Blacksmith of the Apocalypse
695. Siege of Fire, Ice, Lightning, and Pain
The barrier was flickering dangerously under the attacks of the weird monster army. The second energy blast of the group of sorcerers had almost broken through, now they could lose their protection at any moment.
Brock and the others already had a hard time defending the walls. Despite the two chosen of Fire and Ice constantly blasting attacks into the hordes of enemies, their numbers did not shrink. Worse, it wasn't like there were so many that the kills didn't make a difference. The beasts seemed to have especially great resistance against ice and fire attacks
Firestorms and Blizzard looked great and affected wide areas, but they could barely put a scratch or slow down these macabre monsters. Elza and Marcel could only fall back to using targeted attacks that had a guarantee to kill, although the number of kills was smaller.
The faces fell, when a giant siege beast crashed into the shield from the other side of the fort, forming fine cracks all across the magical dome.
"If Seth isn't coming soon with the cavalry, we will all die!" Marcel coughed as slashed out with his sword, sending a fiery shock wave into the beasts at the foot of the wall.
"I think it's already too late," Brock mumbled.
Marcel followed his terrified gaze to the cliff where the robed figures stood proudly. Arrogantly looking across the plateau, there were already conjuring their next attack! A giant crimson fireball was blazing above their heads like a tiny sun.
There was no way for their breaking barrier to endure this attack. Everyone in the fortress knew that this would be the end. There was no escape, no surrender. Their hope was waning by the second, as they watched the magic grow.
"We have to do something about this magic!" Elza cried out in a panic, but nobody listened. Everyone was just staring at the ball of fire, struck with horror. She was looking around in a panic when she heard something.
A clear sound cut through the noise of battle. And then again. And again. It kept happening in a rhythmic interval and even the mindless beasts that were surging against their walls stopped for a moment. The clear sound was accompanied by the full, otherworldly play of an instrument. Was it the wind's howling, or did she just hear a choir?
Droning through the canyon was a demonic voice, rumbling in their ears. Elza could feel her heart palpitate and her hair raised as the beat of the music reverberated in her chest and heart. Slowly, she could feel a foreign power slither through her body and the words started making sense in her head.
Before her eyes, a giant, spectral cathedral built up above the canyon, reaching into the orange skies and covering them all.
"All who gathered, hear, Victory is near! The sound will fill the hall, bringing power to us all."
Listening to the inciting tune, her eyes slowly glazed over as a battle craze took over the cold mind of the ice mage. She mumbled along as a righteous blaze burned in her heart.
" We alone are fighting, a battle that is true! We own the right to live the fight..."
Almost instinctual she started gathering her mana for a spell. From far away she barely registered that she wasn't the only one preparing to move and it was almost like they were connected in their intent.
"I swear the blood upon my steel will never dry..." she heard Marcel mumble beside her before she joined in his chant. "Stand and fight together beneath the battle sky." They threw their hands into the air and joined a chorus their tongues didn't know how to pronounce. Everyone in the fortress reached toward the cathedral in the sky and was enveloped by an aura.
The giant ball of fire in the sky began moving and shot toward the fortress, but nobody wavered. Their minds were steeled.
"Many stand against us, but they will never win! We said we would return, and here we are again!"
The robed figure on the cliff ribbed off their robes, revealing their identity, as rows upon rows of knights appeared at the edge of the cliff, all clad in the same blue aura. The troops of Minas Mar had revealed themselves.
"To bring them all destruction, suffering, and pain."
The blazing ball of fire aiming for the fortress suddenly exploded right above the battlefield. A Hailstorm of fire ravaged the battlefield, exploding everywhere and turning the plateau into a scene from hell.
Even if they had immunity to fire, the force of the explosion threw the beasts around like rag dolls or outright ripped them apart in thunder, flame, and rain.
As if it was a signal, everyone jumped into battle. While the defenders stayed on the barricades, pouring attacks at the enemies with newfound vigor, the knights from the cliffs charged into battle on their mounts.
In stark contrast to the Oathguards' and Faers' neat battle formations, a giant armored snake broke through the cliff side from the opposite end, spewing a breath of golem knights into the enemy ranks before fighting with rock and poison breath, depopulating large swaths of the enemy army.
At their head was a pale gray Knight, holding a staff and shield. He swiftly weaved through the tightly packed enemy ranks, only leaving death in his wake.
Real thunder joined the song, as clouds gathered under the canopy of the cathedral as Ceres appeared in the sky. Thick columns of lightning started raining down, evaporating enemies with every flash.
Joining the elemental's lightning were concentrated rays of obliterating light that would wander across the battlefield like the attack of an orbital laser cannon, painting a path of charred and molten rock. They originated from a nightmarish centipede that kept dipping in and out of the clouds above.
The hopeless battle against a never-ending tide of monsters turned into a chaotic hellscape only worsened by the entry of the field teams, that wreaked havoc like Berserkers among the creations of the Maestro.
A lion man, a wolf woman, a shadow of death, a swordsman of enrapturing beauty, a charging spear demon, arrows sowing discord and death... a giant, golden dwarf version of Fin that stomped around the battlefield laughing in glee as she squashed enemies like insects under her feet?
The giant brute directly went for the massive siege beasts among the enemy and covered them in punches, that left bloody holes all over their bodies. Like Fin, the rest of the field teams also aimed for the massive bosses, that posed the greatest danger to the fort, after getting rid of the orc troops on the cliff.
Edward used the White Hilt of Restraint to take control of part of the burning plateau with <Nergal's Swordsmanship> and <Ember Rain> halting all enemies in their place. Even when the fire did minimal damage, they could not escape the effect Ixion's Bind.
While they were holding still, Evee started picking them off with magic, curses, and punches that spawned demonic wasps. With the Faer helping her, the black, viscous blood of the creatures drenched the ground they fell on. But many did not stay down for long as half of them automatically rose up as her subordinates, without her actively doing anything.
The Finger of Acheron was not the only thing Seth had given her, he had also improved her Gloves of the Swarm, adding the soul of a powerful Death Knight he caught in the dungeon. The gloves, which had become a relic, gained an overall power-up. Most notable in the current situation was that the chance of raising dead in the vicinity had increased to 50%.
Before they could get back their bearings, the monster army was facing two organized forces. An army made up of adventurers in silver armor and an army of undead made up of their own brethren.
The progress the Faer had made became noticeable, as they fought the powerful research subjects of the Maestro on an even footing, even slightly outperforming the Oathguards. However, what really shone in the battle of numbers, were Evee's undead that were stronger than when they were alive thanks to her items and they kept growing stronger and stronger under the influence of her legendary pendant.
The immortal witch shone brightly, as she proved to the world, why necromancers were a broken class.
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