Chapter 88 - 84: The Battle of the cursed forest

The rain pours down, falling with a force that could bow a man to the ground. It is an oppressive cascade, heavy beyond enduring. It soaks one through the bone, and drops lashed by the wind pierce cloak and armor alike.

The shrieking of the wind among the forest trees is akin to that of the lamentations of the damned. It is bitterly cold with clouds that blanket the sky.

Thunder rolls from afar, foretelling worse yet to come on this cursed forest. Yet beneath this storm springs a field of iron, troops locked in battle against abominations that should not exist on this mortal plane.

Swords ring out in a God of War's hymn. Clashing sounds of battle rises like the voice of prophets to cry out in rebuke of such cruel injustice.

"Argh! You vile creature! Your master's ambition will never..." the young knight's cry cut short with a swipe of a claw from the monster as it cleaved his head clean of his body before pouncing in search of another victim.

The battle rages on great formations of Humans, Elves, and Beastman alike swaying to and fro like banners in the wind, the ranks of numberless troops slowly shifting across the small plain.

Bodies fall in the mud, some dead yet others still clinging to the last stubborn breath of life...

Blood spills from mortal wounds, from allies and enemies alike to form vast pools, ironclad feet stomp in the streaming gore of friends and foe below continuing on with their carnage as they unceasingly fight.

It is without a doubt, Hell on earth...

Lightning strikes again as it illuminates the faces of the soldiers. The Elves, tall and fair pluck out the strings of their bows as they rain down a sea of arrows as if to outdo the storm itself, their companions plunge the points of their slim spears into the heads of the howling accursed monsters.

A place where they had learned to be their weak point. Alas, such knowledge did not come cheap. The Elves swift and graceful, their movements perfectly coordinated as they danced back and forth over the turbulent battlefield.

Alongside them, steady-handed Beastman and humans who wield swords, axes, mauls, and all sorts of weapons that glow like fire in the lightning's reflected flash.

Strong and hardy, they beat relentlessly against the flanks of the brainless monsters, advancing by virtue of sheer determination, unflinchingly holding the ground they have gained even at the cost of their lives.

Their voices are harsh and guttural as they yell out their war cries, with grim faces they look upon the flowering red field of blood caused by their own arms.

Lightning flashes again, as the voice of the thunder washes over the troops once more. Their bestial cries seem to almost overtake that of thunder itself.

Fireballs alongside a myriad of spells fly overhead the soldiers as they strike down their enemies. Limbs and body parts splatter all over the place adding more to the gory sight.

"In the name of Ysion! By the axe of Kyzdall! By the sun, the wind, and the Gods above, we defy your master you fiend creatures! You will not triumph!" Shouted King Leon as he pushed forward, hacking at his opponents and creating an opportunity for his allies.

Hearing his thunderous shout, caused the blood of all those present be they Humans, Elves, or Beastman alike to boil as they roared with newfound strength and motivation continuing their onslaught.

Far out of the reach of the Alliance's army, behind the sea of monsters, deep at the edge of the forest was a small figure clad in a dark hooded robe that hid its figures.

The monsters at its side although most towered over the figure seemed to give it a wide distance, their soulless eyes seemed to shockingly contain hints of fear and despair as they gazed at the hooded stranger.

Seeing her army getting steadily pushed back, the Death mage Maval suddenly raised her hands and called out to her troops with a voice full of dread, the amount of it enough to fill them with a madness of terror and rage.

"ARE YOU NOT THE ARMY OF THE DEATH MAGE? WILL YOU DRAG MY NAME THROUGH THE MUD?! VICTORY OR ETERNAL SUFFERING! WHICH DO YOU CHOOSE?!"

Even the roaring of the thunder was not enough to drown the roaring answers of the monsters as they rally with a newfound fire, sparked by the fear of the Death mage's terrible retribution.

The fight rages on neither side willing to give in as the thunderstorm continues to rage on. This was bound to be a battle that would wound up in the history books. It's the sheer scale and brutality coming second only to the battles against the shadows!

---------------------------------------------------

High above the mortal plane, precisely inside the heavenly palace, a meeting of the Gods was underway. They all sat down with somber expressions as they watched in the middle of the round table, a large screen that showed the brutal battle raging bellow.

Xulene and Vuris both seemed unable to witness more of such brutality as they forced themselves to continue watching.

Zodohr, Fydur, and Urnera were better off yet their expressions held a deep sense of wrath as they looked at the hooded figure below, their hearts aching with sorrow as they witnessed their followers dying by the dozens.

Kieyr's face, on the other hand, held an annoyed expression as he watched the fight rage on.

"Tch, how am I supposed to do my job if that damned mage keeps holding the souls." Clicking his tongue in annoyance he muttered under his breath.

Zuhnir was the only one of the bunch that held a disinterested expression as if the war had nothing to do with him. To him, it mattered not how many died bellow eventually they would all find their way towards his realm, all due in time.

"Patience, that's the only thing I can do right now, be patient. Their time would come and I'm going to relish in holding that so-called death mage for all the trouble she caused." He grinned with a sadistic smile.