Argo held onto a sword in each hand, with Lucian hanging on by the shoulder to him.
Red's laughter echoed.
But he didn't have the time to look at her.
None of them did.
Something was coming...
The earth was not simply vibrating, due to the ongoing battle between Awick and Murphy.
It was different.
Rhythmic.
...His jaw tightened.
He turned to the girl. But she had already gotten next to him, looking up at him.
He looked back at Red.
She was bleeding badly. The girl had stabbed her precisely where he had taught her. Without magic she would not survive more than a minute.
She was on her way out now.
He quietly said a prayer, as he turned back to the issue at hand.
Whatever was coming was either many, or big. And either way, it did not bode well. Red's gradually fading laughter didn't help, either.
He heard the battle raging ahead, and through the forest of hand and faces, he saw a bright golden light burning into the air!
A Heroes Light.
A Holy Weapon?
Lunston would arrive sometime soon. He was certain of that, since he had ascertained the approximate distance Lunston was from them using Awick's waystone.
He should arrive, within the next hour, providing an opening for the three of them to leave out of the gate, and cleanly get away, since if he had managed to open the gate, he had likely fought off the monster in the second gate, making it a far easier travel.
Not only that, but the monster presence would be significantly lower.
It was a slim window, but a possible one.
Yet, he was not interested in that.
Not really at all.
His eyes were somewhere else.
Once Lunston arrived, the next phase could be put into action, and the real deciding factor as to the plans success, would be found.
After all, there was still the biggest question in the room, that took up a great deal of his mind no matter what route he saw himself taking, since if they remained, then, they would never make it far.
Despite how smoothly the plan was moving, he would not rest on his laurels as long as he did not know the answer…
His eyes narrowed.
…Who were the rats that let Murphy and the Dumbarans slip in?
…
Constance deftly weaved out of the way of a chain spell. Her sword singing a mind numbing song!
Metal clashed against magic, but her sword was no ordinary blade, but one forged in the halls of the Holy Sea where the Goddess was said to have risen the first humans, submerged in the pools of living and the dead.
It was blessed.
And against magic, it would not lose out an inch.
A Divine Artifact, she more often kept sealed than activated.
She cut a fireball down the center and launched herself at the offending mage, but soldiers got in her way!
The threads of magic were everywhere!
Conflicts arose in spell casting, making magic nearly impossible to properly utilize so close to the storm that was the harrowing battle between Murphy and Awick, which felt like a natural disaster!
Constance ducked underneath a massive boulder that was being shattered as it was picked up by Murphy's wind magic!
Compound Magic.
A simple wind spell, could imitate an earth spell if it was strong enough to life and break boulders, sending pieces everywhere, while still only using a single spell, getting the efficacy of two.
Though Murphy was multi casting less than a dozen spells, his experience, knowledge and technique made it feel like he was casting over a dozen at once, and he didn't seem tired at all!
Constance caught the paw of an undeal Tumbler, the rotten poison smelled horrific, but it cleared her head a bit, and she knew she couldn't stay stuck for long.
She slipped the paw by tilting her sword and cutting it directly in half.
Mage lightning careened by, and her sword ate it, becoming super charged for a period too short to be able to use well.
Her eyes shone violently as she turned.
Necromancy.
She slipped her sword between the shoulders and head of the tumbler, lopping it's head off in a single clean motion, before retrieving her sword in a defensive stance for the magic she knew was coming.
Her field of vision expanded, as if she was seeing the whole field at once.
The Forbidden Magic of the Lich King.
How had they gotten their hands on this?
How could they ever have the heart to use it?
Her blood boiled under her skin. She felt a primal scream cooking up from her stomach.
It was disgusting.
Beyond disgusting.
It was revolting.
It was not their looks, or their power, or anything of the sort.
Simply looking at them made her very soul scream that it was wrong.
They had to be purged immediately.
There could be no survivors.
They were all guilty.
All of them had to die.
Right now.
Constance threw herself into the fray, slaying undead after undead whilst devouring the magic thrown at her, looking like a demon, covered in blood, rotten flesh and entrails, she continued onwards trudging towards the mages.
She looked like a wild animal.
…She looked like death.
Marven casted a protective barrier as she arrived near Nathan, that managed to buy enough time for Nathan to reposition backwards and undead to throw themselves at her, providing cover.
Their magic wasn't as effective underneath Murphy's tyrannical pull either. It was an all around debuff, and the reinforcements from above, had never arrived.
The people here, were all that was left, even the Violet Knight was gone.
He grit his teeth.
"Nathan! HERE! MOVE DAMN IT!" Marven grabbed his friend and threw backwards into Beck, who cast a healing spell.
Just coming that close into contact with the Heroes Sword, despite the barrier inbetween had drained Nathan of his magic and wounded him.
That Holy sword lit ablaze felt like it would cook their souls inside their flesh, if it managed to touch them.
His heart raced.
His own mana was running low after directly confronting the sword with his defensive magic.
He cast an earth root spell, to catch her feet, whilst the others cast lightning and fireballs, and chains, he snuck the roots in the ground and sent them forward.
Just a moment.
If they could earn just a moment, and rip the sword out of her hand, she would be defenseless, and able to be captured.
Beck arrived at his side, and poured mana into him, and so did Nathan, who was looking utterly weary and worn, it was their trump card.
Marven redoubled his focus.
A combination spell that could reach the Mid-Rank, he didn't know if it would work, but if it didn't, he knew exactly what he would complain to the Goddess about first, upon failing.
This Hero didn't even have the ability to use Aura.
They were incomplete.
There was no getting away.
Constance cleaved a Merk Wolf in two while sliding underneath it to dodge several magics that were spiked towards her.
As she bounced up, her pupils shrank.
Hidden amidst the giant weave that Murphy had cast, was a Mid-Rank magic, the heads of the vines had already peeked out of the ground.
Her jaw tightened.
It was too late.
Her sword fell like an executioners blade, to cut it down, but she couldn't cut the storm of vines at a fast enough pace, when a chain caught her arm, and then another.
Her face paled.
She couldn't escape.
Breaking the magic, using the undead as shields, and using her Insight to dodge attacks before they arrived, had allowed her to fight in such desperate conditions, but, she had not expected or seen coming a Mid-rank spell.
Even if she had seen it coming, she wasn't sure she could have done anything about it.
"HER SWORD ARM! GET HER SWORD ARM! NOW!" Marven was pale. Completely gassed out of mana.
Nathan had passed out right as the weave was finished, and Beck was on his ass, but they had done it.
They had gotten Constance to stop just long enough for the chains to wrap around her. Her sword arm couldn't move.
There were nearly eight mages who had lapped their magic together in eight separate chain spells, now restraining her.
No matter how she struggled and howled, there was no getting away now.
"THE SWORD! TAKE IT AWAY! HURRY!" Another person screamed, and dove forward, Marven fell back, and just watched.
They had no more to do, with their strength utterly spent.
Watching the struggle, he couldn't help but feel a bit jealous at her strength and anxious at what else she might have up her sleeve.
This was a Hero.
Someone beloved by fate, the Goddess or chosen by chance.
Someone who could fight in such a terribly outnumbered scenario, and still somehow make it an even fight, where they had to resort to such a desperate tactic to win.
He wasn't sure Nathan would be able to use magic in the future, either.
He was unconscious now, and alive, but he couldn't feel the state of magic inside of him at all.
Something had cracked, or been broken, he didn't know, or maybe it was Murphy's weave that was concealing everything.
He really didn't know.
And at this time, with everyone alive, he didn't exactly care enough. He tucked his head between his legs, catching his breath.
What were the heroes of old like, if this was what this one could do?
And what… what, was the Lich King like, that it took five of those Heroes, to even attempt to fight it?
His hands balled into fists.
He was smiling.
This was the magic they were researching.
Necromancy, the magic that teeters on the edge between life and death.
A magic that could make even these monstrous Heroes, come to heel.
He reached into his robe, for the few little magic stones, that were nearly drained dry, to try and recover somewhat.
His heart beat fast.
He could one day be this strong. Strong enough to stand on a far higher stage, if he just focused...
…His throat made a weird noise.
He reached up, and looked down.
Weird… blood?
Why was there blood?
Why was he bleeding?
Stop… Stop… He gripped and clawed at this throat, looking up.
Nathan was dead.
Beck had his hands up trying to stop the coming sword, but how could flesh and bone stop sharpened steel?
Alongside a horrific wound that gaped his chest open from shoulder to hip, it was an opening big enough for his soul to flee.
And it did just that.
He was dead.
His expression was warped in agony and rage, stuck like that.
Marven couldn't breath.
He was choking on his own blood.
His vision was growing dark.
He saw a girl standing over him.
An angel, perhaps?
Or perhaps not.
This angel had a dagger, covered in blood, and eyes that portrayed no emotion.
Was she even alive?
Was she even real?
The dagger came down.
Argo glanced back, and shook his head.
He didn't know what he was going to do with her.
Ever since she had killed that man, David, for him, she had been gradually growing more and more blood thristy, looking to him for approval right after.
It was something he duly noted in the back of his head, as a mannerism and trait to correct when there was a chance to do so.
For now, he simply looked back ahead.
Constance was struggling like a caged animal.
The mages were all focused on her and trying to get the sword out of her hand.
Lucian stood over Marven, and checked his body, finding a few little Magic Crystals, a good resource to recharge his own spells.
Using one completely, he cast a healing spell on Argo, and brought him to a good condition.
As soon as Argo felt it wearing off, he launched himself into the mages.
Lucian didn't want to look but… he could no longer pretend as if they were the 'good guys'.
The boy he had sworn to protect, had been killed right before his eyes on this ill-fated expedition, and the man who had saved him, had come down to save his daughter which they had taken.
They worked with Undead, and Necromancy, Forbidden Magics all around.
Not only so, but the things he had done, and seen done… he didn't feel like such a good guy.
Perhaps for redemption, or maybe to do the right thing for once, he had chosen this path.
He didn't want to look.
But he refused to look away.
"Help! The Violet Knight-! He-! He-!"
Argo chopped off the offending mages hand, before the weave could finish, and with his other sword, he took his head.
The Mages could either focus on him, or focus on the Hero, but if they tried to do both, they would lose both.
And in the panic, they did.
Constance swung her sword, and shattered the last of the chains.
Stumbling to her feet, from how fast she popped up, the golden light grew thicker.
It was simply so unacceptable.
How could they use this forbidden magic?
How could they profane the life that the Goddess had given them?
How could they malign the souls of the living and tamper with the dead?
Her rage knew no bounds, and with the mages close to her who had been trying to disarm her, now in shambles, she descended upon them without restrain slaughtering them like cattle.
She didn't know she had it in herself, but as she did it, she felt that it was the only response… the correct response, that they should be torn limb from limb for this.
It felt right, down to the marrow in her bones.
And she did so mercilessly.
Argo felt a warmth enter his body amidst the combat.
He and Constance shared a look.
The two got closer, and fought side by side. The battle grew thinner.
There were many Undead, and many Mages, but the Undead were uncoordinated since Murphy was busy fighting off Awick and the Mages were drained and panicking due to the rapid killings of their comrades.
"How long!?!" Constance roared as she caught the heavy blow of a massive creature, it looked like a creature of wings and leather, but it's flesh had scales, though it's eyes were human in nature and it stood at over twelve feet tall.
Argo rounded over the side of the undead and cut it's front leg clean off, aiming for the rotten joint, it was an easy task, throwing it off it's balance and sending it sprawling, he stumbled due to the speed of his own movements being far higher than normal in his adrenaline state, he shouted, "Ten!"
Ten minutes, till Lunston would arrive.
If they could hold for ten minutes, then, it would be over.
"What's that trembling?" Constance descended upon the fallen undead, cutting it open with her holy weapon, cleansing it instantly.
It was a weapon that was fearsome against anyone, but especially so against the Undead, who had been maligned and profaned into creatures that should not exist beneath the blessing of the Goddess of Life.
"...Move!" Argo with his sword covered in Violet Aura cut horizontally at Constance, who swiftly ducked, allowing Argo to split a stone the size of a basketball in two, Constance could sense magic, but not natural elements like that, Argo's lips moved as he scanned for the one who did it, "I don't know. Nightmares maybe. It's been shaking for some time now. Look around. I'll keep watch."
Constance nodded severely.
Her eyes shone brilliantly, as she scanned the surroundings.
Lucian had a protective barrier around himself and the girl, with several magic stones powering it, causing it to sit at a pretty good strength, one the Undead couldn't easily break.
Murphy and Awick's battle, she could not discern at all.
The actual combat itself was too complicated, and between the intricate weavings of magic and the barbaric destruction of aura, her vision was cut off entirely save for the vibrations from their clashes.
She looked to the gate. Her vision felt weird.
She tried to focus. And then it unfocused.
She couldn't remember what she was looking for.
Until she saw the edges of a spirits body. She looked up.
The Earthen Spirits were watching from above.
What were they hiding from?
Hiding?
She questioned herself.
Why did she feel they were hiding?
She looked back at the gate again.
Her gaze unfocused.
Her jaw tightened.
Her sword rang, clearing her head.
Something was staring at them from the gate over a thousand meters away.
Her skin crawled.
They met eyes.
She felt her soul shiver.
What was this feeling?
What…
"...-stance, Constance! FUCKING MOVE!" Constance's breath got knocked straight out of her, as Argo kicked her center mass, sending her flying!
She looked up in a painful startling stare, he was in a brutal clash with a giant tortoise of an Undead, it was slow, but it was strong.
Because she had moved late, he had been forced to eat the full brunt of it's horrific strength on the two reinforced swords in his hands, his body buckling.
She could hear his bones creaking violently and him yelling something, but she felt dragged back into a foggy mist.
She turned her head towards the direction where the Third Gate would be.
It was open.
Had it always been open?
She looked at the second gate.
It was also open?
Open?
How?
Ruins?
Why was everything… so pristine?
Why were there so many people?
Children?
Laughter?
Wasn't this place, different?
Where were they?
What… what the hell was going on?
She blinked and it was back to what it was.
She could hardly recall what she had seen.
There was something moving fast out of the corner of her vision.
It was a bat-like creature, aiming for them.
Hundreds of nightmares were at it's back.
Constance got to her feet slowly.
But she felt lost in space.
What was real, and what was not?
Where were they?
She was slipping between the pristine roads and the ruined mess each time she blinked, her mind was swirling as she was hit with thousands of faces, and the screams that sounded like joy and fear mixing together all at once!
Argo looked back at her, he couldn't hold for too much longer.
Seeing her state his jaw tightened.
A vein popped on his neck, she couldn't hear him, and he couldn't even open his mouth to speak anymore, from the pressure.
He could tell from her eyes, she was caught in an illusion.
A stone hand was grabbing her leg.
She wasn't going to be able to break it.
He looked back up at the tortoise.
It was lackluster, and had no special abilities.
If he could just get out from under it's enormous leg, he could easily fight it off and eventually bring it down, but, it wouldn't let him go or let up for that long.
His throat made a weird noise.
His back was starting to give.
The ground under his feet cracked.
His pupils shrank.
Magic?
Was one of the mages alive?
He prepared to give up one of his arms, to try and move as a last ditch effort.
But he didn't die.
The foot of the tortoise sank into the stone, giving him enough lee-way to roll away.
The sudden shift in pressure left him dizzy and hardly able to function, but he had managed to escape the titanic strength of the tortoise.
He tried to focus, but it was hard.
That was when he felt as if his head had been cleared up greatly. A little light sat on his shoulder, it was strong, and bright.
He knew what it was that had saved him, but he couldn't slow down to give thanks, he rushed towards Constance, the tortoise would not be held back for long.
It was a short distance though it didn't feel that way.
He made it, and cut the hand straight off, breaking it apart.
The giant shadow of the tortoise was upon them.
Constance's eyes refocused.
She saw Argo bleeding from his head, and pale as a ghost, his eyes were flickering, as though the vitality inside him was trying to escape.
Without a second thought, she passed him and cut the tortoises incoming foot, cleansing it's soul from the inside out.
The physical body fell towards them, but Constance was fast enough to grab Argo and move out of the way.
She didn't know what to make of the illusion she had been dragged into, and her head was still a little lost, and spinning, but, she knew at least, that she was back in reality, and was trying to ground herself in it.
She tried to feel her holy power out, to cleanse her mind, but it was running terribly low.
She looked towards the Third Gate.
A bat-like monster was there, a Defiled Tyrant, she had sensed it before in the Second Gate, and seen the edges of it there when they had fought their way through.
But it was not the only Defiled creature there. She could sense something stronger lingering further back.
Hundreds of nightmares were galloping towards them. That was the cause of the ground shaking.
Her skin crawled.
She felt a chill up her spine, but didn't look back.
Whatever it was she had seen looking at her at the Second Gate, she didn't know if it was real or not, but her instincts told her not to give away even an inkling of a hint that she knew it was there at all.
It was not something she wanted to engage with.
Argo was on his feet now. With Constance's healing, he was able to stand. Though his physical body had recovered, his Aura was still coming back.
Taking on the tortoise head on, had burnt him thoroughly.
But, now, under Lucian's barrier, they were all together.
His mind cooled.
He heard the massive doors opening.
The little spirit sat on his shoulder, following his gaze.
Argo glanced at it. He did not know what spirits liked to eat, or anything, but, this little one was now owed a big favor by him. And he made a note in his head to figure out what they liked.
He turned back to the gate.
The furious tides of magic came like a tsunami through the Second Gate, able to rival against Murphy's intense magic.
Lunston had arrived.
Argo, Constance, Lucian, the little girl and infant spirit all started to move away. Beneath the massive weaves of the two master mages and Awick's tyrannical aura, there was no way for them to be tracked.
With him here now, and everyone together, the battle would only grow worse.
Murphy had not yet used the trump card that he had been saving.
And the Nightmares of the Second Gate, had yet to make their move either, though they were coming.
The battle was far from over.
The real battle was just beginning.