image [https://i.imgur.com/eY2gF5l.png]
The imposing Hellfire Fortress, a creation of the great Demon God, loomed majestically near a volcanic expanse in the depths of hell. A colossal tower, rising above all else, served as the central command structure from which the Demon God issued his decrees. Constructed with demonic bricks and various other materials resonating with negative energy, the foundation of the fortress stood as a testament to its indestructibility. The fortress had withstood countless failed sieges, its impenetrable nature evident by the scarred walls that lay protectively on its outskirts.
Recent events had seen significant enhancements to the Hellfire Citadel. Under Alpos's orders, the walls were fortified greatly, giving rise to many new towers which loomed ominously. Atop each tower, infernal siege weapons were placed strategically to destroy any army that dared to approach. Atop each segment of protective wall, hundreds of imps were stationed, armed heavily from head to toe. Even the walls themselves proved difficult to scale, for their spiky nature would prevent ladders from being placed against them.
Alpos, positioned at the top of the gatehouse, observed the approaching Archangel Michael, whose radiant celestial glow emanating from his shining white armor bathed the demonic landscape in blinding light. Leading a portion of the holy army, Michael had gathered well-trained soldiers who were trained to vanquish any demon force. His very own presence served to boost the morale of every soldier, and his aura granted them with the required mental fortitude to traverse the hellish landscape.
"March forward!" commanded Michael, ascending into the skies to oversee the ground below as the human armies advanced.
Accompanying the holy forces were trebuchets, formidable war machines intended to lay siege upon the Hellfire Citadel. These massive catapults held vast arsenals of war, poised to unleash devastation upon the fortress.
From the skies, Michael observed his forces advance, feeling an uncertainty clouding his judgement. The demonic forces were making their move and Michael's attention was inevitably drawn to Alpos, the right-hand man of the Demon God, who many believed to be the key to the Demon God's initial success. "Alpos..." Michael murmured to himself; his gaze fixed upon the demon standing proudly atop the outer gates of the citadel.
From atop the gatehouse, Alpos gave orders to his subordinates. Their forces had begun to mobilize, yet their purpose unclear. Alpos sensing Michael, returned his glance with a sinister grin, a chilling sight that raised Michael's suspicions.
"Halt!" Michael commanded, a sense of foreboding washing over him.
The very air seemed to hum with uncertainty, an almost palpable sense of impending doom that made Michael's skin crawl. Every instinct screamed at him that he was stepping into a carefully laid trap, a snare woven from dark intent. His eyes narrowed, focused on the figure before him, the source of his growing dread—Alpos. The demon’s smirk was a twisted mockery, a silent promise of the horrors yet to unfold.
Below, Michael's soldiers moved with discipline, their synchronized march halting abruptly at his sharp command. Confusion flickered across their faces, eyes darting from their leader to the unknown threat ahead, silently asking why they had stopped.
Alpos’s grin widened, malevolence seeping into every crevice of his expression. With a slow, deliberate motion, he raised his hand, signaling the infernal Juggernauts to come to life.
"What in heaven's name is that?" Michael muttered to himself.
As the monstrous machines awoke, their hellfire runes igniting with an eerie, otherworldly glow. The symbols, carved deep into their ironclad frames, pulsed with a life of their own, each one feeding the flames that blazed within their cores. The air around them shimmered with heat, the metallic behemoths groaning as they prepared for the destruction they were designed to unleash.
With a deafening crack, the first of the Juggernauts fired. A massive projectile, glowing with the hellfire that fueled the machine, shot through the air with terrifying speed. The sound was like thunder, a deep, resonant boom that seemed to shake the very earth. The projectile arced high into the sky, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
Michael sprung to action, raising his sword, he conjured an arcane barrier, manifesting an ethereal shield meant to intercept whatever the demons hurled at his soldiers.
The soldiers watched in awe as Michael took the initiative, their respect and admirations etched on their faces in response to his bravery. Michael was known as the warrior of the heavens, and he certainly lived up to his reputation. The soldiers cheered his name, as they watched him erect the holy barrier before them. However, to their dismay, the flaming boulders cared not for his defenses, and exploded upon impact with the shield, their hellish flames tearing through the magical barrier in an instant.
Michael felt a profound weakness permeate his being. His sword showing signs of cracking under the relentless onslaught of the enemy's attack. The hellfire launchers proved to be a formidable and unprecedented weapon. Gazing down at his damaged sword, Michael muttered to himself in a mix of confusion and disbelief. "What in the name of the heavens? It cracked my sword... How is this even possible?"
Raising his eyes once more, Michael beheld another wave of boulders hurtling toward them. "Everyone, spread out!" Michael commanded urgently; his voice filled with a sense of impending danger.
The human soldiers, aware of the imminent threat, strained their abilities to disperse.
The impact was devastating. The ground itself seemed to shudder as the projectile struck, sending up a towering plume of fire and debris. The shockwave rippled outward, knocking soldiers off their feet and splintering the ground beneath them. Flames spread quickly, igniting everything in their path, turning the battlefield into a hellscape of smoke and fire.
Seeing the massive success of his strategy, Alpos watched with pride as the flames consumed the human soldiers who dared march against him. "Load up another round! Teach these dogs the true power of our kind! Leave no oneeee ALIVEEE!" Alpos bellowed, his commanding voice echoing across the battlefield.
The gates of the Hellfire Citadel swung open, and the legions of hell poured forth, their banner carriers and blaring horns instilling an unnerving surge of morale in their forces.
Michael watched in simmering rage as the demons brazenly opened their gates, a direct affront to his might and the combined strength of the holy army now standing at their doorstep. Doubt crept into his mind, his gaze returning to his sword, fueling his internal turmoil.
From the midst of the chaos, a priest-like figure shouted desperately to gain the attention of the Archangel. "Great Michael! What should we do? Give us your wisdom and guidance!"
As Michael tried to speak, his voice was drowned out by a thunderous command echoing across the battlefield. "Forward...! MARCH!!!" Alpos roared from atop the gatehouse, his voice signaling his army to begin the battle.
"They dare to mock us..." Michael uttered in a mixture of disbelief and indignation.
The human ranks were in disarray and chaos, outnumbered and outmatched by the demon armies, who were far better organized. Their siege weapons outclassed those of the humans, and Alpos's cunning far surpassed Michael's. With the Demon God's absence in the battle, Michael's frustration grew even further. They were unprepared to face the weapon at Alpos's disposal, calling for an immediate retreat.
"Bishop! Rally your men and..."
Before he could finish his sentence, a third barrage of boulders crashed onto the ground, their flames erupting and leaving destruction in their wake. The victims screamed in agonizing torment as their very souls were consumed by the infernal flames. Michael turned his gaze forward, witnessing the disciplined forces of the demonic army blowing their war horns, the haunting echoes reverberating across the battlefield, sending shivers down the spines of the human soldiers.
Fear gripped the hearts of men, their eyes filled with terror of the carnage they witnessed. Thousands of soldiers lied dead across the battlefield and the number grew by the second. Michael had no choice but to retreat. Seeing the state of his troops as he descended from the skies, he knew that they wouldn't make the journey home. In a desperate attempt to reunite his forces once more, Michael shouted, his roar echoing through hell itself, "Men, will you fight alongside me?"
Long had the humans waited for Michael's ray of hope to shine upon them. With a resounding shout emanating from the human armies, a collective chant, a war cry, echoed through the air as they brandished their weapons, preparing themselves for the imminent onslaught.
Amidst the preparations of loading the infernal siege weapons, Alpos turned to the zombies operating the heavy machinery, shaking his head in disapproval. He addressed them directly, his voice filled with a sinister tone. "No... From now on, we will kill the humans the old-fashioned way. Preserve our ammunition."
A demon guard glanced at Alpos, a hint of confusion etched upon his face. "But, my lord, what about our forces? Won't we suffer more casualties if we don't utilize these siege weapons?"
Conservation of ammunition was paramount to Alpos, so much so that he would risk the lives of hundreds of his own people for it. It was a luxurious expense for them to even attempt it in such fashion for creating the ammunitions were costly. Alpos turned to the guard, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and authority. "You dare to question me?"
The guard recoiled, fear tainting his voice as he responded, "No, my lord. I apologize for my insolence."
Alpos turned away, his tail swaying with enthusiasm as he explained his reasoning to the demon guard. "Burning them alive is not enough... Our great master desires us to take prisoners, if possible. There is no joy in a swift victory. Let us prolong the fight, giving them a false sense of hope, only to extinguish it and fill their eyes with despair... Our master will derive the greatest pleasure from such cruelty."
"As you command, my lord," the guard replied obediently, albeit with a sense of unease.
The demons and holy knights engaged in a fierce and valiant battle. It was evident that the knights were vastly outnumbered, facing a daunting ten-to-one disadvantage. Michael, wielding his mighty sword, propelled himself into the sky, soaring ahead of everyone else and plunging directly into the heart of the demon army. With each powerful swing of his blade, hundreds of demons were sent hurtling across the battlefield, their bodies torn asunder.
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His awe-inspiring display of power infused the humans with renewed determination, as they bravely fought back against their overwhelming foes.
Observing the unfolding battle, Alpos conjured an orb, a communication tool to converse with his master and relay the events transpiring below.
For the first time, Arbious did not answer his call. Michael proved to be a formidable foe, and despite the demons' numerical advantage, Michael seemed to view them as mere pebbles. Alpos redirected his focus to the battlefield. The Archangel and his forces appeared to have gained a slight advantage, and the absence of the Demon God added to the uncertainty. Frustration grew in Alpos's voice as he watched Michael easily slaughter through his troops. He was certain that Arbious would join the fray sooner or later; the only question was when.
Alpos turned to his elite guard, his eyes gleaming with a mix of resolve and calculation.
"Release the dragon."
"But, my lord, the dragon is not yet fully trained," the guard hesitated, voicing his concerns.
"That won't be an issue... The dragon is imbued with the corruption of our master, its very essence was seeped in necromantic negative energies," Alpos replied confidently. "Once unleashed, the beast will unleash havoc upon the forces of light."
"Very well, my lord," the guard acknowledged, bowing his head in submission.
image [https://i.imgur.com/7fgH3qs.png]
The battlefield was shrouded in an ominous darkness as all eyes turned skyward. A colossal undead dragon descended, its massive form crushing both demons and holy knights beneath its monstrous feet. With a sickly breath of green necromantic fire, the dragon engulfed the holy knights, their bodies consumed by the unholy flames and promptly transformed them into undead minions.
Recognizing the dire threat, Michael swiftly reacted, launching his sword directly at the dragon. The impact shattered the top of the dragon's skull, but to everyone's astonishment, the beast pressed on, relentlessly charging into the forces of good. Its infernal onslaught created a breach in the ranks of the holy knights, which the demons swiftly exploited to their advantage.
The bishop, who had once served as a vital link between the Archangel and his forces, found himself caught in the relentless onslaught of the dragon. The necromantic flames of the dragon's breath consumed him, his visage contorted with pain and decay. The green flames licked at his flesh, permeating his very being with unholy energies. In a horrifying transformation, the bishop's once noble countenance distorted, his mind succumbing to the dark forces at play.
Using his magic, Michael summoned his sword back into his hand, poised for another attack. He knew that to slay the dragon, he must sever its head. With a resounding battle cry, he brandished his blade and surged forward, trampling demons beneath his righteous feet. Unleashing a surge of divine power, Michael struck a mighty blow, severing the dragon's head from its body. The lifeless corpse of the dragon crashed to the ground, the threat it posed finally quelled.
With a mighty crash, the dragon's lifeless body plummeted to the ground, its bones splintering and shattering upon impact. As the once fearsome creature ceased to be, a ripple of dark energy surged through the battlefield, severing the necromantic link that bound the dragon to its undead minions.
In a sudden and miraculous turn of events, the undead soldiers, including the fallen bishop, collapsed to their knees, their bodies freed from the malevolent influence that had enslaved them. The necromantic energies that coursed through their veins dissipated, leaving behind only the echoes of their former torment.
Raising his sword triumphantly to the sky, Michael invoked his divine art, channeling the full extent of his celestial powers.
image [https://i.imgur.com/lhqCDcB.png]
9Th Tier Spell: Tranquility
Effect: Tranquility is a spell that casts an aura of rejuvenation on friendly creatures, healing their wounds, and even raising the fallen if their souls were preserved. This spell will last as long as the caster is not interrupted.
Requirements: Divine Arts, Arch Angel Flames, Holy Guardian, Paladin of Justice
image [https://i.imgur.com/Qj0qq7o.png]
As Michael raised his sword triumphantly to the sky, a remarkable transformation occurred. A radiant dome materialized, spreading across the battlefield like a protective shield. Within its embrace, a serene aura enveloped the area, and wounds that marred the bodies of the humans miraculously vanished. The healing power infused within the dome far surpassed the relentless onslaught of the demons, gradually turning the tide of the battle.
To Michael's astonishment, the demonic forces, for the first time, displayed a surprising shift in tactics. They began to withdraw, their relentless aggression giving way to a cautious retreat. It was a departure from the usual ferocity and lack of strategy that he had witnessed in previous encounters with demons.
The ground and air trembled in unison, resonating with an ominous power that sent shivers down the spines of all who were unfortunate enough to feel it. Demons, compelled by an unseen force, bowed their heads simultaneously as the malevolent energy permeated every corner of hell. A sinister presence, more malefic than any encountered before, now loomed over them.
"You shall find no tranquility in this place..." a chilling voice reverberated through the dark skies of hellfire citadel, inciting a cacophony of cheers and roars from the demonic horde. Alpos's eyes flickered with anticipation as his lord, at long last, returned.
"Where are you, you fiend of a God?" Michael's voice boomed with defiance.
In an instant, a mighty flame erupted in the skies, its evil aura radiating and empowering the already formidable demonic forces thousandfold. Chaotic energies swirled around the mighty infernal flame, coalescing into a giant eye that fixated its petrifying gaze upon the trembling humans below.
Michael's eyes widened at the sight. "That's impossible! Your divine form was destroyed!" he exclaimed; his voice laced with disbelief.
"It appears you are gravely mistaken..." Arbious retorted, his laughter dripping with malevolence. "Allow me to extend to you a proper welcome to the depths of hell..."
Out of the swirling chaotic energies, a colossal demonic sword materialized, its size defying comprehension. Descending upon Michael from behind, it struck with an unfathomable force. In a miraculous display of agility, Michael reacted swiftly, raising his own sword just in time to intercept the devastating blow.
The clash of the swords reverberated through the air, and in a fraction of a second, Michael's mighty weapon shattered into two, unable to withstand the overwhelming power Arbious commanded. It was a force unlike anything he had ever witnessed before, a testament to the powers the Demon God now controlled.
"Striking from the shadows?! You COWARD!" Michael insulted.
Seeing that Michael dared to insult him, Arbious decided it was time to shed his veil of darkness, unveiling his true form.
Taking a form with a head as a giant eye, immense in size, attached to a heavily armored body intricately etched with thousands of runes, Arbious glared down at the human armies with rage. Chaotic energies swirled around his armor, igniting the runes into flickering flames. In his right hand, he brandished a demonic sword, its blade engraved with sinister runes—a legendary weapon known as the Blade of Hell, capable of obliterating entire armies in a matter of seconds. His divine form towered above all others, his colossal demonic wings unfurled behind him, stretching out to engulf the entire battlefield. Each wing rivaled the size of the mighty dragon that Michael had once subdued, exuding an aura of malevolence that permeated the air. He was an existential threat to the very world itself. Before Michael's eyes stood a being whose power was insurmountable, leaving the celestial being with little hope of emerging victorious.
Gathering his courage, Michael took a deep breath, steeling himself for the imminent clash. His eyes remained fixed on the Demon God, analyzing every subtle movement, searching for any weakness in his formidable adversary. The weight of the moment hung heavily upon Michael, as he prepared to face a force unlike anything he had encountered before.
"Coward?? Fear from who?" Arbious questioned mockingly with a sinister laughter trailing his voice.
Arbious struck at Michael with his enormous wing, its spikes cutting through his armor as if it were paper, its pure force tossing him as if he were an insignificant pest across the battlefield. "YOU ARE NOTHING! YOU ARE A WORM! WITHOUT YOUR GOD, WITHOUT YOUR FRIENDS HERE, WHAT WERE YOU HOPING TO ACOMPLISH ON YOUR OWN?"
As the devastating reality of his defeat unfolded before him, Michael swallowed his pride, his gaze shifting to the remnants of the holy army he had led. The battlefield was a grisly sight, strewn with the fallen and the dying. Flames rained from the skies, while the very ground quaked and spewed forth molten lava—a scene of utter devastation leaving not a single soul to survive.
Arbious had surpassed Michael's expectations, ascending to a level of power that seemed insurmountable. He had become an embodiment of hell itself, emanating boundless fury, hatred, and malevolence.
Realizing escape was his only recourse, Michael attempted to take flight. His movements were jagged, his body convulsing in pain from Arbious's attack. He flew into the air to the best of his abilities, yet the chaotic energies pursued him relentlessly, enveloping him in their suffocating embrace.
"You think you can escape this place?" a sinister voice echoed, devoid of mercy.
Michael pressed on, refusing to waste a breath on a reply.
"Michael... Your wings have shattered," Arbious taunted Michael with sadistic delight.
In an instant, Michael's wings disintegrated into shards, leaving him defenseless and hurtling toward the ground with alarming speed. His body collided with the earth, agony searing through his battered form.
"As if I would let you escape..." Arbious sneered at Michael with a chilling voice from within the darkness that surrounded Michael.
Grimacing in pain, Michael surveyed his surroundings with the desperate eyes of a cornered animal. Fear flickered within him as the encroaching darkness swallowed his trembling figure.
"I... I would offer you a pact, but your arrogance knows no bounds, doesn't it? What say you, O fallen angel? Shall you meet you're demise here?"
Crawling forward, blood staining his face, Michael propped himself up on the ground, his injured body screaming in protest. He turned to face the embodiment of evil with a flicker of defiance in his wavering eyes, his resolve undiminished despite his dire circumstances. "Do it! You... Bastard!" Michael spoke, vomiting celestial blood from his mouth.
"My pleasure..."
As Arbious poised his sword to strike the final blow, a sudden hesitation gripped him. His arm froze in mid-air, the blade mere inches from its target. "No..." He muttered as his sinister presence materialized before the angel. "No... A swift demise would be far too merciful for you. Instead, I shall condemn you to a fate worse than death..."
The archangel recoiled in horror, disbelief etched across his face. "You wouldn't dare!"
"By the authority vested in me as the Lord of Hell, the God of Darkness, the Bringer of Chaos," the Demon God declared with a voice dripping with malice, "I bestow upon you my gift of evil. As my herald of chaos, you shall sow devastation in my name! Now, bow before me and obey!"
Demonic energies surged forth from Arbious's hands, engulfing Michael in an agonizing whirlwind. The angel writhed in anguish, resisting the encroaching darkness that threatened to consume him. His screams of torment pierced the air, a desperate plea against the malevolent forces infiltrating his being. But as the darkness seeped into him, insidiously devouring his mind and eroding his sanity, his resistance waned. A flicker of the angel's former self remained, battling against the overwhelming tide of wickedness that now coursed through his veins.
Michael's anguished cries echoed in the air as he endured pain beyond imagination. His fate was sealed, trapped in a realm of suffering with no escape in sight. The battle had been lost, and Arbious, the Demon God, departed from the scene, a sense of triumph lingering in the air. But amidst the chaos and devastation, as Arbious moved away from the fallen archangel, a single thought lingered within the recesses of his mind.
I wonder how long he can endure that torment, before he gives in to the darkness...