The burning Knight surged forward, his heavy spectral boots cracking the petrified floorboards.
He raised his Paragon Blade; even with the blue flames that covered the sword, holy magic was still the essence of the great weapon.
It was the great, natural anathema to the demonic darkness that was choking this library.
A cluster of Nightwraiths, shrieking as the radiant light scorched their incorporeal forms, tried to dive into the safety of the towering bookshelves.
But of course Mercius was faster, regardless of his size.
He swung the greatsword, creating a wave of blue and gold holy energy. It sliced straight through the solid oak of the shelves and intersected with the fleeing demons.
Six of the Nightwraiths didn't even have time to scream. The holy magic violently disrupted their dark structure, igniting them from the inside out.
They flared like dying stars for a fraction of a second before crumbling into glowing white ash that drifted harmlessly to the floor.
