"Ride! Sons of Grigor! For we are Invincible together!"
The horns of Grigor were like a storm that changed the battle instantly. Silver banners mixed with green and blue cut through the smoke, knights in plate crashed into the possessed with lances levelled. The impact of horses on land resonated with a thunderous rhythm as rows of thralls flew into the air, split apart as their bodies broke beneath the disciplined charge.
From the east, the Elven Host unleashed their fury.
Thousands of elves stood in perfect formation, bows drawn as one. The wind danced around their bows like playful spirits, each arrow streaking like a cot as they fell into the packed ranks below. Entire squads of enthralled n collapsed, their corpses pinning ladders and choking the siege bridges.
"BEST RIDERS! Follow them!" Aki’s beautiful black hair shone as she led the Beastkin, mounting sacred and magical beasts.
Wolves with riders tore through the disorganised mobs, ripping and scattering them. A massive ape slamd its fists into the ground, shattering a column of possessed soldiers, while Alice, astride her tiger, slashed through with claws that burned silver.
The exhausted defenders rallied, their shields cracked, blades warped. But they continued onward into battle! The orc warchief bellowed, leading them into the fight, outnumbered no longer!
"For victory!"
"Crush the enemies!"
The battle turned into a storm of passionate fury and steel.
But then...
Fla.
Green Flas of death descended.
phisto’s twisted laughter carried across the field, rolling like a storm of lightning.
His burning wings stretched wide, and with a flick of his hand, fire poured down. teorites vanquished dozens of knights in a heartbeat, their armour bubbling like cheese as they scread. His flas knew no ally, reducing the siege towers half-burnt from elven fire to molten heaps, their crews shrieking as the divine heat consud them.
"Cover! Shields!" the captains scread, but even steel lted in that green light.
They knew it wouldn’t save them, but they still tried to resist.
"Hurry! We must stop him, My King!"
"Fight with Duke Qwass!"
The knights of Grigor dismounted, planting their shields and holding a firm defensive arc. Behind them, elves chanted in unison, creating a beautiful weave of tal and magic to scatter the erald blasts. anwhile, the Beastkin dove into the fray, fighting with teeth and claw, ignoring the flas that scorched them.
"Our Emperor needs us!"
It was a clash of worlds—mortal resolve against demigod wrath.
Every soul lost was another whisper in the wind, drawn screaming toward phisto’s body. A faint green shimr rippled across his chest, unseen by most. But those with keen and sharp senses felt the unholy, twisted phenonon.
With every death, his divine power beca stronger!
And yet, the armies did not yield.
Not while the Demon King’s blood still stained their walls.
***
"You foul being, born of trickery and deceit!" Avandar bellowed, striding forward, his golden cloak dragging across blood and rubble. The King of Grigor’s sword blazed with divine light, forged to shatter even the strongest steel. "Co down and fight, coward!"
Beside him, Duke Qwass levelled his halberd, the blackened edge humming with demonic power, a gift from Asmodeus. He snarled, still covered in bandages. "You and I, Avandar! Let’s see if this monster bleeds."
phisto turned, a twisted grin carved across his scorched face where Ciela’s arrow still seared. "How quaint. A king and a duke. Two dogs clinging to their pitiful pride." His scythe swirled with erald fire, stretching into a crescent hiss.
He extended his wings and swooped at them in a flash.
Avandar’s blade swung down like judgnt itself, radiant arcs bursting with holy mana. Qwass slamd from the side, his halberd a storm of black fla and raw muscle. Their strikes t in perfect unison, shaking the air.
phisto caught both. One-handed. His scythe locked against sword and halberd, sparks spraying like lightning.
"Is this all you can muster, humans?" His mocking voice cut through the clash.
The ground split beneath them as he shoved. Avandar staggered back, boots gouging the earth. Qwass roared, driving forward, the weight of his halberd cracking the scythe’s guard. For a breath, it seed they might force him down.
Then his palm pressed against the Duke’s chestplate.
"Foolish."
Then an erald fire burst outward.
The explosion flung both n crashing into the shattered wall. Stone cracked beneath Avandar’s weight, his armour creaking as he forced himself upright. Qwass coughed blood, yet dragged his halberd free from the rubble with a grin.
"Again," the old knight spat. "I’m not dead yet."
"I think I can finally forgive you, Qwass." Avandar grumbled, placing a hand on the Duke’s shoulder.
Avandar stepped forward once more, battered but unyielding. His sword shook, but his voice didn’t. "If my son-in-law trusted to stand here, I’ll stand until this body breaks."
phisto tilted his head, amusent flickering in his eyes. "Good. Struggle more. Every death feeds ."
And above his heart, the faint glow thickened.
Souls torn from the battlefield spiralled into his chest, weaving into a growing core of divine light.
Each death seed to repair his partial, broken core.
"Father!"
Vinea darted forward, her crimson spear glimring with runes, the Bloody Spear of the Demon Princess, a weapon she rarely used. The precious gift of Asmodeus. Her movents blurred as she vaulted past Avandar, four dark wings unfurling with sharp snaps of air.
"Daddy, please be careful! Take care of him, Duke Qwass!"
Asmodea was right behind her, bloody flowers blooming across the plains, with scarlet vines wrapped around her arms like bondage gear. They writhed, pulsing with the rhythm of her heart as they coiled into spell-circles above her palms.
"Anne!? Liana!!!" Avandar called their human nas, but the two girls shot into the air, causing the poor father to grumble, touching his chest. "Seeing my girls leave the nest hurts more than this bastards flas!"
BOOM!
"What!?"
"Brother? You’re still alive, amazing."
Alice slamd onto the ground atop the white tiger, then dropped from her beast mount with fluid grace, greatsword already drawn. The steel glead, long and heavy, yet she wielded it as if it weighed nothing. Her eyes locked on phisto with fury.
"You bastard!"
"You will not touch him again," Vinea hissed.
phisto’s smile only widened. "Ah... the pretty little wives. Co to dance? How touching. Shall I kill you first or save you for last?"
Alice answered with her sword, which scread toward his throat. At the sa instant, Vinea’s spear thrust with enough force to split stone, and Asmodea’s flowers erupted in a storm of blood-needles.
The battlefield lit up.
"YOU BITCHES!"
phisto’s scythe blurred in weaving arcs of green death. Alice’s strike skittered across its edge, sparks flying. Vinea spun, her spear twisting, catching his guard and forcing him back a step. Blood-needles peppered the air, bursting in small detonations that forced phisto to vomit a wave of green fire clashing against crimson blossoms.
His pupils dilated.
"These damn won! How dare you turn against a god for a second ti!"
"Hah! You see?!" Vinea roared, driving her spear like a thunderbolt. Alice mirrored her rhythm, blades flashing high and low. "He’s nothing compared to our husband and I’ve always wanted to give my damn brother a thrashing. Two for one!"
"Arrogant Wench!" But phisto only laughed. His wounds smouldered, black ichor dripping, yet the glow in his chest pulsed brighter. Souls scread as they funnelled into him from the dead and dying below, their wails echoing across the walls. His divine core swelled, the erald light thickening with each heartbeat.
"Pathetic gnats," he snarled."Every soldier you lose makes stronger. Every corpse fuels my return. For I am death!"
"Shut up!"
"Ignore his lies!"
"..." Only Asmodea remained quiet, a faint smile on her face as she looked to the distant body of Asmodeus held by Yumiko.
If he killed him... then he would already be a true god, not a demigod.
We can win!
With the flick of her arms, she ford huge black flowers that wrapped the wounded and near death in their vines, before oozing a thick, goopy sap that covered them.
"Little flowers, please keep them alive."
The wives pressed harder, forcing him to defend, but each parry sent shockwaves cracking across the battlents. Stone shattered, flas burst, and the recoil flung aside soldiers. Still, they refused to yield.
Asmodea’s vines wrapped Vinea and Alice, who shot towards the wall. "Alice, keep aiming for his left, Vinea thrust to his lower abdon!"
Her eyes shone with a beautiful crimson glow.
She wasn’t the strongest in battle, but her ability to see magic, mana and aura was second only to Asmodeus himself.
"...I see."
"Understood!"
Vinea and Alice realised this and nodded, their wounded bodies healing slowly as they rushed back into the fray.
However, Asmodea felt nervous... able to see the sheer difference in their pure power.
anwhile, on the other side of the plains, over here, the battle was just a low rumbling. Yumiko cradled Asmodeus, tears streaking her dirty cheeks. "Ryuji... Ryuji.....Ryuji.... wake up.... please... open your eyes."
In the centre of his chest, a black crystal the size of a coin throbbed. With each death... it sucked the air, devouring a portion of the energy that should have gone to phisto...
A jagged black crystal pulsed faintly, drinking in the screams of the dying. Not only phisto... but Asmodeus too was feeding on their souls.
And the crystal was still growing.
The Domain of Death... now with two seeking its throne.
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