Michael kept cutting down demons from both the sky and the ground. Every movement was controlled. Even while being brutal, he held himself back. His cloak whipped violently as he moved, slashing faster than lightning, unseen by most eyes.
Baldrick continued fighting relentlessly. His flying ability was fading as the potion began to wear off, so he returned to the ground. His strength and stamina did not fail him. Only the ability to fly was gone. On the ground, he fought even more fiercely.
Baldrick watched Michael closely. Somehow, he could still perceive Michael's movements, even as Michael moved at speed beyond measurement. It unsettled him and impressed him at the same time.
More demons leapt toward Baldrick. One clean swing of his knight sword split them in half. His long hair and beard flowed wildly in the storm. When flying demons came too close, he grabbed them with his hands and tore them apart without hesitation.
On another flank, the situation worsened.
The number of demons kept increasing. A general of Aldervain noticed something unnatural. The demons were reappearing randomly from distant points, their numbers growing far beyond expectation. Through the shared mind connection Baldrick had established, the general sent a warning.
Baldrick received it instantly and relayed it.
This battle was far worse than Malakor and his forces.
Michael sensed it even without being told. Still, he continued cutting through demons at a steady pace. One slash killed seven. Four more slashes wiped out many more. He flew high, then slammed down with force, detonating demons midair and carving a deep crater into the ground below.
Michael understood the consequences of his actions. He did not hesitate. He felt no fear, no trauma. He punched, slashed, and tore through demons without pause.
A massive cockroach like demon lunged at him, trying to launch him away. Michael swung his sword through the air itself. The pressure formed a cutting wave that split the creature cleanly in half.
Far on the right flank, the allied knights continued fighting despite heavy losses. Many had already fallen. Still, the demons kept coming in overwhelming numbers.
Captain Fred of Aldervain fought among them. Young, determined, and unyielding, his cloak floated in the air as his blade stayed sharp. Sweat ran down his face, but his expression never wavered.
He ordered the second division to move east with the third. Archers unleashed burning arrows mixed with powder, causing explosive impacts among the demon ranks. The fight spread toward frozen waters, where many combatants were dragged under and drowned.
Fred, only seventeen, stood tall amid the chaos. Two flying demons grabbed him from behind and hurled him into the ground, causing a violent explosion. He rose instantly, his endurance and durability unbroken. As they tried to seize him again, he cut them down in a single swing.
The sky of the Vastyrion Realm darkened completely. Cold rain poured down.
Demons continued to rise without end.
The battle was brutal and vast beyond measure.
Far away, within his own realm, Vorthak continued to watch. He smirked.
He saw it clearly. Only Michael, Baldrick, and Fred fought with true conviction. The others struggled to survive, pushing forward through fear and discipline alone.
Just a little more time.
Sentinel. I will pass through you and end your life.
The rainy night grew harsher. The downpour intensified, hammering the battlefield without mercy. Hours passed, yet the war showed no sign of ending.
Baldrick had moved far from Michael on purpose. He drew as many demons toward himself as possible, acting as a living distraction so fewer would swarm the other flanks where the allied soldiers were already struggling.
He fought without pause, gripping his sword with both hands and slaying demons one after another. The potion's strength still surged through his body. His stamina remained overwhelming. Only flight was no longer possible, as the potion could not sustain it any longer.
Even so, his movement nearly matched Michael's.
His knight sword carved through demon flesh again and again. His hair and beard floated wildly in the storm as he climbed hills and charged back down, never stopping.
"Come on! Bastards! You fools!" Baldrick shouted as he cut them down nonstop.
"Come on! Your demon lord only uses you for his greed! You demons will never succeed!"
He kept fighting without exhaustion or hesitation. His only concern was the allied forces, who would suffer greatly if the demons broke through.
On another flank, far from him, the battle shifted.
On the left side, the allied forces pushed the demons back toward the east. Cannon barrages thundered, and cavalry rushed in, cutting down massive numbers of demons.
On the right side, atop the hills, the large soldiers armed with pikes stood firm. They had slain countless flying demons without suffering casualties. Now they remained in position, prepared for another wave, though the sky above them had been cleared.
The ground below was littered with the bodies of flying demons they had brought down with precision.
Their general shouted, "Stay prepared! There will be more!"
They answered in unison, "Yes, General!"
Far away from all of them, Michael stood still.
His cloak floated gently despite the storm. He held the glowing sword in his hand, standing atop a pile of dead demons beneath his feet. He felt the presence again, watching him from an unfathomable distance, yet no matter how sharp his senses were, he could not locate the realm it came from.
"Who are you?" Michael spoke calmly. "I'm sure you are their lord."
Elsewhere, Vorthak watched with his eyes still closed.
He laughed quietly, amused by Michael's curiosity.
"Just a little more," Vorthak said to himself. "This will be over. I will stand alone, kill you, Michael, and I will not conquer the Vastyrion Realm. I will destroy it with my spit. I am not joking. I have done it before."
His laughter echoed through his realm.
Vorthak's will was absolute. His determination to succeed had hardened beyond doubt.