An army spilt forth from the gaping maw of various portals, an overwhelming tide of monstrous and human forms. Ogres and trolls, their thick hides a testament to their resilience, lumbered forward, their brown skin scarred and leathery. Among them marched humans clad in armour: some gleamed with pristine, shining medieval plate, while others wore the more flexible, silvery weave of chain mail. Robed figures followed, their garments in a spectrum of vibrant colours, some clutching staffs of pure gold, others of flawless crystal that captured and fractured the dim light. Werewolves, their predatory eyes gleaming as they mingled among towering giants whose every step caused a tremor in the very ground. This relentless flow of beings quickly coalesced into an imposing force, numbering at least three hundred. Even a handful of futuristic armoured individuals, their sleek designs startlingly out of place, could be glimpsed within the chaotic ranks, a stark contrast to the ancient weaponry around them.
Above this diverse legion, colossal wings unfurled, casting vast, undulating shadows. Three Western dragons, each more terrifying than the last, dwarfed the army below. One, a creature of unsettling decay, was covered not in scales but in sickly green skin, its body riddled with gashes and wounds, a grim tableau of a once-mighty beast. Beside it, another dragon blazed with bright gold scales, shimmering like a captured sun in a night sky as tiny sparks of mystical current danced across its surface. The third was a deep, muddy brown, its form appearing to constantly drip and run, yet nothing ever truly fell from its form. Its scales and skin were cracked and parched, like baked earth under a punishing sun. Despite their stark differences, a single, unifying mark marred each dragon's head and their eyes burned with an identical, malevolent red glow. Looking closer, every single being, every person, every creature brought forth by the Keeper bore the same chilling traits. A distinctive mark emblazoned on a forehead, a helmet or even the hood of a robe, coupled with those piercing and hollow red eyes.
"Hahahaha! Tremble little monkey, before the might of one of my smallest armies!" The Keeper's voice, booming and laced with a terrifying glee, reverberated through the vast space. "This is but a fraction of my true strength, yet more than enough to claim you. Built from only a few years of harvest, these are but the hollow shells of the weakest I have claimed, those who gave themselves over to me and accepted my offer for various reasons and soon, you will join them. And after you, I shall take all those who follow you, adding them to my ranks well branding them to lock their consciousness in eternal agony, an unbearable punishment for your refusal shall be carried by them. As for you, I will break your body and mind until my offer is the only escape from the pain and torment!" He cackled, a chilling roar echoing through the hall as he floated triumphantly behind his vast host. Chained and vulnerable, John merely watched him, an unshakeable grin fixed upon his face.
Then, the air itself seemed to tear and from the swirling void of inky blackness behind John, his own response to the keeper and his forces began to emerge. First where a pair of Eastern dragons, shimmering and majestic that materialised: one black as the deepest night, the other a spectral grey wreathed in a faint, smoky aura that drifted like wisps of a fading dream. Between their grand forms, a human-sized snake slithered forth, its scales a mesmerising mosaic of green and black as its bright yellow eyes seemed to be keenly assessing the Keeper's forces. For a fleeting, almost impossible moment, it seemed to lick its scaly lips. Next came a host of angels, some with wings of brilliant white and others with wings of profound black, their forms radiating either divine light or an unsettling darkness as they carried swords and spears that floated effortlessly beside them, ready for war.
Two hulking, red-skinned creatures burst from the void's embrace next, one of them slightly larger wielded a large butcher's knife, its dirty apron stained with various patches of different coloured blood hinting at its grim expertise. The other was scarred with a broken horn, gripped a jagged sword. Both though were covered in crude stitches across their colossal bodies showing they had been through many fights and always ready for the next. Behind them, a tide of skeletons advanced, clad in a variety of tattered rags and rusted armour, their bony frames inexplicably inhabited by shimmering slimes as a lich followed behind them in a pristine blue robe, a stark contrast to the skeletal soldiers it commanded with a frozen sceptre held firmly in its hand. Alongside the lich, a leshy slowly formed, its body a tapestry of leaves and branches, drawing sustenance from the very essence of nature that seemed to twist around its feet in a strange antitheta to the Lich at his side. It leaned on a twisted wooden staff, its ancient wisdom palpable in its hidden eyes.
A black-clad figure then glided from the void in step behind the pair, unlike the others who march or burst out it seeming to seep out instead, its snarling Oni mask firmly in place to obscuring all identity. Clad in a skintight black suit, a vibrant red sash wrapped around its waist, a sword strapped to its back and a multitude of throwing knives blended almost perfectly into its dark attire as it moved with utter silence, seemingly sucking up all noise around it. Following closely was a bizarre octopus-like creature made entirely of goo that drifted through the air almost excitedly before settling instantly upon John's shoulder. Its skin constantly shifted through a spectrum of colours as its two small, watery eyes observing John before looking over the unfolding events and soon to happen chaos with unnerving intensity. The final large shadow slowly forced itself through the shadowy void, its arrival was almost earth-shattering as it grabbed the edges of the rift and slowly came out, it was a behemoth that could only be described as a walking mountain, a giant of cracking, craggy rocks that slowly, ponderously, forced its immense mass through the rift to finally stand behind John's growing forces.
"Funny," John replied as his grin widened, "this isn't all mine either. Merely the ones who managed to answer my call and weren't busy with other important matters." He boasted well forcing himself fully upright with a grunt, the heavy chains that had bound him shivering in protest before, instead of restraining they now moved with a life of their own, slowly wrapping around him like a loyal pet as the Keeper lost any and all control over them. Their ends pulled from the ground and sharpened into points, coiling around Johns arms yet never hindering his movements. "Now, shall we see who is actually stronger? I can guarantee though you will be the one to lose this though."
And just like that, as if a silent, earth-shaking signal had been given the entire battlefield trembled beneath the weight of both sides forces as they charged with a primal fury, the Keeper's ogres and trolls charged in front of his forces, their thick hides absorbing the first impacts as they brandished an assortment of crude weapons ranging from massive clubs to small uprooted trees. The very ground seemed to groan in protest, cracking as their thunderous onslaught bore down upon John's assembled allies as they clashed.
In immediate response, the two Eastern dragons ascended from the sides with powerful beats of their magnificent wings. The black dragon, its scales drinking in the surrounding light becoming a living shadow against the room's artificial sky. It unleashed a torrent of icy breath that froze the very air, transforming parts of the floor into treacherous yet beautiful glinting terrain along with trapping a few of the Keepers soldiers within. With a sweeping movement of its massive tail, it tore through the trolls, sending them toppling like brittle, shattered statues as just the barest contact froze them and forced them away from Johns on forces. From the other side the grey dragon moved with an aura of profound mystique, its form shrouded in smoky wisps that seemed to drift. As it swooped low, its breath left a swirling mist that distorted vision and cast an eerie, almost sacred silence over its immediate vicinity leaving those trapped in it dazed and confused. With a sudden, devastating lunge, it descended upon the remaining ogres, its claws raking through their ranks and leaving behind an ethereal, disorienting mist in its wake.
Slithering through the burgeoning chaos, the human-sized snake moved with a graceful, almost hypnotic elegance. Its green and black scales caught the light in a mesmerizing display, a dance of camouflage that artfully concealed its intentions. Its bright yellow eyes darted between enemies, its forked tongue tasting the charged atmosphere as if relishing the anticipation of battle. It struck with lightning speed, biting those it passed and injecting them with a potent venom, then slipping away just as quickly to its next foe.
The white-winged angels radiated a divine light that seemed to momentarily illuminate the vast hall, their weapons blazing with righteous, purifying fire. The clash of their celestial swords against the Keeper's corrupted soldiers sent forth blinding flashes of light and searing heat, pushing them back slowly and steadily. Next to them, angels with wings black as pitch moved with an enigmatic, unsettling grace, their forms a stark, unsettling contrast to their luminous counterparts. Darkness clung to their every movement, obscuring their intentions and leaving behind a chilling, unsettling void. Their strikes resonated with a calculated, almost fatalistic mystery, as if their actions were guided by a reality that lay far beyond mortal understanding as they protected there white wing siblings, blocking and preventing strikes from landing against them.
The two red-skinned creatures not wanting to be left out of it surged forward, a whirlwind of primal savagery as the one with the butcher's knife hacked through the Keeper's armoured knights with reckless abandon. Its massive blade cleaved through armour and bone alike, tearing through flesh as a true butcher would to meat on a chopping board. Beside it, its broken-horned companion wielded its jagged sword with a bloodlust bordering on madness, its strikes carrying the sheer weight of primal chaos as it obliterated any foe it struck with devastating force leaving almost nothing behind. The skeletal warriors followed their lead, their tattered cloths and rusty armour ensuring the slimes where visible. These strange, symbiotic creatures burst forth from their hosts, oozing acidic tendrils that dissolved the weapons, armour and sometimes the enemies themselves whenever the Keeper's forces came close enough.
The lich, true to its fearsome reputation, commanded a chilling mastery over death itself. Its frozen sceptre emanated an aura of dread that sent icy shivers down the spines of nearby foes and its pristine blue robe stood in stark, unsettling contrast to the shambling, skeletal soldiers it led with an iron will, boosting the undead soldiers beyond their own usual capabilities and strength. Beside the lich, the leshy harnessed dark and ancient druidic magics, summoning the untamed forces of nature to its aid. Bursting froth from the twisting mass of rotos at his feet thick and gnarled roots erupted forward, ensnaring foes in a crushing embrace as it slowly began draining their vitality and sowing widespread chaos within the enemy ranks as the ground itself turned against them, sprouting randomly between the Keepers forces.
Moving with unnerving silence, the figure draped in shadows with its snarling Oni mask a fixed glided across the battlefield. Clad in black from head to toe it moved with uncanny grace, a master of stealth and precision as it struck at the Keeper's werewolves with a flurry of throwing knives before vanishing into the shadows once more as if it had never been there at all. All the while, the otherworldly octopus-like creature floated serenely beside John, its constantly shifting colours stretching out to project onto a portion of the battlefield, its fluid movements adding an aura of surreal confusion to the frenetic fray well seemingly helping coordinate John's forces with its various colour changes.
Finally, the walking mountain of jagged rocks rumbled forward, its monumental mass causing the ground to quake beneath its colossal weight with every slow, deliberate step. Its gargantuan fists struck the earth with bone-shaking force, sending powerful shockwaves rippling through the Keeper's forces, knocking them off balance and creating crucial opportunities for John's diverse allies to strike with devastating effect. It was at this point the true clash had begun.
The air vibrated with the raw energy of battle, a maelstrom of steel, magic and primal roars. Amidst this symphony of chaos, John stood as an unyielding pillar. His chains, once symbols of confinement now writhed and struck like sentient and venomous serpents, their blinding speed and lethal precision carving paths through the enemy ranks whenever he entered the fray, providing support to the various sides that seemed to struggle. He moved with a warrior's grace, a seamless blend of measured strategy and raw, visceral power. Fatigue and the lingering ache of the waking world were mere whispers at this point, forcibly banished by sheer will; his eyes where alight with a fierce determination that burnt as a beacon of unwavering resolve against the swirling storm as the keeper, using its strange pillars would lash out with blasts of magic against John's forces.
The battlefield itself was a canvas of constant motion and brutal artistry. Dragons roared, their cries echoing through the very bones of the earth as they clashed before retreating, supporting the smaller forces by choice on John's side and firm control on the Keepers, while magic pulsed and weaponry clashed in a relentless, percussive rhythm. The outcome remained a precarious balance, scales tipping wildly with each ferocious collision between John's forces and the relentless regiments of the Keeper. It was a dance of death and defiance, defying the very laws of nature in its intensity.
As the battle raged, the ground became a grim testament to both triumph and sacrifice. John's loyalists fought with extraordinary valour, yet victory demanded a toll. Celestial angels, radiant forms descending like shattered stars, plummeted from the sky, leaving behind trails of fading light as they fell to the enemies, stirring their comrades to fight far more viciously. Their sacrifice, though grievous was not in vain.
Weaving through the melee with enigmatic grace, the black-winged angels moved like shadows given form, going from defensive to join the offensive as each strike left a dark mystery in its wake. Their tactics were as intricate as the constellations themselves, finding critical vulnerabilities in the Keeper's formations as they rained down what seemed like black stars covered in a white outline. Even so their own numbers suffered losses when cornered or captured, meeting a swift end yet their calculated attacks ensured that many more of the Keeper's forces would be dragged down with them.
From the skies, John's eastern dragons unleashed fury that shook the very foundations of the world. The black dragon would dart with impossible speed, leaving behind a swathe of devastation with its icy breath and razor claws. But a roar of agony tore through the din as the sickly green western dragon, one of the Keeper's champions, focused its noxious breath and poisoned claws on the black dragon, clawing it along the side and slightly poisoning it from both its claws and breath. The grey dragon, wreathed in a smoke-like aura clashed with the dazzling radiance of the golden western dragon, their titanic forms locked in an aerial dance that painted the sky in flashes of black and gold.
Slowly the tide began to turn. On the ground, the pair of red-skinned beasts surged forward with fury and anger, unleashing a primal fury that tore through the Keeper's troops with savage efficiency as the skeletal warriors, their bony forms reinforced by the slimes that pulsed within them began to push back the enemy tied. They endured blows that would have shattered lesser beings, sacrificing pieces of themselves with some even giving up their entire forms just to create openings and secure victory for their comrades.
The enigmatic figure donned in an Oni mask moved with a chilling precision, its blade flickering with preternatural speed as it systematically eliminated most of the werewolves. Beside John the octopus-like creature continued to shimmer through a rapid succession of colours, its watery eyes darting to pinpoint weak points in the enemy's formations. Each focused gaze would flash a range of colour, creating momentary confusion and disarray that would present John with the perfect opportunity to strike. Even the walking mountain of rocks, despite its immense bulk attacked from the side, absorbed blows that fractured chunks of its stony hide whenever it slammed an arm down to shield and block blasts of magic from the Keeper. Each blow leaving fissures across its rocky from but it would not allow itself to break or fall, a testament to its indomitable will and an unwavering refusal to go down.
Though John's forces suffered death and injury, the Keeper's army faced a truly catastrophic unravelling. The various ogres and trolls, once formidable now lay battered and broken, their thick hides and fur armour proving utterly inadequate against the combined might of John's diverse legions. The humans in shining armour saw their ranks dwindle like sand through an hourglass as John's angels and other units swept through them with extreme force. The Keeper's giants were brought low by the combined tactics of the skeletal soldiers and the leshy's earth magic, now lay strewn across the field now as colossal monuments to defeat. Even the futuristic armoured individuals found themselves overwhelmed, their advanced technology proving no match for the convergence of ancient magics and supernatural powers wielded by the lich and leshy combined with being swarmed by the wave of skeletons and slimes.
Amidst the devastation only the Keeper's western dragons now remained, their once-imposing forms now scarred and diminished, a shadow of their former glory. The decaying dragon, its sickly green hide was marred by the icy breath of the black eastern dragon and oozing a foul ichor. The golden dragon's radiant scales were scorched and dulled by the grey eastern dragon's ethereal flames with large patches now visibly missing. The deep brown dragon, its hide cracked like parched earth, unleashed a final, desperate barrage of fiery breath but its strength was visibly waning as the pair of black and grey engulfed it in their own flames, ending its life like so many others in this battle.
The battle slowly neared its inevitable end, the Keeper's forces now sitting on the brink of total annihilation. His army lay in ruins, shattered and diminished and through it all John stood resolute as he glared at the Keeper, his remaining forces though weary and bearing their own wounds still stood in far greater number and strength, even though some angels of both light and dark had been lost, the lich and leshy visibly drained of magical energy and many skeletal soldiers had been broken and returned to eternal rest they still stood by his side, gazes burning with determination and unwavering loyalty and support.
The final clash saw the Keeper's last two dragons, the last bastions of his once-formidable power fall. The decaying dragon, its sickly green hide a gruesome patchwork of wounds tried to muster a final, feeble breath attack but it sputtered and died in the air as the last of its life force rapidly began to leave it. With a defiant roar, the black eastern dragon surged forward in anger desiring retribution for the injuries it had forced onto it, its shadowy form flickering between solid and ethereal as it slammed itself onto the sickly dragon. Its claws like obsidian razors tore into the rotting flesh and with a final icy breath extinguishing the last flicker of life within the downed dragon. With a shuddering collapse, the decaying dragon became a lifeless heap joining the rest of the bodies on the battlefield.
The golden western dragon, once a beacon of dazzling brilliance, had its radiant scales marred by various scorch marks and wounds. Its blinding aura had greatly dimmed and the sparks of current that once danced across its form now fizzled into nothingness. The grey eastern dragon, its smoky aura forming twisting tendrils in the air as it coiled around the golden dragon as it pulled it's weak, struggling form to it before, with a tremendous surge of ethereal flames the grey dragon engulfed its foe, the searing heat melting away even the most radiant scales. As the flames subsided the grey dragon released its grip, leaving only a smouldering heap of molten gold, metal and scorched bones where the golden dragon had been.
A profound silence descended upon the battlefield as the Keeper's dragons were vanquished. The once-mighty creatures and symbols of the Keeper's power were reduced to mere memories. Amidst the carnage, John's forces stood victorious albeit battered and weary. The ground, a tapestry of fallen from both sides bore witness to the cost of there victory. At the forefront John himself stood, a complex mix of exhaustion and triumph reflected in his eyes as he looked at the Keeper.
The battle was finally over as silence, sharp and desolate settled over the ruined landscape that was broken only by the wind whistling through the remnants of what were once the Keeper's formidable legions. He stood alone now, a solitary but defiant figure amidst the wreckage of his ambition forced to watch from the tattered fringes of his destroyed realm.
"A mere mortal, a stupid monkey," the Keeper snarled, disbelief warring with incandescent fury as his voice, usually a cold and commanding rumble now cracked with a primal, unanswered demand. "How dare you! My weakest legions, my lowest ranks! They should have been more than enough to crush you and your paltry resistance! So how... how could this be?!" He roared in defiance, demanding an answer that might bring sense to the incomprehensible.
John's hand bruised and trembling with strain, moved to his hip. His fingers closed around the familiar, cold links of a gleaming chain that was once used to hold him. With a sharp flick of his wrist, the enchanted metal sprang to life once more, a silver serpent striking through the air. It coiled unerringly around the Keeper's leg, bound tightly before beginning to drag him forward towards John and off his crystal pillars.
A choked cry escaped the Keeper as the chain tightened, its magical grip undeniable as it resisted all his attempts to break its hold. He was yanked violently, his struggles futile as he was pulled toward John. He stumbled then fell, tumbling into a plume of dust and the bitter taste of utter defeat. The chain snaking higher and around him now as they held him in place, its links pulsating with an otherworldly power that visibly sapped the vast strength from his limbs much like they had done to John previously.
John looked down, his face a grim mask of exhaustion etched with unwavering resolve as the Keeper thrashed, each desperate attempt to break free only binding him tighter well they drained him further. A heavy silence settled between them broken only by the Keeper's ragged breaths now until John's voice cut through it, weary but clear as tempered steel.
"It's over." John stated, his voice raspy. "Your forces are broken. I told you I would win yet you didn't seem to listen, you just chose the wrong person to face this time. It was bound to eventually happen."
The Keeper's eyes blazed, a furious inferno in a face contorted by rage and a sliver of naked despair. His voice, now a guttural rasp, crackled with residual magic as he snarled, "You may have won this battle you worthless ape, but you haven't beaten me. This I swear I will make you pay for this! In blood and torment unimaginable till there is nothing left of you! Untold torture and agony well forever preventing you from losing yourself to escape its painful hold!"
With those final words a sudden, violent surge of energy ripped through the Keeper's form as he began to swell, his body bloating grotesquely against the chains, his intent to detonate take John with him in a final suicidal blast clear. But the chains around him, the very same chains that had once bound John himself held firm and prevented it. Their grip tightened mercilessly and suppressing the volatile magic.
Despite his own profound weariness John's determination remained unshaken. He raised the remaining end of the chain, its tip spiked and gleaming ominously, putting his last ounce of strength into it, he began to spin the chain before letting the end fly from his grip, the links clinging as the spiked tip found its mark, piercing the Keeper's strange, ringed head.
Yet, in a last, impossible act of defiance, as the Keeper's form dissolved into shimmering motes of light, one of the metallic rings comprising his head tore free and with a final, spiteful strike severed John's left arm at the shoulder.
Pain, searing and absolute ripped through him, it felt as if it was trying to spread deeper into him from the severed shoulder as a grim understanding settled in his mind about the Keeper. He wouldn't let this be the end. An enemy of the Keeper's magnitude would never willingly face true destruction and how he had spoken proved it was just a proxy, a temporary construct. The Keeper was defeated for now, but not truly gone. He would return to try and make him pay for this humiliation and defeat.
These were John's final, conscious thoughts as consciousness itself began to fade. He felt himself falling away as the last vestiges of his strength drained from him, not just in this world but even within the dreamscape that held him captive. He hoped, for a fleeting moment, that awakening in his own reality would bring solace, an end to the ceaseless pain he was currently feeling. But a deep weariness, a profound sense of overexertion seemed to warn him it would not be so simple, that the cost of this victory and his moment of compliance at the end would be steep.
"Collect our fallen," John rasped, his voice barely a whisper now, yet weighted with command, a final set of orders before leaving them once more. "Give them proper burial and rest. Then... gather everyone and have them all be ready and resume their teamwork and combination training but making sure to not overdo it and getting rest in-between. I don't know when our next chance to unite will come but hopefully with all of us together we'll suffer fewer losses, manage to cover each other better. And as for all of you... rest. You've all earned it more than anyone."
His words faded as he did, leaving them in the phantom world. John felt himself slip further away but not back into his body like usual, rather it felt as if he was falling through a veil on his return to the waking world. What had felt like an eternity of struggle and sacrifice had in reality, been mere hours.