Chapter 780: Risen Horde
The Demon horde responded with a roar and rose to meet the Risen charge. They fell upon the shambling corpses with fervor, rending flesh and ripping rotting limbs from bloated bodies. It was slaughter, far from the bitter struggles and noble battles we’d fought thus far. Just disheveled dead against world-breaking demons.
The initial clash was over in a few minutes. Of the five hundred or so Risen that had approached our position, only a scattered handful remained–left by the evolved demons as chew toys for the weaker scions.
"I thought they’d be stronger," Elise murmured, pursing her lips. "How did they overwhelm the elves?"
I let out a sigh, touching my horn. "Liches. And the Black Mist. As long as a single Risen survives, hidden somewhere, the mist will continue to spread."
She glanced at me, and Fyren raised an eyebrow. But before I could clarify, Incinderus completed his spell. The massive magic circles collapsed into a single point, forming an impossibly dense sphere of fire mana. He flicked his hand forward, sending the fist-sized sphere into the city. It vanished on the way, too small and fast to be tracked by my eyes, but I wasted no time burying my face in Fable’s fur.
The first thing to hit us was the shockwave, smashing against my wards with the force of a seventh-circle spell. A thunderous roar came next, followed by a ceaseless cascade of rippling secondary explosions of fire and high-speed winds. Fable turned his shoulder, taking the brunt of the heat and force, letting my wards focus on absorbing the magical impacts.
When the last explosions faded away, I healed the ringing in my ears and peeked out from Fable’s fur. My eyes widened as I took in the devastation.
The chasm had been blown right open, nearly doubling the size of the crater Echo Heart had rested in. Molten earth and stone flowed into the canyon, mixing with the rivers in belching geysers of steam and cinders. Above even that, a towering plume of smoke rose into the sky, forming a vaguely Fires raged across the forest, every bush a candle, and every tree a torch. Of those trees, only the oldest trunks with the deepest roots remained standing at all. Most were toppled over, their roots flung up and burning.
"I...so much fire," R’lissea whispered.
"Would you rather it be Black Mist spreading through the world instead?" Fyren asked.
She wordlessly shook her head. I lacked the same empathy for the woods as the Life hero, but it was still saddening to see so much natural beauty consumed in ash. I couldn’t help but superimpose it on my memories of Heartland, and the ache in my chest became sharper.