The heroes stood amidst the carnage of the fallen demons, savoring the bittersweet taste of what they believed was a hard-won victory. But as they rejoiced, the very foundation of the island trembled—not in celebration, but in a rhythmic, terrifying agony. Unbeknownst to them, the Lord of Ice was locked in a cataclysmic struggle against one of the Covenant Beasts. It was only when the ground splintered and the horizon shifted with the beast’s gargantuan movements that the truth dawned upon them.

  ?Amidst their burgeoning dread, a second blow fell: new swarms of demons began to manifest. These were not like the ones they had just slain; they radiated an oppressive, suffocating aura that curdled the blood of even the bravest warrior.

  ?The heroes took their stances, isolated and surrounded. In every sector, a hundred demons closed in like a tightening noose.

  ?In Julian’s area, the demons stood with an unnerving, statuesque stillness. “If you choose to remain motionless, you’ve only made my task simpler,” he thought grimly. He channeled his Blood Power: Absorption, and a crimson pool surged beneath the demons’ feet, hungry to swallow them whole.

  ?Suddenly, the stillness shattered. One demon blurred into motion with a speed that defied the eye, appearing before Julian to claim his head. Julian parried, but the sheer kinetic force sent him hurtling backward, crashing through two buildings in a cloud of stone and dust.

  ?The demon curled its lips into a jagged smile. "You blocked that? Impressive." Before Julian could find his footing, the demon lunged again. Grabbing Julian by the skull, the creature used him as a battering ram, slamming him through house after house and hammering him into the dirt until the earth was soaked in Julian’s blood. Broken and bleeding, Julian was tossed aside like a discarded toy.

  ?Volak stood over the corpses of his previous foes when a dagger hissed through the air, embedding itself inches from his feet. He looked up to find a demon advancing with predatory grace.

  ?Without a word, Volak ignited his Light Power: Light Speed. The world slowed to a crawl as he darted forward, severing the demon’s head in a single, luminous stroke. He assumed the threat was neutralized, but a primal instinct screamed a warning. He parried a phantom strike from the decapitated body and retreated.

  ?"How?" he gasped. "I took your head!"

  ?The demon’s voice echoed, mocking and cold: "Is this your 'speed'? You move like a dying turtle. Weak powers like yours cannot extinguish my life. But... your instincts are sharp."

  ?More demons appeared, their auras identical to the monster before him. Volak’s heart hammered—not for himself, but for the innocent villagers caught in the crossfire. "I must end this now!"

  ?"End it?" the demon laughed. "Try me."

  ?"Light Power: A Thousand Spears!" Volak roared. A canopy of brilliant spears rained down, skewering every demon with ten blades of pure light. Yet, they continued to march as if the wounds were nothing more than a summer breeze. In that moment of disbelief, Volak’s focus wavered. The demon seized the opening, driving its hand into Volak’s chest and detonating a blast of energy that shattered his heart. The Hero of Light fell, his eyes fluttering shut as darkness claimed him.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  ?Iris sensed the encroaching darkness and reached for her Wind Bow. She loosed a single arrow that fractured into a hundred glowing shards, raining down upon the horde. The demons fell back, only to reform into a lethal circle, closing in from every flank.

  ?She fought with the desperation of a cornered gale, weaving a barrier of wind around herself while firing from within. But her defenses were being gnawed away. Eventually, the shield shattered. Iris drew her daggers, parrying and striking through a haze of exhaustion. She managed to decapitate one, but as she turned to the next, the "dead" demon regenerated instantly and severed her arm.

  ?She did not scream. Holding her severed limb and her dagger, she shouted for the villagers to flee, but it was too late. A demon’s claw pierced her throat, and her remaining arm was torn away.

  ?"Be silent," the demon whispered with a frigid smile. "The hunt is best enjoyed in the quiet."

  ?Harold’s battle was a symphony of brute force. Knowing these creatures were resilient, he used the environment as a weapon, smashing them against stone walls and crushing them under debris. But as his strength began to flag, his enemies rose, unscathed.

  ?With a roar of defiance, Harold ignited his soul. Fire erupted from his pores, swirling into the sky until it took the form of a titanic, roaring dragon. The beast dove, engulfing the area in a sea of flame and smoke.

  ?But out of the soot, shadows moved. As Harold swung a desperate fist, one demon pinned his sword to the earth while another slammed his head into the dirt. A third stood over him, holding his own blade.

  ?"A valiant effort," the demon said. "But the fire goes out here."

  ?He plunged the blade toward Harold's heart, channeling his own hellfire to incinerate the hero's internal organs from the inside out.

  ?The island was a portrait of ruin. Panic, screams, and the stench of iron filled the air. Amidst the slaughter, a ten-year-old girl named Rose huddled in the shadows, her body trembling with a terror no child should know.

  ?She heard her father’s distant, strained voice: "Stay hidden, Rose! Do not come out!"

  ?Her father’s plea warred with the memory of the Lord of Ice’s words: that heroes are forged in the fires of sacrifice. “Am I a coward?” she whispered to the darkness. “My father and brother are bleeding. The heroes are falling. I will not hide!”

  ?Rose slipped through the chaos, a small shadow moving through a nightmare, until she reached a warehouse filled with Power Stones. Locking the door, she placed her hand upon a stone to draw its essence. The surge of energy nearly stopped her heart, forcing her to recoil in agony.

  ?She remembered the Lord of Ice once faking an injury to teach her that pain is merely a threshold. She tried again. And again. On the fourth attempt, she held on.

  ?The stones roared to life. Her amulet blazed with a light so intense it pierced the heavens, hidden from the demons only by the warehouse's ancient wards. The strain was catastrophic. Her bones began to groan and splinter; her skin began to tear under the pressure of the raw energy. Yet, she endured, weaving the power into a massive spell of healing to mend the broken tribes.

  ?Far away, at the seat of the Lord of the Dead, a restless soul broke free from the Mountain of Spirits.

  ?The Deputy Commander barred its path. "This is not our concern! We are the dead. Our hearts are silent. Do you not understand?"

  ?The soul burned with an unearthly fire. "Perhaps yours is. But I have lived by my instinct, and my instinct does not die. Move, or be moved."

  ?The Lord of the Dead opened his eyes slowly. "Let him go," he commanded.

  ?And in that heartbeat, the golden tide of Rose’s healing power washed over the battlefield.