It wasn't long before the gates of Elris were fully engulfed in war.

Steel clashed against cursed metal as humans and demons fought for control of the castle, a tide of blades, arrows, and magic sweeping across the battlefield.

Above it all, Stella's wards and radiant attacks blazed like a second sun. Her shield gleamed as her light-based skills spread outward, and wherever they touched the soldiers, Elios's blessing took hold of the field.

Thousands of men and women shone with newfound strength, their bodies burning with the radiance of the new Light Spirit's monarch. A massive halo even formed above them all, its brilliance so intense that it blinded those it deemed enemies.

The humans, half-breeds, and even demons who had turned against their kind were aided by the spirits themselves, marching forward fearlessly.

"Forward!" Stella's cry rang clear, her voice cutting through the chaos.

The glow around her swelled, forming a living bulwark as she led the charge toward the castle walls, still sealed shut against them.

The first line of demon defenders slammed against her wards, their corrupt magic surging in waves, but it crumbled uselessly before her searing light.

But while the battle raged outside the great castle's walls, Roland vanished within the shadows behind the great castle. Cloaked by his darkness, he and his strike team slipped toward the fortress's flank, keeping low to the ground.

As for Renar, the commander took it upon himself to be at the heart of the field; his finger was his sword this time, and he ordered the troops while issuing precise commands.

"Shields forward! Spearmen—brace the flank! Casters, with me!" His voice cut through the crowd.

He was essential in turning the chaos around them into near orderly formations that marched forth in rhythm.

Each maneuver he pointed out was to make the army tighter around Stella's radiant spearhead strategy, which so far pressed the demons back step by a few hundred bloody steps.

Elsewhere, Zavar and Morrag worked together while revealing their full strength.

Zavar lifted his hands, calling forth jagged stone shards that began to collide with the castle's gates, some even splitting enemy lines.

Morrag, on the other hand, moved like a pyromancer who had set herself ablaze.

Each of her strikes carried a trace of fire, forming whips that lashed enemies to death in a crimson fury and left molten trails across the battlefield as she cut through the ranks.

The allied soldiers glanced at her in awe and fear, reminding themselves that she was not to be trifled with. Rumors spread among them that she was the prince's woman, yet at this moment, he gained more admiration than scorn for being able to stand beside such a dangerous beauty.

The gates shuddered under the pounding of light-blessed ammunition launched by the siege weapons. Each strike sent sparks scattering like stars in the smoke-filled air.

The clash had only begun, but already the defenders within the walls of Elris felt their hope falter. They realized they would not last nearly as long as they had believed. The demon's allies seemed far too slow to arrive.

Deep within the fortress, shadows slipped through unseen.

Roland and his team had reached the inner walls. This time, the hero was aided by Namar the illusionist and Stephon the assassin, both working in silence with a handful of others to get him inside as quietly as possible.

They entered without raising an alarm thanks to Doblin the geomancer, who had opened a deep tunnel in a section of the castle that was never guarded.

It was Halter Helstin, the true king of Elris, who had told them of the hidden passage. Fortunately, the demons had never discovered it, allowing Roland's group to move freely underground.

Soon, they emerged into the storage halls, the place that might still hold the artifacts and weapons they desperately needed.

The air in the passage was damp and stale, the stone walls pressing close as Roland's team moved in silence. Only the faint glow of Namar's illusions lit their way.

He had produced ghostly blue torches.

Each one of their steps seemed to be slow, but it felt good to be within the castle that Roland promised to return to his father-in-law.

As for Roalnd, he was sure the king would be able to restore this land to what it was.

When at last they emerged into the lower vaults, the air finally shifted to their favor.

The storage halls stretched out before them, vast chambers lined with broken crates.

On one side lay rusted weapons and shattered armor, relics of the past that the demons had discarded since they could not wield mana.

On the other side, however, were crates still wrapped in cloth and sealed with powerful arrays.

Dust blanketed everything, but it did not deter Roland or his companions. They pried open the crates, searching for anything that might still be of use.

Roland's eyes narrowed as he raised his hand, dispelling the arrays that sealed a few of the most powerful items with ease.

"So, this is what remained of Elris's armory… I never imagined a kingdom this size would hold so many artifacts. Still, they must be returned to King Halter before this night is over."

Doblin knelt beside one of the blanketed items filled with dust, his hands brushing through the debris until he felt the shape of a weapon under a cover.

With a grunt, he pulled free a long spear bound in old cloth. Its shaft was reinforced with sturdy wood, and the head gleamed faintly even beneath years of dust.

He turned and held it out to Roland. "Look at this. A powerful yet light spear. This will suit you well. The demons will not be able to close in so easily if you wield it. They will expect only your blades, not this."

Roland took the weapon, weighing it in his hands.

He gave the spear a testing flick, the air whistling as its radiant edge seemed ready to cut through even the concrete walls.

A glow of holy light spread from the spear as he gripped it tightly, its brilliance filling the hall. Roland could already feel the power within it. This was no ordinary weapon; it felt like it was one of the kingdom's greatest creations.

Namar stepped forward with a smirk. "Looks good on you, Roland. But I also found something else you could use." His illusions shimmered, projecting the silhouette of a set of armor. It was old, yet crafted with precision and strength that put Roland's current gear to shame, even though it was one of his blacksmith's best works.

Roland did not hesitate. He took the armor, fastening each piece quickly. The battle outside was still raging, and he needed to return as soon as possible.

Just as he finished, a shout rose from one of the soldiers pointing toward the far side of the chamber. At its heart stood a sealed chest of obsidian, etched with faint runes that pulsed faintly in the dark chamber.

The markings pulsed faintly with darkness energy.

Stephon, eager to test his skill, crouched beside the sealed box. His daggers flashed as he scraped along the edges, even channeling his abilities into the strike, but the dark energy binding it did not respond.

He frowned. "This lock is more complicated than the rest… Roland, you might want to try. I think it needs someone of your caliber, someone who can force it open with mana."

The words had barely left his lips before Roland lifted a hand. A sphere of darkness gathered in his palm and slammed against the seal. The box groaned, the shadows unraveling with a hiss.

From within, a towering mass of shadow surged forth. It coiled around Roland like a serpent, wrapping a length of itself around his neck.

Weapons were drawn in an instant. His companions prepared to strike, but Roland raised a hand, calm and unmoving.

"Relax," he said evenly. "It is not attacking. It's… just a cloak."

The shifting shadow took form, draping itself across his shoulders like living fabric. Its edges curled and snapped like the tail of a serpent, pulsing faintly with dark energy.

"A strange one," Roland continued, his gaze sharp. "It seems drawn to me. The only danger I see is if any of you try to attack. Then it will defend me… and kill you."

The others hesitated, but lowered their weapons.

Roland stood still, feeling the cloak's weight settle upon him.

Roland could feel a bit of his mana being drained, though, but it was well within the range he could recover from, so he did not mind it.

He could feel the cloak's intentions within his mind; it was strange, as if he was able to control it in a way or let it automatically do its thing.

As they finished checking out the room, they began to head up, many already geared from what they found in the storage room and were more than ready to enter the battle above.