White apparitions suddenly emerged from the air. No longer content with mental attacks, the Banshees finally revealed themselves.
More than a dozen white figures with feminine outlines appeared around Bessarius. Each released a misty white ribbon like silk from her hands, and the ribbons bound the demon tightly in their midst, preventing him from escaping.
For the moment, Bessarius could neither cast a spell nor make a move.
Tyrosus and Korfax's attacks arrived almost simultaneously!
Both were afraid of accidentally striking the other, so they adjusted their positions slightly. One in front and the other behind, they struck with their blades at the same time.
Two wet splurts sounded as the blades bit into flesh. Between them, the two men nearly mangled the Dreadlord's chest to pieces!
Bessarius let out an earth-shaking scream that drowned out even the cries of battle below. For a moment, the entire battlefield fell silent. The combatants slowed their weapons, and everyone looked up, hoping to witness the demon's end with their own eyes.
But a dazzling green light suddenly burst from the Dreadlord's body. The two men in the sky and the Banshees felt a twisting pull at the same time.
"Kyah hah hah! You weaklings think you can kill me? You're nowhere near good enough!" Amid his wild laughter, the green light flared, and Bessarius's body began to disintegrate. "I'll blast every one of you to dust!"
"Boom!"
A tremendous explosion rang out. Driven to the end of his rope, the demon detonated the vast amount of Fel energy gathered inside his body. Tyrosus immediately activated Divine Shield and kicked Korfax away, while the Banshee chorus quickly vanished from sight and floated far away.
In the smoke from the violent explosion, Bessarius's disintegrating body transformed into more than a dozen bats. This was the Dreadlord race's final means of survival. As long as one bat clone survived, he could regenerate, though it would also leave him gravely weakened.
Several bats that lagged behind were blown to ashes on the spot, but more fled in all directions.
"Holy Wrath!" Tyrosus suddenly spread his limbs, and more than a dozen golden arrows of energy burst from his body, each pursuing a bat.
"Pop, pop, pop, pop!" A series of impacts rang out. Almost all the little bats were shot down; only two narrowly dodged the arrows of light and flew swiftly toward the hill at an angle.
Tyrosus wanted to give chase, but his body wavered, and the wings of light on his back rapidly blurred and shrank. Maintaining Wings of Vengeance for so long had already exhausted him, and that last spell was the straw that broke the camel's back. He could no longer stay in the air. His vision went black, and his body plunged helplessly toward the ground.
"Quick, catch the commander!" Amid the cries that rose all around, several soldiers near his landing point joined forces to catch Tyrosus. But how could a few ordinary soldiers catch a sturdy, fully armored middle-aged man falling from such a height?
With a loud crash, several soldiers screamed as they were knocked flying, and Tyrosus also tumbled heavily to the ground. Even so, that bit of cushioning made things much better.
He had not completely lost consciousness. He felt excruciating pain all over, had no idea how many bones he had broken, and his internal organs seemed to have been knocked out of place. He could not move a finger.
Nearby soldiers gathered around him, and Erigor and Unas finally arrived as well. They had not been far from where Tyrosus landed, and when the one-eyed baron fell, Erigor had rushed over as fast as he could. Unfortunately, with two men on one horse, they could not move very quickly. Luckily, they had not arrived in time to be among those knocked flying by Tyrosus.
Erigor roughly pushed through the crowd, with Unas close behind. The two came to Tyrosus's side, and seeing that his chest was still rising and falling and that there was still some life in his eyes, both breathed a sigh of relief.
Erigor hurriedly helped Tyrosus sit up. The commander of the Argent Dawn immediately spat out a large mouthful of blood that had been blocking his throat, then began gasping violently.
Erigor pulled a vial of potion from his chest. Unas hurriedly reached out and carefully supported Tyrosus's chin while Erigor slowly poured the red potion, which shimmered with silver light, into the one-eyed baron's mouth.
Tyrosus's breathing gradually settled. His lips parted slightly, and his weak voice came in fits and starts. "The battle isn't over... for me... kill that demon!"
Erigor's eyes reddened slightly. He raised his head and shouted, "What are you all standing around here for? Keep fighting!"
The soldiers looked at one another, then charged at the enemy under an officer's lead, all shouting, "Avenge the commander!"
That's bad luck. He's not dead yet, Unas thought. But as the saying went, an aggrieved army was sure to win. It seemed Tyrosus usually treated his soldiers well; they were all serving him to the death from the bottom of their hearts.
He and Erigor stayed with Tyrosus, repeatedly using their low-level Holy Light to heal the baron. It had little effect, but it was better than nothing.
Before long, a Priest accompanying the army finally arrived. Without wasting words, he immediately summoned a ball of white light between his hands, and the three of them treated their commander together.
"Slan is enough. You two... get the hell back to the fighting!" The Priest's healing spell immediately perked Tyrosus up a little, and he promptly began cursing them.
Erigor was overwhelmed with shame. He really had no interest in scriptures and the like; countless times, he had fallen asleep while reciting them, and his spell level had never improved.
Unas blushed a little too. He had confirmed many times that level-one Holy Light was truly useless, but skill points were precious. Divine Storm, Wings of Vengeance, Holy Wrath... there were so many skills he wanted to learn that he really did not want to waste points on healing spells.
He had no desire to be a healer at all. As the saying went, "Once you enter the healer's gate, the sea is deep; from then on, protection and retribution are strangers." It spoke profoundly of the blood and tears of holy paladins. Every holy paladin had the heart of a retribution paladin, but so many young, clueless newbies were tricked into becoming healers by guild leaders and raid leaders of every kind, and from then on had nothing to do with fighting, PvP, or killing bosses.
Erigor mounted his warhorse and said to Unas, "We'll fight separately this time. Two people can't fight on one horse."
Don't even think about ditching me, Unas thought, then shouted in a thoroughly chuunibyou fashion, "Come out! Cool!"
Smoke billowed in all directions, and a Skeletal Warhorse with a goat's head, a horse's body, and purple flames beneath its hooves appeared before him. Unas nimbly climbed onto it in a few quick movements.
Erigor stared, dumbfounded, and stammered, "I think there's an order to destroy all of those things. They're forbidden to use."
"Why worry about that now? Killing the enemy is what matters."
Erigor nodded helplessly and said no more. He looked back at the one-eyed baron, who had been lifted onto a stretcher and was being carried to the rear, and felt a little reassured. He dug his heels into his horse's flanks, and the two charged forward side by side.
The situation on the battlefield could be described as one-sided. After the Dreadlord blew himself up, the enemy's morale plummeted. This was when the Dreadlord's mental control over his subordinates was at its weakest, and the Banshees seized the chance to launch a chorus, temporarily severing the mental connection between master and servants. Freed from control, the humans, dwarves, elves, and other races stood dazed. Most soon laid down their weapons and surrendered, and even some of the undead lost the will to fight.
The eighteen Infernals had all been either banished or destroyed. The ones putting up the fiercest resistance were still the Felguards summoned onto the hill. Their mental resistance was relatively strong, allowing them to withstand the Banshees' mental attacks. The Argent Dawn's warriors were now concentrating their attacks on them.
The entrance to the mountain path was packed tight. Though the hill was not high, with a vertical height of less than a hundred meters, it was extremely steep, and there was only one path up. "Giant Tank" Pulhart was leading an elite squad in a melee against the Felguards. Erigor pulled a soldier aside and asked, "Where did those two bats fly off to?"
"Right up on the hill. We shot several volleys of arrows and left them nowhere to run. Someone saw them fly under that big rock and hide." The soldier pointed at a huge gray boulder on the hilltop.
"Good work!" Erigor patted the soldier on the shoulder and said to Unas, "Let's go!"
The Skeletal Warhorse silently sprang into motion, and the two immediately plunged into the melee on the mountain path.