On the spiral stairs of that colossal tower of Hell, death was dancing naked. Orobas's army was climbing upward like a raging flood. The number of demons was so vast that the tower's walls trembled under their growls and the clashing sounds of iron weapons in their hands.
Gandolf was weaving a net of blue lightning with his trident, turning the advancing demons into ash. But for every devil that fell, ten new beasts took its place. Diana's sword was quenching a thirst that had lasted for centuries; with every strike, another head separated from its body with a heavy thud. The two warriors stood like a wall, because they knew that if even a single demon reached Claire, everything would be over.
"We don't have time to get tangled with these dogs!" Gandolf roared as he drove his trident into the chest of a massive demon and hurled it down the stairs. He turned back and glanced behind him. Claire's face had gone pale with fear and exhaustion.
