For the first ti in a long while, a change ca over the dark skies.
The splendid moonlight falling onto the world of Urbus dimd slightly, as blood-red crimson clouds began to gather overhead.
The sands swirled and the winds picked up speed...
Leading a troop of close to a thousand Pilgrims, Gilead's mind was occupied.
He had co a long way indeed.
He had been a normal salary man before the apocalypse, making just enough to get his family by with extra for savings. His life was uneventful, but he was happy.
That happiness was deftly shattered when the Devils descended from the sky in their harrowing majesty.
As the City fell to shambles and the world collapsed in on itself, his wife and children had been caught in the tempestuous rage of slaughter, plunging him into a world of darkness.
He had cursed himself at that ti for his weakness. Even now, he cursed himself. Despite being stronger than before, it didn't change the fact that he had lost that was dear to him.
Now, the only thing he fought for was his life, as that was a testant that he had once lived.
The power of Balangol had been granted to him. So would say by luck, he believed it was fate.
A cruel, rciless one...
As the Guardian of the Head Priests, he had indomitable power. The Sword of an Invincible warrior and the Aegis with the defenses of a city wall.
His blood was filled with power, and his bones were like tempered steel.
He had gained a lot, but he had also lost a lot.
Like his freedom...
Nothing ca for free. By accepting his fate, his power, he had committed to a life of servitude. To death itself...
As the Celestial Deity of the Sands and Death, Balangol didn't bear this na just because.
No.
The Celestial was a literal representation of death, an arid, torturous death.
The more his kingdom expanded, the more this death would seep into the earth beneath their feet, turning it into sand. Unless one was of Balangol, they would be devoured by the aura of death.
It was a terrifying thing. But by accepting such a deal, he had tied himself to such a god.
Did he regret it? A little bit.
He would have rather preferred to be tied to a Deity with powers to restore life, or spread light.
'I'm sure they would have loved that.'
He sucked in a deep breath and look forward.
Although a mask completely covered his face, he could see completely fine.
The crimson clouds, the dark sky, the blood soaked sand. The piling corpses.
He could see it all. He could sll it all.
The wind carried the dissipating lives, the souls fleeing their bodies in horror, washing it all over his steel armor.
He sucked in a deep breath again, emptying his mind.
They were currently standing at the Zenith of the other end of the gorge, directly overlooking the slope.
One more step would send them all over the edge and into the battlefield.
He looked around,
'Most of the Aether Beasts will soon be dead. The n are holding out, but just barely.'
He turned, "Wulf. Wait a while. I will order our n to pull out before you cast any spells."
Wulf shook his head,
"That will waste too much ti, Gilead. You know . I like to be efficient, you see."
He raised his lantern of black flas above his head.
His voice turned deep, and dark, like the sound of an eldritch subterranean entity announcing its arrive to devour the souls of n,
"Engaged in battle, they will not have the ti to react to the scourge of my black flas. This is a pri mont I am not willing to give up."
Under the mask, Gilead's sharp, cold features beca even more frigid,
"You are willing to sacrifice your fellow Pilgrims like that?"
Wulf shrugged then chuckled,
"Their souls will go back into Balangol, so what's the matter? By sacrificing their lives for a greater cause, they are sure to earn more solace in the death god's dark embrace. Now don't disturb ."
He began chanting in a low, guttural voice. This wasn't magic. No, it was sothing far more sinister and ancient. It was also not mana tech.
The Flas of Darkness within his lantern was a mystical form of mana created by fusing flas with darkness.
Originally, it was used by a race of underground dwarves who were responsible for forging the weapons of Greater Devils and Evil Gods.
Because of the nature of the fla, while it was perfect for forging as it completely purified the tal, leaving no impurities behind, it was also the source of nightmares for all things living.
Once the flas began, they could be extinguished only when the flas found nothing else to consu.
Waving the lantern around as he chanted in an increasingly darkening voice, Wulf, the Keeper willed his dark flas forward.
A deluge of darkness flowed forth, flowing down the slope into the gorge.
The Pilgrims standing behind him shivered and in fear and horror. Encountering sothing that was a hazard to all life incited the fear that dwelled in the deepest parts of their hearts.
The Flas of Darkness didn't seem to give off any heat. Instead, it was a chill so intense it burned. The arcane nature of darkness fused with flas possessed such destructive power, it was a phenona that would scare both Gods and Devils.
A guttural burst of laughter escaped from Wulf Strungman. He waved his lantern again, causing the flas to swell again until it was as domineering and towering as a tidal wave.
"The Flas of Darkness consu all! It will scour and plague your flesh like a pestilence. Rejoice in tears, heathens."
Gilead couldn't help but shake his head.
The power of the Flas of Darkness wasn't sothing that could be underestimated in the slightest.
In fact, it was so terrifying, even he with his incredible defenses wouldn't dare to hold out against it.
'Is this perhaps the end?'
While it was a sha indeed, he didn't think it was all that bad. After all, while they would suffer, it would only be montarily, then they wouldn't need to fight again.
'Perhaps it is for the best.'
As the Flas of Darkness rushed over, Cain and the others noticed it rather quickly. After all, it was hard to miss.
Up in the outpost above the other edge of the gorge, General Arltzwalt clicked his tongue,
"Damnit! That bastard has already made his move? His n are still down there. These reckless bastards."
His cold eyes glared down,
"How are you going to survive this, Cain?"
Down below, Cain stared at the surging sea of dark flas calmly.
It was already encroaching on the rear lines of the army of Valestorm warriors and Aether Beasts.
Their cries of pain and screams of horror bled into the air carried by the wind, reaching his ears and snapping him out of his reverie of slaughter and blood.
'They are launching such devastating attacks now?'
He looked around. His n were still deep in combat. If he left it unattended, many would die, including his own people.
His mind quickly processed the situation.
He gripped the {Lonely Dragon} Warblade tightly in his right hand and plunged it into the ground.
He raised his left hand up and summoned {Wilted Tear}.
With a staff in one hand and a sword in the other, one plunged into the ground, and the other raised to the sky, his actions seed quite odd.
He activated the tal enchantnt of Burning Spirit. A dull golden Fla imdiately covered him from head to toe.
In the sa breath, he activated {Golden Halo} and poured a trendous amount of mana into it.
The revolving shields of golden mana began revolving around him to create a hemispherical do that kept expanding more and more as he constantly fed more and more mana into.
In the blink of an eye, a Golden Aegis stretched across the frontlines of the battle.
However, Cain wasn't done.
A sneer pulled the corners of his lips up,
"You dare to fight with flas?"
His eyes blazed with a deep, endless void of flaming darkness.
The tip of {Wilted Tear} blossod with a magic circle.
A rather peculiar one.
Above the golden aegis, a red sun was birthed into existence.
It revolved slowly, like a loneso sun in the sky.
The world was imdiately dyed blood-red by the crimson light of the Vampiric Star.
As the Flas of Darkness washed over his {Golden Halo} spell, Cain felt the consumption of his mana spike instantly. However, it wasn't sothing he couldn't handle.
This was in no small part thanks to the power of the tal Enchantnt of {Burning Spirit}. Although his movent speed was greatly reduced, his defenses were greatly improved. This improvent didn't just span his physical defense, but also magical as well.
Still, it was evident the shield would not last long.
The tendrils of dark flas licked through the shields of gold, corroding them gradually. Soon, nothing would be able to stop them.
'Golden Halo will last for a few seconds. However, that is more than enough ti.'
As the Flas of Darkness washed over the {Golden Halo}, the {Vampiric Star} spinning overhead suddenly began to pick up speed.
As it revolved above the golden aegis, the Flas of Darkness were slowly pulled in by so strange, magical gravitational force.
As the Flas were absorbed by the star, it spun even faster and grew in size, causing it to spin even faster.
All watched this happened in both terror and awe.
On all sides, the humans and even the enchanted Aether Beasts seed too stunned to move, staring at the catastrophe about to unfold.
Sweat poured down Cain's brows as he bore the strain of two spells of such great magnitude.
He roared like a mad beast, causing Ruby who was beneath him to ciwer a little.
In the blink of an eye, all the Flas of Darkness were consud, leaving nothing but a rapidly deteriorating golden shield behind and a spinning ball of dark flas overhead.
Cain dismissed the {Golden Halo} spell completely and deactivated {Burning Spirit}.
His eyes were filled with mirth,
"Here. You can have it back."
To everyone shock, the star that had been hanging overhead began flying in the other direction, headed straight for the army of Valestorm standing at the other edge of the artificially created gorge.
The face of Wulf Strungman behind the mask was anything but joyful as he pointed at the rapidly approaching Star of Darkness.
"I–Impossible!"
Gilead didn't waste a single breath. He turned around and yelled in the loudest voice he could muster at the army behind him,
"Retreat!"
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