His mind nestled within the darkness, Abaloth fought hard to keep the cataclysm from expanding. If he faltered for even a moment, it would swallow and destroy everything, including himself.
'That accursed human!'
He should have just killed it as fast as possible from the start.
Although it was bad, things weren't over just yet.
Although the Devil could contain it forever, it could redirect it. With its rather vast mana supply, doing that would not be too difficult. However, it would drain a lot.
Abaloth glanced down.
The battle below was still in full swing.
"Fools!" He considered for a moment, if it was worth it to sacrifice his life for the foolish ones down below.
After all, so long as the {Broodmothers} remained alive, their ranks could be replenished at any time.
Suddenly, Abaloth's eyes widened.
His head snapped around.
A bone-chilling screech had come from the direction of the Devil Spire.
The dying throes of a {Broodmother}.
