"You fiend, how dare you meddle in the affairs of the God of Trees within the realm of the sinners! You shall face the wrath of the God of Trees," Roiwood bellowed in fury.
Flames enveloped his body with increasing ferocity, spreading across his entire form.
The once lush leaves turned brittle, their vitality rapidly diminishing.
Such is the frailty of arboreal beings; devoid of their defensive stance and under continuous assault, their health dwindles swiftly.
"Demon? I am no demon; I am of pure human blood," Henry remarked, a smirk playing on his lips.
His pallid skin, characteristic of demons, only accentuated his handsomeness.
Henry nonchalantly picked up the demon bow from behind him, drew it with poise, and aimed an arrow straight at Roiwood.
"You, simpleton, might not have heard of demon potions, I presume?"
