The battle dragged on for hours. The knights held their ground, slowly advancing under the leadership of Oliver, who fought with all his might at this point, trying to pave a way that would allow them to get to the gate.
The only way they would be able to win this was if they destroyed the gate; otherwise, there would be no other way. The demonized would simply storm out more and more, and soon they would be exhausted.
Oliver gritted his teeth. He wasn't going to allow the deaths of more men here, he had to stop it. He closed his eyes, using all seven circles of his spirit zone, and the moment he did, the entire battlefield became his own.
He could sense every movement of mana, every heartbeat. He could predict movements before they even happened. His body generated so much lightning that the weaker demonized were killed just by getting close.
This was once Oliver Von Grave that fought battles alongside the three dukes, the Oliver that earned him the praise he had gotten.
