Inside his study, Thomas watched as his precious experiments charged the low mortal mob. Unfortunately, even though the mortals were feeble, their overwhelming numbers proved challenging. The alarm has functioned nicely. Every creation in this forest will make its way to them and fight them to the death. Hidden eyeballs flew about the battlefield watching the humans fall for his hidden bugs taking huge losses. “Those fools will only find death invading my domain.” Thomas watched with a somber face as a human had his eyes eaten out. But this wasn't enough. He needed to break them. With a wave of his staff, the screech’s radius expanded a horde of mantis swarmed from an underground facility.

Thomas's eyes darted around six orbs that gave view after view of the ongoing battle, but no matter how one cut it. It wouldn’t be long before the humans made it past his door stoppers.

Another swing of the staff and a cage was opened, releasing large muscular canines who appeared to be starving. “Another experiment wasted, may it be the last.” Thomas watched with satisfaction at their initial success. The screams of the mortals were like a sweet lullaby that threatened to make him sleepy. Not just the weak were dying, but the strongest of the mortals too had begun succumbing to his experiments. 

Thomas pulled out a journal writing down notes about his experiments' power level using the real-time footage as data. 

The expendable rat horde he created appeared to be the most effective in large scale battles as they created fear and havoc throughout the mortal ranks. 

A break in the defense and the human army teetered towards collapse, which brought joy to Thomas. My creations are not weak. The boy shall return here to victory. I will show him how a true god creates life. They are not fragile, they are hard to break, and they are loyal. In return, I protect them. That is how it should be.

That joy was figuratively pissed on as Clarence began decimating the science experiments with ease. Even worse, the mages had begun bombarding the forest destroying everything. “It's that stupid runic knight again… and he's gotten a bit more power.” 

Everywhere that mortal went, precious experiments vanished. Soon all will be gone, and Thomas would lose something he would be unable to replicate. “I don’t have many specimens left, and without my original lab, there is no way to create more.” 

Thomas slammed his fist into an orb, shattering it, “Why did the boy have to be so mortal. His body and strength transcended it. Why must his mind allow itself to be shackled? If he were here, he would have no choice but understand these mortals easily kill other beings. They easily destroy this forest, the lives of my creations. What is the difference when we do the same? Why must we show pity to them, when none will be reserved for us?”

On the remaining orbs, the scene of horses pulling something began to take the forefront until a behemoth cannon came into the picture.

“Aha. Those mortals know not their place.” Thomas laughed self-deprecating as he understood the power one cannon held. If that thing fired, his cave would be disintegrated. His home of a thousand years would cease to exist. “I was going to allow your deaths at the hands of my creations because I believed you were unworthy of a god’s attention. But you have brought your quickened demise upon yourselves.” 

Thomas stood from his recliner. Reaching into a draw, he retrieved a black vial. I only have one left. To think I waste it here on these mortals. But no matter, their deaths will allow me the reprieve to find my lab and create more.

Thomas walked swiftly from his study. A robe appeared and adorned itself on him. He stopped by the room which housed the milky aura. It jumped around wildly until flowing into his staff. “I can only use 75% of my power, any more, and I risk sapping my life force. I only need to stall. They should be gathering by now.”

Above the human army up high in the sky, floating as if he were a god, Thomas’s eyes looked down upon them with arrogance. His staff began radiating dark energy causing thick jet-black clouds to form overhead. Thomas opened his mouth, roaring his decree, “Despair mortals. Despair, for you, have come to the land of death. And I, her sovereign will welcome your souls, crush your spirits, and consume your hope.”  

Yelling and confusion flew around the human army as no one could see where the voice was coming from. Even Clarence’s gaze could not penetrate through the clouds. Some of the hysterical mages fired randomly into the sky, causing explosions. However, no matter the form of magic, all was consumed by the clouds. The zealots began another round of prayer as if calling upon their god to strike down this dark one.

Thomas, in the cloud, pulled out the dark vial. Tossing it in the air, he blasted it with dark energy from his staff. At first, the vial did not break. Instead, it shook while consuming the dark energy as if it were starved for years. Thomas’s face contorted as more and more dark energy funneled into the vial until a dark orb was formed.

Then a sound echoed quietly throughout the entire sky yet still crawled into the ears of all the men. It was the sound of glass shattering.

The knights who were still in the middle of retreating paused upon hearing the unusual sound. The monsters, on the other hand, went into a wild frenzy.

A sole lightning bolt originating from the vial slammed into the ground. The bolt was black and moved slowly enough that even the most untrained eye could follow it. No damage could be seen where the attack landed, causing confusion in the ranks.

It happened in the midst of this confusion. A single drop landed. The soldier who was in the middle of decapitating a canine didn’t even notice it until he felt a draft above his head. This was odd since he was wearing a helmet. Still being a first-star knight, he knew better than to take his eyes off of the enemy. As the knight battled, he felt himself slowing down more and more, or perhaps the canines were growing faster. His vision blurred next, robbing him of focus. That’s when he noticed the draft he felt was wet around his head. He reached to touch his helmet, but before he could touch it, black ooze ran down his forehead, then the knight toppled forward.

Silence. Those around him, noticing the weird occurrence, were scared into silence. Clarence, who watched the whole event, was unsure of what happened. 

Another black bolt flashed with it the sound of wind picking up, and ultimately the sound of rain.

The soldiers all looked into the air. It was almost in slow motion as they saw giant droplets of black rain falling towards them.

A moment of clarity hit Clarence. He opened his mouth to yell.

Before he could, the rain made contact. Hundreds of soldiers below the second-star dropped like flies without having a chance to comprehend what happened. Their bodies were riddled with dark energy. Their eyes appeared to have black tears running down them.

Clarence’s yell was no longer needed. Seeing the deadliness of the rain, everyone fled towards the magical barrier. 

Soldiers rushed back like wild animals lacking any of the order they had previously shown. Comrades and battle-buddies were run over as everyone tried to escape.

Michael, seeing men around him dying in droves, snatched a shield from a nearby zealot and forced his way back towards the magical shield.

The crazed zealots did not even flinch when those near them dropped. Some watched on with ridicule on their faces. Their eyes showed their feelings. The feeling of superiority as the fake believers in their ranks were rooted out. To them, only those who survived the rain were true believers of Zeyana. Those who had yet to die to the black ooze screamed, “Glory to the one true God.” Under the constant barrage of rainfall, the fanatics marched forward to continue their extermination campaign as everyone else retreated. 

Without Michael, the zealots were free to their own devices. Some even began to kill those who were succumbing to the dark energy as if they were tainted. The more they killed, the crazier they became, until even the supposed chosen began to fall. One. One zealot of 750 was left as his eyes started to blur. He made one final prayer before slitting his own throat.

Knights who made it to the barrier watched the proceedings and barbarism of those tainted by the rain. Only half of the remaining force made it into the shields before it was too late. Even then, those who made it had varying degrees of sickness from exposure. The only magic that was capable of healing them was light. It was rare magic that was monopolized by the holy church of Zeyana. 

Thomas floated beneath the clouds in front of the surviving forces. An ugly smile was proudly shown, “How did it taste? How was the power of a god? Was your hubris satiated? Or do you wish to continue? Go ahead. Pray to your false idols. Comprehend that they care little for you.”

Soldiers began yelling at the monster. Michael waved about the symbol of Zeyana as if it would damage Thomas. 

Clarence, in anger tightly, gripped his spear. The veins in his arms expanded, “Monsters. Monsters. Monsters. Everywhere I look, a new one pops up. Perhaps it is Zeyana's will that we meet. Is my hubris satiated? It will not be satiated until I turn your head into a mug. Not until I skin your devil friend. And not until I sit on the throne of Scottsburg. Monster taste the weight of humanity.” Clarence’s wyvern aura burst through its limits, raising him to a true-blooded knight. His arms flashed back with seething anger he hurled his short spear at Thomas.

Thomas smiled on the outside, but currently, he had diverted too much energy to the vial. So he was unable to dodge in time. Raising his skull adorned staff, he whacked towards the attack. If Clarence had been a blooded knight for more than a year, perhaps his attack would have defeated the currently weak Thomas. But even his anger could not make up for the disparity in power and experience between the two. 

Wincing, Thomas gathered just enough strength to reflect the spear as he wobbled in the air until stabilizing himself. The battle is not won by killing your opponent, but when you break his will to fight. Swallowing the pain, Thomas cackled loudly, “Foolish mortal. You aim for the skies but forever will be nothing more than a frog peering from a well. Everyone here will die. Your god shall not come. Your species cannot triumph. Do not delude yourself with grandeur. Our meeting is not one of fortune, but misfortune bestowed upon you by your worthless Zeyana.”

Clarence dropped to his knees. Hot tears stained his face, his noble and arrogant figure was reduced to that of a weak and fallen boy.

Seeing their general collapse, the entire morale of the army began to drop. Many had thoughts of fleeing.

Thomas cackled in victory. A dragon to a lizard. Bound to a god who would rather die than allow you to ascend. This is the difference in standing.

A hand landed on Clarence’s shoulder. Clarence looked over, expecting Dante. Instead, it was Grey with a wry smile etched on his face, “My boy, if you are open to it. I would like to share my wisdom now.”

Clarence gazed at him with confusion, but with him already admitting his inadequacy, he nodded his head in agreement. Grey leaned forward and whispered. No one but those two was able to hear what was being said, not even Thomas.  

A strange laugh began to leak out of Clarence’s mouth; the more he listened. Slowly his body rose from the ground. His hatred-filled gaze targeted Thomas as his voice boomed, cracking from his previous sorrow, “Everyone! If you feel as I do. If you feel anger and self-pity for your own weakness. I beg you to swallow this defeat, swallow it and turn it into power. Zeyana has not abandoned us. She watches with expectation. Show her humanity's resolve.” Clarence looked from soldier to soldier then gave his order, “Mages and archers show this monster mankind’s strength.”

Hearing the order and feeling the emotions behind them, a strand of hope returned. All the ranged units began raining down attacks on Thomas.

Thomas frowned, seeing this. He looked sharply at Grey, whose gray hair and old yet clear eyes left an impression. An old fox indeed. 

The attacks exploded around Thomas repeatedly, forcing him to raise a black shield around himself only for a firebolt blast to destroy it. 

No one knew if these attacks would be useful or work, but no one cared. They no longer cared about victory or defeat. They only cared about dying with honor. For Zeyana was surely watching over her creations.

Thomas's face became paler and paler. His eyes flashed around the forest as if searching for someone. With difficulty, he swatted away as many arrows as he could. Still, they just continued to rain upon him, slowly whittling him down. The moment a blast hit Thomas, the rain began to stop. Cheers resounded until a new sound entered everyone’s ears. 

Once again, their hope was in danger.