The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis moved cautiously through the fortress, his steps calculated, staying low as the chaos of battle echoed around him. The goblin fortress had turned into a war zone, with clashes of metal, battle cries, and spells being unleashed everywhere. He had managed to take down the lich, and now he needed to find Elowen. His heart pounded in his chest as he darted from shadow to shadow, using his agility to stay out of sight. The last thing he wanted was to get caught in the middle of this mess—he knew he wouldn't last long in a direct fight with any of the goblin champions, let alone the Goblin Apostle.

He climbed over a crumbling wall, his eyes scanning the battlefield. Human forces, disciplined and relentless, moved in formation, pushing forward against the weakened goblin defenders. Goblins were falling, their numbers dwindling. Mikhailis couldn't help but feel a mix of satisfaction and fear—satisfaction that the battle was going in their favor, fear that Elowen might still be in danger.

Then, amidst the chaos, he saw her. His heart clenched. There she was, Queen Elowen, facing the Goblin Apostle alone. Her armor shimmered faintly, the flames of the ongoing battle reflecting off it. Her movements were precise, her strikes swift. She looked like a warrior out of legend—strong, beautiful, determined. But even Elowen, with all her skill and magic, was struggling against the Goblin Apostle. The creature towered over her, its grotesque form glowing with both dark and holy magic—a combination Mikhailis hadn't seen before. It made the Apostle unpredictable, dangerous.

Nearby, Earl Vaelis was battling a Goblin Champion, his massive sword clashing with the champion's axe. His sheer strength was awe-inspiring, every strike forcing the goblin to take a step back. Vyrelda, meanwhile, was locked in a dance of death with another Goblin Champion, her movements swift and deadly, her blade flashing as she struck at every opening. Serelith stood a few paces back, her hands weaving spells, supporting the others with a calm precision that belied the chaos around her. Her magic flowed effortlessly, a mix of fire, ice, and nature, striking down any goblin foolish enough to get too close.

Mikhailis stayed hidden, watching, assessing. He knew he couldn't take on any of the champions head-on, but he could help—he could make a difference. His gaze shifted back to Elowen. She was holding her own, but the Goblin Apostle was overwhelming, its magic making it difficult for her to gain any ground. Then, it happened. The Apostle landed a powerful blow, its massive arm swinging in a brutal arc. Elowen tried to block, but the force was too much. She was sent flying, her body crashing against the stone ground, skidding across the dirt.

Mikhailis's breath caught in his throat. He could feel his heart drop as he watched her fall. Serelith's eyes widened, her concentration breaking for a split second, her spell faltering. Vyrelda turned her head, her eyes filled with panic. This wasn't good. If Elowen couldn't get up, if they lost focus now, the tide of the battle could change.

I have to do something... I can't just sit here and watch.

Mikhailis looked down at the knives on his belt. He only had three left. He took a deep breath, his mind racing. He needed to make these count. He glanced at Earl Vaelis, then at Vyrelda. Both of them were struggling against their respective champions, and with Elowen down, they needed an opening.

"Alright, Mikhailis," he muttered under his breath, a determined grin spreading across his face.

"Time to be the hero. Again. Again and again,"

With a powerful leap, he jumped out from his hiding spot, using his agility to cover the distance quickly. As he moved, he pulled two knives from his belt, his eyes locking onto his targets. He threw the knives with all his strength, one aimed at the head of the Goblin Champion facing Earl Vaelis, the other at the one battling Vyrelda.

The knives flew true, slicing through the air. The first knife struck the champion facing Vaelis in the side of the head, the force causing the goblin to stumble, its guard dropping. Vaelis, ever the warrior, didn't miss a beat. He lunged forward, his sword cleaving through the champion's neck, the goblin's head rolling to the ground.

The second knife struck the champion facing Vyrelda, embedding itself in its neck. The goblin let out a strangled cry, its movements faltering. Vyrelda seized the opportunity, her blade flashing as she drove it into the champion's chest, the goblin collapsing at her feet.

Mikhailis landed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had one knife left, and he knew exactly where it needed to go. He turned his gaze to the Goblin Apostle, who was slowly advancing towards Elowen, its massive form looming over her as she struggled to get back to her feet.

Not today, ugly.

He charged, his feet pounding against the ground, his eyes focused on the Apostle's right leg. He needed to get close, needed to make his strike count. The Apostle was too powerful to take head-on, but it had a weakness—its legs. If he could cripple it, even for a moment, it would give Elowen the chance she needed.

Mikhailis reached the Apostle, ducking under its arm as it swung at him, the air whistling past his ears. He moved in close, his knife plunging into the soft tissue behind the Apostle's knee. The creature let out a roar of pain, its balance faltering as it tried to turn and face him.

The Apostle's dark magic began to swirl around it, its hands glowing with holy energy as it tried to heal the wound. Mikhailis could see it, the way the magic flowed, the way the Apostle's movements became slower, less agile as it focused on the healing.

Now's my chance.

He moved again, feinting towards the leg, making the Apostle focus its defense there. At the last moment, he shifted his aim, driving his knife into the Apostle's arm. The blade sank deep, the Apostle's arm going limp, its grip on its weapon loosening.

The Apostle let out another roar, its eyes glowing with rage. Mikhailis could feel the intensity of its gaze, the hatred emanating from it. But he didn't let up. He pulled the knife free, shifting his weight as he drove it into the Apostle's leg again, the creature's balance giving way as it fell to one knee.

Before he could call out to Elowen, she was already moving. He saw her out of the corner of his eye, her body a blur as she charged, her sword raised. Her eyes were filled with determination, her magic crackling around her. She was going to end this.

But then, the Goblin Apostle let out a deafening roar. The remaining goblins, as if driven by some unseen force, rushed towards the Apostle, their bodies forming a living shield around it. Mikhailis cursed under his breath, his eyes darting around as he tried to find a way through.

"Damn it, they're protecting him!"

Serelith's voice rang out across the battlefield, commanding and clear.

"Everyone, form a circle around me!" Read the latest on empire

Mikhailis looked up, his eyes widening as he saw Serelith standing in the center of the courtyard, her hands raised, magic swirling around her. Earl Vaelis and Vyrelda moved quickly, forming a protective circle around her. Mikhailis hesitated for a moment before moving into position, surprised that none of them seemed inclined to attack him.

Alright, I'll take it.

Serelith and Elowen began to chant in unison, their voices weaving together, the magic around them growing more intense. Mikhailis could feel the power building, the air around them growing hot as the energy swirled. He watched in awe as the magic took form, a dome of fire and light surrounding them, the energy building until it erupted outward, a blazing inferno that consumed everything in its path.

The flames roared, the heat intense as it spread across the battlefield. Mikhailis watched as the knights and soldiers, as if expecting this move, began to retreat, their disciplined movements a testament to their training. The flames spread, consuming the goblins, their screams echoing through the air as the fire burned them to ash.

Mikhailis could only marvel at the power on display. The joint spell was incredible, the sheer force of it overwhelming. It was meant to end the battle, to wipe out the remaining goblin forces once and for all. He could see the flames spreading, the fortress itself beginning to crumble under the intensity of the magic.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The flames dissipated, the heat fading, leaving behind a battlefield covered in ash and charred bodies. The goblin forces had been decimated, their numbers reduced to almost nothing.

In the center of the destruction, the Goblin Apostle still stood. Its body was battered, its skin burned, but it was still alive. Mikhailis narrowed his eyes, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The Apostle's eyes were filled with fury, its body trembling as it struggled to stay upright.

This is it. The final confrontation.