Beautiful. It was the word that came to Urifir's mind as he watched his men battle. Being linked to them through a network of power as he was, he could tell how well they were working together. He was proud of his troops. They were still able to perform organized maneuvers even in the chaos of battle. This was phenomenal considering how mixed up the front lines were.

It was clear the enemy preferred to fight individually and would rampage or bowl into whatever was in their path. The extent of their teamwork seemed to amount to a group of them rushing all at once at their victims. If the initial charge could be absorbed in such a way that the individual enemies were drawn in and surrounded, his own forces could then press in on each fiend and slaughter them. It was the job of a good shield user, who isn't afraid of getting burned, to engage and pressure the fiend in front of him. This would limit the fiend's movement, prevent it from rampaging as it wishes and forces it into the soldier's pace.

The ability of his troops being able to withdraw as an entire unit while engaging the tide of monsters rushing at them is what made Urifir so proud of them. He wondered if it was a hidden strength of a mixed unit to be able to pull off such maneuvers. Mixed units were really adaptable.

He allowed each of his soldiers to use whatever equipment they were best with for a reason. He greatly valued individual skill and strength and made sure his men could also work together cohesively by holding private war games. He enjoyed the spectacle and awarded the best with promotions and other perks. He knew his troops were the best among the armies of the other Elders. Urifir used to propose competitions, but the other Elders all refused to participate more than a few times. His troops were always triumphant.

His careful attention in honing his troops was finally paying off.

...

Lan's shield arm was getting heavier and his sword arm was already half numb. When his slashes became feeble he resorted to simple threatening feints and stabs. He was finally calming down from the initial battle frenzy, finding that balance of adrenaline and self-restraint so he wouldn't burn through all of his energy too soon. He was eternally grateful for the spearmen behind him. Every time he was slow to react to a fiend slipping around him, a spear would impale the monster before it could do him serious harm.

He could trust his comrades, he wasn't fighting for his life by himself. After his life was saved numerous times by the men around him, his movements and actions became more methodical. He wouldn't hold back when a fiend broke through the line nearby. He would charge it, ram his shield into it before it charged further into the ranks and make it wary of his blade. Then while he had the fiend's attention, his comrades would kill it. The fighting was like clockwork.

His world was small, he couldn't see far through the glowing mist and the amount of noise was suffocating, but he became less intimidated by the enemies' glow after he realized how convenient it was. It allowed him to easily spot his enemy and tell friend from foe. He was still too full of adrenaline to pay the smell of burned flesh any heed. If he lived, he might have nightmares about this battle, but only pushing hard with his shield and stabbing at the eyes mattered at that moment.

Then the situation changed.

...

As Viram arrived at the square, his nearby underlings gave him plenty of room. The ground was glowing glass in his wake. His gaze promised death on anything that got in his way. Even the clouds looked more distant and the mist evaporated in haste at his approach. As he made his way to the front, the fighting slowed down. The clouds above were pushed up as if by an invisible dome.

The rain still fell but the mist had thinned or vanished. Urifir and Falar stepped out of the command tent and could see the entire messy square if they'd only had the time to look. Viram commanded all the eyes that would have roamed. He seethed power and grew to nearly triple his normal height to tower over everything but the few juvenile lava dragons.

"Worthless creatures!" Viram raised his arms above his head as flames curled up and down them, "You will all submit to me or die!"

Only the falling rain moved as a massive ball of fire grew from Viram's hands.

Urifir didn't need to do anything to sense the massive amount of power Viram was conjuring. The fiend he and the other Elders fought outside the city was nothing compared to this monster.

"Fall-" Urifir's voice barely came out. He had to swallow and try again. "FALL BACK! NOW!"

Many of his men and even Falar were still staring at the hellish spectacle before them. There was no light but that which came from the hot waves that emanated from Viram's hands. The sight and the waves of power coming from him were so shocking that all were transfixed. Perhaps this is what a sand crab feels as an unstoppable tidal wave transforms its horizon. Urifir's hysteric voice didn't even reach them.

Urifir looked around for any signs that he had been heard. Falar's face was frozen with his mouth hanging stupidly open, so Urifir ran up to him and slapped him without mercy.

Falar finally reacted after his body smashed into the ground. His wide vacant eyes finally registered Urifir. When he found his voice, all he could do was ask, "What should we do?"

Urifir almost broke his own teeth from how hard he clenched them and his hands were turning numb from how hard he was making fists as he looked down on his friend. "We do what we planned before!"

Falar was frozen again, this time by the look in Urifir's eyes. Urifir once again yelled and resorted to kicking at Falar's legs, "Move! NOW!" He couldn't believe how ridiculous the situation was. He'd never felt as alive as he did now, nor as certain of his own doom.

While Falar stumbled into action and shook sense back into his lieutenants, Urifir reconnected the network of power that had been severed by Viram's spectacle. He had to exert more will than before so that the network could survive the waves of Viram's interfering power.

When he finally connected with as many as he could with so little time, he sent a surge of power through the connection and mentally ordered all his forces and allies to fall back. To follow their contingency plans immediately. Urifir knew that their best chance was to act while Viram's own forces were still distracted by the growing fireball.

...

Lan's heart seemed to beat again and he nearly fell to the ground when Urifir's surge of power shot through him. He looked around at the living statues surrounding him. His battered shield was still half clutched by the tall fiend next to him and his sword point was still ready to pierce into the side of its gut. The fiend was still paying him no attention as he carefully slid his shield out if its grip and snuck away between the other fiends, following close on the heels of his comrades.

The glow and the heat were only getting stronger and stronger and the fiends paid the fleeing elves almost no mind as they watched their leader. The fire fiends knew Viram's flame was imbued with enough power to incinerate even them. They looked on with fear and wonder as Viram launched the fireball into the storm.

Lan was blinded by the light that passed through the back of his head before it reached his eyes as he ran. He could smell burnt hair and wasn't sure if it was his own or some other unfortunate soul's. As he ran, his head was full of odd thoughts. He should have been more afraid but his mind was busy realizing that going bald wouldn't be an issue if they all died. His eyes focused on the burnt fabric of the armor on the person in front of him. His gaze took in the smoking hair and noted how the metal helmet still protected his comrade's scalp. He saw the blisters along their sweaty neck and began to take notice of the stinging he felt from his own skin.

Then he noticed how the rain wasn't cooling him off anymore. It had stopped falling.