The slaughter at the Shadowmire was swift and absolute. Faced with five Sanctuary-rank powerhouses, the desperate alliance of demigods' believers stood no chance. The Mountain Giant, Mundun, strode through the swamp like a walking mountain, each swing of his massive stone fists turning a squad of elite believers into meat paste. The Holy Unicorn, Sophia, moved like a white phantom through the mist, her purifying light erupting in silent, deadly bursts that incinerated the souls of any who came near her.
At the heart of the chaos, the Two-Headed Troll, Zakoff, was a maelstrom of destruction, his raw, brutal power shattering the enemy's formations. He charged headfirst into the largest concentration of enemy believers, his roars echoing from two throats. He grabbed the legendary-rank spider queen, the pride of another demigod, and with a horrifying crunch, bit her in half before the demigod's horrified eyes. The sheer terror he inspired broke the enemy's morale completely.
Meanwhile, the King of the Gnoll Demons, Gedo, was a silent reaper. He didn't engage in wide-scale destruction; he moved with chilling precision, appearing behind the enemy's epic-rank commanders one by one. A flash of his blood-gold claws was the only warning they received before their divine authority was shattered and their bodies fell lifeless into the murky water.
"This... this is impossible!" Orton stammered from his divine realm, his hands trembling. "How can a new god be this powerful?!"
Just as Gedo raised his blood-gold claws to deliver the final blow to Orton's centaur commander, the murky waters of the swamp began to boil. A terrifying, ancient aura of death erupted from the very ground beneath their feet, an energy far older and more malevolent than the simple undead wandering the plains.
A blood-red light shot up from the center of the mire, spreading across the sky like a spider's web and forming a massive, sealed dome of crimson energy over the entire battlefield. The air grew thick and heavy, and a horrifying draining sensation began to pull at the life force of every living believer present.
From the depths of the swamp, three figures of immense power rose. One was a skeletal figure in ornate royal armor, its eyes burning with blue soul fire—the Skeleton King. Another was a hulking knight clad in black, soul-crushing armor, wielding a massive runeblade—the Death Knight.
And leading them was a figure in tattered black robes, holding a staff topped with a screaming skull. The Lich King.
"Fools," the Lich King's voice, a dry, grating whisper, echoed in the minds of every creature. "Did you truly think this was your battlefield? You have all gathered so conveniently for our grand ritual."
He raised his staff, and the crimson dome pulsed, the draining effect intensifying. "Your flesh, your blood, your souls... they will all serve to mend this dying world! A perfect sacrifice!"
The remaining believers of Orton's alliance, already broken and terrified by Su Cheng's forces, now found themselves trapped in a terrifying blood magic circle. They were being attacked from the front by Gedo's legions and drained of their life from behind by the undead masters.
"What is this?!" the God of Storms roared from his realm. "A trap within a trap!"
Su Cheng, however, remained calm in his own divine domain, a flicker of interest in his eyes. "So, the true masters have finally shown themselves."
The forces of the undead, legions of legendary ghouls, skeletal mages, and wraiths, surged from the swamp, crashing into the rear of Orton's beleaguered forces. Caught between two terrifying enemies, their complete annihilation was assured. Within minutes, the last of the allied demigods' believers were either torn apart by the demons or had their souls sucked dry by the blood magic circle.
The swamp fell silent for a moment. Now, only two factions remained under the blood-red sky: the undead legions of the plane's masters and the silent, imposing army of Su Cheng.
The Red Dragon Kalis, no longer needing to feign being trapped, let out a triumphant roar. The five Sanctuary-rank saints—Gedo, Kalis, Mundun, Sophia, and Zakoff—assembled at the forefront of their army, their combined aura pushing back against the malevolent energy of the blood sacrifice.
The Lich King's soul fire flickered as he assessed his new opponents. "So, you are the strongest of the invaders," he hissed. "Excellent. The quality of your souls will make for an even greater sacrifice!"
Gedo stepped forward, his voice cold and filled with contempt for the undead king.
"Sacrifice? No. You have only gathered the remaining soul fire of this plane for our Lord." He raised his hand, pointing at the undead masters. "This is not a sacrifice. This is a harvest."