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Then, without another word, Red spread his wings.

With a single, mighty beat, he lifted off the ground. Another beat, and he was already ascending. His colossal form blurred as he picked up speed, and within seconds—

He was gone. Yet his presence remained, the aftermath of his fire followed immediately, its effects still unraveling.

As Red vanished into the night sky, the lingering sea of flame began to take effect.

At first, the battlefield stood eerily still. The Zealots, still heavily numbered, suddenly stopped. Their bodies twitched and shuddered, their instinct screaming for them to get to the other world, sadly their connection to the other world was severed by the fire's divine will. 

Then, the flames sank into the ground, spreading like veins of molten gold.

A sudden pressure gripped the battlefield. The Zealots screamed.