I Received System to Become Dragonborn

The sky grew dim and darkening again. The air was filled with chill and the warriors and mages felt their renewed courage waver for a brief moment.

From the ground in front of the wall a dark swirling aura began to seep out. The very earth seemed to part as a sinister black mist began to rise. The atmosphere was filled with the acrid scent of decay and an icy chill that set teeth on edge.

As the black aura thickened and coalesced the forms of monstrous shapes began to emerge from the darkness. Rising from the ground were the spectral remnants of their fallen enemies—Ogres and Daemons, their ghostly forms writhing.

The apparitions were a grisly sight: their once-fierce eyes now hollow and glowing with an dark light, their spectral bodies wracked unnaturally.

"Prepare yourselves! The Great Calamity stirs once more. We face the ghosts of our enemies right now!" King Gulben's sharp command cut through the growing dread like a blade.

The warriors and Mages snapped back into focus. Their fear quickly replaced by the resolve and bravery that had been kindled moments before. They drew their weapons and began to prepare their spells, readying themselves for the attack of the undead monstrosities that now emerged from the mist.

The once-cohesive battle lines formed a solid front as the first wave of spectral Ogres and Daemons surged forward, their ghostly forms flickering in and out of visibility.

King Gulben's Magic roared into action. He decided to join the fight with his warriors. Beams of light cutting through the encroaching darkness as he wielded his power to protect the front lines.

Erend soared above the battlefield, launching fireball attacks to the spectral enemies. Eccar joined the fray with a fury that matched the rising threats.

The clash of battle resumed. Elven warriors's swords and spears flashing, engaged the ghostly apparitions in close combat. Mages chanted incantations, their spells bursting forth, attempting to push back the tide of darkness that threatened to engulf them.

"GRRUAAAHH!!!"

The battlefield was soon filled with the chilling cries of the spectral enemies as the ghosts of the Ogres and Daemons unleashed their fury. Their wails were not just sounds of anger but expressions of the deep, festering rage they held toward the living—especially the Elves who had killed them.

The air was rent with haunting growls and tortured howls that seemed to claw at the very soul of those who heard them.

The guttural roars resonated through the ranks of the Elven warriors and mages, sending a shiver down their spines. The spectral Ogres and Daemons charged forward with a terrifying force, their ghostly forms is like dark waves coming at them.

Despite the spectral nature of their foes the Elven forces held their ground with a fierce determination. Their blades flashed and their spells crackled as they met the onslaught of angry spirits. With precise strikes and powerful spells they managed to cut through the enemies with relative ease, their attacks piercing through the ghostly forms and dissipating them with swift efficiency.

But the ease of their initial victories was deceptive. Each time they felled an enemy the ghosts were not truly defeated. The spirits would rise again moments later and their fury seemd to become fiercer. The ground seemed to heave with a dark pulse as the defeated spirits came back alive and charged back into the fray with the same ferocity as before.

This relentless cycle of attack and resurrection took its toll. The Elven warriors found themselves increasingly besieged. The ceaseless resurgence of the spectral enemies wore them down and a few warriors suffered injuries from the relentless onslaught. The Mages's energies beginning to wane from the constant barrage, struggled to maintain their focus and power.

And then, suddenly the spectral entities began to shift and swirling together. The spirits coalesced into one monstrous entity.

The air around the amalgamation grew thick. The individual wails of the ghosts blended into a terrifying scream. Slowly, a giant spirit emerged from the swirling mass—a monstrous figure composed of shadow and hatred, towering over the battlefield.

Its form was a grotesque amalgamation of all the Ogres and Daemons that had fallen, their twisted faces and limbs grotesquely fused together in a terrifying patchwork.

The giant spirit's eyes glowed fierce red, and its maw opened wide to release a roar that shook the earth. The ground beneath the Elves trembled, and the sky seemed to darken as the massive entity took shape.

The Elven warriors and Mages though momentarily stunned by the horrifying sight, quickly regained their composure. They tightened their grips on their weapons, their teeth gritted in grim determination. Fear was a natural response to such a monstrosity but these Elves had been through too much to let terror rule their hearts. They had stood against impossible odds before, and they would do so again.

King Gulben raised his hand and gestured for Erend and Eccar to hold back. "Stand down. This battle is for us to fight. We will take care of it."

Erend looked at the giant spirit with narrowed eyes. The impulse to charge headlong into battle was strong, but he respected the King's authority and wisdom. He knew when to trust in his allies. With a curt nod, he glanced at Eccar, who also gave a silent nod in agreement.

The two of them hovered back, retreating to a safe distance while still remaining vigilant, ready to leap into action if needed.

King Gulben turned his attention to the assembled Mages. "Mages, focus your power on the giant! We must strike it down quickly!"

The Mages who already exhausted from the continuous barrage of attacks dug deep into their reserves of strength. They began to channel their remaining energy.

King Gulben took his place at the forefront, preparing to lead the assault. The giant spirit let out another deafening roar, but the Elves did not flinch. They were ready and under the King's leadership.

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