Jared and Onneas watched comrade after comrade collapse, helpless anger knotting their chests. At this pace, the palace gates would fall, it was only a matter of time.
“We have to take out that circle!” His gaze locked on the distant ring of swirling runes where demons continued to appear. That portal fed the enemy’s endless advance, severing it was their last, thin hope.
“Then we strike together!” Onneas wove rapid seals, channeling bright currents of spiritual energy that streamed across the courtyard toward the portal.
Jared drew a breath deep into his bruised lungs, flooded the Dragonslayer Sword with every shred of energy he still possessed, and swung.
Boom!
Blade and spell crashed into the portal in the same heartbeat, detonating with a thunder that rattled every stone. The ring quivered, glyphs flickering, but it refused to break.
“Did you truly believe two fledglings could unmake my transport array? Foolish…” Esorin flashed before the portal, releasing streams of obsidian light that hardened into a colossal shield, cocooning the array in pulsing darkness.
“Keep hitting it!” Jared let out a thunderous cry that echoed across the shattered courtyard.
Side by side with Onneas, he launched yet another flurry of strikes, each swing of steel dripping with raw, unyielding resolve. Yet no matter how savagely their blades fell, Esorin’s midnight-black shield remained flawless, a seamless wall that swallowed every blow without so much as a quiver.
Time crawled. The soldiers of the palace retreated inch by inch until the only ground left was the broad stone threshold before the main gate.
Backs pressed to the cold bronze doors, they met the encroaching darkness with eyes that blazed, grim, hopeless, and magnificent all at once.
Meanwhile, the circle of runes at the plaza’s center sputtered and flared, spewing ever more Demonic Cultivators into the place like sparks blown from a furnace.
Seeing the palace’s disciples cornered, the newcomers flashed feral grins, delight curling atop their lips like smoke from fresh blood.
Eager to claim a piece of the coming plunder, they crowded around Percival and Esorin, offering oily words and shameless flattery in hopes of buying favor.
“Prince Percival, from this day forward, the Fiend-Titan Sect serves the Malevolent Path Hall,” Maximilian declared, bowing so low his forehead nearly brushed the flagstones. “Spare us a generous glance, Your Highness!”
Percival released a boisterous laugh that rolled across the assembly like distant thunder. “Well said! Perform to my liking and you won’t leave empty-handed, I promise you that!”
Enaricus drank in the sight of tens of thousands of allied blades and felt pride swell within his chest like a trumpet blast.
Standing before the massed horde, hands braced on his hips, he bellowed, “Onneas! Jared! Surrender now while breath still fills your lungs. The moment this palace falls, there will be no graves left to hide your corpses!”
Fury flashed through Onneas’ eyes. “Enaricus! You belong to the Celestial Palace, yet you conspire with the Malevolent Path Hall and invite them into level seven. Do you truly fear no judgment from the Palace itself?!”
Enaricus snorted. “Judgment? Once we rule level seven, what chains can the Celestial Palace throw over me?”
Jared watched that arrogant grin and vowed in silence.
I will break this noose before it tightens, whatever the cost…
His gaze swept the battlefield and caught a detail others missed, Esorin’s focus lay wholly on the circle and on the two of them, leaving every other flank thin as paper.
“Ms. Dusko, I’ve found a way!” he whispered, the words sharp and urgent. “I’ll draw Esorin‘s attention. When he’s blind to all else, slip behind the circle and sever its power. Break the flow, and that gateway might collapse on itself!”
Onneas nodded once, the motion clipped and fierce. “Okay. Be careful.”
Jared inhaled, forcing calm through his pulse. Then he blurred forward, body a streak of silver light racing straight at Esorin.
The Dragonslayer Sword leapt from its sheath in a blaze of azure, every swing forging arcs of sword intent that howled toward Esorin like hungry spirits.
Esorin curled his lips, fingers weaving seals so quickly they vanished. Bands of obsidian light shot forth, smashing into Jared’s blade-winds in thunderous bursts that rattled the palace walls.
