Strike the ruby glow of the magic node
It explodes with a thousand loveless cries
And the gate is closed
But the last drop of blood in this place has not yet flowed, the killing has not stopped, for
Even if no more demon comes now
All of East Jerusalem resembles an enormous battlefront
The last bastion of humanity defends itself with a fighter's heart
Against an endless superiority on the Temple Mount
On the human side, corpses pile up like mountains
But the enemy henchmen - they don't seem to die
They stream from everywhere like the living dead
Up the slopes in seemingly never-ending waves
Inhuman roar, fighting and raving
Between dream and reality the boundaries are shifted
Above the mountain appears in burning robes
The vision of a man, he shines brightly and has his hands raised
Standing there in the blazing light
Summons the streaming army of hell and watches me with a malevolent gaze
I look up, stare back
Discovering the ruins in its background and knowing which big city it is
Know how far away the place is
So I dare to teleport with the very last bit of energy from the destroyed gate.
And suddenly there's silence
No killing, no dying, no murderous image, no hellish roar
Just the Canary Wharf complex - City of London
Only a single tower among the ruined banks
Of the district is there
Surrounded by beams of magic that entwine around it like poisonous snakes
It flashes like brilliants on the floor at the top
It must be in there - the head of the demons
I walk eastwards, the floor is riddled with cracks
Lava flows underneath, I feel the heat bubbling.
And I go into the bank building, in the air there's the hint of
The smell of sulphur, the stench of rot.
Every corridor lit by black magic
Pulled by the devil's hand, a man leans sighing
With a nonchalant look
Against a wall in the corner in a strange light, Detaches himself from the wall and speaks
Comes close and hisses:
"You've foiled my plan!" - and the wall throws back his voice with a thunderous sound