The battlefield held its breath.
Even Duke Lark and his troops froze, unsure whether to fight or run.
A pulse of power cracked the silence.
Daemon's demonic aura surged, rippling in shades of crimson and black. The ground trembled beneath him. The bodies around him—men, women, even children—seemed to cry out, their souls shrieking as the energy rose like a storm. Wind howled through the field, spiraling upward until it punched a hole through the clouds above.
Daemon flexed his fingers, tilting his head.
"I'm back... but still too weak," he muttered.
The sky dimmed.
Duke Elias shielded his eyes from the swirling red light.
"He's not human anymore," he said grimly. "We have to stop him before—"
Daemon disappeared.
In a blink, he was among the soldiers, tearing through them with inhuman speed and violence. Swords clashed. Blood painted the earth.
Clang!
Duke Lark barely blocked a strike before being thrown back, skidding across the stones.
