The facts proved that their attacks were not useless.
Though flesh could regenerate, the loss of Soul could not be quickly mended; at this moment Mork felt as if ten thousand ants had burrowed into his body, gnawing directly at his heart.
"You damned maggots… I'll eat every last one of you!"
Mork writhed in a frenzy, yet still could not wrench his bloated bulk fully free from that ponderous mountain. To continue evolving he needed more flesh and Souls, but these corpses and Undead wreathed in Black Flame left him with nothing he could devour, forcing him to endure the torment of hunger.
Just then, a black line hanging across the horizon drew his attention.
He laboriously lifted his mountain‑sized rodent head and looked to that highest peak in the distance, the crimson in his eyes shrinking in an instant.
There stood a cloaked figure high above, overlooking all, holding a cluster of black Holy Fire in his hand, like a Demon God descending to earth.
