Chapter 9 Part 2

The C.R.A.I.G army stands before the demons, a legion of mist-like golems adorned in glistening black armour that gleamed with hints of golden accents. The metallic sheen of their attire whispers of meticulous craftsmanship, evoking an air of regality and power. Each golem stands tall, their armour seamless and polished, reflecting the ambient light as if stars themselves were trapped within.

(Narrator) Fuck! Dime really outdid himself with these guys.

The surface of their armament is smooth, its obsidian hue reflecting the world around them, yet concealing the nature of their misty composition. It appears as if the very shadows have materialised into an impenetrable armour, offering protection and intimidation in equal measure. The darkness of their attire is deep, yet it bares an ethereal luminescence, adding an otherworldly aura to their presence.

Delicate golden accents trace intricate patterns across each set of armour, reminiscent of The Gods etched by a master craftsman's hand. Each stroke of gold serves as a stark contrast against the black, emphasising the elegance and meticulous attention to detail. Swirling motifs of mythical creatures, intertwined vines, and celestial constellations adorned their breastplates and pauldrons.

The golems' helmets are striking, crowned with a regal crest of Loreafan that rose above their visors. The faceplates are featureless, shrouding their true nature, while the eye slits seem to emit a soft, amber flame, hinting at the otherworldly power that animated these ethereal warriors.

As the C.R.A.I.G army shifts and moves, the golden accents catch the light, casting radiant glimmers that mesmerise those who behold them. The juxtaposition of light and shadow, the gleam of gold against the dark backdrop, lend an aura of awe-inspiring majesty to their appearance. The perfect stage set for a brand new legend come to life.

In the presence of the C.R.A.I.G army, on the side of the demons, the air crackled with a sense of dread and fear. Noone was expecting a rift to spawn in such a massive force.

The rift closes as the final Golems pass through They're standing at attention in perfectly structured lines. Awaiting their orders.

"Your highness, this is incredible. But are you sure you're ok with lending us such a large force?" The Duke says, His body shaking in response to the rumbling of the dirt beneath him.

(Dime) 100% C.R.A.I.G has been successfully implemented. They await your instruction, Your Highness. Be advised, vague instructions may lead to unintended side effects.

Christopher gives the Duke a reassuring smile and begins walking towards his army, when he gets close, all of their heads snap to face him. Just their heads too, turning 180° in a flash. It was honestly kinda unnerving. Christopher ponders his options, keeping a strong and commanding stance. One Golem steps forth, the commander of the formidable presence.

"Golems, hear my command! Today, we face a formidable enemy—a demonic horde that threatens the world and its people. We must stand strong and defend these lands with unwavering resolve. I summon you, my loyal army, to march forth and unleash your mighty power upon the enemy." Wait, that came out of Christopher's mouth?

(Narrator) Woosfh, this is gonna take a ton out of him.

(Golem Commander) Your Highness, we are ready to serve. We shall be the guardians of your realm, the indomitable force that strikes fear into the hearts of your foes. Our misty forms shall engulf the battlefield, swift and relentless.

"I have witnessed your unwavering loyalty and your impenetrable armour. Cloaked in darkness, yet gleaming like starlight, you shall inspire hope and awe among our forces. Lead the charge, my stalwart golems, and decimate the demonic invaders with all your might."

(Golem Commander) Your will shall be done, Your Highness. We shall surge forward, an unstoppable force born of mist and steel. My golem brethren shall move in perfect unison, as if a single entity, wielding your ethereal spells and weapons with unmatched precision.

The commander enacts the Loreafanian bow to show respect to his king.

(Golem Commander) All hail His Majesty. All hail to The Great Healer King!

The Golem Soldiers raise their blades to the sky and repeat the commander's words. The sound echoes across the battlefield, raising the spirits of the evacuees who bear witness. And striking fear into the hearts of their foes.

"Remember, my mighty golems, the safety of our world rests upon your broad shoulders. Protect the people, crush the enemy, and let the echoes of victory resound throughout the land. May the power of the C.R.A.I.G army prevail!"

Hoo's and hah's erupt from the sea of black and gold. Warcries and the sound of metal hitting metal fill the air. The golems are ready and raring to go.

(Golem Commander) Your words are etched upon our being, Young King. We shall execute your command with unwavering determination. With every swing of our enchanted blades, with every step we take, we shall defend the realm and drive back the forces of darkness. The demon army shall know the might of the C.R.A.I.G army.

"Now go, my faithful golems! Unleash your fury upon the enemy, and may victory be ours. Return triumphant, and the Mercterian kingdom shall forever honour your valour and strength. Onward, to battle!"

The golems march with a corporeal grace, their misty forms gliding across the battlefield. Each step sends ripples through the air, the ground trembling in anticipation. Synchronised and precise, they charge forward, shiny black armour catching sunlight, golden accents glimmering.

Relentless and unstoppable, the golems strike with swift precision. Spells flying, blades cutting, shockwaves rippling with every blow. Impenetrable armour deflects incoming attacks, while their coordinated movements strike fear into their adversaries.

The golems, embodiments of unwavering loyalty and resolve, advance as a singular force. With an otherworldly aura, they embody the young king's indomitable will.

"Your Highness. These golems are, horrifying." the Duke cowers.

The golem, towering and imposing, standing amidst the chaos of battle. Its misty form swirling with an eerie intensity as it locks eyes with a horde of demons, their menacing snarls echoing through the air. With a thunderous roar, the golem lunges forward, its movements fluid and calculated.

As the first demon charges, claws outstretched, equipped with large metal talons. The golem meets the attack head-on. With a swift sweep of its enchanted ebony blade, it cleaves through the demon's defences, cutting through flesh and bone. The demon's life force dissipated in a wisp of dark energy, lost in the ethereal mist.

Undeterred, the remaining demons encircle the golem, their eyes filled with malice. They launch a flurry of strikes, blades swiping all over the place, attempting to overwhelm the golem with sheer numbers. But the golem was an unstoppable force, each movement precise and devastating.

With lightning-fast reflexes, the golem deflects incoming strikes with a sturdy mana shield, its transparent surface ringing with the impact. Its enchanted blade dances through the air, slicing through the demonic horde with lethal accuracy. Demons fall left and right, their bodies dissipating into the shadows.

"What's happening to their bodies?" The Duke asks.

"The golem is absorbing their lifeforce to subsist Loreafan's mana reserves. They shouldn't have the need to consume much more." Christopher explains.

The golem's immense strength and impenetrable armour defies the demons' feeble attempts to break through its defences. It shrugs off their blows effortlessly, their attacks mere scratches against its formidable form. With each swing, the golem sends demons flying, their bodies crashing to the ground in twisted heaps.

As the last demon falls before the golem's might, silence momentarily settles upon the battlefield. The golem stands tall, its chest rising and falling, its golden accents glinting in the aftermath. It surveys the conquered demons with an air of dominance, a testament to its power and unwavering loyalty to its king.

The golem, now stained with the remnants of its triumph, prepares to march forward, its mission far from complete. It is a harbinger of hope for the kingdom, an unstoppable guardian, and a symbol of strength against the forces of The Demon God.

However strong Christopher's golems are, they will eventually run out of steam, crumpling under their own composition. Aware of this limitation, he contemplates joining the fight, his heart torn between the desire to protect his kingdom and the risk of leaving it vulnerable in his absence. I don't believe he has ever valued something more, or perhaps the responsibility of being the ruler of a country weighs him down more than anyone realises. With determination in his eyes, he knows that if he decides to wield his own power on the battlefield, it will be a defining moment, a gamble that could shape the course of his future and the world as a whole.

(Nebulon) Goosebumps. Literal goosebumps.

(Narrator) Thank you. I'm especially proud of that one.

(Nebulon) I can feel the smile on your featureless face right now.

As Christopher's forces fight against the demon hordes, a dark presence emerges from the chaos. The air grows heavy, and the ground trembles under the weight of approaching malevolence. Ralgormath. A high rank demon. Familiar yet foreboding in his power.

"I don't think he'll ask me to go with him this time." Christopher utters.

With Ralgormath's imminent arrival reaching Christopher's ears, he knows that this confrontation would be a struggle, even for his golems. Seeking counsel from his most trusted advisors, he turns to his husband Jasyn, The Mythril Warrior.

"The time has come," Christopher declares, his voice filled with determination. "Ralgormath must be stopped, and I believe it is you, my love, who can face this formidable foe."

"Pfft. I can't take you seriously when I see you act all noble."

After his outburst, he reapplies his formidable appearance. Jasyn's eyes gleamed with a mix of apprehension and resolve. Clad in his renowned mythril armour, he understood the magnitude of the challenge that lay before him. His duty as a warrior and his love for his king intertwined, driving him to accept this daunting task.

With their forces rallying with them, The Healer King and The Mythril Warrior prepare for the epic clash that would determine the fate of Larterda. The weight of expectation hangs in the air as they advance towards the heart of the battle, where Ralgormath awaits, his demonic presence growing stronger with each passing moment.