Here is a more professional, detailed, and smooth-paced revision of your scene, while maintaining the intensity and battle atmosphere:
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The mountains had become a deathtrap—fortified with mechanical troops, each unit rigged for self-destruction, primed to unleash hell upon command.
Octavius and Lucerne stood at the heart of the chaos, bracing for a flanking assault—rear and front. The risk was immense; one misstep could cost them everything.
Time was no longer on their side. Erebus had already made his move, throwing the balance into disarray. Octavius, ever the strategist, resolved to end this before the day was done.
Then came the screech.
Triglav—the three-headed abomination—bellowed as Octavius raised his arm, signaling the archers and alchemists. "Target the left head—now!"
Arrows and alchemical projectiles soared, whistling through the frigid air. The creature flinched and veered, narrowly avoiding the volley—but it had underestimated the enemy's foresight.
It was a trap.
"Now!" Octavius roared, his voice echoing across the range.
Just as Triglav spread its monstrous wings to unleash a barrage of steel feather blades, one of its heads let out a violent, guttural cry—struck directly by a hidden explosive charge. It convulsed as the damaged head slammed into the snow-blanketed mountainside.
"It's disoriented! Press the attack!" Octavius barked. "Drive it to madness!"
Soldiers surged forward, hurling another wave of explosive-tipped spears and enchanted bolts. The skies above the beast rippled with divine energy and smoke.
Lucerne wiped blood from his blade, his breaths shallow but steady. "Good shot," Octavius muttered to his brother.
Lucerne flexed his sword arm—and winced. Black veins crept along his skin, a creeping corruption spiraling from his palm.
"So… this is the price for killing an entity," he said with a crooked smile, his voice low. He yanked his sleeve down and gripped his weapon tighter, refusing to falter.
A soldier rushed to Octavius. "Commander—we've activated the self-destruct sequence."
Octavius gave a curt nod. "Inform the alchemists. Stand by for synchronization."
"We're ready," came the reply.
The second wave was launched.
Triglav retaliated. Its wings hurled a flurry of razor-sharp feather blades, coated in its corrosive inner fluids—poisonous to Amanécerians. Those struck by the blades screamed in agony as their divine essence was sapped, their bodies writhing under the supernatural toxin. For humans and Erebus' troops, the wounds were grievous—but survivable.
Lucerne reemerged from the flank, positioning for another strike. But the beast was faster this time.
Blades closed in from multiple angles. One grazed his earlobe. Without hesitation, he drew a dagger and sliced off the bleeding portion to stop the poison's spread.
"Damn it," he growled through gritted teeth, blood soaking into his collar as he tumbled out of harm's way.
While Lucerne bought precious seconds, the alchemists finalized a new trap—chains inscribed with divine glyphs, radiating holy light. They glowed with the same binding force once used against Iblis himself.
"Now!" Octavius roared once more.
From the cliffs and ridges, the chains launched, writhing through the air like living serpents. Triglav thrashed, trying to tear them apart while attempting to retreat—but it was too late.
One chain coiled around its leg. Another latched onto its wing. A third caught its torso—and soon, all three heads were ensnared, their howls echoing across the battlefield.
"The chains will dissolve at sunset!" an alchemist warned. "We have less than five minutes!"
Octavius exhaled sharply. "Then let's end this. Pull it down!"
Alchemists channeled more divine energy into the bindings. The creature's body, now buckling under the weight of power, began descending toward the snow-packed ravine.
"Status?" Octavius demanded.
"All charges are armed. They'll detonate on proximity."
He nodded grimly. "We end it now."
Lucerne leapt one final time, landing behind the writhing monster. With a swift, precise slash, he severed the final head.
"It's done," he muttered, watching the black marks on his arm begin to fade. His eyes widened. "The antidote… was in the last head."
Triglav collapsed, shuddering, its mutilated form coiled in divine chains. Its limbs spasmed in desperation.
"Pull harder!" Octavius commanded. Soldiers and alchemists doubled their efforts, dragging the monstrous entity to the final position—directly above the explosive-laden mechanical troops.
A single feather, glowing faintly, drifted to the earth.
The mountain ignited.
A thunderous explosion erupted, fire and debris surging skyward like the wrath of a fallen god. Stones pelted the terrain as an avalanche thundered down in its wake. Flames danced across the sky. The dying scream of the beast echoed once—then was gone.
"Fall back!" Lucerne shouted, rallying the forward units. "Evacuate now!"
Troops scrambled as the alchemists created protective barriers and guided the retreat. The eastern range was consumed in chaos—but they had survived.
By nightfall, the remnants of the force reached the main encampment. There, beneath the flickering lamplight and a blood-red sky, Canute toiled over the next phase of their campaign.
Their next target was Dabbah. And perhaps the last phase of the unending battle theu had been tirelessly fighting inside the realm and out while losing precious lives.