As Canna watched the corpse explosions devastate the battlefield, he noticed that the creatures of great-calamity rank were unfazed, their monstrous forms standing impervious amidst the chaos. However, this setback was of little concern to him. What he needed was not merely destruction but the blood that flowed from the fallen.
As the last echoes of the explosions faded, Canna activated one of the scythe's abilities, "Blood Pact."
A voice echoed in Canna's mind, dripping with disdain. "Disgusting, monster blood—low ranks at that. I've been parched for a hundred years, and I never imagined my first drink would be from such vile creatures. Still, blood is blood. If you are a worthy master, you should slay an angel for me.
Their blood is the sweetest of all." Skal's voice carried a mix of complaint and demand, revealing his dark desires.
Canna was momentarily taken aback by Skal's words, the mention of angels and their blood hinting at a deeper, more sinister nature to the weapon he wielded. Yet, he had no time to ponder Skal's hunger. The battlefield required his attention. With "Blood Pact" active, Canna felt a surge of power as the scythe absorbed the blood of the fallen monsters, invigorating him.
He swiftly followed up with another skill, "Blood Infusion," replenishing his stamina and mana reserves to their fullest. The rush of energy was exhilarating, and he could feel the scythe's eagerness for more bloodshed. Not wasting a moment, Canna tapped into the power of Bahamut's Bloody Ring, summoning an undead army to bolster his forces.
As high-ranking undead warriors emerged from the ground, their skeletal and decayed forms bristling with dark energy, Canna added to the chaos with "Necrotic Call." This ability summoned spectral warriors, ethereal beings that shimmered with a ghostly light, ready to sow terror and destruction among the living.
In mere minutes, Canna had conjured an entire army, turning the tide of the battle in an instant.
The sight was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. A legion of undead and spectral warriors stood ready at Canna's command, their eyes gleaming with a malevolent intelligence. The battlefield, already stained with the blood of countless monsters, now became a theater of the macabre as the undead forces began their relentless advance.
The air was filled with the acrid smell of ozone and burnt flesh, as screams of pain and terror echoed across the battlefield.
Not pausing, Canna continued to unleash his elemental fury. With a deep, guttural roar, he activated "Fire Breath," expelling a torrent of flames that swept across the enemy lines. The fire consumed everything in its path, reducing monsters to ash and setting the very earth ablaze. The combined might of his lightning and fire abilities created a hellscape where few could hope to survive.
Canna's Harbinger title further amplified the chaos, granting him an additional surge of power whenever he faced multiple opponents. The battlefield seemed to respond to his will, each swing of his scythe, each elemental attack, leaving devastation in its wake. His movements were a blur, a deadly dance of fire and lightning, as he carved through the enemy ranks with terrifying efficiency.
Meanwhile, Mortem's undead legion capitalized on the disarray, their ghastly forms moving through the flames and smoke with an eerie calm. The spectral warriors, summoned through "Necrotic Call," swooped down on the confused and terrified monsters, their ethereal weapons slicing through flesh and bone.
Every fallen monster added to Mortem's growing horde, the battlefield littered with the reanimated dead and the echoes of their spectral cries. Your next adventure is on m_v_l_e_mpyr
Vorgrim and Grimruk, following Canna's earlier commands, had reached the backlines where the entities Canna spotted were stationed. These creatures, sensing the shift in battle, prepared to engage the two warriors. But even as they did, they could not ignore the overwhelming presence of Canna—a singular force of destruction that dominated the battlefield.
As the battle raged on, it became clear that Canna's unleashed power was not just a weapon but a statement. The monsters, initially driven by their singular goal to destroy the kingdom, now faced an unexpected and overwhelming resistance. The air was thick with tension, as the once assured march of the monster horde faltered under the relentless assault.
In the midst of this apocalyptic scene, Canna stood as the harbinger of both hope and despair—a savior to the kingdom's defenders, a nightmare to its enemies. His power was undeniable, his wrath uncontainable. The kingdom of Avaloria, on the brink of annihilation, now bore witness to the true potential of the one who wielded the Bloodfang Scythe.
The battle was far from over, but as Canna continued his onslaught, it was clear that the tide had turned. The kingdom's fate now hung in the balance, poised between the light of salvation and the darkness of total destruction. And at the center of it all was Canna, a figure both terrifying and awe-inspiring, wielding the power of a true Harbinger.