The Final Battlefield

In the heat of the moment, Limon invoked a power that sent tremors through the very earth. Cracks spiderwebbed across the ground, and from the seething fissures, three hulking demon imps, each nearing two meters in height, clambered forth. Their forms were wreathed in an aura of malevolence, their hides a mottled blend of brown and ruddy hues, as if the very essence of the infernal had been given physical form.

No sooner had they emerged than Limon barked out a command, and the imps sprang into action.

Amidst a cacophonous chorus of "Rakaraka," a hail of flaming arrows hurtled through the air, each one trailing a tail of incendiary fury as it streaked towards the undead horde amassed before the beleaguered shield wall.

"Tsk, tsk..."

A brilliant stream of fiery red light cleaved through the air, and in its wake, a multitude of undead were sent sprawling, their skeletal frames shattered and scattered like kindling in a gale.