Roland wasted no time after the first elite fell under his control.

One after another, the bone-crested demons buckled before his will, each bound by blood and mana until five of the towering brutes fought at his side.

Their serrated glaives tore through the enemy ranks, every strike sending shockwaves that carved gaps in the horde of demons.

There were thousands behind them, but with the five he managed to tame, their numbers were dwindling by the second.

The tide, which had pressed relentlessly against Renar's soldiers, now began to stagger backward.

Yet the barrier above them continued to crack.

The golden dome shuddered under the force of the horde's assault, fractures spreading outward like glass on the verge of shattering.

Each coordinated strike threatened to bring the entire defense crumbling down.

Then, a soft radiance gathered behind Roland.

The Light Spirits descended, their forms coalescing in streams of gold and white, flowing like living threads across the barrier's surface.

Where cracks spread, the spirits pressed their light into the fractures, weaving them shut before they could break fully.

Roland felt the surge immediately.

Mana was forced into his body, it flooded into him. It was not his own, but a gift poured through the spirits of light that gathered behind him.

His exhaustion lightened, his reserves filling with steady warmth.

His blades pulsed in rhythm with the flow, and even the black sword at his side hummed more fiercely, resonating with the influx of energy.

He stepped forward, eyes fixed on the next wave pressing against them.

[How about it, Elios? Do you think we'll have enough mana to kill them all? Your friends are charging me up, but these demons… they feel stronger than the ones before.]

[The only reason they seem harder is the mana stones implanted into their bodies. But you carry a true core within yourself. Keep attacking, and we will break them all.]

Roland not only heard Elios' confidence but felt it surge through him, steady and unwavering.

"Good," Roland muttered, tightening his grip. "If you'll keep me standing, then I'll keep cutting them down."

The ground shook as more bone-crested elites emerged from the press of the horde.

Their jagged crests glowed faintly with corrupted mana, and each one barked orders that snapped the lesser demons into formation.

No longer was it a mindless wave these creatures fought with coordinated precision, driving wedges into Renar's defensive lines.

To make matters worse, packs of demonic beasts were unleashed among them.

Hulking wolf-like monsters with bone plates and twisted horns crashed into the shield wall, snapping spears and dragging men screaming into the melee.

The disciplined line Renar held began to buckle under the combined assault of commanders and beasts.

Roland cursed under his breath.

"They've even mutated animals..."

He reached into his storage device and pulled free several mana crystals already etched with light magic.

Elios' voice flared in his mind as the golden aether from the spirits poured into the bombs.

[Throw them, Roland. Let Light tear the corruption apart. Their poison will cease to exist after these, and you shall have the respite you need to keep pushing forward.]

With a snap of his wrist, Roland hurled the first bomb into the thick of the enemy.

A burst of radiance erupted, searing through demon flesh, shattering bone, and scattering beasts mid-leap.

But unlike fire or steel, the blast left no harm upon the humans nearby.

Instead, the wave of light washed over them, closing wounds, knitting torn flesh, and filling them with renewed strength.

Gasps rose from Renar's soldiers as strength returned to their arms.

"The hero he has healed us! Don't falter, we just need to keep attacking them while he kills them!" one shouted, rallying those around him.

Roland was already throwing another mana crystal like a grenade towards another section of the barrier.

"Don't stop pushing!" he yelled, hurling the second bomb into another cluster of beasts.

"They are but mindless animals! Let's show them what we humans can do!"

After another round of bombs, Roland felt the drain of both mana and his stamina creeping back into his limbs.

The flow from the spirits was steady, but it would not last forever.

With a exhausted sigh, he called his dual light elemental blades back to his side and drew the dark sword from his storage.

The weapon sang as it slid free, its blackened edge drinking in the golden light around it converting light into darkness mana with ease.

The moment Roland's grip closed around the hilt, the air shifted.

Each strike he delivered with it grew heavier, faster, and stronger, as if absorbing the enemy's soul with just a mere touch.

Demons crumpled like rotted husks beneath its touch, their bodies unraveling into ash and dust before they hit the ground.

And with every kill, the whispers grew louder.

[Strike again… more… their lives feed your strength…]

Roland clenched his teeth, but the pull was intoxicating.

His light-forged blades at his sides vibrated with agitation, their radiance flaring as though trying to push the dark sword away.

The clash of aether between them crackled in the air, sharp enough that even the nearest soldiers recoiled.

The men fighting beside him began to murmur, casting uneasy glances.

Roland's movements were no longer just efficient they had taken on a savage rhythm.

His strikes lingered, cutting deeper than needed, almost savoring the kill.

Each cry of a slain demon was answered by the hum of the blade, and Roland found his lips curling into a grin he hadn't meant to make.

That was when Elios' voice struck like a lash in his mind.

[Enough, Roland! You carry Light within you, yet you swing a blade forged in the pits of corruption. Do not let it master you. Every time you wield it, you tread closer to becoming what you fight.]

The words rang louder than the evil whispers, bringing him back to reason.

For a heartbeat, Roland froze in place, his grip tightening on the sword.

The whispers hissed angrily at Elios' intrusion, but the strong spirit of light overpowered the weapon easily and made Roland see that his way was wrong.

Roland spat onto the bloodied earth. "Tch… damn you both. Quit speaking directly into my mind, it's going to give me a migraine hearing so many voices at once…"

Roland pressed forward, black steel carving arcs through the press of demons.

Yet as he pushed more aether into the blade, he felt something strange, a resistance, not from the enemy, but from the barrier itself.

The golden dome shuddered as if rejecting him, its light bending away whenever the dark sword flared with power.

For a fleeting moment, shapes flickered within the radiance above.

Figures of pure brilliance hovered in the cracks, their gazes heavy and silent, as though weighing Roland's worth.

He could not hear their words, yet he felt their judgment press against his chest: why wield the weapon of the enemy, when Light was already his to command?

Renar caught sight of him then, hacking down a beast even as his eyes flicked to Roland's shadowed aura.

But with every kill, the darkness around Roland thickened, and the faint grin curling at the boy's lips sent a chill into the commander's bones.

"Spirits help us…" Renar muttered under his breath, raising his shield again. "He's saving us now, but if he keeps feeding that blade… what will he become?"

Roland wiped the sweat from his brow, eyes narrowing on another bone-crested elite rallying its troops outside the barrier's reach.

The spirits still poured strength into him, but their light recoiled whenever his dark sword flared.

He felt their unspoken disapproval like a weight pressing down on his chest.

"They don't want me in here with this thing…" he muttered, glancing at the weapon.

With a long breath, he turned and strode out of the barrier's protection, golden light bending closed behind him as he passed through.

One of the elites roared when he saw him coming out, hefting a massive spiked mace.

Roland drew blood from his palm and poured mana into the seal, thrusting his will forward to bind it.

The blood-filled fist slammed into the demon and began eroding the fiend's mind within seconds.

Unlike Azumorak or even the first bone-crested brute, this one fought back with savage ferocity, its resistance nearly breaking the link and threatening to snap back on Roland himself.

His pulse hammered in his ears, pain lancing down his arm as the backlash built.

"Damn it—" Roland hissed, staggering as the elite pushed against him, step by step. He was close to killing off the demon, which he had tamed, due to losing control.

His vision darkened at the edges, the whispers of the dark sword clamoring for him to let go, to simply kill instead of bind.

Then, from the side, a glaive slashed across the battlefield.

Roland's first tamed elite slammed into its former comrade, knocking the mace aside and pinning the brute in place.

Through their bond, Roland felt its obedience, its willingness to help him finish the binding.

With renewed focus, Roland poured the last of his strength into the seal.

The elite shrieked once, then fell silent, its knees buckling as it bowed before him.

Another commander of the horde, now his.

The tide shifted instantly.

With two bone-crested elites under his command, the enemy's formations faltered.

The demons who had pressed forward so confidently now stumbled in confusion, their coordination unraveling as their leaders turned on them.

Renar's forces roared, pressing the advantage, spears and blades striking with new hope.

But then the battlefield itself trembled. Above, the barrier let out a thunderous crack that echoed like the sky splitting.

From beyond the dome, a massive shadow spread its wings, blotting out the light.

A demon lord, colossal and winged, pushed against the failing barrier, its presence alone drowning the battlefield in dread.

Roland lifted his head, sweat and blood dripping from his chin, the dark sword humming hungrily at his side. Even with two elites under his control, he knew the true battle was only just beginning.

He then forced himself to sheathe the dark sword and rely on his dual light blades, though their radiant edges were already beginning to fracture. But only with them did he feel he would get the backup he needed to end this fight from the light spirits.