Flames erupted as the five Ashborn charged forward.
The ground shattered beneath their feet, and waves of heat spread out across the battlefield.
The woman's chain writhed like a serpent and snapped toward the Magus.
It moved so fast it tore at the air.
The lean Ashborn drew his scimitar in one smooth motion, the air around the blade shimmering from heat.
The broad-chested fistfighter rushed in with frightening speed, his fists wrapped in blazing fire, ready to crush a man into pulp with one blow.
The Magus did not move.
The moment the first Ashborn came within range, he simply lowered his hand.
A deafening boom split the air as a second bolt of lightning fell from the empty sky.
It struck the ground with the weight of a divine hammer and swallowed warriors and fire together like some kind of judgment.
For a few seconds, nothing was visible but searing light.
When the smoke finally cleared, more than half of the remaining warriors were gone.
