Chapter 315: Nihilux

Everyone looked up at the sky.

There, high above the vast plain, a figure floated in complete silence.

Focalors.

Its blue overcoat billowed slowly around it, while the cloud of smoke that made up its head trailed out behind it, drifting like a dark wake across the sky.

From that height, it looked less like a combatant and more like a director who had just taken his place in front of the stage.

"It’s been a while, Emperor of Death," it said, that melodic voice carrying across the entire plain. "So good to see you again."

Mark didn’t answer, simply staring back at it.

"You know? I’ve been thinking about you for a while now," Focalors went on, with a faint note of irritation. "About how a mere human, seemingly out of nowhere, managed to become, in such a short time, a genuine thorn in my lady’s side."

"How sweet. I feel the same about you two," Mark replied, with a mocking smile.

"You see, my mistress has grand plans centuries in the making, taking shape from the shadows. And then you show up and ruin it all. You keep expanding your domain, growing at a completely absurd pace."

Focalors let out a small laugh.

"And, for some reason, you have this charming habit of always turning up exactly where you shouldn’t and wrecking her plans, over and over again."

The dwarves, gathered behind Mark, listened to the exchange without fully grasping what was happening, but well aware that something enormous was about to unfold.

"So I’ve been asking myself," Focalors said, its voice taking on a sharper edge. "Why not just end this here and now?... After all, I can’t think of a better time or place to put a stop to the nuisance you’ve become."

It spread its arms wide.

"What do you say, Emperor? Shall we settle our differences once and for all?"

Mark, sticking to the script of that farce, flashed a defiant smile.

"Fine by me," he answered, raising his voice so it would carry. "I’ve been waiting for this moment longer than you think. Let’s finish this."

But just then, a group of creatures pushed through the smoking remains of the half-human army and ran toward Focalors.

They were the leaders of each race that made up the army, about twenty creatures of various shapes and sizes who had, until then, stayed at the front of the newly arrived horde.

Reaching Focalors, all of them dropped to their knees, visibly eager to receive its orders.

"Great Focalors!" one of them exclaimed. "Allow us to take part! Grant us the honor of tearing apart the human and his dogs in your name! We are your loyal servants, give us the chance to—!"

"Silence."

Focalors’s word fell like a slab of stone, dripping with absolute contempt.

The generals shrank back instantly.

"Do you honestly believe I need your help?" the demon said, not even bothering to look at them. "You, who couldn’t even wipe out a city of half-starved dwarves? You’re pathetic, a damn embarrassment."

"..."

"So stay out of this, or you’ll be next," it said, waving a dismissive hand. "Step back and watch how it’s really done."

The generals, thoroughly humiliated, didn’t dare talk back. They retreated with their heads down, bodies trembling, until they’d pulled off to the side.

And once they’d stopped being a distraction, Focalors turned its attention back to Mark.

"My apologies for the interruption," it said, recovering its calm tone. "Second-rate help. Impossible to find decent staff these days."

Focalors rose a little higher into the air before turning its focus back to Mark.

"Right, where were we? Ah, yes, our little show. Well, let’s not waste any more time, and let the performance begin."

Then it raised both hands toward the sky.

The air around it began charging with a dense, oppressive energy, making the atmosphere suddenly feel heavier.

Above the plain, high in the sky, an enormous magic circle began forming, its lines glowing white-hot, covered in arcane symbols, slowly spinning in place.

It was so colossal its circumference stretched across nearly the entire plain from one end to the other, casting its shadow over everything below.

And as the circle gathered strength, the midday sky began to darken.

The clouds swirled and turned black, until the sunlight was completely buried, plunging the plain into an unnatural gloom.

The dwarves watched the phenomenon, jaws dropped, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of that power.

Mark, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes, admiring the display despite himself.

’This bastard...’ he thought, with a mix of annoyance and grudging respect. ’He really is a damn expert at making an entrance.’

And as if it had read his mind, Focalors spoke again, with a note of feigned consideration.

"Now that I think about it, this setup is a bit unfair," Focalors said, as if it had just realized something important. "You, your lovely warrior, and your brand-new dragon against just me... doesn’t seem like a very balanced fight, does it?"

The cloud of smoke over its head shuddered with barely contained laughter.

"But don’t worry, that’s why I decided to even the odds a little and bring a little friend along with me. A special loan, courtesy of my generous mistress."

Focalors raised its voice with enthusiasm.

"Allow me to introduce one of the Demon Lord’s many summons and personal guardians."

The magic circle floating above them began glowing with a blinding intensity.

"Give a warm welcome to... Nihilux."

And then, something began falling from the enormous magic circle.

A black, viscous substance poured down from above, thick strands and heavy drops of dark fluid plunging toward the ground, more and more of it, forming a growing mass in the center of the plain.

The liquid pooled, bubbled, writhed in on itself, and little by little began taking shape, rising up, growing denser.

Until, finally, a slime-like monster stood upright, as large as Bayle himself.

Its shapeless body churned and dripped endlessly, dozens of yellowish eyes opening and closing across its surface, swiveling in every direction, while an enormous slit, like a mouth, tore open across its front.

’Wow...’ Mark thought, astonished.