. A beam of blessings shot forward in a cylinder of power. It tore at the wall with a roaring rush. The living wall screamed as its flesh was destroyed.
Gaunt, pale skin peeled back, blood pouring from the expanding wounds. Stone and flesh chipped away, and mouths all along the wall let out a shrill, terrifying scream. Yet essence poured in from the ground and flanks, healing the damage almost as quickly as it was dealt. Its defences were unlike the previous day. It was strong, more durable, and it retaliated with fury.
Hands lashed out, sprouting from the wall until they were swatting at the front line of soldiers, a dozen paces from the wall. They fought it back with shields and weapons. Projectiles poured in, but Bud and the others took over the defence, along with a number of other Chosen. Count Daston was amongst them, the Chosen of Avaroth capable of resisting even the power of Greater Demons.
Owen leapt forward, the giant of a man shattering a hand in a blood explosion as he barreled past. He raised his hammer overhead, its metal glowing as it grew and rose, piercing the sky like a towering spire. With a roar, he swung it down. The air boomed. A storm of power shook the world. It struck the wall with a fierceness that made the earth quake. Cracks spread through the wall, oozing thick, red blood. That weakness was all it took for the Sorcerers to make progress, tearing apart the fragmented flesh, a hole beginning to take form.
An ear-splitting scream went up all along the wall, sharp and shrill as a banshee.
“As we practiced,” Lady Fentris said. “Is everyone ready?”
Around Hump, the Chosen of Osidium prepared their weapons. Hump stood amongst them, his staff aglow with essence. Lady Fentris called upon her crystal walls, their translucent barriers shimmering with light as they spread across the right side of the living wall, coating the flesh as it tried to heal and restricting it. Aric summoned dark iron from the earth, while Liora sang to the stone, her melodic voicing weaving enchantments into the very fabric of the demonic wall before them. Ingrid, the heavily armoured paladin, took position at the front, her shield emblazoned with the sigil of Osidium, bright with essence. All their essence worked in tandem, their intent’s focused on a single purpose—forming a tunnel through the wall and keeping anything that tried to get in out.
The runes of Hump’s staff brimmed with essence, a spell ready on his lips, and its fuel boiling within the focus. His spellbook fell open in his left hand, strands of bronze wisping through the air to connect with his staff. The Earthheart Opal on his chest felt as heavy as the world, yet somehow it was no burden to him. Rather, it connected him to the very essence of the world. In that moment, clarity washed over Hump—a sharp focus that only life or death situations could bring. He sensed the earth eagerly awaiting his command beneath him, its timeless intent in harmony with his own in that moment.
With a thought, Hump manifested his soul. His aura expanded around him, turning the world purple in its blaze. His blood grew hot, the dragon blood within him coming alive with thrill and battle.
“Transform Earth,” Hump whispered, and the earth rushed to obey.
Hump levelled his staff toward the wall, directing his focus to the left side. He and Aric worked in unison, their essence resonating and their power surging as they drew upon the earth at once. The air thrummed with essence as they formed a sturdy barrier against the living wall. Blood-red ribbons of the wall’s own essence tried to knit itself back together, but their combined strength kept it at bay. The first layer of the tunnel was built, its foundations firm against the ground. Even with just this, Hump felt the crushing force of the wall as it tried to break through. All he could do was throw more essence to his magic.
It was slow, dangerous work. The tunnel gradually took form, but Hump sensed his essence draining rapidly. But the breach team was progressing fast, and the wall’s defences seemed to weaken. Excitement filled Hump as he caught the first glimpse of the city beyond the wall through a small gap in the stone, when an image from Nishari appeared in his mind. Reinforcements moved along the walls, amongst them, greater demons. Their plan had been seen through.
The first greater demon reached the wall above them and seemed to hesitate, afraid at the sight of so many powerful Chosen. The living wall grabbed it by the leg with one of its hands, holding it in place. The creature’s eyes widened in panic as it realised it was trapped. Essence poured up from the hand, feeding it strength, and backed into a corner it had no choice but to use it. A jet of fire poured from a staff made of bones. Even from the ground, Hump felt the heat on his face before it struck, but he didn’t react. It was for the others to deal with.
Count Daston was first in line before the greater demon, arms held in a cross before his chest. A barrier formed before him that absorbed the enemy magic. Pulsing energy rippled through the silver surface, with each impact, growing brighter.
Suddenly, the barrier flashed and Count Daston shot forward on the light, slamming into the greater demon, fist thudding into the centre of its stomach. It doubled over, gasping, spittle flying from its mouth. Then Daston swung the creature around by its arm and shoulder, hurling it toward the wall.
He floated above, staring down upon the wall. Demons roared to focus their attacks on him, only for an aura of rippling essence to expand around him, as if a silver lake had manifested overhead.
Suspended in the air, it was as if to say ‘I am here.’