The moment Glenn stepped into the morning light, he was met with a sea of war tents.

Warriors and servants alike bustled about the vast encampment, preparing for the coming battle as best as they could. Countless men-at-arms sat strewn about the trodden field, fixing their mail and sharpening their blades.

Many bore small crests upon their armaments and banners, an indication that they were representing one the many noble families from within the nation.

These intricate and often colorful insignias were used to set them apart from the regular Astoundrian troops, who simply wore the country’s standard crimson colors.

Of course it was also used to flaunt their pride and bravery in battle. Doing so was considered the norm for renowned and respectable families, sons and servants would be sent to the northern front in order to slay demons and attain glory. With glory comes fame and respect, which both help raise their family’s social status.

This tradition was the reason that there was such an inordinate amount of noble families present, not that anyone was complaining.

As his tent was situated atop a small hill, he was met with this grand sight every morning.

The sheer scale of it all was mind boggling to him, tens of thousands of warriors would be fighting on their side alone. Tens of thousands of living, breathing men and women were preparing to fight, struggle, and die for their country.

The thought of it was both inspiring and sobering.

“I apologise sir, but I must attend to business elsewhere at the moment.”

Glenn snapped out of his daze, “Huh? Oh, yeah go ahead. I’ll meet the other heroes then.”

The boy bowed politely before slinking off into the crowd.

With nothing else to do besides to go forward, he drew a deep breath, easing his anxiety, and pushed forward.

As he strode through the camp, the soldiers gazed at him in awe. Those he came near went silent as their eyes lit up in admiration, jaws slack and unmoving.

The more devout and or nervous soldiers collapsed to their knees and began praying with their hands clasped together, he was a holy figure of the church after all.

Once what seemed like an eternity had passed, his uncomfortable march finally met its end. Standing together and facing him were three people whom he had learned to trust within the past few weeks.

Naomi, who wore similar armor to his, gestured to him with her chin.

“Took you long enough. We’ve been waiting for a few minutes now.”

He smiled nervously, “Yeah sorry about that, I got a little sidetracked while getting ready.”

She might be a bit too blunt and frankly sharp-tongued at times, but her forthright nature meant that she was one of the few people who talked to him normally.

On the other hand of the spectrum, Erika still spoke to him in the same polite way that she did back on earth.

She clutched her staff, holding it front of her as if she were trying to hide herself behind it.

“Um, did you sleep well?”

He nodded, “Yep, no problems there.”

She obviously hadn’t adjusted to her new status yet, often still stuttering and turning beet red when praised or stared at (although that might’ve added to her magnetism, especially amongst the soldiers).

She was only allowed to keep that attitude because frankly, no one could tell her otherwise. She was easily the most powerful mage in the country, besting even himself in sheer magical output.

Mages were few and far between, stretched throughout the kingdom in order to part their knowledge evenly. Where they lack in numbers, they make up for in knowledge. Where they lack in knowledge, they make up for in pure, blistering firepower.

Even amongst these adepts and knowledgeable scholars, Erika was the strongest by far.

There was only one person who hadn’t spoken yet.

He was an absolutely massive man, easily standing over a foot above everyone else. His muscles rippled visibly under his golden white armor and his stance was firm, unwavering.

Even if he was just standing there cross armed, he was immensely intimidating.

A rough and slightly aged man of robust features, his skin was rough and bore a multitude of white scars, each a testament to his tenacity in battle.

Anyone could tell that he was a seasoned veteran just at a glance.

He was Sir Jozef Warden.

Easily one of the most influential figures in the kingdom, he’s considered by most to be the nation’s strongest, even above the heroes. Partly because he leads a brotherhood of the church’s finest warriors, the Royal Paladins, as their Grandmaster.

Though at that moment, he was merely the heroes’ mentor.

His piercing gaze scanned Glenn up and down, scouring for any imperfections that he could punish.

After a few moments he turned away, apparently satisfied by what he saw.

“Hmph. At least you can put on your armor correctly.”

He then lowered his hands and as if on cue, the three heroes straightened up side by side.

“That’s enough fooling around, is everyone ready?”

They all spoke in firmly unison, “Yes sir.”

“Good because things are gonna get messy. Real messy. This isn’t a mock battle or a skirmish, y’hear? This is a real, full scale battle. And it’s going to be hectic.”

He turned to Erika, who nearly crumbled under his intense stare.

“You. I don’t want to see you hesitating with your spells. Stay behind the other two and keep your eyes open.”

“Y-yes sir.”

Then to Glenn, “You. You better not break off and try to save someone y’hear? You might’ve been able to get away with it in small scale conflicts but that’s not gonna fly here. Stay in formation, you hear me?”

A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek, “Yes sir.”

Lastly, he turned to Naomi.

“You. There’s no problems with you, but fix them anyway. Got it?”

“...yes sir.”

After he received affirmatives from all three, he crossed his arms, satisfied.

At that point the troops had already amassed and were getting into formation. The battlefield was less than an hour’s march from their camp, so they’d trek there in formation, ready to battle at any time.

Following Jozef, they fell into position as well. They would be situated near the front center, far enough ahead to greatly contribute to the fight but behind enough infantry to ensure that they wouldn’t be surrounded and subsequently slaughtered.

Additionally, they were surrounded by an escort of Royal paladins and even further protected by a mob of Royal knights. No country would throw their trump cards into a battle without adequate protection after all.

All units were in position, every man and woman had prepared themselves to the best of their abilities, and were ready by and large to do battle.

The eleventh hour had long passed. All that was left was to push forward.

***

Glenn could already hear the battle transpiring ahead.

He could hear the clashing of blades and the roaring of men and monster alike, a sound he’d never grow accustomed to.

The smell of dirt and steel permeated the air, putting him even more on edge. The scent of blood would come soon, and the stench of rot, later. He knows how things worked now. He knows.

Even though he retained his facial expression, even though he still seemed stalwart and noble to any onlookers that may be gazing upon him, he was undoubtedly, unmistakably, nervous. Horrifyingly so.

Not for himself though. He knew that even if he wanted to hurt himself he wouldn’t be able to considering his power, gear, and escort.

He was afraid for his enemies. For the beasts that would taste his blade and the demons that would feel his flame.

But why? They deserve this, right?

That was a question he couldn’t answer.

Thankfully he was wearing a gauntlet because if he wasn’t, everyone would see how white his knuckles were, clutching the hilt of his sword.

He snuck in a gulp, only to find that his throat had gone dry ages ago. He bit the inside of his cheek, only to find that it had already grown rough and scarred from repeated abuse.

He turned to the other two to see that they were in a similar state. Erika was trying her absolute best to hide her anxiety, anyone that looked at her from a distance would think that she was perfectly confident.

But from up close he could see her irises shaking just as hard as her body was.

Even Naomi, who was always calm and serious, was jittery. Sure she looked completely calm to anyone who didn’t know her well, but Glenn could see that she was nervous as plain as day.

Her thumbnail dug deep into the pad of her index finger, a habit that she only fell into when she was stressed.

At the height of their anxiety, they could finally see it.

No distinct shape could be seen, just an evermoving, writhing mass of muscle, mail, and violence. Thousands of individuals all melted into a single amalgamation of brutality that surged back and forth without rhyme nor reason.

The kingdom’s soldiers braced, struggling against the horrors of all shapes and sizes. The demons were cruel incarnate, knowing no fear nor honor. The abominations lunged at men and tore their throats out with their bare teeth, smiling as blood gurgled from between their razor teeth.

Or so it should have been.

What he saw instead were beings disturbingly similar to humans in almost every aspect. They had four limbs and a single head, just like a human did. They head a head of hair, a pair of eyes, a nose, and a mouth, just like a human did. They cried in pain, just like a human did.

None of them smiled in wicked glee nor did many seem to revel in the bloodshed in the way that he was told they did.

In fact, many seemed as, or even more scared, than they themselves are.

The only thing that set them apart from humans was their darker skin, longer ears, and the iconic pair of horns mounted atop of their heads.

Only, these horns were small and measly, not at all like the curled, gnarled goat horns he’d seen in depictions of demons.

In fact, if you could see past those three features, they were very nearly indiscernible from the average human. If it weren’t for their distinct color scheme, which included many dark hues, he wasn’t sure if he could tell them apart during the heat of battle.

Through the many skirmishes that had transpired within the past month, he’d seen these demi-humans before. They were a form of lesser demon that was common all throughout the demon continent, a close relative of the infamous dark elves.

And no matter who he asked, everybody, everybody would say that they were evil. Why? Because they slaughtered humans and took over the Northern Continent nearly a century ago.

Nobody, not even the king, would elaborate any further.

He spent much of his first days in the castle scouring the castle’s grand library in search of information, books about past wars and the like. What he found were accounts that described the absolute atrocities that demon-kind had committed during their conquest of the Northern continent.

Massacres, mass torturings, systematic rape, full blown genocide and infanticide, it was all there, the whole nine yards.

He very much considered the demons evil, but killing something that resembled a human just felt overwhelmingly...wrong, for lack of a more descriptive term.

But there was a silver lining. A very thin silver lining, but one nonetheless.

Although these lesser demonkin made up a vast majority of the demon horde, they definitely weren’t the only fighting race.

A battalion of lesser demons is always accompanied by a horde of goblins, small and weak humanoids that are surprisingly agile and deceptively clever. Their purpose is to spread confusion amongst the enemy. They weave in between legs and climb over shoulders, easily bypassing most defences in order to disperse into the enemy formation, causing mayhem.

They use their little daggers to slit throats and tendons, utilizing the disorientation of battle to pick off weaker soldiers.

Meanwhile towering ogres throw stones from the rear, crushing swaths of soldiers with a single boulder. Like living siege engines they stomp along, their sheer size and thick skin making them impervious to regular attacks.

Leading the way is a line of orcs clad in crude yet effective steel armor. In one hand they carry immense steel tower shields, befitting of their size. In the other, savage clubs that crumble armor like foil.

And last, likely the most feared amongst all the demon races, beastkin.

Although they’re said to normally take on a humanoid form, they’re only seen in their savage forms in the battlefield. They act as the demon army’s shock units.

More beast than man, they leap over lines of infantry and into the heart of enemy formations, where their unrivalled ferocity leaves only a pile of mangled corpses, most likely including their own.

The sight of a beastkin’s lycanoid form tearing into ranks of men, outnumbered and borderline suicidal, is one of the most horrifically iconic sights on the battlefield.

These were only a handful of the many, many races that made up the demon army.

Yes, the silver lining was that races like these were a part of the demon forces. Even though these beasts were several times more dangerous than the lesser demon, at least they didn’t resemble humans.

Which meant that he could kill them without much guilt.

The front line was getting absolutely decimated by the orc juggernauts. Their blows were so heavy that men would literally crumple under the weight of their swings, leaving nothing but crimson sludge and scraps of steel.

Seeing this, the heroes and their escort pushed forward through their own ranks, being careful as to not disrupt their own formation too much.

At this point Glenn’s anxiety had been overtaken by an overbearing sense of self preservation. He couldn’t run, so all he could do was fight.

Their party pushed farther and farther forward until their vanguard, Jozef and his paladins, had come toe to toe with the orcs.

Showing nothing less than a superhuman level of strength, the paladins contested the orcs, parrying every blow and returning unto them an even heavier strike with their golden halberds.

They made short work of the monstrosities, cutting them down despite their thick iron plates. They were so thorough that Glenn didn’t even have the chance to fight one, they broke through that quickly.

After they’d punctured a gaping hole in the demon’s line, infantry poured into the breach and splayed outward, widening the gap that Jozef and his men had created.

The paladins surged forward, deftly cutting down the waves of infantry surrounding them. Sure, they were outnumbered ten to one, but that just meant they had to kill more than ten each, a measly number considering their caliber.

Their infantry was now pouring into the enemy formation, this was a new tactic that they were using and it obviously worked well. Whereas the usual paradigm was to use cavalry to topple the front line, theoretically allowing the infantry to follow close behind, this tactic focused all of the strongest fighters into a spearhead to poke a hole in the defences. After they’d breached the front line, the infantry would follow close behind and widen the gap, cleaning up whatever was left behind the spearhead and not allowing them to be surrounded.

The only reason they could do this was because the heroes, especially Erika, were there to destroy any incoming boulders or projectiles that could wipe them out wholesale.

The heroes stood next to one another, eyes darting throughout the battlefield for their own enemy. They couldn’t waste their mana and energy on smallfry like these, their power was reserved for a much nastier enemy.

And luck would have it that they would find one.

Now that they were clear of the fog of dust that permeated the front line melee, they could finally see it.

Standing yards above the rest of the army, a truly gigantic creature waded forward. It wasn’t huge in the same way Jozef was huge, this thing was legitimately enormous on a whole nother scale.

It resembled some sort of bipedal lion, hunched forward to accommodate for it’s massive head and muscular forearms. Each of its bony digits was tipped in a large jagged claw, similar to the barbed teeth that protruded from its open jaws.

Its fur was a deeper black than anything he’d ever laid eyes on, it wasn’t even a color anymore. It was merely void of light, he could see no shadows nor details on its ragged fur or mangled mane. It was as if it was a walking shadow.

The only thing he could make out besides that were the two enormous gnarled ram horns that jutted from its partially exposed skull and its ominous amber eyes, glowing on the twilight backdrop that was its own body.

Whatever it was, he instinctively understood that it wasn’t of this world. Every fiber of his being was screaming for him to run away.

It was a being that shouldn’t exist. Yet there it was, stomping toward them, seemingly knowing what they were and what its job was.

It was a so-called “True Demon Beast,” not some magical chimera nor a naturally occurring magical beast. A beast of this kind was summoned using a ritual of which no human knew the nature of. Whatever the ritual was, it must’ve been an unthinkably costly and or cruel one considering what it summoned.

Little is known about these beasts, but it is thought that they are pure demons from another plane of existence, a plane that many people debate over the existence of.

But if it does exist, it can only be described as true Hell.

Jozef turned around, and they made eye contact. He looked him dead in the eye, and nodded.

He nodded back, however afraid he was, this was his duty.

The Grandmaster suddenly stopped, signalling to his paladins to do the same. They held their positions, having done their part.

He turned to the other two, who reacted to the beast largely in the same way that he did.

The three of them made eye contact, nodding at one another.

It was time to do their part as well.

They sprinted forward, past the paladins and into the mob of lesser demons.

The demons, upon seeing this, immediately backed away.

They weren’t stupid. They knew how strong the heroes were, and that they had a single target in mind. They also knew that trying to impede them at all would be useless, and that the only thing that could likely match them in that battle was the Demon Beast.

And so they allowed them to barrel forward, to start the climax of the battle.

The whole battlefield had grown largely still, all eyes were on the heroes now.

This would be the first time in centuries that heroes would descend upon the battlefield, and everyone, human and demonkin alike, wanted to witness their first battle.

The Astoundrians watched in hope whilst the demonkin watched in survey, this battle would determine whether they had the means to defeat the heroes or not.

As they drew closer, it would be Naomi who would take the initiative to attack first.

She suddenly sped up, leaving the other two heroes behind. Her heels began glowing a fierce blue as she transitioned from a run to a sprint.

Eventually, she was no longer running. Her feet didn’t leave the ground, it was as if she was skating upon ice rather than earth. She surged forward, faster and faster as time went by until she was nearly within range of the beast.

The Demon raised reared it’s clawed arm back, readying for a swing. The moment she came near, it's great hand came down in a blindingly fast swipe.

She leapt upward, dodging as it dug into the floor, gouging out huge amounts of dirt as it’s immense nails clawed through the earth. The ground trembled as nearby demons were knocked to the ground, unable to withstand the quake.

Still soaring through the air, she raised her sword and brought it down quickly and deftly, tracing a line from the beast’s armpit to its collarbone.

In the places that her thin sword touched, an impossibly large wound appeared moments later, spewing the beast’s vile blood onto the ground below.

Seemingly unfazed, the beast swiped at her again in retaliation. She used it’s immense frame to push herself out of the way of the strike and higher up into the air, which was a mistake as the beast was already lunging at her with its sickle canines, anticipating her movements.

Using the water magic that she was so adept at, she formed a thick slab of ice between herself and the beast’s wretched fangs, using it as a platform to leap back to ground level.

She landed with considerable force, digging a small divot into the dirt beneath her, but her enchanted boots absorbed the energy and dispersed it back into the ground.

She finally allowed herself to recover. The short engagement hadn’t drained much of her mana or stamina, but she wasn’t mentally strong enough to sustain combat as intense as that.

As if on cue Glenn rushed past her, clutching his legendary sword in one hand.

As he barreled toward the beast, his blade began emitting a shroud of embers. The shroud grew thicker and thicker until the entire length of the blade was surrounded in a cyclone of those same white hot embers.

Suddenly, the embers exploded into a raging inferno, brighter and more volatile than any flame. The flames engulfed the blade, making it glow red hot with its immense heat.

As he neared, the beast, with blood still seeping from its hide, barreled forward and attempted to stomp on Glenn with it’s goat-like hooves.

Instead of dodging, he brought his burning blade to his side, and using his momentum, he flung the blade upward in a fearsome cleave.

Being tiny in comparison, the blade completely missed its foot. But he wasn’t counting on the blade to do the damage.

Where he swung his arc, a crescent shaped wave of flames leapt from his blade, rippling with energy as it soared through the air.

The crescent of flames crashed into the beast’s leg with enough power to push it’s entire immense body backward, nearly toppling it over.

Disappointingly the beast, likely having some fire resistant properties, didn’t catch alight like it should’ve. But Glenn was satisfied with his blow nonetheless.

Taking advantage of his content, the beast, whilst still regaining it’s balance, launched an attack of its own.

Its wispy black mane suddenly erected, each clump of hair forming a spike that protruded from its neck as if it were a porcupine.

It opened its mouth, baring its jagged incisors to the world.

Then, a hideous call erupted from deep within its maw. The roar was unlike anything he’d ever heard or felt before, the mere force of it shook his insides and made him sick to the core. His knees buckled as he began to feel sharp pains akin to a migraine.

The sound alone was thundering, it was as if the sound was right next to him. No, somehow inside of his head.

The lesser demons around them collapsed onto the ground, unmoving as froth began bubbling from their lips.

When it finally ended, their ears were blessed with silence as the remnants of the roar echoed throughout the landscape.

Before anyone could recover, the spike protruding from the beast’s mane suddenly leapt off the creature and toward Glenn with alarming speed.

He reflexively swung at the mass of barbs, but to no avail. There were simply too many needles to burn with a single swing alone.

As he finished his swing, he realized far too late that he had messed up. The armor could deflect a majority of the spikes, but the larger ones would likely penetrate and at least injure him. At least.

He clenched his eyes shut as he braced for impact, simply putting his fate into the hands of luck.

But Erika would have it otherwise.

She raised her cane and from it spewed a shotgun blast of rock shards that crashed into the cloud of barbs.

The various projectiles crashed into one another, her blast couldn’t destroy the barbs, but it didn’t need to.

The larger barbs were broken into smaller pieces, which Glenn’s armor could deflect with ease.

Still dazed, he thanked Erika under his breath as he retreated a few steps.

This time, Naomi was determined to return the favor.

She leapt back into action having recovered already.

While she approached, the beast bent over and grabbed a handful of dirt, throwing it into the air.

The resulting plume of dust shrouded its huge body and blinded Naomi, not that it mattered.

From the dust, the beast’s fist appeared just feet from her.

The titanic clout caused the ground to quake violently, but not before she’d leapt off of it and onto its hand.

She sprinted up the beast’s massive, muscular arm, leaving sizable lacerations along the way.

She heard the beast bellow as it’s arm was suddenly enveloped in dozens of clean, deep cuts - courtesy of her water enchanted sword.

She climbed upward until she finally escaped the smokescreen, sword already poised to stab at where she knew its eyes were.

Unfortunately, it turns out she didn’t know where its eyes were.

Where she expected to see the beast’s unsettling amber eyes, she was instead met with another barrage of barbs.

She quickly created an ice platform behind her so she could propel her back down to the ground.

To her horror, when she turned around she was face to face, or rather face to maw, with the beast. It’s inviting jaws were stretched wide open, ready to accommodate her entire body between its razor teeth.

Now surrounded on both sides, she froze. A fatal mistake, had she not had allies.

A wall of rock shot from the ground, intercepting the salvo of quills mid flight. On the other end a brilliant, ethereal barrier of transparent flame had manifested, forcing the beast to retreat from its attack.

She was struck by a wave of relief as she was offered the opportunity to retreat at last.

But at the last second, as she saw the beast in its vulnerable state, she made a split second decision.

Instead of leaping away, she leapt straight toward the beast’s face, her armor allowing her to leap through the wall of flames without a problem.

And for the first time in the entire battle, she managed to score a crippling blow.

Her thin blade sunk into the beast’s skull with ease, embedding itself nearly to the crossguard.

The Beast immediately let out a shrill series of distress calls, more akin to a screech than a roar.

Blood spewed from the small puncture like a geyser, completely coating Naomi in warm crimson viscera, but she didn’t let go. She rode atop the beast’s head, pouring all the mana she could into the sword.

As the beast stumbled around in agony, it inadvertently barreled into the surrounding sea of soldiers, crushing human and demon alike under it’s gigantic hooves.

Now having been dragged back into the fray, both armies sprung back into action, continuing their melee whilst scrambling away from the stumbling giant.

It was no longer a battle. Both sides’ formations had all but disintegrated, devolving into a mosh pit of shoving and bashing. Humans attacked humans to escape the beast’s hooves, demon turned on demon in order to distance themselves from the belligerent behemoth.

It was a truly apocalyptic scene.

But Naomi was reaching her limit.

Her stamina, prodigious as it was, was beginning to fail her. As she pumped gallon after gallon of water into where she assumed its cranial cavity was, it jerked to and fro, threatening to dislodge her at any moment.

Eventually, she could no longer bear it.

She finally drew her blade from the beast’s skull, allowing herself to fall off.

As she fell, she readied herself for a final surge of action.

The moment she hit the floor, she used her boots to direct the energy of her impact back into the ground, launching herself toward the beast’s foot at blinding speeds.

She brought her sword back and with a final burst of energy, lopped off the Demon’s foot.

It stumbled, bewildered by the sudden loss of an appendage. No longer having a means to support itself, the behemoth fell to its knees.

The ground jolted violently when the beast fell, throwing the battlefield into further disarray.

But for some odd reason, the ground didn’t stop quaking.

In fact it began to tremble even more violently than before, tossing soldiers inches into the air as it literally convulsed, like the surface of a disturbed pond.

Just as the ground felt like it was about to split under pressure, gargantuan rock tusks erupted from the earth. Each was easily as wide as a wagon and tipped with a sharp point. They all arced through the air and congregated toward the beast.

Then, like a colossal, twisted bear trap, it snapped down on the beast, the earthen ribs poking straight through its body. The sound of the Demon’s bones crunching filled the air as it’s deranged cries of agony echoed throughout the battlefield.

The enormous pair of jaws clenched down onto its prey, like how a fox bites down on a small rabbit, making sure it can no longer escape.

This was of course Erika’s work.

She clutched her staff, using it to prop herself upright as she burnt through irresponsible amounts of mana.

She glanced at Glenn pleadingly, to which he replied in kind.

He clutched his burning sword in one hand and pointed it to the sky.

Perhaps inspired by Erika’s reckless act of heroism, he too pumped an insane amount of mana into his sword, not caring about the consequences.

His legendary blade burnt even brighter before.

It no longer burned like a sword taken straight from the furnace, it was now white hot, and beginning to shine to the point where soldiers needed to squint to take in the legendary sight.

Their eyes seared as tears rolled down their cheeks, some due to the burning and some because of sheer awe.

It was so blindingly bright that even though the sun was overhead, it still managed to cast long shadows across the battlefield. The sky seemed to turn black as their eyes tried to adjust to the glistening blade, but all in vain.

All that they could see was his silhouette amongst the light.

Then, all became jarringly dark once again.

The light had suddenly disappeared, and as eyes adjusted, they could now see the effects of his spell.

A pillar of white flame had descended upon the beast, setting it and everything around it ablaze.

Onlookers could see as the hellfire burnt away the beast, bit by bit.

First was the matted fur, which immediately disintegrated as the flame descended. Then was the skin, which bubbled and peeled off unspectacularly. The flesh and muscle was next, taking a little longer but still coming off the bone with relative ease.

Finally, the bone was stripped of all its life and cartilage, leaving only ashen husks, still trapped within Erika’s earthen jaws.

Only then, did the flame dissipate.

Only after it had permanently scorched the earth, did it disappear. Only after it had turned all life into ash, did it fade away. Only after it left onlookers' mouths agape in awe, had it done its job.

Glenn nearly collapsed, having only his sword to support him.

Both human and demon alike stood still, not yet having fully processed the battle which had just occurred before them.

If the Demon’s charred husk hadn’t remained, they might have been liable to deem the events that had just transpired as a fake, a hallucination.

But there it lay, still smouldering and slowly blowing away into the wind in the form of a thick plume of ash.

This is the power of heroes.

Heroes aren’t heroes because they can defeat entire armies single handedly, every tactician worth his salt knows that in war, numbers are everything.

If you throw enough infantry at an enemy, they will invariably fall at some point. It may take hundreds, thousands of lives, but the result is still set in stone.

Heroes are indispensable because their power, equipment, and training makes them undefeatable no matter how powerful their adversary is.

The army can march forth knowing that if they encounter another adversary like the True Demon Beast, it can be bested. Thousands of lives needn’t be thrown away to defeat it.

And even so, if a man-at-arms was given the order to attack a beast like that, would they really do so willingly? Or at all for that matter?

The average Astoudrian regular may be able to fight a lesser demon, but something as powerful as a True Beast isn’t going to be met by much resistance. It would be like sending mice to kill an elephant.

With the heroes however, their morale will soar knowing that they, as an army, are undefeatable.

As long as they can pave the way, the heroes will absolutely beat any adversary.