Back on the battlefield, the main conflict raged. The Enforcement Knights held the line, a sea of steel against an ocean of demonic flesh. The holy ground created by Galahad's miracle was a powerful asset, but the sheer number of demons was overwhelming. For every demon that fell, three more seemed to take its place.
My Knights of the Round Table were a whirlwind of destruction, their blades cutting through the demonic hordes with an efficiency that was almost terrifying. They were masters of their craft, their every move a lesson in the art of war.
Yet how long would that last? They might no longer be true humans, but they couldn't fight endlessly; at one point, even their Endurance would come up short.
And while demons had no better endurance than my knights, they also didn't live long enough to struggle. What caused a problem was numbers, pure and simple.
And while Galahad and the others were stopping more demons from coming out of the Nightmare gate, that hardly took the pressure off the others.
That realm had never been the problem; it was the others that truly had demons to spare, in particular the realm of Satannish, who had enslaved entire dimensions to fuel his army. He had a nearly infinite number of enslaved souls to throw at us.
And while even he couldn't have more demons than the stars in the sky,
But he had a lot.
More than enough to drown us all in bodies.
"I have had enough of this," Mordred suddenly yelled out next to me.
And without any further warning, she dashed forward, her armor glowing with a malevolent red energy as she pushed through the demonic lines, a path of destruction opening behind her.
"Mordred, hold position!" I commanded, but she either didn't hear me or chose to ignore me, which was far more likely.
She had a target, a large, hulking brute of a demon that seemed to be leading a charge of Satannish's minions. It was a massive creature, its skin like black iron, its eyes burning with a hot, raw rage.
It was a target worthy of her.
"Get out of my way, you lumps of crap!" she roared, her sword a blur of motion as she cut down any demon that dared to stand in her path.
She was a force of nature, a whirlwind of destruction, and the demons seemed to part before her, their fear of her overwhelming their instinct to fight.
"Worry not," Bedivere said. "We will remain by your side to ensure nothing happens, and Sir Mordred was never meant to stand by your side; he is... well, he has always been spirited like that."
I could only sigh at that, because he was indeed right. To keep Mordred from the action was all but a hopeless endeavor. It was better to allow her to have some fun while she still could, before she was truly needed.
"Clarent Blood Arthur!" Mordred roared as she finally reached her target, gathering her energy into her sword, the blade glowing with a terrifying red light, the air around her crackling with power.
She swung her sword, and a massive wave of energy erupted from the blade, a beam of pure destruction that seemed to consume everything in its path. The demon lord, for all its size and power, didn't even have time to react. It was simply vaporized, its form dissolving into nothingness, its very essence consumed by the overwhelming force of Mordred's Noble Phantasm.
The shockwave from the blast sent the surrounding demons flying, their bodies torn apart by the sheer force of the impact. A large swath of Satannish's army was simply wiped out, their bodies broken and burned, their souls released from their eternal servitude.
It was a decisive, brutal display of power; it killed plenty of enemies, but while impressive, it failed to have much of an effect on the overall battle. These demons simply didn't know what fear was, unless it was something like Galahad's holy-natured attack, which was anti-evil and anti-demonic, something that caused them to feel a deep, instinctive sense of dread; otherwise, they just wouldn't feel much.
If anything, it just drained a large amount of magical energy, and while Mordred did have plenty thanks to her own dragon core, she still couldn't throw around an endless number of Noble Phantasms.
This was a battle of endurance, not impressive, powerful strikes; every large-scale attack like that had to be used carefully. But of course, that was something Mordred would never truly understand; the rush of a big, flashy attack was just too fun to ignore.
Still, even if it didn't have much of an effect on the lesser demons, that didn't mean it went unnoticed. From the realm of Satannish, a great shape reached out, a demon with great wings stretched out behind it, a serpent tail covered in spikes, and great clawed hands.
"Well, well, you are far more interesting than I had suspected," it said, its voice dripping flames and malice. "To think a mortal would possess such power... interesting. Perhaps it's better to make an example of you before that fool of your king gets any bright ideas," the demon lord said, a cruel smirk on its face.
"From the description, that appears to be Thog," Sir Lucan said from my side. "Though, given how demons can apparently manipulate their forms, it is hard to judge." The knight was always a very practical and calm person, even in the heat of battle.
"Thog," I repeated, the name hardly befitting such a great demon; if anything, the name sounded like some minor imp, not... whatever this was. "He is Satannish's second-in-command, a being of immense power and cruelty."
"Then we have a problem," Bedivere said, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. "If he's here, then Satannish himself can't be far behind."
"Don't worry," I said, my gaze fixed on the demon lord. "The fact that he is here means that his master won't arrive; he is the test to see if we are worthy of facing Satannish himself. That is the game they are playing."
This battle wasn't simply a battle of brute force and attrition, but a game between Hell Lords.
"Then we must show him that we are more than worthy," Lucan said, a grim determination in his eyes.
I looked towards the portal leading to Mephisto's domain. I could feel it, a vast gaze from beyond the veil, watching, learning. It had locked onto me after I attacked Nightmare. I had no doubt that if I acted again, the owner of that gaze, Mephisto, would make a move himself.
And it wasn't time for that yet; I first needed to be sure that both Satannish and D'Spayre could be contained before I could move from here.
"Bahaha!" laughed Gawain. "Bold words for a mere demon, time to face the sun!" he proudly declared, pointing Galatine at the towering demon, a promise of solar flares to come.
The great demon just looked at him with disdain. "The Sun? How dare a lesser mortal speak of the Sun before me, a being who has devoured suns! I shall tear the light from your flesh and consume your soul!"
As the demon lord declared his threats, Mordred, having spent her energy and being in front of the demon lord, was the first target. A great ball of fire, hotter than any forge on Earth, was launched towards her.
Mordred, however, wasn't someone who had spent all her energy as the demon might have assumed. Sure, she had used a lot, but to think she was weak? That was pure foolishness. She wasn't panting from exhaustion, but from a desire to fight.
She was the Knight of Treachery, but also the Knight of Rebellion. She was one who was born to defy, to fight, to cut down her father, the great king. A being of pure rebellion, and now she faced a demon of great power.
And what did she do?
She laughed.
"Is that all you got?" she taunted, her voice ringing with defiance. "I've faced hotter baths than that!"
The fireball washed over her, but to the shock of the demon lord, it didn't burn her. Her armor, a gift from her mother, was not just for show; it was made from powerful magical alloys, and enchanted by the witch herself, one who was also the queen of the Fey.
It was a Noble Phantasm in and of itself, and breaking that? That wasn't something easily done by a casual attack.
The demon lord's eyes widened in surprise. "Impossible! No mortal armor should be able to withstand my hellfire!"
"I'm no mere mortal, you oversized furnace," Mordred shot back, a confident smirk on her face as she stood amidst the fading flames. "I am Mordred, Knight of the Round Table and heir to the throne of Camelot. And you, you're just a speed bump on my way to more interesting fights."
"Insolent whelp!" the demon roared, his anger now palpable. The ground around him cracked, the air itself seeming to warp from the sheer heat of his fury. "I will make you regret those words!"
He raised his clawed hands, and chains of fire erupted from the ground, snaking towards Mordred, trying to bind her, to drag her into the flames.
But she was quicker, her movements a blur of motion as she danced between the fiery chains, her sword a silver arc in the inferno. She was in her element; the thrill of the battle, the joy of the fight, it was all she needed.
Gawain watched her for a moment, and then let out a laugh. "Good spirit, but I will not be outdone!" he roared as he held his sword high. It started to glow brighter and brighter, the power of the sun that the king had blessed him with, mixed with the power of the Sun that Galatine possessed, created a truly terrifying heat.
A heat that was far more than the demon lord's own.
The demon lord turned his attention towards Gawain, a look of confusion on his face. "What is this? The sun... in the hands of a mortal?" He couldn't help but ask in shock, having never imagined that when Gawain first spoke of the sun, he was in fact able to back that claim up.
"This is the power of my king," Gawain declared, his sword now a miniature sun. "And I am her Knight of the Sun! You will learn to fear the light!"
He swung his sword, and a wave of solar energy erupted from the blade, a torrent of pure, unadulterated sunlight that washed over the battlefield. The demons caught in its path screamed as they were burned, their forms dissolving into ash.
The demon lord, however, was not so easily dispatched. He raised a shield of darkness, a vortex of shadow that seemed to absorb the sunlight, but even then, he was pushed back, the sheer force of the attack staggering him.
"You... you dare..." the demon stammered, a look of disbelief on his face.
"Don't turn your back on me!" Mordred didn't want to be ignored. Not now. She had been fighting a grand battle, and this demon, this great threat, had decided to ignore her to deal with Gawain? That was not something she could stand for.
So she did what any angry, prideful knight would do. She lunged, her sword held high, her body a blur of motion as she closed the distance between them.
The demon lord, still reeling from Gawain's attack, was caught off guard. He turned to face her, but he was too slow. Mordred's sword found its mark, piercing the demon's chest, the blade sinking deep into his flesh.
The demon lord roared in pain and fury, a sound that shook the very foundations of the demi-plane. He lashed out with a clawed hand, catching Mordred in the chest and sending her flying.
She crashed to the ground, her armor cracked and smoking, but she was on her feet in an instant, a fierce grin on her face. "Is that all you got?" she taunted, wiping a trickle of blood from her lip. "I've had harder hits from my father during training!"
Gawain seized the opportunity, his sword once again glowing with the power of the sun. "Now, demon! Face the full fury of the dawn!"