On their retreat, Aaron panted wearily, draped over his senior's back, his face slightly pale from blood loss.
It was his first time casting this spell, and his control had slipped. He had poured in too much magic and overloaded Slaanesh's Power. In fact, Aaron had pumped most of his sorcerer Sorcery Points into this single 5th-Level Spell, leaving him exhausted.
The 5th-Level Spell-Slaanesh's Torment-was designed for situations where a small force faced a large group of formidable enemies. It could make them slaughter one another, though the timing of the cast was crucial.
Unlike other spells, Slaanesh's Torment did not weaken its victims. Instead, it granted them bonuses similar to a barbarian's Frenzy. Under the control of its illusions, enemies gained frenzied attacks, increased strength, increased speed, and immunity to pain.
That was Slaanesh for you. This dear big brother did not fear trouble-he only feared it would not be big enough.
Carrying Aaron on his back, Reynard noticed blood dripping beneath Aaron's robes. He immediately used Lay on Hands to heal him as he ran. "They're fighting each other, junior!"
"Good." Aaron forced himself to concentrate. "Quick, into the main hall!"
"Let's see what the Cult of the Dragon has hidden in its stronghold."
Aaron and the others rushed toward the main hall while the vicious battle continued in the streets.
Nate, the Left Hand of God, was covered in blood and flesh. He was hungry, ravenously hungry. No matter how much he ate, he could never satisfy his appetite, as though nothing could fill the voracious emptiness in his belly.
But this state did not last long. A purple-black Holy Symbol suddenly appeared on Nate's body. The image of a skull enclosed within a Chaos Star emerged in his mind, followed by a Wraith with a gaunt