Roland wasted no time after the first elite fell under his control.
One after another, the bone-crested demons buckled before his will, each bound by blood and mana until five of the towering brutes fought at his side.
Their serrated glaives tore through the enemy ranks, every strike sending shockwaves that carved gaps in the horde of demons.
There were thousands behind them, but with the five he managed to tame, their numbers were dwindling by the second.
The tide, which had pressed relentlessly against Renar's soldiers, now began to stagger backward.
Yet the barrier above them continued to crack.
The golden dome shuddered under the force of the horde's assault, fractures spreading outward like glass on the verge of shattering.
Each coordinated strike threatened to bring the entire defense crumbling down.
Then, a soft radiance gathered behind Roland.
