Aerik launched a blood sphere straight into the front lines—its crimson core exploded, sending two enemy mages flying backward in a shower of steam and gore.
Then—steel.
A sword sliced toward his back.
He spun, barely ducking in time.
CLANG!
The blade scraped off his shoulder;
Aerik twisted, hand glowing red as he retaliated—draining the attacker's blood in one brutal flash.
No time to breathe.
Shhhk! Shhhk! Shhhk!
A barrage of ice lances screamed toward him.
He cursed, jumped, and threw up a blood-forged shield just in time.
Then the earth erupted.
BOOM!
The blast hurled him like a rag doll—he hit the mud hard, rolled, coughed blood.
"Shit—shit—shit!"
Panic clawed into his chest now.
Where the hell are you, Devil!?
Another fireball came screaming—he ducked, rolled again, barely escaped incineration.
His thoughts were a blur.
How the hell are they casting like this?
Monsters…!
He paused for a split second—doubt flickered.
Did the Devil lie to me?
No.
