"And you still claim you're just a blacksmith!"
Tony roared, dodging a demon's claw. He fired a repulsor blast, shattering the creature's skull. His suit needed an upgrade—but how much was enough? A single gem wasn't providing enough power to dominate this battlefield, and he had to ration his energy to survive the long haul.
"Your technology is sound," Lazruk's voice drifted back as he was swallowed by the demonic tide. "It just needs time and preparation."
Thousands of demons swarmed over him like rats. This was the reality of being caught in the horde. The only difference was whether the person at the bottom could still make a sound.
"ROAR!"
Lazruk's voice erupted from beneath the pile, a visible shockwave rippling outward. His forging hammer hit the ground—a Seismic Slam fueled by his entire reservoir of Wrath.
The demons around him were riddled with cracks, but few fell. These were the vanguard, far stronger than the dregs birthed from Hell Mothers. Lazruk wouldn't last long, but his heart was still full of hope.
"Stupid," Raekor spat.
She understood him. Dying like this was what Lazruk dreamed of. Dying as a warrior, not as a ghost in some freak explosion. To Raekor, it was foolish. But she didn't hate fools like him.
"Qual-Kehk! Start your performance!" she shouted.
The old general wouldn't watch his lines collapse without a trump card. War was a game for the brave, where victory was never guaranteed, and defeat was never final. Qual-Kehk hadn't staked everything on the vanguard killing Baal quickly.
"Hold on a little longer! I'm about to put these moles in the tunnels to sleep forever!"
Qual-Kehk's voice echoed from beneath the earth, accompanied by the sound of massive excavation. The tunnels of Harrogath weren't just an Archangel's secret. As the commander with full combat authority, Qual-Kehk knew exactly what was buried beneath the mountain.
"You filthy vermin! Get your feet off Barbarian land!"
Qual-Kehk roared, and his massive Mountain-Cleaver axe slammed into the cavern floor.
Tunnels? The tunnels were just a cover for what lay deeper.
Armories.
Soldiers.
Grain.
And traps.
Every resource of war had been preserved beneath the surface. The axe shattered the long corridor, and the cracks raced upward to the surface.
The ground beneath the demons who had just breached the wall collapsed. They fell in heaps into the darkness below. There, Barbarian warriors stood with spears raised, impaling every demon that dropped. Those who survived the fall were quickly decapitated.
Bruce Banner and Betty Ross watched the slaughter from the rear of the underground column. Here, there was enough space to force the demonic scum into complex, disadvantageous terrain.
"ROAR!"
Qual-Kehk let out a War Cry. Without waiting for his soldiers to follow, he used Leap to burst back onto the surface.
"Lazruk! If you're gonna die, do it somewhere else!"
Qual-Kehk barked at the blacksmith. "Your combat prowess isn't even a match for Auntie Malah!"
He slammed his axe into the ground twice. A frost-laden shockwave turned the surrounding demons into dust. The ice froze them instantly, and the vibration from the Seismic Slam shattered them into fragments.
"Raekor! Andakulgas and Madawc are out! I'm heading to the front line!"
Qual-Kehk's face was etched with exhaustion. War was a hateful thing, but no one walked away clean when the tide came in.
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