The earth shuddered anew, not from the gateway swelling, but from the abyssal horrors surging out of it.

  Angar’s eyes set on the first to emerge. It was a behemoth that stood far beyond the reavers’ terror, like a titan of malice that smothered the air with its presence.

  Its color was a sick blend of dark green and brown. Its skin was rough, thick, and gnarled, like a crude hide or the bark of a diseased tree, and covered in scars all over, very unlike the sleek obsidian of the reavers.

  It bore wounds that would have felled lesser creatures, and many of them, as if each massive scar was a source of pride, making it stronger, adding to its unholy endurance.

  The beast's head was not unlike that of a man’s, but monstrous man, with a massive jaw and long, jagged teeth poking out, some as long as a man’s hand.

  Its small and beady eyes were set deep within folds of flesh and its eye sockets, glowing with malevolence, and a hunger for death and destruction.

  Its body was massive and bulked with muscles, with thick and sinewy arms ending in hands large enough to easily wrap around a man’s head.

  Its legs were like tree trunks ending in huge, clawed feet, it’s heavy weight leaving deep imprints in the black crust of cooled lava.

  It rested a massive club on its shoulder, easily the size of a man, if not larger. It wore a crude belt made of bones around its waist.

  Like the reavers, the air around it was heavy with the stench of decay and brimstone, as if it carried the taint of Hell with it.

  And like the reaver, it laughed strangely. Or seemed to, in these abyssal creatures’ way, like it wasn’t a noise made by a mouth. Its laughter was a deep and guttural sound that resonated with the agony of the damned, a sound that seemed to echo from within the depths of the Underworld itself.

  Unlike the reavers, this creature didn’t only promised death, it seemed to embody the inevitability of it. It looked like its purpose wasn’t just to kill, but to destroy hope, to make every warrior question their resolve and faith in the face of such unholiness.

  Dark whispers tickled Angar’s mind, but softly, more like barely heard muttering far off in the distance.

  Six or so of these creatures had already emerged from the gateway with more exiting and swelling their numbers as he watched.

  All of them completely ignored Angar and seemed to stare off south, he assumed drawn to the challenge beacon at Nalitha.

  If Spirit needed to rest after using her body to light up the caves and the Steadfast, he wasn't expecting to see her again anytime soon, not after the ordeal they had just endured together.

  His hands still throbbed in agony, but there was nothing he could do about that. He didn’t know why he was being ignored, but he figured that would change when he moved. And he had to move to get his weapon.

  The maul was leaning against his backpack, both in front of him, nearer the gateway, and every second that passed placed more of these monsters between him and it.

  His fingers, sluggish as if wading through tar, resisted his will, the corrupted flesh groaning with each forced twitch, something else he could do nothing about.

  Gritting his teeth, he pressed his palms into the jagged lava-crust, the warmth biting through his blackened skin as he shoved himself upright.

  With a grunt, he lunged into a forward roll, ash clouding around him, and snatched the maul’s hilt mid-tumble, its familiar weight a fleeting balm against the throbbing ache.

  His heart thundered in his chest, not from fear, but from anticipation of battle.

  "I offer you blood and battle, Lord," he snarled out. A poor prayer, but he needed to offer up something and didn’t have time to think of better.

  The monsters he could see were turning towards him. Gripping the sanctified maul with both hands, Angar swung with all his might, aiming low to shatter the nearest behemoth’s trunk-like legs and topple its bulk.

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  The hammer crashed against its gnarled hide with a dull, resonant thud, a ripple of force shuddering up his arms. But the beast stood unmoved, its scarred flesh absorbing the blow as if mocking his strength.

  As a club swung at him, Angar activated Ground Current, his form dissipating into charged particles that surged through the earth, moving immediately to his target spot. He emerged behind the three behemoths that had begun heading south, the lava-crust cracking under their feet.

  With the Geomagnetic Phenomena upgrade, bolts of lightning struck from his exit point, crackling through the air, striking each monster with a force, then bouncing back and forth between those in range, but not killing any.

  Without a moment's pause, while the stun from the Merciless 2 upgrade held them frozen, he swung his maul at the creature in the middle. The impact was like a thunderclap, but these creatures seemed built to endure. The stun ended as the blow landed, the monster’s eyes now burning with a hatred that seemed endless.

  As the flanking behemoths pivoted, their grotesque eyes glinting with malice, all three hefted their massive clubs in unison, poised to crush him.

  Angar triggered Tempest, his body erupted into a whirlwind, the maul a streaking blur of sanctified chert slicing through the air.

  Thunderstorm flared to life, jagged bolts of lightning leaping from the weapon’s head, arcing outward in crackling tendrils that stretched further with each spin, lashing the charging monsters eager to trample him, then forking beyond to sear the shambling horde behind them.

  The air was charged, now heavy with the reek of burning flesh. Each spin sent the maul striking the three monsters in front of him with the force of a storm, but these strange creatures really were built to endure.

  The reavers had been shredded by his lightning once he'd selected his Capstone, sending his Power Level surging. But these Hellspawn, these unholy abominations, would not fall so easily.

  Not one of the three even flinched to flee as they should have, unlike the reavers, some of whom had tried to scatter. Nor did any of those looming behind. Instead, every single one of these behemoth surged forward, hungering for blood.

  The three beasts before Angar took each strike from his maul's whirl as their colossal clubs descending like a rockslide upon him. His enhanced speed tempted him to flee from what should have been fatal blows, but the final Thunderstorm Upgrade gave him 90% damage reduction while Tempest was active.

  He resolved to keep his hammer pounding into these beasts, dodging their attacks as best he could. He managed to sidestep two of their swings, those clubs crashing into the lava crust, showering the air with molten fragments. The heat from the craters was intense, the glowing lava beneath still orange.

  But the last club smashed down on his skull with bone-crushing force. Despite the damage mitigation, agony throbbed through his head, the impact feeling like it split his skull open. He was surprised the blow hadn’t driven him deeply into the crust. He remained on its surface, still spinning.

  To evade the other two strikes, he had to move away, causing his maul to lose contact with one behemoth as he moved out of range, then, when he could, move back into it.

  And as he spun like a whirlwind of destruction, lightning extended further and further from the tip of his maul, forking, sending more lightning further, and forking again, hitting additional behemoths.

  Many roared in pain, or maybe just annoyance, but not one had been felled.

  Four behemoths were now in range of his spinning maul, each hit causing damage, but not enough. As he spun, he avoided another round of club smashes, hoping, praying for some proof these monsters weren’t invincible and could be killed.

  And as Tempest ended, his prayer was answered. In front of him, two of the behemoths lay dead, dying during the last second of the Ability. The third, having taken less of his hammer blows, was gravely injured, but alive. The fourth, the late arrival, looked a little battered.

  These beasts were extremely tough, but they could be defeated, just not easily.

  Unlike with the reavers, lightning didn’t seem to damage these new monsters much. But each hit of lightning still counted towards Glory Thunders. He dodged a massive blow of a club, darted in, his maul whacking the injured behemoth square in the chest.

  The shockwave didn't rend it asunder as it had most of the reavers, but its impact was extreme, hurling the third, fourth, and many of the oncoming behemoths backwards.

  Some in the Capstone’s cone managed to stand their ground, but those weren’t unscathed. They howled in pain, their bodies jerking and bloody from the unexpected assault.

  Shockwave or not, many behemoths still lumbered towards him.

  Blood from his head wound began trickling down his forehead, threatening to obscure his vision. He wiped it with the back of a blackened and transformed forearm.

  Too many were approaching, and more were coming out of the gateway. He couldn’t stand against this many at once. He couldn't stay in one spot for long either.

  Angar darted away, the ground trembling as the behemoths plodded after him, shaking the earth with each step.

  The reavers had fallen easily before his lightning Abilities. These behemoths didn’t. Not one had died from his bolts.

  Tempest did the trick, but Tempest had a 30 second cooldown. Glory Thunder did the trick, but only if he unleashed Tempest amid a big enough group to accumulate the necessary 200 Thunder to activate it.

  He came up with a plan. The resilience of these creatures made things much harder. This would be a game of attrition.

  Hit and run as the monsters made their way south to the challenge beacon, waiting on cooldowns then doing what damage he could before fleeing away.

  This war of attrition would grind him down. He’d fall beneath their relentless tide, his end inevitable.

  But his chest filled with defiance. These monsters would claim him, but not without a fight to sear his name in glory, a deed to be sung about.

  The Lord hungered, and Angar would fill His gut with plenty, as he’d send scores of these behemoths back to Hell, a Crusader’s final offering of battle and blood, and an oath fulfilled.