Within the decrepit throne room, the grating of steel and detonation of spells could be heard, the walls of mist flashing with the orange glow of the flaming projectiles that flew in the blanketed battlefield.
Gary wove through the curtain of mist, dodging the greatsword that had materialized right above his head.
Whipping his body to the side, he dashed to the source of the attack, twirling his blade as he dove under the towering Demon and avoided the shifting legs.
His strikes flashed between the thighs and calves, his swordwork resembling a dance as it left a number of oozing black wounds to mark its prowess.
The whistling of an arrow soon followed, following a course straight toward the Demon's throat.
Sensing the incoming bolt, the Demon shifted his body, letting the arrow punch into the meat of his shoulder. The projectile lodged itself deep, joining several of its brethren that decorated the opponent's muscular body.
Edwin had been hard at work during the battle, firing his bow whenever a gap in the mist revealed a clear shot.
However, he had met with little success; the Demon had an impeccable sense of danger. Any shot that threatened to hit a vital point was either dodged or redirected to another part of his body.
But unbeknownst to him, the salvo was far from over.
A fiery red serpent flashed through the air before colliding with the back of his head, leaving him both stunned and slightly scorched. Courtesy of a miffed sorceress, who had circled around for a flanking attack.
Brandus quickly took advantage of the brief moment of inaction, bending his knees low to the floor before leaping over the Demon's head.
Making use of both gravity and his trained arms, he ruthlessly heaved his claymore down on the distracted face of the Demon, leaving a deep gash across the side of his face, revealing the pure white bone beneath his cheek and brow.
But despite the small triumph, the mood was still grim.
'This is fucking ridiculous.'
Gary's hands subtly shook from exhaustion as he gasped for breath, wiping the drops of sweat that covered his forehead.
'I cut him, he heals. I cut him even more, he heals. Shasa sets off a sixth-level spell point-blank, and he still. Fucking. Heals.'
Even worse, his regeneration was not limited to just his own strikes; the old injuries that laced his body had begun to contract, slowly returning him to full strength.
And Gary could feel the difference.
The wayward swings and awkward movement had begun to fade away, with each strike more calculated. More conservative.
And more deadly.
After the successful combo, the Demon grasped his blood-gushing wound as he lunged back, retreating from the encirclement. He then returned his blade and feet back into a conventional sword form, his bloodshot eyes looming from behind his weapon as he kept a defensive stance.
The team weren't the only ones who were aware of the current situation. Observing his opponents who had thrown away any attempt at defense, he could guess their strategy.
"What's wrong? Tired already?" He taunted, revealing a row of white teeth stained in his own blood. It was an unnerving smile, but not due to the blood or grin.
What bothered Gary was the teeth. Teeth that would be found in the smile of a man, rather than some savage monster.
"It would be a shame if this is all you have to show," He continued. "Though, I guess some congratulations are in order. This battle will be a memorable one; it is rare to leave a fight in better health than you entered."
He lifted his forearm up as he spoke, showing off the wounds that healed at a visible rate.
"So, little thieves. Will you come to me? Or is it my turn to make you bleed?"
Gary answered his question with a powerful-- yet extremely reckless --lunge, closing in as he urged his muscles to give more than they were capable of.
He and the Demon measured each other, both looking for an opportune time to attack.
It was the Demon who first moved, twisting his shoulders as he delivered a low sweep at Gary's pumping legs.
Seeing the blow approaching, and not particularly fond of being an amputee, he leaped over the blade--
'Shit!'
Gary cursed, noticing with alarm as the attack halted and drew back.
It had been a feint. A damn good one at that, considering that it had left the opponent almost defenseless.
Watching the repositioned blade begin a downward descent, the eyes of an air-born Gary couldn't help but flash with a light of admiration at the well-timed move.
Yet, it quickly disappeared as his fate... and the sword, drew closer.
He spun his body, orienting himself at a forty-five-degree angle as the sword malevolently approached with a torrent of black and purple miasma.
And just as the edge neared his head, he raised a softly glowing hand toward it, and cast [Force] on the blade.
An invisible pulse spread forth, washing over the Demon's weapon as it cut through the weak spell without any loss of speed or power.
But that was never Gary's goal.
The spell didn't just affect the surroundings; when directed, it would also affect the caster to a lesser degree. To the point where the pushback was almost negligible.
But if cast in the air... it was enough.
He flew downward, hitting the ground right before the sword cracked the stone floor a foot from his body.
He tucked his body and rolled as a wave of shrapnel exploded in the near vicinity, getting his back peppered by the tiny shards.
And as he crawled back to his feet, the Demon let loose yet another blow.
And this time, Gary had no way of dodging.
Fueled by fear, he suddenly dropped to a crouching stance, hurriedly casting a [Reinforce] on his angled shortsword that prepared a hasty deflection.
His battered and worn face looked at the incoming attack, letting a resigned sigh escape his lips.
'Hahhh, this is gonna hurt so bad... [Feather Fall].'
The flat of his sword met the Demon's edge, and what felt like the power of a god hit him like a truck, cracking the blade and the bones in his hands.
Then, the world began to shift and spin as Gary started to fly.