Across the ocean, on the dark continent, Khalor was currently sitting on a mound of dead demons, panting heavily, with his death knight at his side. All around him, piles upon piles of dead demons, demonoids, and undead.
The battle against the demon stronghold had just concluded after days of combat. The demons had looked unprepared at first view, but it had been a subterfuge.
It seemed a high-level demon, with powerful illusion magic, had come out of the portal early, and it hid their actual progress on building a base from the world, behind an illusion that belied their actual might.
Only once they had passed the illusion threshold did they find out what mess they had stepped into. And it was already too late by then.
The reinforcements they had from the capital were far from being enough, being outnumbered five to one. Khalor had thought of abandoning this fight in its entirety at some point.
