Chapter 782: On the Defensive
A wave of Black Mist followed on the heels of Connor’s arrival, swamping the battlefield in a mire of undead mana laced with his own abilities’ aura. The power of that aura, of which I only dimly recalled from the siege of the ice gate in Brithlite, flowed into the undead horde, revitalizing them like dried grass soaked in water.
The sudden surge of the Risens’ auras fell like a hammer against Incinderus’s offensive, stopping it in its tracks. All that had kept them together were their numbers, but now they began to climb in power, absorbing the life energy of the demons they killed. Elves that were once great warriors in life, but had succumbed to the black mist, began to regain their abilities as they climbed in strength, matching the evolved demons blow for blow.
"Why are you here?" R’lissea asked, gripping her staff so hard her knuckles turned white. "Why?"
"Merely repaying a debt. My last debt," Connor said, giving Lord Evlon a sharp look.
"Your sacrifices shall be remembered, Hero," Lord Evlon said calmly. "The tens of thousands of Risen that fall before this horde will buy us the time we need to do what must be done."
Connor’s expression twisted in a grimace, but he held his tongue. As they’d exchanged words, I’d edged closer to Elise. As my arm brushed her side, I took a deep breath, calling on the Primordial Mark. A wave of dizziness swept over as my horde’s voices exploded, filled with bloodlust and desire for battle. I staggered, gripping Elise’s arm for support.
"Fyren," I whispered, pushing my will through the chaos. "Please, I need you."
His soul lit up like a beacon, followed by a response from Incinderus, Zephyriss, and a dozen other high-ranking demons. We’d been careless, scattered across miles of Sylvarus’s border, fighting our own battles. Zephyriss and the storm demons hunting Risen in Echo Hearth, Fyren chasing lichs, and Incinderus leading the fight from the front.
More trains of communication passed between them, using the language of demons made of thoughts, impressions, sensory input, and memories. It was impossible for a mortal like me to follow, making my head spin. Before I got too disoriented, I withdrew from the mark, putting my faith in the demons. They’d figure something out. They had to.