“Ulamn,” Thulos said, his anger rising. Ulamn had been his greatest general, overseeing the conquering of over twenty worlds. Now he lay dead, and by the way Harruq smirked, he had little doubt who had been the cause.

“He promised-what was it?- to crush my bones to pebbles and peel my flesh?” Harruq asked.

“Something like that,” Qurrah said between coughs.

Thulos said not a word; he was too busy absorbing the details of the war. He counted the waves of undead that fought in the streets. He took in the number of demons and angels that warred in the sky. He knew his soldiers' worth, and in the passing of just a few seconds, he sensed the ability of the angels. The men who marched against him were only mortal, even if well-trained and adequately equipped. Thulos knew when he joined the fray, his troops would win, with a few undead and the vast bulk of the demons remaining. He smiled.

“Let you two be honored as the first of my sacred kills upon your land,” he said, saluting with his sword. Harruq saluted back, a nervous grin on his face.

Three angels swerved low toward them, carrying passengers. Before Thulos could attack, the passengers extended their arms, and a massive barrage of fire, ice, and rock exploded forth. The war-god crossed his arms and grunted. The fire and ice did little, and the rocks, boulders half his size, shattered, leaving a few scrapes across his armor. The angels released their passengers at the foot of the stairs and joined the battle in the sky. A tall wizard with yellow robes and a small red beard bounded up the stairs as Thulos pushed away the chunks of rock that blocked his way.

“Please tell me that's not who I think it is,” the yellow-robed man said.