In the heart of this desolate wasteland, where the moonlight barely pierced the thick blanket of clouds, a figure emerged from the shadows, a deity in the form of Clawed. His wings, broad and majestic, stretched out like midnight itself, casting an eerie silhouette against the night sky. As he hovered above the ground, he exuded an aura of otherworldly power, his eyes ablaze with determination and fierce resolve as he gazed at the undead abomination below.
With a mere flick of his hand, Clawed seemed to command the very fabric of the night. His fingers traced through the air, leaving trails of silver light in their wake. In response, the darkness seemed to part, creating a path illuminated by an ethereal glow. It was a path to salvation for the werewolves, a narrow corridor through which they could escape the clutches of the undead horde.
With a swift and graceful descent, Clawed landed on the barren ground, his presence shaking the very earth beneath him. The army of the undead, grotesque and horrifying, advanced with relentless determination.
Mutated beasts with twisted forms snarled and howled, their grotesque bodies contorted into nightmarish shapes. But Clawed was undeterred, his eyes narrowing with focused intensity.
In the eerie silence of the night, Clawed's hands moved like a maestro conducting a symphony of destruction.
With a mere wave, arcs of cosmic energy slashed through the air, cutting through the undead ranks like a scythe through wheat. The sound of impact reverberated through the desolation, a cacophony of clashes between ethereal power and the grotesque creatures of the night.
Surprisingly, this made the smile on the face of the Undead commander become wider.
The air crackled with electricity as Clawed's slashes left trails of stardust in their wake. With each motion, he carved through the undead army, his strikes precise and devastating. The scent of charred flesh mingled with the metallic tang of blood, filling the night air with an acrid aroma that mirrored the brutality of the battle.
The ground trembled beneath Clawed's feet as he continued his onslaught. His eyes, cold and unfeeling, scanned the battlefield, his senses attuned to every movement in the darkness. His wings, a symbol of his divine grace, flickered with sparks of cosmic energy, illuminating the night with a ghostly radiance.
With unmatched skill, Clawed maneuvered through the chaos, his movements a deadly dance of power and finesse. The undead, confident in their overwhelming numbers, now recoiled in the face of his wrath. Clawed's strikes were relentless, his blows landing with the force of a thousand thunderstorms, pulverizing bones and rending flesh.
The Guard commander managed to get a good number of his men to safety. he could not help but turn and watch as they retreated, carrying along their wounded in battle.
"Incredible!" He muttered lowly, "Is this the power of one that has touched the Great Demon realm!?"
He was not the only one who had this thought. the other Werewolves also thought the same thing, many of them wondering how it was possible that such a great existence was in their city all this while.
As the battle raged on, the night seemed to come alive with the clash of forces. Clawed, the demon warrior, stood as a beacon of fierce destruction as he was allowed to display power akin to that of a god in mortal eyes. Amidst the darkness his fingers danced in the air, bringing their judgment upon the undead invaders.
His every movement was a testament to his prowess, a dazzling display of power that left the undead army in disarray.
Surprisingly, instead of the undead commander frowning at its loss, it only got more excited. This was something that Clawed noticed.
"Don't worry! I'll smack that smile off your fucking face!" Clawed muttered to himself as he raised a hand summoning cosmic energy like strings of light in space.
However, at this moment, he noticed an abnormal movement amongst the undead army.
They were no longer attacking. Instead, they gave the impression as if they were retreating or at least, they were backing off.
This surprised Clawed, "what giving up so soon?" he muttered to himself.
However, Clawed noticed that he had spoken too soon.
All of a sudden, a different kind of undead matched forward with unsettling steps. From their torn robes, it was clear that these were all Magi.
They stepped forward with a Magi that had the lower body of a Giant spider and the upper body of a naked woman leading them.
This was none other than Sarah
After Town Bedrock had been destroyed by the undead army, they had been absorbed into the ranks of the undead army.
Clawed might have lived a recurse life with his lover cum brother in the City of Milk and honey, but that did not mean that he was not aware of the happenings in the world.
He knew that the undead army had been sweeping through Magi territory. However, he never knew that they were being absorbed into the undead ranks.
This was the first time that he was seeing something like this.
But what truly troubled him was what he was seeing.
It was a known fact that once a Witch died, the Nether creature that the Witch had a deal with will appear to take the body part that had been given.
This was also true for Magi.
However, he could clearly see that Sarah was still half human and half nether creature, and yet, she was clearly dead. This was the same thing for all the other Magi that had their bodies replaced with parts of the creatures of the Nether realm.
As surprising as this was, the true reason to make Clawed doubt his common sense was yet to take place.
With a sudden wave of the hand by the Undead commander, the Magi all bit into their hands, some their thighs and some other shoulders, fleshing out their own meat to allow thick black blood flow out.
As it did, they began their chant....
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