Ash observed from an elevated position as the first wave of arrows and projectiles shot toward the army of nightmare creatures.
The air tore with a sharp whistle. Thousands of points of death crossed the sky like an inverted storm, falling with millimeter precision onto the twisted tide advancing from the horizon. The light of torches and the flames of certain skills briefly illuminated the grotesque forms: malformed bodies, limbs at impossible angles, eyes gleaming with ancestral hatred.
From his elevated position, Ash could appreciate the magnitude of what approached. It wasn't an army. It was a living ocean of corrupted flesh and annihilating will.
Six heavy metal spears, each at least two meters long, flew over the head of the sleeping army at a speed that distorted the air in their wake. The spears shot directly toward the great horde, propelled by some skill that turned them into projectiles of massive destruction.
The impact was catastrophic.
The spears crashed into the horde, shattering everything in their path, mutilating multiple nightmare creatures every second. Fragments of bodies and thick black liquid splattered the corrupted ground. Howls of pain and fury rose, but were quickly drowned out by the collective roar of tens of thousands of inhuman throats.
However, despite the first attack, it was like extracting a drop from the ocean. Insufficient to make a real difference.
"Second volley!" Effie's voice rang out again, clear and authoritative even above the chaos.
Immediately, a new rain of arrows fell upon the wounded monsters, finishing them off and killing several more. They weren't just archers. Among the arrows were projectiles of all kinds. Some sleepers used slings, crossbows, throwing weapons enhanced by sorcery. Some used their aspect abilities that allowed them to attack at range: energy beams, ice fragments, concentrated flames.
The monsters, under the rain of attacks, became more furious and frantic. Their wounded flesh didn't stop them; it only enraged them. They began to run, to leap over the corpses of their own fallen, forming an unstoppable tide that rushed toward the makeshift walls.
A second rain of arrows landed on the monster army, accompanied by another six enormous metal spears. The thunder of the impacts shook the ground even where Ash stood.
But time for ranged attacks was running out.
With the distance closed, the first defensive line crashed against the sea of abominations. Effie and Genma led the charge, accompanied by hundreds of sleepers whose skills were tied to direct combat. Energy shields, weapons burning with sacred light, bodies wrapped in living armor of bone or molten metal.
Ash watched as humans and abominations collided in indescribable violence of blood and corrupted flesh.
The sound was the worst. The cracking of bones, the tearing of flesh, the screams of the dying and the furious roars of the beasts mixed into a nightmare symphony that reached even the farthest part of the army, where the archers and throwers kept shooting arrows and more metal spears to reduce the numbers.
Once the initial line held, everyone would have to join the battle. This, of course, included him.
Ash exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his responsibility. After all, he had the most insidious job of all: bringing death through the mist.
With his Soul Guide ability, he could kill abominations by attacking their souls directly without needing to pierce their tough external defenses. He could also summon the Abandoned Knight he had obtained after killing it to relieve pressure on the weakest lines.
Ash looked up at the five points circling in the night sky. The five fallen beasts — enormous winged creatures that spat corrupted fire and solid shadows — threatened to destroy any aerial formation that tried to face them.
"It won't be enough with just that," he murmured.
Ash summoned the Black Steel Raven. The familiar echo materialized, spreading its metallic wings with an ominous screech. The enormous mechanical bird shot into the sky, colliding directly with the five fallen beasts, forcing them to scatter and move away from the main lines.
Ash watched how the first line held firm despite everything, and with that, the second line began to move to support the flanks.
Feeling how his memories were strengthened by the crown he had given to Nephis — that strange bond that pulsed deep within his being like a second heartbeat — he decided it was time to enter the battle.
There was no more time to observe.
He activated the Sea of Mist enchantment of his hazy cloak. Immediately, an abnormal amount of mist began to move, spreading rapidly from his body like a living thing that licked the ground and rose toward the sky in dense gray columns.
The battlefield began to disappear, wrapped in that thick, cold fog.
Inside the sea of mist, Ash felt all his senses sharpen. His vision became clearer even in the darkness. His ears captured every crack of bone, every breath, every heartbeat. His body became faster, much stronger, as if the mist itself propelled him from within.
He summoned the Pale Needle in his right hand. The weapon, long and thin as a fragment of the moon, glowed with a ghostly light barely distinguishable within the mist.
He moved toward an area where the formation was weaker. A flank that was beginning to give way, where the abominations had managed to open a breach and were beginning to spill through like pus from an infected wound.
Ash advanced like an invisible force blanketing the world in thick gray mist. His steps made no sound. His breathing was barely a whisper. His presence blurred until it became indistinguishable from the fog itself.
The abominations lunged into the mist, blinded, guiding themselves only by smell and hearing. Only to become disoriented moments later. The fog played tricks on their senses, making them perceive danger where there was none, while hiding the true predator.
An instant later, something pierced their heads. A dry, precise, clean strike. The Pale Needle penetrated skulls and natural armor as if they were paper, and at the moment of impact, Ash cut the creature's soul before its body even finished falling.
Abomination dead instantly.
Ash smiled as the first abomination fell dead at his feet, its body still trembling from the inertia of death.
He withdrew the Pale Needle with a fluid motion and watched as several nightmare creatures began to move into the mist, drawn by the smell of blood and movement. They didn't seem to understand yet that they were entering a trap.
His eyes gleamed with a sinister light. Slowly, a smile spread across his face.
He threw himself at the abominations, beginning to kill them.
[You have killed...]
[You have killed...]
[You have killed...]
[You have killed...]
[Your soul...]
[Your soul...]
[Your soul...]
[Your soul...]
He ignored the voice of the spell. Those words were meaningless now. The only number that mattered was how many nightmare creatures fell under his power.
He continued his massacre of abominations without rest.
The Pale Needle danced between his fingers like an extension of his own will. Each movement was a death. Each death was relief for the defensive line fighting just a few meters behind.
He leaped onto an abomination, using its head as a springboard to launch himself toward his next target. Then, an enormous shelled centurion — a beast at least three meters tall, covered in natural plates resistant even to magic — fell upon him from a blind angle.
Ash didn't hesitate.
He buried the Pale Needle into the centurion's head with terrifying force. The weapon's tip pierced the shell as if it were butter. He felt the creature's soul — large, clumsy, but furious — and simply cut it. He shattered it from within. The creature fell dead instantly without even a whimper.
He summoned the Sword of Seven in his free hand and drove it deep into the centurion's flesh. He used Blood Sacrifice. Immediately, a current of vital energy coursed through his body, restoring all his energy and stamina. The small cuts and bruises from previous clashes closed instantly.
He stood atop the centurion's smoking corpse, his hazy cloak billowing around him like wings of shadow.
Three more abominations lunged forward, drawn by the gleam of blood and the implicit challenge in his posture. They might not understand fear. They might not know surrender.
But they would soon know death.
"Come," said Ash, with a cold smile that never reached his eyes, and launched himself to meet his new enemies.
The mist closed behind him, swallowing him along with his victims.
Outside the sea of mist, the battle continued to roar. But inside, Ash was the only one hunting.