Chapter 194 Fight Against Demon Forces

Once Alaric had bestowed the shimmering, illusionary robe armor upon Saintess Ceanna, a sense of quiet satisfaction settled over him. He spent the next few days primarily within his tent, allowing his body to fully acclimate to the immense surge of power that came with reaching Level 60 and the rank of Grandmaster Mage. The increase in his mana reserves was substantial, and the control he now wielded over it was far more refined.

And naturally, with this newfound power thrumming within him, Alaric turned his attention to his two favorite women. Each night, as the encampment settled into a tense silence, Lyra and Cassandra would slip into his tent, their eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and affection. Alaric, now a Grandmaster Mage, found his stamina and potency had increased significantly. He made sure to use this newfound energy to pleasure both his mother and his aunt in ways that left them breathless and utterly satisfied.

The first night after his breakthrough, Lyra arrived first, her silver hair cascading down her back, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. She wore a skimpy, crimson silk robe that barely concealed her ample curves. “So, my little Grandmaster,” she purred, stepping into the tent and wrapping her arms around his neck, her large breasts pressing against his chest. “Ready to test out your new power?”

Alaric chuckled, his hands immediately finding their way to her voluptuous backside. “Only if you’re ready to handle it, Mother.” He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring the depths of her mouth, their bodies pressed tightly together. He then made her wear an even more revealing outfit, a sheer black negligee that left little to the imagination. He worshipped her body, kissing and caressing every inch of her, paying special attention to her large, sensitive breasts and the way she moaned when he teased her nipples. Their lovemaking was passionate and intense, filled with moans, gasps, and whispered words of affection. Alaric explored every curve and crevice of her body, his fingers and lips eliciting cries of pleasure that echoed through the tent. Lyra, in turn, showered him with affection, her hands roaming his body, her kisses filled with a fierce, possessive love.

Cassandra joined them later, her purple eyes gleaming with anticipation. She wore a similarly revealing outfit, a short, lacy black dress that showcased her long, toned legs and the swell of her breasts. The two women greeted each other with warm smiles, their bond strengthened by their shared intimacy with Alaric.

“Ready for round two, nephew?” Cassandra teased, her voice husky as she watched Alaric’s gaze linger on her body.

“Always ready for you, Aunt Cassandra,” Alaric replied, pulling her into a passionate kiss. He then had her change into an even more scandalous outfit, a barely-there chainmail bikini that left most of her magnificent figure exposed. He spent hours pleasuring her, his hands and mouth working tirelessly, eliciting moans and cries of delight. Cassandra, with her more assertive nature, took control at times, her hands guiding him, her body demanding his attention. The night was filled with their intertwined moans and the sounds of their bodies moving together in a rhythmic dance of pleasure.

The following nights followed a similar pattern, each filled with intense passion and shared intimacy. Alaric would often have both his mother and aunt in his tent at the same time, their bodies intertwined, their moans and cries blending together in a symphony of pleasure. He would lavish attention on both of them, ensuring each felt cherished and thoroughly satisfied. He made them wear increasingly daring outfits, enjoying the sight of their beautiful bodies barely concealed. These nights were not just for his pleasure; Alaric could feel the subtle but significant increase in both Lyra’s and Cassandra’s strength and magical prowess with each encounter, their Battle Auras growing more potent.

This period of intense intimacy and relative peace, however, was not destined to last. A few days after Alaric reached Level 60, the familiar tremors began once more, but this time, they were far more violent, shaking the entire encampment. The sounds of battle erupted almost immediately, but this time, the roars were deeper, more guttural, filled with a palpable sense of power and malice.

“They’re attacking!” someone shouted from outside Alaric’s tent, their voice filled with alarm. “Demons! They’re everywhere!”

Alaric shot out of bed, his senses immediately on high alert. Lyra and Cassandra were awake in an instant, their eyes wide with concern, their hands reaching for their weapons.

“It’s started,” Alaric said grimly, pulling on his own clothes. “And it sounds like a full-scale assault.”

As they stepped out of the tent, the scene was chaotic. The night sky was illuminated by the flickering flames of battle, the air thick with the stench of sulfur and the sounds of clashing steel and demonic roars. This time, the attack was far more coordinated and powerful. Archmage-ranked demons, their dark mana swirling around them like malevolent clouds, led the charge, while even the low-ranking demons seemed imbued with a greater ferocity and strength than before.

Fortunately, the priests of the Eloriath Kingdom had anticipated another attack. Throughout the encampment, they chanted powerful blessings, their holy energy radiating outwards, bolstering the strength and physique of the soldiers and enhancing the mana of the mages. A visible golden aura enveloped many of the human defenders, their movements becoming swifter, their strikes more powerful.

The battle raged fiercely. Archmage Gideon Thorne, his staff crackling with arcane energy, led a group of mages against a particularly powerful demon commander who wielded a massive, blood-soaked axe. Archmage Rahel Klinghoffer, her eyes glowing with inner light, directed a barrage of holy spells against a group of winged demons that swooped down from the sky. The other two top Archmages in the camp were similarly engaged, directing their forces and unleashing their own formidable magic.

Amidst the chaos, a familiar figure emerged from the demonic ranks. Principal Bartolmew, his once-kind face now twisted into a malevolent sneer, his eyes burning with an unnatural blackness, strode through the battlefield, his dark mana radiating outwards in oppressive waves. He looked almost exactly as he had in life, but the darkness within him was palpable, a horrifying corruption of the man they had once known.

“Bartholomew…” a knight whispered in disbelief, his sword faltering for a moment.

The sight of their former principal, now a demonic Archmage, sent a wave of shock and despair through some of the human forces. But the top Archmages, having been warned by King Thaleon, were prepared. They immediately focused their attention on the newly revived demon, knowing he posed a significant threat.

Despite the overwhelming power of the demonic assault, Alaric’s upgraded holy artifacts were proving to be incredibly effective. Soldiers wielding the ‘Celestial Fire Projector’ unleashed concentrated beams of holy fire that tore through demonic hides and even scorched demonic weapons. Knights equipped with the ‘Sanctified Barrier Generator’ erected shimmering shields of holy energy that deflected powerful demonic attacks. Even demons wielding their own dark artifacts found themselves taking significant damage from the holy energy emanating from the human-made devices. This was a testament to Alaric’s ingenuity and a much-needed boost to the morale of the Eloriath forces.

And then there was Saintess Ceanna. Adorned in the protective robe armor that Alaric had crafted for her, she moved fearlessly across the battlefield, a beacon of pure light amidst the encroaching darkness. Demons lunged at her with claws and teeth, unleashed blasts of dark magic, but none of their attacks even seemed to touch her. The illusionary robe shimmered and absorbed the impacts, leaving her completely unharmed. Her presence alone was a powerful inspiration to the human soldiers, a symbol of hope in the face of overwhelming darkness.

Alaric, Lyra, and Cassandra joined the fray, their combined power adding significantly to the human defenses. Lyra’s flaming sword danced through the demonic ranks, leaving trails of fire in its wake, while Cassandra’s wind-enhanced strikes tore through demonic armor with ease. Alaric himself unleashed powerful spells, bolts of pure holy energy searing through the darkness and striking down demons left and right. The battle for the encampment had begun, and it was clear that this time, the stakes were higher than ever before.

“Mother, Aunt Cassandra,” Alaric called out, his voice carrying over the din of battle. He watched as Lyra’s flaming sword cleaved through another imp, while Cassandra’s wind-enhanced blade decapitated a hulking brute. They were both fighting with a ferocity he admired, but he couldn’t shake the worry for their safety. “Stay near the edges! Don’t go too deep! I don’t want you facing those stronger demons!”

Lyra glanced his way, a fierce grin on her face. “Don’t you worry about us, Alaric! We can handle ourselves!”

Cassandra nodded in agreement. “We won’t take any unnecessary risks, nephew. You focus on the bigger threats.”

Alaric hesitated for a moment, wanting to insist, but he knew they were both capable fighters. Still, a knot of anxiety remained in his stomach. He needed to ensure Saintess Ceanna’s safety as well.

With a surge of mana, Alaric cast a powerful teleportation spell, the air around him shimmering for a moment before he vanished and reappeared near Saintess Ceanna. She was surrounded by a throng of snarling demons, her protective robe glowing faintly as it absorbed the impact of their dark magic. Thankfully, the Archmage-ranked demons seemed preoccupied, locked in fierce combat with the top mages and martial artists of the encampment.

Ceanna was a whirlwind of holy energy, her hands moving in intricate patterns as she unleashed spells that incinerated the lesser demons. “Begone, foul creatures!” she cried out, her voice resonating with divine power. Yet, despite her magical prowess and the protection of Alaric’s robe, the sheer number of demons pressing in on her was concerning. Their physical attacks, while not imbued with dark magic, could still overwhelm and injure her.

Just as a particularly large, clawed demon lunged at her from the side, and several others closed in from the front, Saintess Ceanna drew a deep breath, preparing to unleash a devastating wave of holy magic that would surely obliterate them all. But before she could complete the incantation, a massive tornado of swirling wind erupted around her. The force of the wind was immense, picking up every demon within a fifty-foot radius, their guttural roars turning into panicked shrieks as they were lifted into the air and flung far away into the darkness beyond the encampment.

Saintess Ceanna stared in astonishment at the empty space where the demons had been moments before. She felt the immense power of the wind magic, a force far beyond that of a mere Grand Mage. Her gaze snapped upwards, and she saw Alaric hovering in the air above her, his expression serious but reassuring. The sheer scale of the magic he had just unleashed, the effortless control he displayed, sent a jolt of surprise through her. ‘That power… that’s the magic of a Grandmaster,’ she realized, her mind reeling. ‘Alaric… he reached Grandmaster Mage rank already?’ The speed of his advancement was truly astonishing.

Alaric descended gracefully, landing softly beside her. “Saintess Ceanna,” he said, his voice calm amidst the chaos of battle, “you need to focus on blessing the soldiers. Bolster their spirits, enhance their defenses. Leave these lesser demons to the others.”

Ceanna nodded, still slightly dazed by his sudden appearance and the display of his newfound power. “Of course, Master Steele,” she replied, her voice a little breathy. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry,” Alaric said, his ruby eyes gleaming with determination. “I won’t let them hurt you.” He cast a protective barrier spell around her, a shimmering field of golden energy that pulsed with holy power. “Now, go. Your blessings will be far more valuable than engaging these grunts.”

With a renewed sense of purpose, Saintess Ceanna turned her attention to the battlefield. She moved among the ranks of soldiers, her hands outstretched, her voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos as she invoked the Radiant God’s blessings. A warm, golden light enveloped the soldiers she touched, their wounds closing, their fatigue fading, their determination renewed.

Meanwhile, Alaric turned his attention to the surrounding chaos. The battle was a brutal dance of light and shadow, holy energy clashing against dark mana. Knights, their armor gleaming in the flickering torchlight, fought with desperate courage, their swords meeting demonic claws and crude weapons. Mages unleashed torrents of fire, ice, and lightning, their spells tearing through the ranks of the attacking demons. Even the priests, despite their lack of direct combat abilities, played a crucial role, their continuous blessings bolstering the human forces and weakening the demonic ones.

“For the Kingdom!” a knight roared, his sword stained with demon blood as he parried a blow from a horned devil and thrust his blade into its chest.

“Feel the wrath of the elements!” a mage cried out, unleashing a wave of searing flames that engulfed a group of snarling imps.

Principal Bartolmew moved through the battlefield like a harbinger of doom, his dark mana corrupting everything it touched. Soldiers who dared to face him directly found their weapons withering, their armor rusting, their very life force being slowly drained away.

“Bartholomew! You traitor!” an Archmage roared, unleashing a barrage of powerful arcane missiles at the corrupted principal. Bartolmew simply sneered, deflecting the attacks with a wave of his hand, his dark mana forming a protective shield around him.

Lyra and Cassandra were a whirlwind of destruction on the eastern flank of the encampment. Lyra’s Celestial Phoenix Breath left a trail of incinerated demons in her wake, her sword techniques honed to deadly perfection.

“Taste the flames of justice, you vile creatures!” she yelled, her voice filled with righteous fury as she cleaved through a particularly resilient demon.

Cassandra’s Garuda Wingbeat Breath created miniature cyclones that shredded through the demonic ranks, her sword strikes swift and precise.

“The wind will carry you back to the abyss!” she declared, her purple eyes blazing with power as she decapitated a hulking demon commander.

Even Noah, armed with his spear, moved with surprising agility through the thickest parts of the fighting, his silver weapon finding the weak spots in the demons’ defenses. Every so often, he would hurl one of his alchemically charged pills, the resulting explosions tearing through groups of demons, the acrid smoke causing them to cough and weaken.

“Eat this, you overgrown lizards!” Noah shouted, throwing a particularly large pill that detonated with a deafening blast, sending chunks of demon flesh flying.

Alaric himself soared through the air, a figure of immense power. He unleashed spells of pure holy energy, each blast capable of obliterating even the more powerful demons. He kept a watchful eye on Saintess Ceanna, Lyra, and Cassandra, ready to intervene if they faced any insurmountable threat. He also targeted the Archmage-ranked demons, his Grandmaster-level magic clashing against their dark power.

He focused his attention on a particularly large, winged demon that was wreaking havoc among a group of knights, its razor-sharp claws tearing through their armor. With a flick of his wrist, Alaric unleashed a bolt of pure white energy that struck the demon squarely in the chest, causing it to shriek in agony as its body disintegrated into ash.

“Hold the line!” a human commander yelled, his voice hoarse but determined. “For the Kingdom! For the Radiant God!”

The battle raged on, the night filled with the sounds of combat. The demons, despite their initial ferocity, were slowly but surely being pushed back, the enhanced strength of the human forces and the effectiveness of Alaric’s holy artifacts taking their toll. Saintess Ceanna continued to move among the soldiers, her blessings a constant source of encouragement and healing. The tide of the battle was beginning to turn, but the fight was far from over.

~~

Amidst the chaotic symphony of battle, where holy light clashed with dark mana and the cries of the wounded mingled with the roars of demons, Alaric’s keen mind was at work. He observed the patterns of the demonic assault, the way their forces were deployed, the types of demons leading the charge. It didn’t feel like the all-out, desperate attack he had anticipated. Instead, there was a calculated element to it, a sense of testing the waters, of probing their defenses.

‘This isn’t their main push,’ Alaric thought, his ruby eyes narrowed as he incinerated a charging imp with a blast of fire. ‘This feels more like… reconnaissance in force. They’re trying to gauge our strength, see how we react to their upgraded forces and these Archmage commanders.’

A cunning glint sparked in his eyes. If this was just a probe, then he had to take advantage of it. He needed to make a statement, to show the demons – and more importantly, Saintess Ceanna – just how powerful he had become.

His gaze swept across the battlefield, searching for a suitable target. He soon spotted a figure commanding a significant group of demons near Saintess Ceanna’s current location. This demon radiated a palpable aura of power, easily identifiable as a low-level Archmage. Alaric knew that Archmage was a rank above his own Grandmaster Mage. While even a low-level Archmage possessed power that could easily overwhelm any Grandmaster Mage, Alaric felt a surge of confidence in his own abilities. He might not be able to defeat one easily, but he was certain he could hold his own for a while, especially with his mastery over elemental magic.

A plan began to form in his mind, audacious and slightly reckless, but with the potential for a significant payoff. He would engage this Archmage, making it appear as though Saintess Ceanna was in grave danger, and then… he would ‘save’ her. He knew merely protecting her wouldn’t be enough to sway her opinion, not entirely. But a dramatic rescue from a seemingly insurmountable threat… that might just do the trick.

Without hesitation, Alaric launched himself towards the Archmage, channeling powerful gusts of wind to propel him through the air. The Archmage, a hulking figure with crimson skin and wickedly curved horns, noticed Alaric’s approach, its black eyes narrowing in annoyance.

“Another insect dares to approach?” the Archmage bellowed, its voice a guttural rumble that shook the very air. It turned its attention away from the human soldiers it had been decimating and focused its malevolent gaze on Alaric.

“You’re causing quite a ruckus down here, demon,” Alaric called out, landing a short distance away from the Archmage, his hands crackling with elemental energy. “Mind if I cut in?”

The Archmage let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “A mere Grand Mage? You are foolish to challenge me, little human. I will crush you like the insignificant pest you are.”

Without another word, Alaric launched his attack. He unleashed a torrent of swirling wind, sharp as razors, aimed at the Archmage’s legs, hoping to impede its movement. The Archmage simply roared and slammed its massive fist into the ground, sending a shockwave of dark energy that dispersed the wind and forced Alaric to leap back.

‘He’s strong, even for a low-level Archmage,’ Alaric thought, his eyes scanning the demon’s imposing form. He shifted his focus to his other strongest element. With a roar of his own, Alaric conjured a massive vortex of swirling flames, hotter than any forge, and sent it hurtling towards the Archmage.

The Archmage didn’t even flinch. It simply raised one hand, and a barrier of pure dark energy shimmered into existence, absorbing the fiery inferno with a sickening hiss. The sheer power radiating from the demon was immense, far surpassing anything Alaric had faced before. He knew he was in for a tough fight.

Alaric didn’t let the setback deter him. He launched another barrage of attacks, combining powerful gusts of wind with searing bolts of flame, trying to find an opening in the Archmage’s defenses. The demon, however, was relentless, its counter-attacks brutal and swift. It swung its massive claws, each tipped with razor-sharp edges, forcing Alaric to rely on his agility and quick reflexes to dodge. It unleashed blasts of dark energy that crackled with malevolent power, each one threatening to overwhelm Alaric’s defenses.

The fight was intense and demanding. Alaric found himself constantly on the defensive, parrying blows with shields of wind, deflecting dark energy with walls of fire. He pushed his control over his elemental magic to its limits, but the Archmage’s raw power was undeniable. He could feel the strain on his mana reserves as he struggled to keep up.

Nearby, Saintess Ceanna, having finished blessing a large group of soldiers, noticed Alaric’s desperate struggle against the Archmage. Her eyes widened in shock as she witnessed the sheer power of the demon and the incredible skill with which Alaric was holding his own.

‘Master Steele… he’s fighting an Archmage!’ she thought, her mind reeling. ‘Even though he’s on the defensive… to be able to even stand against such a powerful demon… his talent is truly extraordinary!’ She felt a surge of concern for his safety.

Without hesitation, Ceanna began to channel her Holy Energy. She couldn’t directly attack the Archmage without risking hitting Alaric, but she could provide him with support. Focusing her power, she unleashed waves of pure, radiant energy that washed over Alaric, bolstering his strength, replenishing his mana, and creating a momentary barrier of holy light around him, giving him a brief respite from the Archmage’s relentless assault.

“Master Steele!” she called out, her voice filled with concern. “Hold on! I will assist you!”

Alaric felt the surge of holy energy coursing through him, and it was like a jolt of pure vitality. His depleted mana reserves replenished, and his movements became swifter, more precise. “Thanks, Saintess!” he yelled back, seizing the opportunity to launch another fierce attack.

He conjured two massive dragons, one wreathed in flames and the other composed of swirling winds, and sent them roaring towards the Archmage. The demon, momentarily stunned by the sudden influx of holy energy and the appearance of the elemental dragons, was forced to focus its attention on these new threats. The fiery dragon lunged, its jaws snapping, while the wind dragon whipped its tail, creating a vortex of slicing air.

The Archmage roared in fury, its dark energy flaring as it met the elemental assault. The battle raged on, a chaotic clash of fire, wind, darkness, and holy light, Alaric and Saintess Ceanna fighting in tandem against a formidable foe. Alaric knew he couldn’t sustain this level of intensity for long, but he was determined to hold out, to show Saintess Ceanna his strength and his unwavering commitment to protecting her and the kingdom.