The night loomed dark and ominous, its silence broken only by the distant howls of the wind.
The moon hung above like a ghostly eye, casting pale silver light over the battlefield.
Stars flickered in the sky, distant and uncaring, as if watching the fate of mortals unfold with quiet indifference.
Asael and his companions pushed forward, their breaths ragged but their steps relentless.
Each of them knew what lay ahead.
There was no time to hesitate. No time to falter.
They had to reach the Demon King.
Shadows shifted around them as scattered monsters lunged from the darkness, desperate to halt their advance.
But they were nothing more than obstacles, easily swept aside.
A severed goblin head tumbled across the ruined ground.
Sparks flew as swords clashed against gnashing fangs.
Magic crackled, igniting the air with bursts of fire and divine radiance.
Then—
A sound.
Faint at first, almost a whisper carried by the wind.
A melody that curled through the air, delicate yet chilling.
It grew louder.
Soft and elegant, yet dripping with something sinister.
A flute.
The tune slithered into their ears, into their very souls, wrapping around their thoughts like creeping vines.
Then came the pain.
It struck without warning.
A sharp, piercing agony that burrowed deep into their skulls.
Their vision blurred.
The world around them twisted.
Their balance wavered, their thoughts tangled into a chaotic mess of confusion.
The ground felt as though it had crumbled beneath them, leaving them floating in an abyss.
A cursed melody.
A weapon forged of sound and sorcery.
"Saintess!!" Asael's voice barely made it through the haze.
It sounded distant, as if coming from the depths of a dream.
Anne gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand firm.
With trembling hands, she pressed her palms together in prayer.
A golden light surged from her body, warm and pure, sweeping over them like a cleansing wave.
Magnum followed suit, calling upon the spirits.
A shimmering green energy intertwined with Anne’s radiance, pulsing outward.
The flute’s grip weakened.
The fog clouding their minds began to lift.
Their hearts steadied.
But the music did not stop.
They pressed forward, shaking off the last remnants of the spell’s grasp.
And then—they saw him.
A towering vine, thick as an ancient tree, had erupted from the cracked earth, its roots twisting like serpents.
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Perched upon it, as if seated upon a throne, was Tores.
The pale sorcerer sat in eerie stillness, his dark robes billowing slightly in the night breeze.
His bony fingers clutched the flute, its surface glistening unnaturally under the moonlight.
His eyes, hollow yet glowing with an unnatural purple light, regarded them with silent amusement.
He raised the flute once more.
The melody resumed.
The very air seemed to tremble in response.
Then—the earth shifted.
Three massive figures emerged from the darkness, stepping into the moonlight.
Three-headed ogres.
Their hulking forms stood as monuments of raw strength, their muscles thick with unnatural power.
The flickering glow of the cursed melody reflected in their soulless red eyes.
Their bodies twitched and convulsed.
The music was their master, their puppeteer.
Then, without warning—
They charged.
The earth cracked beneath their colossal steps. The ground trembled beneath their weight.
Their deep, guttural roars echoed across the battlefield, shaking the very night itself.
Asael’s grip on his weapon tightened.
His golden aura ignited, flaring to life, swirling around him like wildfire.
With a sharp exhale, he raised his hand—
And in an instant, four weapons materialized around him.
A sword.
An axe.
A spear.
A bow.
Each one glowed with divine energy, spinning slowly in the air, waiting for his command.
Steven shifted his stance, his sword humming with energy as lightning crackled along its length.
Sparks danced across his fingertips, eager to be unleashed.
His breathing steadied. His heartbeat slowed.
Anne clasped her hands together once more, whispering a prayer under her breath.
Waves of holy energy pulsed outward, weaving around her allies, fortifying their bodies and sharpening their minds.
Magnum and Sirius moved in unison, their hands tracing intricate patterns in the air.
Ancient runes ignited beneath their feet, glowing with arcane power.
The elements stirred, waiting to be called upon.
Lily exhaled, slow and measured, as she nocked an arrow.
The bowstring stretched taut under her fingers, her sharp eyes locked onto Tores.
Giren prepared his axe.
The music swelled.
The ogres roared.
The night shuddered.
And then—
The battle began.
----
The ground trembled beneath their feet, a deep, guttural rumble that sent shivers up the spines of those who stood against the coming onslaught.
Three massive ogres surged forward, their grotesque forms illuminated by the flickering glow of distant fires.
Their roars split the night, primal and deafening, shaking the very bones of those who heard them.
The air grew thick with dust and the pungent scent of sweat and earth.
Their enormous clubs, thick as ancient tree trunks, smashed into the ground with devastating force, shattering stone and sending shards of rock flying in all directions.
Each step they took left behind deep craters, the ruined battlefield cracking and groaning beneath their monstrous weight.
Yet Asael and his group stood firm.
Their breath was steady, their hands unwavering.
Fear had no place here—only resolve.
The moment stretched, taut and fragile like a string about to snap.
Then, Asael struck first.
The four floating weapons encircling him surged forward, golden light streaking through the air like divine judgment.
Each blade honed in on its target, slicing through the darkness toward the massive bodies of muscle and sinew.
A resounding clang echoed as the weapons struck, but the ogres' thick, leathery hides barely yielded.
The creatures snarled, their yellowed teeth flashing as they batted the weapons aside with a single mighty swing.
The force sent the blades spinning wildly into the air, their glow flickering like fallen stars.
Asael's jaw tightened.
"Tch. They're tougher than I thought." His fingers curled into a fist as he changed his approach.
"Aim for their heads!" Asael commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Lily had already anticipated the call.
She loosed an arrow, the string humming as the projectile sliced through the air.
It struck the lead ogre’s cheek, embedding itself in the thick flesh.
The creature grunted but barely flinched.
Then—another arrow.
This time, it found its mark, burrowing into the soft, vulnerable flesh of one of the ogre’s three eyes.
A horrific shriek tore from its throat, raw and animalistic.
It staggered, clawing at its bleeding face.
Thick, dark blood oozed down its grotesque features, dripping onto the cracked earth.
Above, a golden spear materialized, its radiant glow pulsing with divine energy.
It hovered for a brief moment, a hunter savoring its kill, before it plunged downward.
A sickening squelch filled the air as the spear drove deep into the ogre’s second eye.
The beast howled, stumbling back, its remaining eye darting wildly in search of its attackers.
Its breaths came in ragged gasps, each exhale rattling like a dying beast.
"Now! Don’t give it time to recover!" Asael roared.
Steven was already moving, his sword crackling with arcs of electricity.
He lunged forward, his blade humming with raw power.
With a fierce cry, he slashed downward, cleaving deep into the ogre’s ravaged face.
A brilliant surge of lightning erupted from the wound, flooding through the creature’s nervous system.
Its massive body convulsed, its limbs jerking uncontrollably as electric energy danced across its charred flesh.
The acrid scent of burnt meat filled the battlefield.
Then—Asael’s floating weapons struck once more.
The axe carved through its thick throat.
The sword sliced a tendon.
And finally, the spear drove deep into its skull.
The ogre let out one last gurgling growl before its colossal form collapsed like a felled mountain, sending a cloud of dust and blood into the air.
Before the dust could settle, Sirius raised his hand. The air around him crackled, the temperature plummeting.
Jagged ice pillars erupted from the ground, encasing the second ogre in a frozen prison.
Its breath came in thick white puffs, its muscles stiffening as the frost seized its limbs.
It roared in protest, but the ice held firm.
Lily, perched atop a broken stone pillar, loosed another arrow.
Magnum whispered an incantation, and the wind spirits answered.
A powerful gust wrapped around the arrow, propelling it forward with impossible speed.
The projectile struck true, piercing through the frozen ogre’s eye and shattering the brittle flesh surrounding it.
The creature twitched violently, its mouth open in a frozen, silent scream.
Then—Sirius clenched his fist.
A brilliant bolt of lightning tore through the sky, striking the ogre’s exposed wound.
The ice exploded upon impact, and in the same instant, the creature’s head did the same.
Bone, blood, and shards of frozen flesh sprayed in every direction.
The ogre’s lifeless body remained standing for a single breath before it crumpled, steam rising from its shattered remains.
The third ogre, watching its comrades fall, roared in blind fury.
It charged, swinging its club wildly, the ground shaking beneath its wrath.
But Steven was faster. Lightning trailed behind him as he leapt onto the beast’s shoulder.
With an earth-shaking cry, he drove his sword straight into its thick neck.
A crackling sizzle filled the air as lightning surged through the wound.
The ogre staggered, thrashing violently, trying to shake him off.
But Anne, standing firm, extended her hands.
A soft, radiant glow wrapped around Steven, healing his wounds, strengthening him.
Steven gritted his teeth.
With a mighty pull, he ripped his sword free, severing the ogre’s throat.
A geyser of dark blood erupted from the wound, spilling over his armor.
Then—Asael’s floating weapons descended like executioners.
The sword cleaved through its chest.
The axe shattered its spine.
The spear pierced straight through its heart.
The ogre gurgled, its massive body swaying before it finally collapsed.
Silence.
Only the scent of blood lingered in the air, thick and suffocating.
The corpses of the fallen ogres lay still, lifeless.
Asael exhaled, tightening his grip on his weapons. It was over—
Or so they thought.
Then—
A melody slithered through the night.
A whispering tune, eerie and unnatural.
A haunting flute.
The fallen ogres twitched.
Their limbs jerked unnaturally, their gaping wounds pulsing as if something unseen willed them back together.
Bones realigned with sickening cracks.
Flesh stitched itself shut, sinew knitting together as though time itself had reversed.
Their empty eye sockets filled with an eerie glow, malevolent and unholy.
Then—
They stood.
The same ogres, yet something far worse.
Their bodies bore deep scars, yet they moved as if they felt no pain, no burden of mortality.
Their massive clubs, slick with their own dried blood, lifted once more.
And then—
They roared.
The battle had only just begun.