The Most Evil Kind.

Alexander intercepted the polearm. He had used the weapon he had created with his own hands only once before, and then he used the sword. Now the sword was left hanging on his belt. The crossbowmen, at Leonid's command, shifted their fire to the paladins. The swordsmen took their places behind the backs of their comrades, now successfully and not so successfully hitting the rapidly approaching targets.

Here the first paladin reached the bank and jumped easily. Somewhere over the middle of the river a steel bolt struck him in the chest and his body fell into the water, where it was picked up by the swift current.

The ground shook beneath his feet. The entire space beyond the bridge was engulfed in fire. "Fire Meteor!" One of the strongest battle spells of the Fire School. The illustrious and famous Ilkhor's Black Axes squad had ceased to exist. Together with him, all the Orod infantrymen who had moved to this shore and a significant part of the lateliers and vigilantes who had managed to help the mercenaries perished.

The enemy again sent infantry to storm the bridge. Together with the remnants of the infantry on the right bank rushed and surviving latniks. Almost no one else could resist them, the losses of the Elur's were terrible.

But the vampires didn't care about that. The paladins had reached them. The crossbowmen tossed their artifacts aside and drew their weapons. It was an equal opponent. Alexander raised his arm and released a "fire arrow", the spell ran into the amulet's defenses and dissipated.

"Ah you so!"

A sharp leap forward. The paladin's right arm was intercepted in a swing, and in his abdomen, the polearm's spike made a neat round wound, piercing through his lats. The man, feeling the steel leave his body, concentrates on treating the wound and at that moment a crushing blow comes down on his head.

Another paladin ahead. This one doesn't try to swing his sword like a peasant, he takes a leap and somersaults through the air over the vampire and lands behind his back, simultaneously trying to blow his head off with his sword. Alexander crouches down and strikes the opponent's legs with his poleaxe, breaking them, and then he gets on top of the lying man and reaches his throat with his fingers, ripping out his caduceus.

"Good! More!"

Having tasted blood, the vampire leaps up and runs at three paladins at once. Accelerate, deflect the sword strike, tilt, strike! The blow hits the man's shoulder, knocking him back several meters and breaking every bone in his body. His comrade, trying to reach the target, gets too close to it and gets electrocuted.

"And this one has a good amulet!"

But the amulet can't repel magical attacks forever, and Alexander continues to build up his strength and change the magic he uses. This time conjuring low temperatures for a change. The amulet is discharged and can no longer protect its owner.

A crouch and the third paladin hits a chunk of ice, which a second ago was a living man and his comrade, and gets hit in the head here, and the vampire gets to his body and blood.

"More!"

"Air Fist" applied by one of the vampires throws another paladin aside Alexander, the latter tries to jump up, but the polepusher calms him down.

The vampire stands up to his full height, looking for his next victim.

Duke Cass watched the patch in front of the bridge in horror. In his dreams and from the stories of others, this was not at all how he had envisioned the actual battle. Where was the glory? Where is the honor? Where is the bravery? First the Orod's mage had simply incinerated a thousand-plus men, and then he had done it again, killing several times that number, and yet there were several hundred of his compatriots there as well.

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