Streams of incandescent lava spilled unchecked across the scorched battlefield, painting the ground in hues of crimson and gold. The surrounding spectators watched with mounting confusion; magma didn't simply bleed out onto open ground without cause. Something inherently sinister and unnatural was taking root.
"Take a closer look," Volkmar's voice echoed across the observation deck, cutting through the uneasy whispers of the crowd. "This is precisely what makes the Balrog such a terrifying presence. Magma isn't merely an offensive trick in its arsenal; it possesses a far more horrific innate talent known as the Magma Field."
"A Magma Field?!" A sharp collective gasp rippled through the audience. Could it be that this High-Level Daemon was a domain-type entity, akin to the legendary Iris Elves?
"It operates on a fundamentally different principle than typical domain creatures," Volkmar explained, his voice growing increasingly heavy. "A single Balrog projects a relatively modest field around its immediate vicinity. However, when multiple Balrogs assemble, their individual fields overlap, stacking exponentially into a catastrophic force multiplier. It is an exceedingly rare, close-combat, Supernatural Lifeform endowed with absolute domain control."
Volkmar's thorough explanation sent a chill down the spines of everyone listening. The terrifying reputation of the Balrog as the undisputed apex of High-Level Daemons was suddenly brutally clear.
"If I sent my Golden Dragon into that molten abyss..." Augustus shook his head, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. "It would be torn to shreds before it even touched the ground."
"The same goes for my Wine Panda," Sergey muttered, shaking his head in dismal agreement.
"There's no point in even attempting a clash; the sheer disparity in racial talent is far too vast," Baroque added with a helpless shrug.
Every spectator present possessed enough self-awareness to recognize their limits. Against the lesser Daemons that Eric had previously summoned, a glimmer of hope might have remained. But standing in the looming shadow of the Balrogs, any attempt to engage felt like throwing an egg against an unyielding mountain.
"Formidable beyond measure," Jörn, a seasoned veteran of countless engagements, nodded solemnly. "Even if martial titans like those two joined forces, they wouldn't stand a ghost of a chance against a titan like the Balrog."
Dread washed over the crowd in waves. On one side, a tide of liquid heat capable of disintegrating steel and stone; on the other, an army of one hundred unstoppable brutes. Such overwhelming destructive capability defied standard strategy. By popular estimate, even if ten of the most elite Golden Dragons forged an alliance, they wouldn't survive a single exchange.
As the Balrogs dominated the center stage, all eyes instinctively shifted to the opposite side of the battlefield. Over on Anthelme's flank, the first wave of counter-units finally materialized through shimmering rifts. Matching brutal force with fluid grace, his choice was another melee-type species, an ethereal, water-like entity whose slender form rippled and surged like crashing ocean waves.
"A Morphling!?" Disbelief swept through the stands as several onlookers leaned forward. Veterans like Jörn and Kanna immediately recognized the iconic, shifting silhouette.
"Is that... the legendary Morphling!?" Astonished murmurs spread across the entire area.
Even Sebastian, watching quietly from his vantage point, had read extensively about this mythical unit in ancient texts.
It was an extraordinarily special, and arguably entirely singular, class of Supernatural Lifeform. Across countless epochs, the Morphling stood as the sole recorded species capable of seamlessly bridging the gap between overwhelming physical melee power and lightning-fast ranged agility.
This divine duality stemmed from its unique trait: Variants. Within a fraction of a heartbeat, a Morphling could reconfigure its internal energy matrix, transitioning into a high-speed projectile state whose mobility defied the laws of physics. More crucially, as pure water-attribute entities, the scorching heat of the Balrog's field held zero sway over them.
"Thank goodness! The Balrog has finally met its absolute counter!" many spectators cheered, relief visibly washing over their faces.
"Indeed. To a significant degree, the Morphling's natural properties completely counter a fire-and-magma specialist like the Balrog," Jörn remarked, his expression brightening.
"Whoever dubbed themselves the Devil's Son was clearly blinded by arrogance, deploying the Balrog as a blind opening," Kanna added, a confident smirk touching her lips. "Anthelme simply took the bait and delivered a perfect hard counter."
Across the grand arena on the opposing side, several Daemons furrowed their brows as they observed the shifting water forms. The Morphling was a legendary ancient Supernatural Lifeform, one that had carved a bloody path through the legendary war eons ago.
"The Balrog won't stand a chance against a Morphling in a direct engagement, will it?" one Daemon asked nervously, his voice trembling slightly.
"In a standard head-to-head clash, the Balrog indeed has no effective countermeasure against a Morphling's phase shifts," Illidan noted smoothly, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Then what do we do?" Panic began to creep into the voices of the surrounding Daemons. Losing the opening clash would deal a devastating blow to their faction's morale, a setback none of them could afford.
"There is no need to panic. Simply sit back and watch the show play out," Illidan replied, his voice remaining cool and unbothered, his relaxed composure completely unshaken.
Out on the desolate field before the fortress, the one hundred Balrogs surged forward like an unstoppable wave of liquid fire. Though the Morphlings numbered only eighty, the numerical disadvantage was negligible given their immense versatility.
With a silent resonance, the Morphlings altered their internal energy matrices, instantly solidifying into massive, heavy-impact melee configurations. Formed of churning deep-sea pressures, they charged headlong into the blazing inferno to meet the Balrogs in a violent, world-shaking collision.