The battlefield buzzed with chaos, a cacophony of clashing weapons, cries of pain, and the unholy roars of Abyssal creatures.
He had made his decision, sending orders to the reserves, but the weight of command pressed heavily on him.
His spirit sense extended far beyond the immediate battlefield, encompassing vast stretches of Nexaria, allowing him to see the sheer scale of the conflict.
It was carnage. The elements wielded by his spirit warrior soldiers sliced through the ranks of the Abyss, sending waves of enemies crashing to the ground, but it was not enough. For every demonic beast from the abyssal plane cut down, two more seemed to take its place.
The soldiers under his command were fighting valiantly, but the Abyssal forces were unyielding, and unending, pushing his men and women back inch by bloody inch.
It was a brutal dance of life and death, and for every step forward, Lassim's forces were forced back two.
