Ezra, Korr, and Alfira continued their journey through the night, the silence between them only broken by the sound of their footsteps on the dirt path. As they walked, Ezra could sense Alfira's fatigue, her movements slowing and her posture slumping ever so slightly.
"Alright, stop. Let's rest for a bit," Ezra said, his tone firm yet not unkind. "We don't want you keeling over from exhaustion before we make it there."
Alfira opened her mouth to protest, but Ezra raised a hand, cutting her off. "We need you in top health so you can tell the King of Tavelon what we know. The sooner we're ready for the demon invasion, the better."
Korr nodded, stretching out his arms as he glanced at Alfira with a grin. "Boss is right. We don't need you passing out on us halfway there. We've got enough trouble ahead without having to carry anyone."
With a resigned sigh, Alfira nodded, her shoulders relaxing as she took a seat on a nearby rock. "Fine, fine," she muttered. "Just... don't expect me to thank you for it."
Ezra sighed, his gaze lingering on Alfira as she walked ahead. He could tell she had some sort of noble upbringing by the way she carried herself—graceful, poised, with an air of authority. But, honestly, he didn't care enough to ask about her past or her title. Her personality, however, was starting to get on his nerves. Still, he'd dealt with nobles far worse than her in the past, so he wasn't about to let it bother him too much. It was just another day in the life of a mercenary, after all.
The group continued their journey through the dense forest, the sounds of their footsteps mingling with the rustling of leaves. The night air had a chill to it, and even with the clear sky overhead, a sense of tension hung in the atmosphere. Ezra kept his focus ahead, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement, while Korr stayed close, his usual jovial mood dampened by the unknown ahead.
Alfira walked a few steps behind, lost in thought, though Ezra could sense her unease growing with every step they took. He was about to break the silence when the air around them seemed to shift—an unnatural stillness settled in, the kind that preceded a powerful presence.
Suddenly, a figure materialized before them, stepping out from behind a thick cluster of trees. The figure was tall, his presence commanding and unmistakable. A demon, with striking purple hair that cascaded down his back, and red eyes that glowed with an eerie intensity. Two long, curling horns adorned his head, the gold embellishments gleaming under the moonlight. His expensive-looking robes flowed with each movement, the fabric rich and intricate, embroidered with dark patterns and symbols that spoke of high rank.
In his hand, he gripped a staff, topped with a massive diamond—a magic catalyst, its power radiating visibly in the cool night air. The energy pulsing from the staff was unmistakable, and Ezra immediately recognized it for what it was: something far more dangerous than they had dealt with so far.
The demon's gaze locked onto Alfira, a strange, almost affectionate smile playing at the edges of his lips. "Sister," he said, his voice smooth and melodic, yet chilling. "Princess Alfira, I've been searching for you. It's time to come home."
Alfira froze at the sound of her title, her body stiffening in shock. Ezra's grip tightened on his sword instinctively, stepping forward to protect her, his eyes narrowing. He could feel the weight of the situation, knowing this demon wasn't just any common enemy.
Korr, too, moved into a defensive stance, cracking his knuckles, ready to fight. "What the hell is this?" he growled.
But the demon paid them no mind, his focus solely on Alfira. "I've come on behalf of our family. The King awaits you. It's time to end this little journey you've been on."
Ezra studied the demon carefully. "Family?" he muttered under his breath, his gaze flicking to Alfira. "What's going on here?"
Alfira remained silent for a moment, her eyes averted. Then, with a heavy sigh, she finally spoke. "This is my brother," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "And as much as it pains me to admit it... I am indeed a princess. My family is not what I've led you to believe."
The revelation hit like a blow to the gut, but Ezra's focus remained on the demon, watching for any sudden movements. The air around them seemed to grow colder, and he could feel the magic emanating from the staff—the demon wasn't bluffing. This was no idle threat.
The demon's smile widened as he took a step closer to Alfira. "It's been too long, sister. Our parents will be pleased to see you again." His red eyes flicked to Ezra and Korr, then back to Alfira, the tension between them palpable. "You, mercenary, I suggest you stand down. The princess is coming with me, whether she wishes it or not."
Ezra's grip on his sword tightened, his stance shifting into something far more lethal. "I don't take kindly to people trying to take my clients."
The demon's expression darkened slightly, but he didn't seem entirely surprised. "I expected as much," he said coldly, twirling the staff in his hand. "But I will not hesitate to force her if it comes to that."
The air was thick with impending conflict as the group stood at the precipice of an unavoidable clash, Ezra's instincts on edge, ready for whatever this demon would throw at them.
The demon swirled his staff, and the air grew heavy with power as an intricate rune of Aether began to materialize in front of him. It pulsed with an otherworldly energy, a symbol of immense strength. As the rune took shape, the demon's lips curled into a smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement at the challenge before him.
Ezra's instincts screamed at him to act. Without hesitation, he activated his hybrid form, the energy coursing through his body as his muscles expanded and his senses sharpened. With a resounding boom, he launched himself forward, moving faster than the eye could follow, his sword raised to strike. In his momentum, the force of his charge knocked Alfira off her feet, sending her sprawling to the ground.
The demon's grin widened as the rune, now fully formed, shifted and appeared behind Ezra with terrifying speed.
Ezra's eyes widened in realization just a split second too late. He twisted in midair, attempting to slash the rune with his sword, but the strike was too slow. With a sudden surge of dark energy, the rune released its power in a cascade of black fire. The flames roared outward, scorching the air as they engulfed Ezra.
With a grunt of effort, Ezra leapt backward, narrowly avoiding the full brunt of the attack, but the black flames still licked at his armor. The impact of the explosion sent him skidding across the forest floor, and his armor was left smoldering in the wake of the blast. As he regained his footing, he grimaced at the sight—his armor was singed, and a few holes had formed from the relentless barrage of previous fights. It was clear that the strain of battle was beginning to take its toll.
The demon watched him with a look of mild amusement, his staff resting casually in his grip. "You're better than I thought, Mercenary. And I've heard of that strange Aether of yours—the one that can purge Spell Runes before they activate. But unfortunately for you, I'm at the Fourth Rune level." The demon's voice was dripping with a cruel confidence as he took a slow step forward.
Ezra's hand tightened on his sword, his mind already working to counter the demon's next move. But the demon wasn't done yet.
He gave a low chuckle, his red eyes gleaming as he leaned forward, his expression one of mock pity. "But before you die a most untimely death, I will permit you to learn my name." His lips curled into a wicked smile, and the air around him seemed to darken. "I am Zyrion, First of the Demon Lords, and you, mercenary, have made a grave mistake in crossing me."
The name echoed in Ezra's mind, and a chill ran down his spine. The demon's power was unlike anything he had encountered before. Zyrion's words hung in the air as the shadows around him deepened, a sense of impending doom settling over the battlefield.
Ezra, still reeling from the blast, steadied his breathing. "Zyrion, huh? Great. You'll have to forgive me if I don't bow down just yet."
With a growl, Ezra lunged again, his sword raised high, determination burning in his eyes. The demon's power was immense, but he wasn't about to back down. Not now, not when the stakes were this high.
The real battle had only just begun.