"I have no such intentions," Lokus said grimly as he followed after the caped man. "I only hope you'll let me keep some of what I kill."
"A trophy hunter, eh? Fine, you can keep a quarter of whatever you strike down. There'll be more than enough to spare. This horde will feed us for the next month!"
As the two men hurried toward the gate, joining the crowd Lokus couldn't help but notice that the men around them didn't have the serious demeanors one would expect of those putting their lives at risk. If anything, they looked… happy? Excited?
Everyone had an eager anticipation about them, as if they had been expecting this horde to attack for a while now…
And looked forward to it.
...…
They stood outside of the fortress walls, the massive iron portcullis behind them shut to prevent any wayward demons from slipping by and attacking those inside.
The caped man stood at the very front of the group, his mustache quivering in the darkness as he breathed. The men behind him chatted with each other idly, appearing far too calm for what was about to happen.
Lokus stood somewhere near the back, not because of cowardice, but because the caped man had said their loose formation would naturally shift to something more formidable when the time came. The only reason they stood in these places now, according to the caped man's words, was so that they could see him with their Domains.
They were one of ten such groups, spread out around the fortress' walls to stave off attacks from all sides. Although their group only numbered around fifty, the men who made it up didn't seem concerned by this fact, continuing to chat with each other as if it was just another day.
They had been waiting for over half an hour already, but the supposed demon horde was nowhere to be seen. If it weren't for the lackadaisical attitudes of those around them, Lokus might have begun to doubt whether it was really coming or not.
He squeezed the brace of his shield, a hint of nervousness in his chest.
This would be his first large-scale battle, and he knew better than anyone that in the grand scheme of things, he was weak. By the end of it all, Lokus was just as likely to lay dead on the ground, blood dripping out of a hole in his chest, as he was to survive by the skin of his teeth, perhaps more.
Lokus had no way of knowing how strong those around him were, nor of the strength of the foes they would face on this day. All he knew was that he was barely in the first of the Monarch ranks, out of however many there were.
He was untrained, undisciplined in the ways of battle, and was alone save for the intangible demon by his side. He didn't trust the men around him to save him should he enter dire straits, nor did he expect it of them.
To them, he was a stranger, maybe even a burden. They could sense his inexperience, and he could feel the frequent glances they shot his way, ranging from pity to derision to sadistic curiosity. Few of them expected him to survive this, and fewer still expected him to stand his ground and fight.
It was those glances that allowed Lokus to stifle the nervousness in his chest, a deep sense of anger kindling like a fire within his heart, born from nearly two decades of being on the receiving end of looks just like those.
They expected him to die here? They viewed him as a burden, a hindrance that would only get in their way, was that it?
He could feel that spark of anger roaring within his chest, sweeping through his mind and burning away all excess thoughts until there was little more than a raging battle intent left.
Lokus may have been a lowly Prince, but he had survived his fair share of hardships, and he wouldn't fall now. The soldiers would have nothing but disappointment in their future if they expected otherwise.
'Don't you die on me today,' Lokus told Ibmund sternly.
The demon growled, as if insulted at the insinuation, causing the soldiers around them to send Lokus an odd glance. Since they couldn't see the demon, they could only assume that it came from the masked man before them, but that growl didn't sound like a noise a human could make.
Was the stress getting to the young man? Or was that supposed to be a battle cry? They didn't know.
Lokus rolled his shoulders, ignoring these glances as that urge to fight something grew stronger and stronger within him. He was about to ask when the demon horde would arrive when the caped man suddenly raised a fist above his head.
The chatter instantly died off, a hint of seriousness coloring their brows as their grips tightened on their weapons. They waited patiently for the caped man's words, some shifting from foot to foot in anticipation of what was to come.
Slowly, almost as if conducting some sort of ceremony, the caped man's raised fist lowered, and with unhurried, precise movements, he undid the brooch and allowed the leather cape to fall from his shoulders.
In a commanding tone, the man spoke.
"They're here. Ready yourselves."
The men behind him cheered, banging their weapons against their shields or armor as the first demonic shape entered the range of their Domains.
"Engage."
The soldiers surged forward with a collective roar, sword meeting demonic flesh and claw clanging against solid steel armor as human and demon met in furious battle.
Lokus, left behind, shared a glance with Ibmund, his battle intent tampered down by the confusion he felt at the humans' reaction. 'They're rather eager for this, aren't they?'
Ibmund grunted in response, not particularly caring about the feelings of mortals.
'It's almost like they've been expecting this,' he mused as he strode forward to enter the fray.
What was it that the caped man had said? That this horde would feed the fortress for a month?
That was an oddly specific time frame. And come to think of it, how had they known that the demon horde was on its way thirty minutes in advance, when no one here could even see far enough with their Domains to notice such a thing?
Something about all of this wasn't adding up, and Lokus couldn't help but suspect that Vera had something to do with it.
But for now, there was no point in thinking of anything other than the battle in front of him.
As he walked towards the front lines, Lokus checked his status on his system.
[Stats
Rank: Prince
...
Mantles
>Disturbed Crown. Rank: Prince. Type: Krone. Abilities: Gives the user the Phantom Monarch System. Affinities: Frost Affinity.
...
Affinities
>Frost. Rank: Prince
...
Condition: Healthy
Bloodlines: Foust (demon), Grimn (demon).
...
Majesty: Prince
Endurance: Prince (Major)
Strength: Prince (Middling)
Perception: Prince (Middling) +1]
'Nothing out of the ordinary,' he thought.
With that out of the way, it was time to pay this fortress back for what it had done for him… and earn some demon corpses in the process.
'He said I could have a fourth of what I take down. No idea how many demons I need to advance my Endurance to the King rank, so let's shoot for… twenty kills.'
In the past, Lokus might have called himself mad for setting such a goal. After nearly dying to demons on three separate and distinct occasions, how could he be so confident to kill not just one, but twenty demons?
Simple. Lokus wasn't the same weakling he was when he was banished, or even the same as he was three days ago.
His Endurance, his Strength, even his Perception had all increased since he first arrived in this place, and he had his own personal guard demon to watch his back. He had not only fought, but lived and won against two of the three demons he had faced up until now, and he had only grown stronger since then.
But perhaps the biggest reason for his confidence was the demons themselves.
They were disorganized, sloppy, and jumping around with the energy of hyperactive toddlers as they roared and barked and yipped in a cacophony just as wild and unrestrained as they were.
They didn't slip into formations, or use their superior numbers to bear down on the humans in an oppressive tide. In fact, they regularly fought against their own kind in an attempt to jostle their way to the front and attack the humans themselves.
They had no weapons other than their own teeth and claws, and occasionally things like stingers or quills, and they didn't even try to surround the humans and box them in, preferring to climb and clamber over their brethren as they rushed foolhardily forward.
They appeared to have some sort of unspoken rule that no two demons could attack the same prey twice, as whenever this happened, the two demons would completely ignore their human opponents in favor of asserting their dominance over the transgressor.
In these demons, Lokus saw none of the cunning or intelligence of the demons he had killed before. These things before him were little more than animals, beasts in everything from mind to appearance.