A wave of Black Mist followed on the heels of Connor's arrival, swamping the battlefield in a mire of undead mana laced with his own abilities' aura. The power of that aura, of which I only dimly recalled from the siege of the ice gate in Brithlite, flowed into the undead horde, revitalizing them like dried grass soaked in water.
The sudden surge of the Risens' auras fell like a hammer against Incinderus's offensive, stopping it in its tracks. All that had kept them together were their numbers, but now they began to climb in power, absorbing the life energy of the demons they killed. Elves that were once great warriors in life, but had succumbed to the black mist, began to regain their abilities as they climbed in strength, matching the evolved demons blow for blow.
"Why are you here?" R'lissea asked, gripping her staff so hard her knuckles turned white. "Why?"
"Merely repaying a debt. My last debt," Connor said, giving Lord Evlon a sharp look.
