Lyle's spear pierced the pentagram and the vortex, sending out a shockwave that disrupted the dark energy surrounding them. The pentagram shattered into shards of light that dissipated into the air, and the vortex imploded, collapsing in on itself until it vanished entirely. The oppressive miasma began to thin, and the malevolent aura that had permeated the town square started to lift.
The townspeople, who had been hiding in terror, slowly emerged from their homes, their faces etched with a mixture of relief and awe. The palpable sense of danger began to ebb away, replaced by a cautious optimism.
Nicholas stepped up beside Lyle, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Good job, you managed to stop it in time."
Lyle nodded, but his expression remained serious. "We may have destroyed the pentagram, but I have a feeling this isn't over."
"Those bastards have plotted for a long time, they won't just give up."
