The Forsaken Hero

The ground shook as powerful spells and magical techniques ripped through the battlefield. The Last Light Company stood firm against the endless onslaught of scions, filling the canyons with cascades of infernal blood. Their reserves had since joined the fray, reinforcing and supporting wherever the lines grew weak. Their bodies were sturdy and my spells guaranteed the lives of the mercenaries, but they were still subject to the mortal constraints of exhaustion and mental fatigue.

Captain Bethiv and his vice-captain, Jackal, had split their attention, one going to rally each canyon, leaving me alone atop the icy perch overlooking the battlefield. My gaze was locked onto the Dungeon Commander, who rested coiled up beside the crevasses in the ice, through which scions continued to stream.

It was enormous, comparable even to the infernal dragon Fyren killed, stretching over a hundred feet long from diamond-shaped head to sinewy tail. Its entire body was coated in icy scales, gleaming like a prism in the flickering light of the battle, sending a kaleidoscopic array of dancing lights across the mountain. In a way, it was strangely beautiful a crystal serpent rearing its head nobly in the air. Its eyes blazed with intelligence, its soul bright with mana. Despite its animalistic form, this was no mindless scion drawn to the slaughter, but a vicious demon capable of collaborating with Luke and strong enough to execute the plan to destroy the armies of humanity.

Its soul was sixth level, far weaker than the curse demon, but not something I could compete with directly. The seas of infernal mana gathered above the icy world were at my beck and call, but my soul could only handle enough for a single fourth-circle spell at any given time. There was also the mysterious origin of the infernal mana, giving rise to the possibility the demon might also be able to manipulate it as well.

The frosty gaze of the demon sent a shiver down my spine, its aura seeping across the distance to buffet my soul. A transparent, crystalline tongue flitted between its lips, its entire body tensing. My eyes narrowed as its soul blazed, a sure sign it had begun casting a spell. It wasn’t yet certain if they Soul Cast in the same way I did, which left me unable to predict the circles or runes. Not that it mattered, anyway. We were barely hanging on as is, and I couldn’t allow it to cast anything that might tip the scales in their favor.

In favor of speed, I abandoned soul casting and simply raised my staff, casting chantless instead. Three third-circle spells materialized around me, combining to form an array.

"Reflection!" I cried, pushing the spell forward.

A glimmering wall of golden magic rose above the mountain, forming a mirror-like canvas between the demon and our forces. No sooner did the array stabilize than a colossal blast of ice swept out of the demon’s mouth, radiating the pressure of a sixth-circle spell. Unlike the demonkin’s Explosive Cascade, the demon centralized and compressed the entire spell, forming one tight bar of pure destructive ice magic.

I took a sharp breath and twisted my staff, manipulating the array to fold back in on itself. The golden wall collapsed inward, forming a small, layered circle just larger than the incoming spell. Not a moment later, the lance of ice collided with the array.