The Forsaken Hero-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.

As I regained my balance, I leaned forward, whispering in Elise’s ear. "Get back, you won’t be able to help here."

"Can you summon a remnant?" she asked in a quivering voice.

I shook my head. "Not for a few days. But I’ll be okay, I have Borealis and Fable. But Elise, if something happens to me, you have to cast Silent Stars."

She gave me a worried look, and for a moment, I feared she might refuse to leave. But, with another glance at the inquisitor and undead hero, she nodded.

"Got it. Just...be safe."

I let out a breath as she retreated, leaving R’lissea and me to face them alone. R’lissea’s elemental and Fable stood protectively in front of us, with Borealis circling overhead. They felt formidable, yet both Evlon and Connor were eighth-level. Not to mention...

My brow furrowed as I scanned the forest around us. There was no sign of anyone else, but it wasn’t like Evlon to travel alone. He’d lost many powerful inquisitors in Black Sand, but to think he’d be so brazen as to approach alone...

Evlon appeared in front of me before I registered he’d moved. The tip of his sword plunged toward me, slicing the air apart and emitting torrents of sun magic. Before it could strike my wards, Fable’s paw darted in front of me, slamming into the blade and directing it into the ground a foot from my side.

The impact caused Evlon’s seventh-level technique to detonate, unleashing torrents of sun magic into the ground. I screamed, thrown off my feet, as the earth surged beneath me, rupturing like a burst bubble. Boulders and secondary explosions filled the air. A chunk of earth bearing the roots of an ancient tree landed directly on my wards, flinging me to the side.

I landed hard, wards flaring around me, cracking but holding. I rolled to my feet, rubbing the starbursts from my eyes, and looked around.

Fable and Evlon were a blur some hundred feet away, locked in furious combat. It was impossible to follow the speed at which claw and sword struck, parried, and fainted, but it was clear neither had an immediate advantage.

R’lissea hadn’t escaped the explosions unharmed, her wards holding at roughly thirty percent, only a little stronger than mine. But she was on her feet, staff glowing in her hands. Several sixth-circle summoning spells resolved around her, calling more treants and life dragons to her side.

Connor stood in the exact same place, holding his scythe braced against his shoulder. His mouth was curved in a frown, his displeasure directed to the inquisitor.

"Damn whitecloak," he muttered, shaking his head.

He focused his gaze on R’lissea, and his frown lessened. He advanced toward her, shifting his scythe into a battle grip.

"Come, try to put up something of a fight. Even if your powers are worthless as a Risen, prove to me you’d have some use continuing on after the end."

R’lissea’s eyes burned, another Life Dragon crawling out of a portal behind her. "I won’t let you desecrate these sacred lands any longer."

She waved her staff, and the small army of sixth-level summons lunged forward. She’d managed to call two dragons and four treants, making it seem as if the forest itself was falling on Connor in a storm of stone, branch, and leaf.

Connor ducked under a massive claw swipe from a dragon, cutting up with his scythe. The blade passed through a claw, severing it completely. The tip disintegrated mid-air, rumbling and decaying completely before it hit the ground. Black rot lingered on the wound, slowly spreading across the dragon’s body, directly siphoning the sustaining life magic R’lissea imbued it with. It was only one cut, a small one compared to the dragon’s sheer size, but I estimated it had less than five minutes before the magic circle holding it together failed. Less, if Connor landed more blows.

As both fights grew more intense, I expanded my focus to the demons and Risen battling in our vicinity. Over a thousand evolved demons and scions had moved, following Incinderus’s orders to form a tight ring around us. They didn’t dare interfere with Connor or the Inquisitor, yet kept any Risen from breaking through to support them.

My Nexus was full, holding close to four hundred evolved demons, along with my friends. I couldn’t get more than the upper cusp of evolved demons, but the lines were holding steady now. If the battle were to extend for an hour or two, things would be different, but for now, the strongest risen was only fourth-level. Sixth-level evolved demons were rare, but we had more than enough to keep the Risen hordes in check.

My gaze caught on a slight waver in the forest. It wasn’t a soul, or a magical residue from an item or spell. It was merely an anomaly in the regular pattern of fate, more of a feeling than anything. Before I could investigate it further, Lord Evlon let out a shout, breaking away from Fable.

"Your mutt has gotten stronger," he said, giving the wolf an appraising look.

The inquisitor was breathing heavily, a long cut down his side, cleaving through armor and bone. Life magic was already knitting the wound together, but the blood dyed that portion of his armor red.

He circled Fable slowly, looking for an opening in the wolf’s guard. I felt a small surge of warmth in my chest as he found none. Fable had spent countless hours sparring with demons, apostles, and remnants. Even if Evlon was powerful, he wouldn’t be overwhelmed that easily.

"But what of you? You’re as fragile as ever. Aren’t you a little vulnerable while your guard dog’s off playing?" Evlon asked.

He was trying to bait me, or perhaps Fable, into slipping up. But time wasn’t on his side, and the longer he spent talking, the closer Fyren got. I could already feel the demon’s soul rapidly approaching. A minute, maybe two if he got slowed by Risen, and we’d have a second eight-level to even the odds. But he had to know that, right? So why would he...

Evlon attacked again, a series of flashy, if relatively weak, magical techniques. They filled the forest with dancing sparks of living sun magic, dazzling and bright, making it impossible to focus on any one thing. Once it was clear they weren’t harming Fable, Evlon retreated with a defensive flourish.

"Damn it. I should have killed you when I had the chance," he growled, glaring at Fable. His gaze switched to me. "The same goes for you. But don’t worry, it’s not a mistake we’ll make again.

A chill brushed my neck, and I touched it reflexively, half-fearing I’d find a knife there. But I didn’t. It was just my body remembering the last time an inquisitor made that threat. Just a memory...we. He said we. Not a memory, a warning. I wouldn’t fall prey to the same trick twice.

"You’ll never have a chance again," I said, waving my staff at the empty forest behind me. "Mirror Lock!"

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