I cursed under my breath. The time sorcerer wasn't here—at least not physically—but his influence was growing stronger by the second. The demons were adapting faster than expected, and the elven lines were starting to buckle under the weight of the relentless assault. Time itself seemed to bend around us, warping the battlefield into a nightmare of distorted realities.
The elves were fighting valiantly, but it was clear that even their disciplined ranks couldn't hold out forever. Their arrows flew true, cutting through demon after demon, but for each one they felled, more poured through the ever-expanding rifts, their twisted forms warping with every second that passed. The air was thick with the scent of blood and sulfur, the ground beneath us shaking with the impact of demonic forces clashing against elven defenses.
