The Artholath clone knew that the odds were most certainly not in is favor; a change needed to be made.

He sent a wave of spikes around him for cover and jumped to a side of the temple. If he was not intercepted, he would be able to cast with a little more freedom as the other heros were still relatively clustered at where he was just fighting at.

[hr]

Meanwhile, the real Artholath carried a set of souls, almost tenderly, to the bodies awaiting the essence of life. He put each tendril into the heads of the bodies, releasing the souls slowly into them. Right afterwards, he sliced a small section of his arm. Dark blue blood slowly oozed out, which he poured into each hole that he just made. Any lesser demon would fail in this attempt, but a true demon had a perfect set of blood that could provide the resources needed to complete the 'demonization' of these bodies.