image [https://i.imgur.com/eY2gF5l.png]

"Keep firing! KEEP FIRING!" Grismala shouted, rallying their forces to unleash a relentless barrage upon the encroaching demons.

A deluge of arrows cascaded from above, felling thousands of demonic creatures with each volley. Yet, the enemy ranks swelled with every adversary they struck down. The once impenetrable protective barrier of Tasildor had crumbled, leaving them vulnerable to the Demon God's relentless artillery fireballs. Their walls shattered, reduced to fragments by the destructive spells.

Grismala's mana dwindled, and despair began to settle in. How long could they endure this relentless onslaught? Should they have made their escape while there was still a chance?

Gripping her sword tightly, Grismala charged towards the walls, slashing ferociously at the climbing demons. Her presence boosted the morale of their beleaguered troops, but even that flicker of hope waned with each passing moment. "Drive these abominations back to the depths from which they emerged!"

Once again, a torrent of arrows descended from the skies, their magical power piercing through the armored bodies of the demons. The walls were momentarily secure, allowing them to redirect their efforts towards repelling the relentless assault on the gatehouse.

The demons advanced, pushing a colossal battering ram adorned with dark sigils that augmented its destructive power. If that device reached the gates, their defeat was certain.

Dark locusts descended from above, their chitinous wings emanating a horrifying cacophony. With their mage tower destroyed, they lacked the crucial anti-air support they desperately needed. Tasildor's once-mighty protection waned under the weight of its burden, rendering them defenseless. They had no means to combat these locusts, let alone protect the gatehouse. The war seemed lost. If they continued to defend, they would perish.

"Retreat! Retreat!" Grismala bellowed, urging her men to fall back to the residential sector. Descending from the battlements, she mounted her horse and took the lead. "We cannot fight here! The insects will obliterate us!"

Their forces disengaged from the wall, no longer able to hold it. Demons scaled the walls on all sides, while the battering ram shattered the second gate. The industrial sector was flooded with demons, mercilessly slaughtering thousands of civilians and capturing only a few survivors. The sector erupted in flames, with infernos consuming every building as far as the eye could see. The ground was stained crimson with blood, and the skies offered no respite, as the Demon God and his malevolent lieutenants plotted their next move.

Grismala and her forces fled for their lives to the civilian sector. The most heavily fortified of the three. However, they still lacked the means to counter the locusts, leaving them vulnerable and powerless in their devastating presence. All Grismala had to do was to slow the demon army down to a point where most of her people could evacuate, as such, they had to maintain the civilian sector under their control for as long as possible.

image [https://i.imgur.com/7fgH3qs.png]

The civilian sector stood as a bastion of defiance, a last stand against the encroaching tide of demons. Grismala surveyed the scene from atop its walls, her gaze unwavering even as the industrial sector burned behind her. The demon army ravaged everything in its path, leaving only destruction in its wake. Among them, the Demon God loomed like a malevolent shadow, his presence a chilling reminder of their imminent peril.

Her soldiers had repositioned themselves, bracing for the final assault. They had to hold the line for a few more hours until the evacuation was complete. Grismala had pushed herself beyond her limits, channeling magical energies far beyond her usual capabilities. The strain was taking its toll, leaving her feeling weakened and nauseous. She cast defensive spells, reinforcing the walls and bolstering the morale of her troops.

The demon army advanced, their relentless march signaling the beginning of the end. Arrows flew, taking down many of the demonic horde, but Grismala could feel her magic waning with each spell she cast.

As the demons closed in, the elves unleashed their secret weapon. Barrels filled with blessed water were hurled from the walls, exploding upon impact and melting through the bodies of the imps in seconds. Dozens fell to the holy water, but it was a mere dent in the enemy's ranks.

The chitins descended from the skies, their chitinous wings casting a shadow of dread over the battlefield. Yet, Tasildor, the mighty tree of life, rose to defend its people. Its roots burst forth from the ground, crushing the insects beneath their massive tendrils. The elves cheered as Tasildor unleashed its wrath upon their foes, its roots trampling the impions and felling hundreds at a time.

"Our lives for TASILDOR!" The rallying cry of the elves echoed across the battlefield.

Grismala glanced towards the horizon, expecting the Demon God to retaliate. To her surprise, he remained passive, observing Tasildor's onslaught. This was their chance to turn the tide. "Great Tree! Lend me your strength so I can aid you!" she cried out, her voice echoing with determination and desperation.

A surge of rejuvenating energy coursed through Grismala as her connection with Tasildor's vast power revitalized her. With her mana replenished, she leaped from the safety of the walls, confronting the enemy head-on while her soldiers watched in awe. "Come at me, demons!"

Channeling her magical prowess, Grismala unleashed havoc upon the demon ranks, aided by Tasildor's might. Summoning her weapon, a staff that bloomed like a flower, she struck at the demons with devastating force, the staff's blunt end infused with magical energies that sent the creatures flying. Raising her staff high, she summoned beams of searing light that pierced the battlefield, incinerating the impions upon contact.

"Great job, Tasildor! We're holding them off!" she exclaimed, her voice resolute.

As she spoke, her gaze turned skyward, only to witness the Demon God descending upon the battlefield with cataclysmic force. The very air seemed to tremble as he crashed into the ground, a shockwave of destruction radiating outward. The impact alone incinerated hundreds of impions beneath his terrifying presence, their screams of agony drowned out by the sheer magnitude of his arrival.

Grismala, sensing the impending danger, attempted to teleport back to safety while Tasildor's roots surged forth, intertwining and solidifying into an impenetrable barrier before the Demon God. His eye glowed with malevolent intensity as he summoned a black flame that engulfed his hand, waiting to scorch anything within its path.

The Demon God reached out his hand and grabbed the roots, his touch searing the very essence of Tasildor. The ground quaked and groaned in protest as the roots twisted and contorted, unable to withstand the overwhelming power at his command. With a deafening roar, he crushed and shattered the roots to bits of ash.

The imps and elves alike stood frozen in fear, their hearts pounding in their chests as the Demon God's voice thundered across the battlefield, his words echoing with a chilling finality, "I will tear your precious tree to shreds!"

The earth beneath their feet trembled with the weight of his presence, the air thick with the acrid scent of burning roots.

Witnessing Grismala's defiant stance atop the walls, the Demon God's eye blazed with contempt. Unleashing his own formidable magic, he began casting a spell of devastating power. Sensing the impending cataclysm, Grismala's voice rang out with urgency, commanding the evacuation of her people.

As the Demon God's incantation reached its climax, a searing beam of hellfire erupted from his outstretched hand. The beam surged forth with unstoppable force, tearing through the walls, towers, and gatehouse as if they were made of paper. Stone shattered, wood splintered, and the very earth tremble, left scorched. Imps and elves alike were consumed by the inferno, their screams echoing in the air as they were engulfed in flames.

With the defenses utterly obliterated, Arbious's command cut through the chaos, his voice carrying the weight of impending doom, "Kill these pathetic elves!"

As the impions marched relentlessly towards the first sector, the place where the remaining elves had retreated to, Grismala knew that her time to escape had come. Despite the fear and uncertainty, she and her remaining forces launched a fierce assault on the advancing demons, raining arrows and unleashing powerful spells from their last line of defense. However, the final sector was scarcely defended.

For the survival of the elven race and the hope of a future, sacrifices had to be made. With a heavy heart, she made the difficult decision to leave some of her soldiers and even civilians behind to guard her escape. They willingly stood their ground, knowing that their sacrifice was necessary for Grismala to survive and continue the fight against the encroaching darkness.

With determination to survive, Grismala made her way through the city, each step a testament to the bravery and sacrifice of those who remained behind. As she reached the tunnels that would lead her to safety, she looked back, her eyes filled with gratitude and sorrow for those who had given everything for her escape. With a silent vow to honor their sacrifice, Grismala disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind a trail of hope and sacrifice in her wake.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

image [https://i.imgur.com/7fgH3qs.png]

"My lord, we have successfully secured the second sector of Tasildor. What shall be our next move?" Alpos inquired, his tone respectful and attentive.

"Continue the siege," Arbious murmured, his gaze fixed upon Tasildor, whose powers were rapidly waning. "Tasildor shall crumble."

"My lord, may I suggest that you lead the charge in our next assault?"

"I have been contemplating it," Arbious replied, considering the proposition.

Raising both hands towards the sky, Arbious conjured a swirling pentagram that enveloped Alpos and himself, transporting them instantly near the first sector. Their forces had surged into the second sector, where elven civilian stragglers had been taken captive, bound with collars as demons herded them together. Arbious and Alpos surveyed the daunting uphill battle that lay ahead—the first sector. Guardian towers stood in close proximity, with the mighty tree at the center, representing the last bastion of hope. However, their defenses would crumble due to a lack of troops, and the tree's mana had dwindled, rendering it unable to offer any significant resistance.

Taking flight with a single powerful wingbeat, Arbious ascended into the air, leaving Alpos behind on the ground to gain a clearer perspective.

From this elevated vantage point, Arbious could see everything, and noted that the enemies had close to no defenses left. He issued his proclamation.

"Mortals of the Elven Kingdom, tremble before our might, for we have arrived to obliterate the tree that you valiantly protect. Know that your chances of victory are futile. Our forces grow stronger with every life you extinguish. Yet, I offer you a sliver of mercy. Surrender the witch Grismala to me, and perhaps you will not suffer as the rest do."

With a decisive command, Arbious ordered all his troops to stand down and escort the captives back to the Hellfire Citadel. Descending directly into enemy territory in the first sector, his hand gripped the blade of darkness, emanating an aura of malevolence. As he advanced, every step left a trail of flickering hellfire, and his demonic tail swept through the elves, causing them to stumble and trample over each other in fear. Fixing his gaze upon their camp, he sought the presence of Grismala, but she was nowhere to be found.

"Where is she?" Arbious demanded, his voice laced with fury, as his attention shifted towards the trembling elves and a few dwarves.

"WHERE IS SHE?!" he roared, his anger intensifying.

In response to his demonic roar, the elves quivered in fear, their voices hushed as they exchanged bewildered whispers, speculating about the whereabouts of their queen. As Arbious looked around, Vorner teleported before him, bowing low, his expression fraught with disappointment. "My lord, Grismala has managed to escape," he admitted, his voice filled with regret.

"You allowed her to escape? Did I not instruct you to keep a vigilant watch over her?" Arbious seethed, his frustration mounting.

Damn that witch... Well... It's not that I'm surprised she escaped, she is a crone who seeks only to further herself, she doesn't give a damn for anyone else, let alone these poor souls.

Vorner remained silent, his posture betraying his guilt. Seeing him in such a state, Arbious couldn't help but feel that he had let him down. "Perhaps I should reconsider your position by my side," Arbious mused, contemplating his worthiness.

Vorner's eyes widened, but he dared not utter a word.

"And what has become of your arm, Vorner?" Arbious inquired, a hint of curiosity lacing his tone. "Did Grismala best you?"

"It was my own blind arrogance, my lord. I offer my sincere apologies," he confessed, his voice tinged with remorse.

"Arrogance is a trait befitting demons, not for a feeble human like you. Know your place," Arbious mocked him, relishing in his discomfort. "And next time, do not disappoint me as you have now."

With disdain for Vorner lingering in the air, Arbious continued to stride through their camp, the elves too afraid to stand against him. Directing his steps towards the towering tree of Tasildor, one of the three ancient sources of power for the elves, he placed his hand upon its weathered bark. He could sense the tree's palpable fear, filling him with sadistic pleasure. The mighty tree, a symbol of resistance against demonic invasions spanning millennia, was now destined to crumble.

As Alpos and his soldiers surged into the first sector, the elves, overwhelmed by their might, cast aside their weapons and surrendered.

Stepping back from the tree, Arbious raised his hands, fingers pointed towards the majestic being before him. Dark tendrils of lightning-like magic crackled from his fingertips, invoking a forbidden spell of magical siphoning. This dark sorcery, known only to those of his kind, possessed the ability to devour all magical presence in its path, including the powers the tree had stolen from him.

A new era was dawning, a reign of darkness, with Arbious, the embodiment of ultimate evil, the God of Chaos, reigning supreme.

As the magical energies surged back into his being at an unprecedented rate, the tree withered away, its life force devoured by his insatiable hunger for power. The elves, in response, began to display signs of weakness, dropping to their knees under the weight of their fading abilities. The tree emitted agonizing waves of magic, its struggle evident as Arbious's chaos consumed it entirely. Yet, the ritual would take time, for the tree's demise was not swift.

Arbious stood amidst the swirling vortex of darkness, basking in the growing dominance of his malevolent influence, knowing that the world would soon bow before his overwhelming might.

image [https://i.imgur.com/lhqCDcB.png]

As the final remnants of the tree's magic were absorbed, an electrifying surge coursed through Arbious's body, restoring the abilities that had long been stolen from him. It was a triumphant moment, a resounding victory after centuries of bitter defeat. Tasildor, the mighty tree of life, collapsed in on itself, reduced to a hollow husk that plummeted to the ground, signaling the end of its existence. The shockwaves of its demise reverberated across the globe, spreading the news of the tragedy far and wide.

Amidst the chaos, the demons erupted in jubilant cheers, their fervent chants echoing through the darkened skies. The once-mighty city lay in ruins before them, its walls crumbled, and the majestic tree felled, a poignant symbol of its former glory.

Alpos and his loyal demons approached Arbious, their faces a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. "My lord... What comes next?" Alpos inquired, his voice tinged with anticipation and a hint of apprehension.

As Arbious surveyed the destruction around him, he could feel the immense increase in his mana capacity and regeneration. Was this the result of consuming the tree's essence, its very life force flowing through his veins? It seemed so. He turned to Alpos, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"I shall open a demon gate right here, atop the shattered remains of Tasildor," Arbious declared, his voice carrying the weight of imminent darkness. "This will be the first ever demon gate to form on this world. We shall transform this ruined city into a formidable stronghold of darkness, a launching point for our operations and invasions into the human realm. Furthermore, we shall exploit the resources of this land until there is nothing left. We shall consume all, channeling it towards our relentless war efforts."

"Yes, my lord. I had anticipated your decision," Alpos responded, a sinister grin stretching across his face. "Regarding the testing experiment you mentioned earlier, it seems we have already obtained some intriguing results. Would you like to witness them?"

The results of the crossbreeding... Interesting. So it is possible then.

"Not yet Alpos. However, make the necessary arrangements in the throne room. I wish to observe the outcomes of your efforts immediately upon my return," Arbious commanded.

"It shall be done," Alpos acknowledged, his guards accompanying him as they departed, leaving Arbious standing atop the fallen tree's roots, basking in his triumphant victory.

If they were to construct a demon gate, first a foundation had to be established. A framework that could support the immense power of the gate was required. A Harmonic Crystal would serve as the core, but they needed to be destabilized and infused with chaotic energies. Through this process, he could open a portal of significant magnitude, allowing him to summon the armies of Hell at will, wherever and whenever he desired, without draining his own mana reserves.

This city shall serve as a bastion of evil, a strategic hub for planning and executing my sinister schemes. If this gate were to fall into the wrong hands, it could become a direct passage for angels to infiltrate Hell, bypassing the sinful caverns where ancient, disobedient demons dwell. While the angels have been deterred from invasion for some time, their lack of allegiance is a persistent concern. I will ensure their submission to my will, in due time.

The capture of the elves and the havoc wrought by the swarm of locusts under my command mark the beginning of our reign of terror. These creatures possess abilities surpassing those of my own soldiers.

Regarding the demons I have summoned, they have wrought havoc upon this realm. The summoning spell is such that it summons demons randomly, hindering their ability to form cohesive ranks. While they can be easily dispatched, the damage they have caused is considerable.

Replenishing my mana is paramount; to launch an assault on the Elven Crossing, I require more than just Impions and locusts. I need additional forces, a task beyond my current capabilities. Perhaps a return to the mortal world, in human guise, is in order..."

"For now, a temporary demonic rift to Hell should do the job..."

"Forces of chaos, heed my call and obey," Arbious commanded, "let your infernal energies intertwine, forming a vortex of chaos destined for the fires of Hell. Unleash a gateway to the netherworld, unveiling the profound abyss, through which my formidable forces shall embark upon the conquest of this realm."

A sinister portal materialized before Arbious, its insidious power gradually siphoning his own, yet it stood resolute and imposing, capable of transporting entire legions through its infernal flames. This gateway was now linked to an outer gateway that he hadn't used in years, a gateway that stood in the outskirts of Hell just near the Hellfire Citadel. With his newfound mana-regenerating abilities, he could sustain the portal with relative ease. However, the portal itself relied on his mana, hindering the release of his true potential, an issue he had to address later on.

It is time for me to reclaim my rightful place in the depths of Hell, within the Hellfire Citadel, where I shall plan our malevolent schemes for the future.

"O Flames of Evil! Winds that carry the essence of Chaos! I command you, twisted magic in my grasp, transport me back to my true abode, the very birthplace of evil! Return me to the place I seek!"

A swirling demonic pentagram materialized beneath Arbious, its infernal flames rising high. With a surge of dark energy, he was enveloped and transported to the depths of Hell, where Alpos awaited him.