About him, the ten dark figures battled tirelessly, with magic and weapons he had never seen.
The figure bearing the chain summoned a dragon of fire that flew into the ranks of the enemy, burning dozens alive. Another sword thrust, and the earth gaped open, swallowing demons alive.
Roman sweated on his face, Mana burning in his chest, but his body was still strong. He just kept casting, fire, ice, lightning, earth—spells he had no idea he could cast, words his mouth spoke without thought.
Then the demons broke through, and he was fighting them hand-to-hand.
Roman raised a hand, and a sword of light appeared in his hand. He swung it, cutting through the throat of a demon. Another leaped at him, and he threw it backward with a toss of force.
He was not alone. The figure with the twin daggers spun around him, a whirlwind of motion so fast it was difficult to discern, cutting down demons before they could reach him.
