Suddenly, the winds began to change.
In the midst of the chaos, a strange power began to rise, though it didn't come from the villagers or their allies, but from the remaining riders of Vrunemir's men who had not yet fallen.
Elizabeth paused mid-strike, her fist connecting with an armored soldier's jaw, sending him crashing into the dirt.
But she didn't hear the impact. All sound around her seemed to warp.
"What the…?"
Then came a scream—It was something unnatural—one of the soldiers still mounted twisted in his saddle as his body convulsed with black steam pouring from his armor. "Gaaaahhhhh!!!" His skin began to crack and char beneath his helmet.
Something absurd was taking place.
"What… is that?" Elizabeth stepped back, wide-eyed.
The soldiers all around them began to change.
One by one, they let out inhuman groans as veins of black flame spread across their limbs.
Their eyes became hollow, red pits, and their voices no longer belonged to men.
Grimhild's expression darkened as her gaze narrowed.
"This power… could it be?"
Chroliosa's voice echoed in her mind.
("This is the power of Lilith, it has to be! This is a curse. Vrunemir must be feeding it to his army.")
The possessed soldiers let out guttural incantations while their weapons ignited with cursed flame, wielding blades that dripped with darkness.
Jean's eyes widened as he parried a strike, only for his dagger to hiss and corrode at the edge.
"What kind of magic is this?!"
Kyto gritted his teeth and ducked behind the burning barricade.
"They're not even human anymore! What's going on?!"
Fhiron, still hovering, extended his hand.
"Luralza!"
Launching a wave of lightning from his magic circle, it aimed for the possessed soldiers until it sizzled and corroded away.
"This isn't normal. This type of power belongs to that of an Alufray spirit, no doubt."
The tide had turned almost immediately.
The cursed warriors moved in complete unison; where one fell, another surged forward with unnatural speed. A villager screamed as his pitchfork was shattered and he was thrown aside like a rag doll.
Elizabeth barely dodged a cleaving strike from one of the soldiers as she rolled back with her eyes locked onto the black, twitching veins beneath the man's cracked armor.
"This isn't just brute force… they're being controlled by something!"
Fienta, watching from afar, muttered under her breath.
"This is bad…"
Back inside, Obsidia stood guard, but even from within she turned sharply toward the door with focused eyes.
"I sense a deviation in the Mana flow... something ancient."
Outside, Grimhild seemed to be mildly disappointed.
"If this is Lilith's work, then I will not sit idly by."
"So that's it huh?" Fhiron was suddenly standing next to Grimhild, crossing his arms with a smirk. "This is the Idea of Evil's doing?"
"It seems so." Said the witch. "You seem fairly confident, Fhiron. Is there something you want to say?"
"Grimhild…" Fhiron's smirk remained. "We've been friends for quite some time, at least in human years, but never have you seen what I'm capable of."
Grimhild lifted her brows.
"I'm afraid I'm unaware of your true potential. I only see you as some irresponsible King who cannot lead his people."
Fhiron chuckled, lowering his head at her words.
"At least you're honest." Fhiron said, stepping forward on the rooftop. "But now I'll show you what it means to be an Elf King."
Something changed in Fhiron—his silly, energetic demeanor was replaced by charisma and bravery. Grimhild could see it as clear as day.
"This is my Magic, Ljósálfheimr!"
Fhiron spread both of his arms side to side, manifesting a large magic circle above the entire village. Golden and bright, it caught the attention of many, even stopping their bout.
A golden aura of mana surged around the Elf King as Grimhild was taken aback by such a display of power.
"Such… power?!" One of the villagers muttered.
"What… is this?" Said another.
"I've never felt anything like this!" Said one of the villagers falling flat on their butt.
Fhiron's Golden aura was enough to make the possessed soldiers feel fear, paralysis, and the fading of their willpower. Some even dropped their weapons in awe.
His mana alone caused ripples throughout space itself before he extended his hand forward.
"From the roots of Aflheim, Children of light, awaken from your bed! Hear the call of your rightful King! Rise from mist, and let justice sing! By leaf, by bow, by blade unseen, March forth now from the Glade Between! Let darkness fall, let evil yield! To elves who walk the golden field!"
As his words rang out, the magic circle above the village grew in size before the sky brightened like the sun.
Then out of nowhere, they came; dozens of golden sigils bloomed in midair like opening flowers.
From within each one stepped forth warriors in shining silver and golden armor.
With bows strung with magic, blades forged of ancient elven material, they were the Highguard of Alfheim.
They stood on the ground in formation, elegant and unbreakable.
Grimhild, watching from behind, muttered under her breath. "So the Elven King really was holding back. They're all strong, if not, stronger than you Chroliosa."
("Unbelievable…") Said the time spirit.
Elizabeth's mouth hung open slightly.
"Elves… real ones?!"
Jean raised his dagger again, catching his breath.
"We might just have a chance after all!"
Fhiron pointed toward the cursed soldiers below with a voice sharp as steel.
"Cleanse them! Spare none tainted by the Idea of Evil's stain! We are beings who worship the Idea of Good!"
Without questioning their king, the loyal soldiers marched forward with swords and shields, spears and axes, bows and magic, prepared to risk their lives in the name of Good.
Fhiron's Magic, Ljósálfheimr, was his Signature Arcane Arts.
Fhiron was naturally stronger and had the power to annihilate entire continents, but this magic put him a step above the rest.
By summoning the Light Elves from Alfheim, they can never die as long as their King is on the battlefield. With weapons forged from elven metal and spirit particles, they could cut through all things in the Nie'mada, including soul and nucleus.
Their armor was crafted from the same material, bestowing these warriors immunity to magic within the Nie'mada; turning them into invulnerable soldiers of war. Nothing could break their defenses unless it was that of powerful spirits.
"Destroy the king and kill everyone!" One of the possessed soldiers shouted as he was the only one ready to put up a fight; his words alone brought their willpower back.
Without hesitation, the others followed his lead as their eyes burned with hatred and darkness, and like a tide of shadows, they surged forward to the villagers and the elves.
But to their surprise, they were met with something divine.
The Highguard of Alfheim moved like wind as their blades glowed with the concept of life itself as they were blessed by the Idea of Good. Where they struck, cursed flesh crumbled to ash, and where they blocked, the cursed flames hissed out in submission.
One elf leapt from rooftop to rooftop with a bow of elven metal, loosing arrows that shattered the black armor of the possessed.
Another crashed through a wall beside Elizabeth, shielding her from a heavy swing and parrying with a radiant spear that sliced through the enemy as if it were made of paper.
The villagers could only stand and watch in awe.
"I… I can't believe what I'm seeing!" One of the tailors whispered, tears in his eyes.
Fienta narrowed his gaze from afar.
"These are beings of pure light… this isn't just elven magic. This is the power of the Idea of Good!"
From above, Fhiron floated in the golden winds before raising his hand again and drawing in a deep breath.
"Let Alfheim answer once more."
Another series of sigils bloomed into the air, but this time it was larger and wider.
The ground beneath the possessed soldiers split apart as golden chains burst from below, entangling their limbs like the grasp of nature itself.
"Grrrghhn… what are these chains!? They're nullifying our magic?" Shouted a possessed soldier.
A horn sounded from the north and then emerged the mounted cavalry of Alfheim.
With white stags and warriors clad in deep green cloaks and antlered helms, they wielded lances.
Behind them, Druids with long beards and leafy staves also followed.
"This is the Army of Alfheim! Your cursed magic means nothing to them! Their weapons and armor purify evil and permanently slay even the Spirits of the At'ama!"
With the Magic Spell, Seiðr, the Light Elves will always be a few steps stronger, faster, and more durable than their foe for as long as they are in the presence of Fhiron.
Their enemies could grow stronger through the course of battle, but the same will be done for them, but to a drastic degree.
This was the unbeatable army of the Elven King, and there were thousands of them, but there could be more; even millions if he so wished.
This was only a glimpse of his true power.
Then, just as the tide seemed to shift in the villagers' favor, the ground trembled.
A terrible howl rose in the distance as the air grew heavy and the sky above dimmed despite the rising sun.
Elizabeth turned toward the southern ridge.
"Something else is coming!"
The forest there began to rot as trees blackened with leaves falling like ash.
Then they emerged; more of Vrunemir's soldiers, but this time, they were different.
They weren't merely cursed like the first wave, these newcomers were abominations.
Their armor was fused to their flesh. Some walked with extra limbs, malformed. Others dragged twisted weapons that seemed to be living metal as their faces had long since vanished beneath helmets melted to bone.
Jean's grip on his dagger tightened.
"…Reinforcements?"
Grimhild gazed at the newcomers with questioning eyes.
"What could Lilith be doing working with Vrunemir? There has to be a reason for all of this."
+
Beyond the physical and spiritual world, Merlin sat at a round table, watching everything unfold in her crystal ball.
"Ufufufu~! You have no choice but to now get involved, my former teacher…" Merlin smiled sadistically. "You know that this is the power of Lilith! Fhiron and his men won't be enough to take them down. You must intervene, or watch all of these people die!"
Merlin seemed to enjoy the chaos unfolding before a voice appeared behind her.
"You're doing exceptionally well, Merlin, I'm proud of you."
Merlin leaned back from her crystal ball and stood up, turning around to bow her head as if she were in the presence of someone greater.
"I was unaware of your arrival! But thank you, my lady."
"Mmm." The mysterious figure nodded before walking forward, placing her palm against Merlin's head. "I'm glad to have chosen you, Merlin, you and Dracula have been loyal."
"Your word is my command, Madam Agnes."