The room shifted around him as Gary's body tumbled across the floor, his many accessories flying off into the room with each impact. It knocked his breath out as he bounced like a stone tossed across the surface of a pond.
His mind was blank as it happened, the adrenaline blocking out any other stimuli as he focused on keeping himself alive. He could vaguely hear muffled shouting, but he did not have the time to wonder about their origin or message.
He helplessly flailed his arms and legs, instinctively trying to stabilize himself. To slow the momentum. It was the only thing he could attempt at the moment.
That, and praying for the stone floor to transmute into a pile of soft pillows.
Maybe if he had a bit more time, he could. Or if the blow was a bit less powerful. But neither was the case, leaving him to be thrust into darkness as he collide against the wall, just as Alfred had.
As this happened, Brandus and the team looked on with a sense of horror. Brandus was especially concerned, his face warping even further with each bounce of his teammate.
While Shasa and Edwin shouted out in fear and worry, he couldn't help but silently curse the bastard.
To blindly fall into the enemy's goading... what was he even thinking? Being down one combatant was already a terrible situation. To be down two was...
No, he couldn't finish the thought. He tightened his grip on his blade, ignoring the cries of his weary arms.
Turning away from the sorry sight of the wall, he once again faced the Demon and took charge of the battlefield.
"Gabriel!" He roared, slashing at the guarded foe "Get him and Alfred on their feet!" Right now, they needed to have them back in the fight.
"Alfred is stabilized, but he isn't waking up! I'll heal Gary, but..."
"Do it!"
Gabriel gave a weak nod of acknowledgment, but he had little faith in the idea. Damage could be healed, but the exhaustion still remained. His spells could save a life, but it wouldn't bring them back to fighting form.
As he began treatment, Brandus continued exchanging blows, awkwardly dodging the polished attacks that were sent his way.
Shasa and Edwin renewed their volley of attacks, attempting to ease the pressure that Brandus was now under. Arrowheads tore into the Demons flesh, and magical flames licked at his skin.
But the Demon grew more unfazed with each passing second, making full use of his regeneration to the team's consternation.
Being the sole melee fighter, Brandus could clearly feel it. As his own swings got weaker, the Demon's grew stronger. Quicker.
The speed of improvement was monstrous. Too monstrous, he mulled. Compared to the beginning, the Demon had turned from a bumbling amateur into a refined and deadly swordsman.
The continent of Vecora was home to plenty of strange and talented beings, but none of them could improve at this ridiculous rate.
Unless...
'He isn't improving, he is healing.'
The Demon had been decorated in cuts and lacerations when they had first met. But taking another look, Brandus saw that the original injuries had all but disappeared.
In truth, they had been wrong this entire time. The one chance of defeating him was at the very start of the fight. Every second after had worn away their chance of victory.
Realization dawned on his face, but the revelation left him on the brink of hopelessness.
Despite that, his swordplay continued its dance, unfettered by the ugly reality that faced him.
'Even if this is pointless.'
Another strike flew passed his hazel eyes.
'Even if I'm gonna die.'
He returned the slash with one of his own.
'I will fight, I will show no fear, and I will take every drop of blood I can!'
His claymore once again met the flesh of the Demon, tearing the meat and veins asunder and sending a fountain of dark blood into the air as he continued his onslaught.
But before the drops of black could fall to the ground, a giant palm shot towards Brandus, its fingers wrapping tightly around Brandus as if they were bands of metal. They snatched him into the air and pulled him close to the Demon's face.
The Demon watched Brandus squirm in his grip, the dark pools of violet peering deeply into his very being.
Gazing back into those dark pupils as he felt the hot breath blow against his face, Brandus believed that his time had come. His lungs burned as they fought for air, the strong squeeze of the hand robbing him of any movement.
All it would take was one more squeeze. Just one bit of effort on the Demon's part. But that moment didn't happen.
Instead, he saw the light in the Demon's eyes turn into one of inquisitiveness, like he didn't understand what sort of creature he was holding in his hand.
"You..." He slowly muttered as an arrow sunk into his back, "Why do you reek of demonic aura? The stench is enough to overpower even your friend, who so shamelessly wore my trinkets."
The Demon looked on at Brandus, who was unable to speak even if he wanted to. If he put less force into his grip, he might be able to speak, but the Demon didn't bother to do so, as he never desired a response in the first place.
Spells and arrows flew at him, but the Demon chose to ignore those attacks.
No, he COULD ignore them.
"No, the smell is different. It is richer than those useless things... You... YOU!!!"
His face twisted into a sheer rage, with Brandus releasing a mouthful of air and blood as his chest was compressed even further.
The Demon opened his hand a bit, enough to twist his fingers around a small bag that clung to Brandus' side.
Wrenching it away, he dug his hand into the bag and pulled out a book. One whose large size matched perfectly with his own.
"Heh... Hehe. HAHAHAHAHHH!!!" Laughter shook the room, while a great, raging pressure filled it and pressed against every creature inside of it.
Calming himself, the Demon turned back to the little human in his hands with a snarl, revealing his glistening white teeth.
"I was wrong to call you mere thieves. To think that I considered letting you off with just a painful death... You and your little gang... YOU ALL SHALL KNOW THE TORTURE A DEMON CAN BRING!!!"