Torfang watched his fellow Lord, Gorefest, batter aside their hated enemy as the mages barrage the area with spells. He ignored them. The lesser eldritch spawn continued onward, taking the brunt of the attacks.

"Magebane…" He snarled. He'd been the first Lord to fight her, but not the last. Not by far. Most of his fellow Lords have fought against the Magebane, failing to kill her. She'd even killed one of their precious number. To his shame, he couldn't help avenge the fallen lord until recently. He'd spent most of this previous year in the eldritch pools restoring his strength after the Magebane had damaged his heart. He wanted to join in the fight, but restrained himself. The Magebane was far more deadly outside the mists. That idiot Gorefest wasn't supposed to follow her beyond their protection. That battle-crazed fool was going to get himself killed.

The mists parted, and Narvel appeared, his bony wings suspending him above the fray. He stopped, hovering in place as Gorefest charged recklessly away from the mists. No doubt he was debating on what to do as well. Pursue the Magebane and perhaps kill her, or leave Gorefest to his fate.

Torfang decided for them. Gorefest was one of only a few Eldritch Lords. They couldn't afford to lose him. They would only fight as much as they had to. Their goal would be to get him back safely. Besides, they wouldn't be alone. With a mental command, Torfang called the spawn to him as he rushed after Gorefest. He made sure to secure the prizes he had so far. The mages would take some time to change. They would be safe in the mists while it happened. The captured kin had another fate waiting for them. He only hoped this would be worth it as the horde left the mages to chase a single kin.

***

God's above that had been close. Damn that bitch Kelfina, Sylvar thought, blowing his blonde hair from his eyes. He watched the horde leave, his limbs trembling from fatigue. It wasn't hard to guess why. There was only one person who could instill such rage in the abominations. If only he had more elves, he could thin the horde. It was a dream. Most of the other elves had already departed for their grove. Only he and a handful of others remained. The reason was apparent, at least for himself. He was disgraced. Under his leadership, he'd lost over a hundred elite elves at the battle of Fortunia. Many were lost to the Magebane herself.

"EAGLE SIGHT," Sylvar muttered. It was as he thought. The Magebane was there fighting a rather imposing Lord who towered over her. She kept falling back, luring the Lord away from the mists. It was a clever ploy. Get the Lord far enough away, and they'd gradually weaken. At the very least, they couldn't replenish their power. Most were smart enough to avoid such gambles. This one appeared to be mentally lacking compared to the other Lords. On the other hand… He winced as the Magebane took a massive blow, causing her to crumble to the ground. She barely avoided a follow-up swing that sent a plume of debris upwards, blocking his view. Sylvar turned to look at the other ten elves with him. All of them were bastards whose parents expressed to him that they would rather not see them return. Better to fall in battle than be the shame of the family back home. No. He'll keep them alive just to spite them.

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He looked at the Magebane one last time before leading his men back to the barracks. Let her deal with her own problems.

***

This was a problem. Thwack was exceptionally pissed today. Azura thought as she leaped away, drawing him farther from the mists. Then again, this was a chance to get rid of the brute once and for all. Azura glanced behind the brute to the rapidly closing horde. She had a minute. Perhaps two, then she'd have to run. Did she have enough time? Unlikely. There was no way she could take three Lords at once. Even with the cultivators, she wasn't willing to risk them for this. She braced for Thwack's next attack when Hamal struck from the shadows. He darted at full speed between Thwack's legs, a thin cord held in his hands.

Azura's heart nearly stopped when he barely avoided being squished. Then he was through, pulling the cord tight, the other held by Gerald. Thwack swayed as his foot was caught. She needed no further prompting. With a mighty leap, she spun, doing a roundhouse kick across the brute's face. Her claws tore deeply into its flesh as he went down. Her elation was short-lived as the horde screeched in fury, doubling their speed. There wasn't enough time to finish him. That was when the rest of the cultivators interposed themselves between her and the horde. They were the few standing against the approaching tide. The eldritch horde crashed into the wall of cultivators, breaking upon their indomitable will. Abominations many times the size of their kin counterparts were thrown back like pebbles. Smaller spawns were kicked into the far distance, their wails almost comical.

Her people were fighting with all they had for her. How could she do any less? Azura burned another piece of ki as Thwack got to his feet, roaring. That was the last sound he made as Azura unleashed her full might on the Eldritch Lord. If Thwack had been in the mists, he would've survived. If one of the other Lords were just a bit faster, he would've survived. If the oversized brute saw the attack, he could've crafted a barrier in time, and he might have survived. None of those things happened. Azura cocked her fist back, channeling all her raging power from her consumed ki into the blow. She didn't stop there. Azura Exhausted a large portion of her remaining ki, her strike tearing at reality itself as a deeper power joined in her effort.

SHATTER.

Azura commanded, and the world was forced to obey, screaming in outrage as it did. Thwack vanished from the waist up. The remains of his six arms were tossed high in the air, landing far away. Of the rest of him, there was nothing. Not a single fleshy pulp on the ground. Not a speck of blood. It was all just gone. The remains of Thwack swayed and then collapsed.

Azura turned to face the horde, trying to hide her exhaustion. If they continued to attack… the thought ended. The horde and the other two remaining Lords were fleeing back to the mists.

It was over. They'd won. Azura looked to the kin. Several were hurt. A few lay unmoving. As she watched, cultivators from the support group quickly picked up the fallen, hauling them back towards Azure's Rest. She only hoped they'd make it. She turned to regard her closest friends and knew it was time. Tomorrow, they would advance.

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