The battlefield was alive with chaos.
Steel rang against steel, spells illuminated the sky like falling stars, and the screams of the dying mixed with the thunderous roars of warriors. The earth trembled under the charge of thousands, a violent storm of war raging beneath the gray, overcast sky.
At the heart of it all stood Azrael Kaelthorne.
Wrapped in bandages, his golden eyes glowed like embers beneath the shadow of his hood. His presence was overwhelming, his very existence like a void consuming all light around him. In his grasp, Necrilith pulsed with abyssal energy, the black blade thirsting for battle.
Before him, the enemy army stretched across the horizon.
The Battlefield – The Calm Before the Storm
Azrael's Side:
5,000 Kaelthorne Knights – Elite warriors, clad in dark armor, their swords gleaming under the morning sun. Their discipline was unmatched, their formation perfect.
3,000 Mercenaries – A mix of battle-hardened soldiers, their armor dented and weapons stained from previous fights. They fought for gold, but under Azrael's command, they had tasted victory.
400 Elite Mages – Cloaked figures standing in the rear, their hands glowing with runes of power, ready to support their allies with destructive spells and powerful enchantments.
Enemy Side (Sherlock's Army):
7,000 Knights – Trained warriors sworn to the banner of Earl Sherlock, their blood-red armor gleaming under the morning sun. Their numbers gave them confidence.
3,000 Mercenaries – A mix of desperate fighters and skilled killers, bound by contracts of gold and greed.
400 Elite Mages – Powerful spellcasters whose magic could alter the tides of war.
Lloyd Frostier – The Archmage (9th Cycle Mage) – A towering figure clad in deep crimson robes, his presence alone enough to instill fear. He was no ordinary mage; he was a nightmare incarnate on the battlefield.
Earl Sherlock – The Smart Demon of Battle (Aura Level 10, Mana Cycle 7) – A warrior renowned for his tactical brilliance and ruthless efficiency. His blood-red armor was stained from countless battles.
Normon Astro – The Iron Tyrant (Aura Level 10, Mana Cycle 6) – A hulking figure wielding a greatsword as tall as a man, his sheer strength alone enough to shatter bones.
The two armies stood across from each other, an eerie silence settling over the field.
Sherlock and Normon stood at the front of their forces, their gazes locked onto one man—Azrael Kaelthorne.
Sherlock smirked. "Still alive, are you?"
Normon frowned, gripping his greatsword. "Tch. He should have stayed dead after our last battle."
Azrael said nothing. He raised Necrilith, abyssal energy swirling around the blade like a living storm.
Then, with a voice like thunder, he spoke—
"Advance."
The Storm Breaks
The Kaelthorne army charged, a black wave crashing forward with terrifying force.
The mercenaries howled as they sprinted forward, clashing against the enemy's frontline. Swords pierced flesh, shields shattered, and blood painted the ground.
The Kaelthorne knights, disciplined and ruthless, cut through the enemy like reapers. Their movements were precise, every strike aiming to kill.
In the rear, the elite mages unleashed devastation.
Bolts of lightning rained down, firestorms engulfed entire squads, and ice spears impaled unfortunate soldiers. The battlefield became a canvas of destruction.
Azrael did not wait.
He dashed forward, disappearing into the chaos like a shadow.
His destination?
The enemy's rear lines—where Lloyd Frostier, Earl Sherlock, and Normon Astro awaited.
Abyssal Judgment
As Azrael reached the center of the battlefield, he swung Necrilith in a wide arc, abyssal energy erupting like a tidal wave.
A black crescent of death tore through the enemy ranks.
Hundreds of knights were instantly bisected. Their bodies disintegrated as the abyss consumed them.
Even from a distance, Sherlock's expression hardened. "…That sword is dangerous."
Normon's grip on his weapon tightened. "He's not holding back this time."
Azrael's golden eyes burned beneath his hood. He locked onto his next target—
Lloyd Frostier.
The Archmage raised his staff, chanting an incantation. The air trembled with power as a crimson inferno formed above him.
A spell unlike any other—
"Infernal Cataclysm."
The sky split open, revealing a colossal sphere of flame. The heat alone scorched the battlefield, melting armor and burning flesh before it even landed.
It descended upon the Kaelthorne forces.
Orin's eyes widened. "Shields! NOW!"
The elite mages raised their hands, casting defensive barriers, but—
BOOM!
The fireball exploded, engulfing the battlefield in a sea of flames.
Hundreds of Kaelthorne knights and mercenaries perished instantly.
Those lucky enough to survive screamed in agony, their armor melting onto their flesh.
Azrael narrowed his eyes, his body vanishing in a dark blur.
He reappeared above Lloyd Frostier, Necrilith descending with abyssal fury.
The Archmage barely reacted, raising a barrier of golden light.
CRACK!
Necrilith shattered the barrier, forcing Lloyd to teleport backward.
Sherlock and Normon moved in, flanking Azrael.
Normon's greatsword swung down, but Azrael sidestepped, the sheer force splitting the ground where he stood.
Sherlock thrust his blade forward, aiming for Azrael's neck—
CLANG!
Azrael parried, sparks flying as abyssal energy clashed with aura-infused steel.
It was three against one.
And yet—
Azrael grinned beneath his bandages.
"Come."
The battle was far from over.
End of Chapter 43