But the battle was not yet won. The demon's claws lashed out, catching the rocky edge of the chasm as it fell. It clung there, its body dangling precariously over the abyss, and its eyes blazing with unholy anger.
"It wasn't enough!" Jeren cried, his voice shrill with fear. "It's going to climb back up!"
it was pulling itself back up, inch by inch, its claws digging deep into the rock.
Then Artam burst forward clutching a spear in hand. "Argh," screaming as he vehemently stabbed the demon's fingers with desperation.
The demon's claws dug deeper into the rock, and with a mighty heave, it began to pull itself up, inch by inch.
Artam slashed at a bloody finger, though the bloody finger wasn't severed, the spear bit deep at flesh and tendon.
The demon bellowed with anger and slashed at him with one of its arms, Artam narrowly dodged and slashed at another finger. The demon's grip faltered, and it careened towards the abyss.
"Die, you bloody hellspawn!" Eryk cried whilst sprinting at full speed. Twisting his body and throwing the spear with all the force he could muster.
It flew only a heartbeat before skewering the back of one of its many hands. It shrieked in agony, but then Eryk's boot connected with its horrible snout, as he landed a heavy kick, intending to push the demon off. But the demon was as stubborn as he was.
Artam's hands were pale from gripping The spear tightly, but he didn't stop. He could feel the demon giving in to their attacks.
Lomen and The knight had joined them, and they were close to dislodging the hellspawn.
'Do you have a death wish, Artam?' suddenly, he felt the tremor of a shiver run through his spine and the foreboding of an omen suffocating him.
The demon turned to look at Artam, and if he was not mistaken, an ugly sly smile slowly etched its way on its face.
The demon sword had been lodged unto the edge, and it had been used to support itself. Suddenly, it pulled out the sword and, with the same motion, severed the chains that bound it to the mad horse.
The screams of the mad horse echoed as it faded into the abyss.
Artam could almost hear it chuckle as it pulled itself up and then with the same demon sword cut Lomen cleanly into two halves. Jeren scampered back in fright, and Eryk was caught unawares by the swipe of a claw.
Its two legs had already dug into the mountainside, and two more were on the edge, pulling it up. It used one claw to hold off Artam and the last one, the sword-wielding hand, to check the Knight's blows.
Eryk was already on his feet, but by the time he would have gotten up, the demon would have fully climbed over.
Artem gulped, his beats quickened, saliva rolled on his tongue, his breathing became heavier, and the air in his throat felt suffocating.
"Raaghhhhhhh!" he let out a fierce war cry sprinting to the demon in the short distance and snatching the short sword from Jeren.
Ducking a blow from the demon, who seemed to have sensed something from Artam, but it was already too late.
He nearly tripped, but he didn't. He ran with all his might and then leaped off the edge towards the demon and skewered it in the right chest with the spear, like a pole vaulter.
It went in deep, with only a tiny bit poking out from the demon's back.
The demon's grip faltered, and it fell into the abyss, its scream echoing as it disappeared into the darkness below, and with Artam it fell.
For a moment, there was silence. The unlikely allies stood in astonishment, heaving as they struggled to catch their breath. The knight, Eryk, and Jeren were all gasping for air, their bodies exhausted from the effort.
"Artam" Jeren whispered.
Artam was falling, and it didn't look good for him. The fletching crow was chirping loudly in the collar of his cloak; somehow, it had gotten there, screaming as they fell. Though he couldn't see it, the ground was getting closer at a terrifying speed, and worst of all the demon wasn't dead yet.
The rain seemed to weaken the demon; wisps of black smoke rose from where the raindrops landed on its glossy, leathery skin. And its fiery demon sword was dimmed, almost on the verge of being snuffed away.
The demon was determined to kill Artam before it met its demise. That's even if a fall from this height could kill the demon, it would surely kill Artam, but the demon had proven itself far more resilient, and if it survived, that would be dangerous.
Artam clenched his teeth, his mind was made up, he was going to kill the demon before it could kill him. He would make absolutely certain that not a breath of life was left.
That was something deep in Artam's nature; sometimes he was a creature of extremes. Even when he was a small child, there had been something primitive in his blood, something harking back to the fierce warriors of old, something as wild as it was pure. It knew neither the light of civilization nor the tempering of knowledge. Nor did it know moderation. It was a natural trait and the one that had always prevented the other slaves from liking the boy.
In an instant he had almost reached the demon, gripping the steel gladius he snatched from Jeren until his knuckles were pale and raw.
There was no way to maneuver in the air, the demon reached for Artam with its vile claws, and he raised his left arm to absorb the blow and protect his torso and face.
In the next moment the outstretched arm of the demon connected with his… …And easily shattered his bones, "Arghh!" a terrible scream escaped from his mouth.
Before Artam could even process the terrible impact that reverberated through his shattered bones, five massive fingers closed around his torso like a steel bear trap. And squeezed. 'S–Shit!'
In another instant, the demon was bringing his prey closer to its ugly snout, ready to devour him. Its eyes burned with a bright fury and vengeance.
Artam gritted his teeth and groaned, feeling his whole body being slowly crushed by the demon. One of his arms was pressed against his body, and the other one was clutching the gladius.
His vision was slowly starting to grow dark. 'Dammit! I… I need to…'
Then the bird let out a shrill cry, and Artam regained clarity of mind.
He was going to murder the vile demon, right here and now. There was no doubt or hesitation, no room for failure. Only certainty. The terrifying, towering demon in front of him opened his maw, ready to tear him apart with rows of razor-sharp fangs that would rip him to shreds and condemn him to a terrifying death.
Feeling the smooth handle of the steel gladius in his hand, Artam lunged forward.
Time was moving very slowly. It almost felt as if the world had frozen. The rain was suspended in the air, the fountains of mud sliding off the black mountain slope had grown still, the distant figures of the surrounding mountains like grotesque statues witnessing his final moments.
In this nearly static world, only one thing seemed unbound by paralysis, a bolt of lightning that was crawling across the sky, extending toward the ground as it forked and illuminated the darkness.
"Arghhhhhh!" Artam let out a bestial scream as he plunged the steel gladius through the roof of the demon's mouth, skewering its skull, pushing the blade hilt deep and exiting at the other end of the skull.
The inferno light was permanently extinguished from the demon's eyes, and it fell still and limp, its sword flickered and wavered before dissolving into black mist. Leaving some kind of sword with no blade.
But Artam paid no heed to these details, for he collapsed and fell with the demon. Its grip loosened, and he sucked in cold air through his lungs. It hurt like hell though, as though he was inhaling jagged pieces of glass.
He felt his consciousness tethering, and about to be snuffed out; that's why he didn't realize the demon's limp hand collided with him and changed the trajectory of his fall.
In the next moment, he crashed violently into the muddy mountainside and then again and again and again. Like a ragdoll rolling down its side until he finally landed on a lonesome platform on the mountainside. Not even one foot wide, he dangled precariously over the edge.
He was knocked out cold and dying, with a broken body lying in a horrifying, unnatural pose.
At that moment, hovering on the edge of the platform, Artam realized that he was about to die.
He was struggling against the darkness that blanketed his mind, slowing down his thoughts and snuffing out all emotions. All except fear.
'I–I am going to die…. Dammit,' Artam felt regret and shame. He wanted to do more with his life, more now especially with his new life.
He had been given a new life at the cost of someone's death, and now he would die a useless death, and it would be all in vain.
'I guess the fates wish my death,' he thought with bitterness.
Didn't he tell Jeren no one would save him, now he was going to die the worst way of all. As a hero.
Tears streamed from his eyes as he lay broken and paralyzed.
'I won though… at least that I did.' Artam closed his eyes, Everything felt like it was happening to someone else. He was tired. And he couldn't breathe. Drowning in blood was not very pleasant.
As his conscience began to slip, he heard the sound of the crow that had held onto him fiercely; it was chirping weakly, and its heartbeat was slowly coming to a halt.
He opened his eyes for the last time and smiled at it, at least someone would accompany him on the journey of the pale mare.
Then he answered the crow's call and everything went silent and dark.