It was impossible to tell quite what had happened, at least for those who were inexperienced in magic. But Francis – he knew. He could feel his hold over the Hobgoblin broken, shattered beyond all repair. He could feel the heat off those flames, the power of a God, the power of Ingolsol.
It reminded him of when he was sending his monsters into the mountains. More than once, he had felt his bond break with them, yet he could still feel their presence. They'd still been alive, but their loyalty to him had been dismissed, his magic chains had been shattered. He thought that to be merely a symptom of fear, the symptom of any emotionally distressed beast... but now he wondered differently.
Now he wondered if this was not a magic in itself.
Beam put a hand in front of him, and with a great strain, he managed to lift his body up enough to drag himself to one knee.
"Beam..." Nila said, her voice quiet with distress as she watched him.
The monsters were not ones to wait, either. The black flames of the Hobgoblin, they'd burned for a few moments, and the creature itself had inflicted a good amount of carnage, enough for Beam's allies to seize a slight advantage, and buy themselves a few seconds of breathing room.
The Hobgoblin soon turned to ash though, far more quickly than normal flames would burn it through. With its disappearance, the flames began to fade as well, and the caution of the monsters faded, and they dove back in again.
At the same time, the armies thundered in from behind them, merely a few moments away from contact. It wasn't just the monsters either. The black-robed 'humans' – it was hard to tell quite what they were, given their robes – were running after them too, though they struggled to keep up.
A Half-Titan smelt blood and opportunity. It pushed a pack of Horned-Goblins out of its way, as it went stumbling towards Beam, drawn to him, like a magnet. The Titan was also looking in his direction, though with a degree more calmness than its brethren. There was a calculating look to its eye.
GAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRROWWWWWWW
Like a clap of thunder, a straight line of destruction opened up in front of him. The Half-Titan was cleaved cleanly in two.
It didn't stop there, either, Beam's slash ran into another Hobgoblin, and then a herd of Horned-Goblins, and then the last of the Half-Titans... Even the Titan itself was unfortunate to be in the blade's path. The slash killed thirty monsters, and butchered a handful of the robbed figures beyond them, continuing in a line for nearly fifty metres, before it faded into nothing.
And then, once more, Beam coughed up a lungful of black blood, and collapsed.
They were all startled. They were all shocked. The whole battlefield had frozen. But it was only the mighty that understood. The more knowledge they had of combat, the more shocked they were.
The villagers felt a fire burning in them... Indeed, they'd felt that feeling before. But now it was as though they were enshrouded entirely in flame. The moment Beam had swung his sword, and wrought that destruction, enough to part the fog in a misty forest, it was as though he'd parted the fog in their hearts as well, and lit a blazing fire, an impossible flame.
Shock, indeed, they felt shock. But for the villagers, it was more overwhelming than anything. They felt the passion and connectedness usually only reserved for the best trained, most elite fighting force. There was a hardness in their hearts only reserved for the experienced.
If they'd stopped to look, they might have wondered how it was that even the weakest woman was now able to fend off a mighty Horned-Goblin.