Garruk's wings beat raggedly as he neared the foreboding silhouette of the Demon King's Castle. The dark spires jutted into the stormy sky, lightning crackling across them as if nature itself feared to touch the structure. Blood still dripped from his torn wings, leaving a faint trail behind him as he descended, barely making it to the stone balcony where two guards stood at attention. They exchanged uneasy glances as Garruk landed, his massive frame stumbling before he steadied himself.
Without waiting for acknowledgment, Garruk pushed past them, grimacing as the pain flared through his body. He knew what awaited him inside—reprimand, disappointment, perhaps punishment. But even with the looming wrath of the Demon Lord, the bitter sting of failure gnawed at him more fiercely than any wound.
