Even reduced to mortals and bound to act according to the rules of the Material Plane, the two "Saints" fought without holding anything back. Especially after Mystra invoked the authority of the Magic Web, nearly half the city-state shattered beneath the impact of the near-boiling elemental tide.
Zhentil Keep, the city of conspiracies that had stood upon the shores of the Moonsea for a thousand years, finally began to collapse.
The sight of the city-state crumbling behind them and their patron deity fleeing in disgrace dealt an enormous blow to the morale of the followers of strife.
And Elminster, standing at the heart of the battlefield, naturally would not let such a precious opportunity slip away.
After smashing the head of a Black Knight charging at him with a single blow of his staff, he raised it high. It gleamed with a soft yet dazzling dawnlight as he shouted:
"Full assault! For the Goddess! Wipe out these lackeys of the dark gods!"
"For Mystra!"
Having fought a bloody battle for more than ten days upon this battlefield, a meat grinder of flesh and blood, the Dalelands allied army beheld this scene as though a god had descended, and their spirits surged:
"For the Goddess! For Mystra!!!"
With excited expressions, they raised their bloodstained swords and followed that divinely favored archmage, mounted upon a white horse like a beacon amid the storm, launching their final charge toward the city of darkness, whose walls had already collapsed by more than half.
Everyone's attention was fixed upon the victory that seemed close enough to touch.
Yet few noticed that spellcasters providing support through magic were constantly suffering warped backlash midway through their casting, falling from the heavens amid miserable screams like bluebirds with broken wings.
Watching his companions continually plunge from the sky,