The Heroes' confidence began to crumble faster than anyone had anticipated. After just a few minutes of intense slaughter, in which the werewolves tore the blue apparitions to shreds, joyful shouts of triumph gave way to nervous whispers.
"Something is wrong!" one of the commanders snarled, hacking the head off another spirit, only to see two more appear before him. "We're cutting them down by the hundreds, yet their ranks aren't thinning at all! Why are there still just as many?!"
Verial, who until now had stood aside, narrowed his eyes and began to analyze the battlefield with the eye of a former financier. The math had stopped adding up. Statistically speaking, at such a rate of elimination, the Canyon should have been clear by now. Meanwhile, the situation was becoming critical.
The magical saturation of the werewolves' weapons, sustained by the Enchanters, began to flicker and die out. The priests from the vassal tribes, drenched in sweat, held their heads - their mana reserves were melting at an alarming rate under the strain of constantly casting regeneration spells on the wounded werewolves.
As soon as the healing ceased, the werewolves began to fall under the blows of claws and self-destructive explosions.
Then Verial spotted the pulsing blue light in the crevices of the towers.
"DAMN IT! THE TOWERS!" he roared until the veins in his neck bulged. "Those cursed wraiths are summons! They are coming out of those Monoliths! Quick, destroy the towers, or they'll weary us to death!"
The moment that order was given, an icy silence fell among the Heroes. A blood-curdling thought pierced their minds like a poisoned arrow. If those hundreds of spirits were merely the product of a few stone structures... it meant an unimaginably terrifying truth.
"No... it's impossible," the Werewolf Hero whispered, his hand holding the staff beginning to tremble. "If this is just a defense mechanism... it means that through all this time, we haven't fought even a single real soldier of the Demon King."
They looked deeper into the valley, where darkness still reigned. They realized that this entire monstrous army of 900 werewolves, all their pride and preparation, was stuck at the "doorstep." They were fighting a trap, an autonomous defense system.
The Grudge Spirits felt no fatigue. They had no mana limit. They were only an extension of the Obelisks' will, an infinite stream of hatred that pressed upon them with the same force as at the very beginning.
"It's just the towers..." Verial hissed through his teeth, feeling authentic, primal fear grip him for the first time since entering this world. "If their fortifications are this strong, then what awaits us further in?!"
In that same second, the four Obelisks flared even brighter, as if mocking their sudden discovery, and another wave of spirits, louder and more furious than the previous ones, rushed at the exhausted warriors of the Blood Fang.
The chaos in the Canyon deepened in a split second. A group of powerful werewolves retreated to the rear, where the terrified priests were cowering.
"Enchant it, gnome! The magic has worn off!" one of the warriors growled, tossing his axe in front of the nose of a short, dark gnome.
The gnome, with trembling hands, began to whisper an incantation. The weapon flared with a pale light for a moment, and the werewolf nodded with superiority while another soldier was already drawing his sword.
Suddenly, the ground beneath the gnome's feet bulged. Before anyone could react, a massive green root shot upward, skewering the gnome through and through. The small priest didn't even manage to groan; the root continued to climb, lifting his limp body high above the ground until he hung on the thick stalk like a macabre trophy.
"What the hell?!" the werewolf shrieked, leaping back.
At that same moment, the Canyon filled with the screams of the remaining priests. One by one, the dark gnomes and other enchanters fell dead, pierced by gigantic plant spikes that erupted precisely where the support units stood. Within just a few seconds, the entire magical backbone of Verial's army ceased to exist.
Verial observed this from afar, his face, previously confident, turning deathly pale. "What is happening?!" he roared, staring at the battlefield.
Gigantic plant tentacles grew from the ground with unnatural speed, but Verial noticed something even more disturbing: his werewolf warriors were being ignored. The attack was surgically precise - it aimed exclusively at those who could enchant weapons and heal wounds.
Initially, Verial snorted, trying to keep up appearances. "Pitiful tricks!" he growled, but after a dozen seconds, the tragic position of his army dawned on him.
Without the priests, his soldiers could not renew the magical saturation of their weapons. Without magic, their blades passed through the spirits like air.
Damn it, does this Demon King rule over plants too? Since when does a necromancer manipulate nature?! he thought, a shiver of terror running down his spine.
He realized that the Demon King he had so dismissed was still hiding behind the scenes. All the information they had was a lie and a carefully prepared trap. The sense of control given to him by an army of 900 werewolves evaporated, replaced by heavy sweat pouring down his temples.
He could no longer just observe. He had to act before his pack fell into complete disarray. Verial puffed out his chest and let out a deafening, inhuman roar, and a blood-red aura shot from his body, immediately enveloping all his subordinates.
[Skill: Call of the Blood Covenant!]
This powerful morale boost immediately restored the werewolves' will to fight, increasing their strength and health point stats so they could survive the coming hell.
"Destroy those obelisks at all costs!" Verial roared, throwing himself forward. "If the towers don't fall, these spirits will bleed us dry! Ignore the undead, strike the stone!"
Verial didn't know if his dark suspicions about the Demon King's power were true, but one thing was certain: if he didn't disable the Obelisks immediately, his army would soon become a defenseless mass of meat that the spirits and mysterious plants would tear to shreds.
***
From above, suspended against the dark sky, the four succubi observed the entire scene. Lilith hovered proudly in the center, with Lysandra by her side. Slightly lower, Kala held Mina on her shoulders, who still had her hands outstretched toward the ground, controlling the murderous roots.
"Perfect attack, Mina. You eliminated their only chance for regeneration," Lysandra praised, sending the younger companion a rare, cool smile.
"I tried my best!" Mina replied with undisguised pride, adjusting herself on Kala's shoulders.
Lilith narrowed her eyes, watching Verial and his red roar. She saw how the werewolves' strength and speed suddenly jumped, and their desperation turned into fury.
"Ooo, that's an interesting skill..." the Monarch murmured, seeing the pack stop wasting time on the spirits and race straight toward the rocky heights. "They discovered the obelisks' trick?"
"It seems these guests aren't as stupid as they look. Very well," Lysandra replied.
"In that case, it's time to take things seriously!" Lilith smiled as she straightened up.
Her voice echoed throughout the Canyon, striking the ears of the terrified invaders: "Undead Army, deploy in full!"
Verial was already at the foot of one of the rises. He was preparing to leap, certain that his stats would allow him to ignore the attacks of dozens of spirits and shatter the Obelisk with one powerful blow of his club. Suddenly, however, the earth throbbed.
"CHIEF! THIS IS BAD! WE ARE SURROUNDED!" the scream of one of the commanders made Verial freeze.
From both ends of the canyon, where darkness had previously reigned, white masses began to emerge. This was no single squad - it was a powerful wave of bone. At the head marched the Skeleton Commanders, wielding their new bone shields, and behind them, in perfect mechanical order, strode nearly a thousand soldiers.
The eyes of Verial and the other Heroes nearly popped out of their sockets.
"Shit! This is just insane!" one of them choked out, backing away from the pressing wall of shields. "Am I having a nightmare? Where did he get so many troops?!"
"How many minions did this Demon King summon?! It's impossible!"
The pressure was indescribable. The werewolves, accustomed to fighting in a loose pack, were suddenly crushed by the discipline of the Bone Wave Tactic. But that was not the end of the surprises.
On the peaks of the rises, right next to the Obelisks, Skeleton Mages began to appear one after another. Their tattered robes fluttered in the wind as they raised staves with pulsing crystals. In a split second, the air filled with heat.
"FIRE!" Lilith commanded.
A volley of fireballs tore through the gloom, falling precisely on the werewolves who were attempting to climb the rocks.
"Oh god!" Howls of pain filled the pass as burning beasts fell from the heights, straight under the feet of the approaching skeleton army.
Verial stood in the very center of this hell, surrounded on one side by infinite spirits, on the other by a wall of shields, and showered with fire from above. Only now did he understand how much he had miscalculated in his estimations.