"This is day number three, and we still haven't found the damn portal!" Lennix exclaimed, throwing his arms up with a frustrated sigh. His shoulders slumped as he trudged through the underbrush. "This is starting to feel like a complete waste of time..."
"You're not the only one who thinks so," muttered the black knight beside him, each heavy footfall muffled by moss and damp leaves.
"I feel like we've had this conversation before," Derek called from a few paces ahead, glancing over his shoulder.
"Maybe we have, but goddess, this is so annoying," Lennix grumbled, his tone slipping into that of a petulant child. "What if there isn't a portal nearby? What if the demons just—I don't know—came from somewhere else?"
The black knight shook his head slowly, not breaking stride. "No. It can't be that. If they were just arriving from somewhere else, we'd know."
Lennix narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms as he kept walking. "How?"
"Think about it," the black knight replied coolly. "If they were traveling in from outside the region, there'd be a trail—destruction, bodies, sightings. These are demons. Even if they're smart, they wouldn't bother hiding unless they had to. The only reason to move that carefully... is if the portal's nearby."
Derek let out a low whistle. "Impressive, sir knight," he said with a smirk, then nodded toward Lennix. "He's right. They'd only be sneaky if they were trying to protect their entry point. Otherwise, they'd be razing villages by now."
Lennix muttered under his breath, clearly not satisfied with the logic—but he didn't argue further.
Then he stopped. Dead in his tracks.
The black knight noticed immediately. "What is it?" he asked, already drawing his weapon—inky shadows rippling upward into the shape of his greatsword.
"I hear something," Lennix said, his voice low and tense. His crimson eyes narrowed.
Derek blinked, a small surge of panic rising inside of him. *We're not even near the portal. There's no way his ears are that sharp—right?*
The black knight shifted into a ready stance, greatsword now solid in both hands. "Where?"
Lennix didn't answer right away. He was still, listening. His eyes scanned the trees, then dropped to the ground. "...It's... it's—"
His head snapped up, eyes going wide. "It's coming from underground!"
A split second later, the forest floor erupted in a violent spray of dirt and roots. The black knight launched himself back just in time, landing in a defensive crouch. Derek staggered a few steps away, shielding his face from the blast of soil.
Lennix wasn't so lucky. The sudden upheaval hurled him into the air with a startled shout.
"Well. I didn't expect him to hear me," came a low, amused voice.
A demon emerged from the torn earth, horned and grinning as well as it could, its gaze following Lennix's upward arc before settling on the two still standing.
"No matter," it growled. "I'll kill you all just the same."
*Wasn't actually expecting to be attacked,* Derek thought, catching himself mid-step as his hand instinctively twitched toward the demon. He stopped just short of unleashing the full force of his magic—*that would ruin the fun,* he reminded himself. His eyes never left the demon. He would take it down when the time was right, but for now, he wasn't about to risk blowing his cover.
Speaking of the demon. It stood tall on two digitigrade legs, its posture eerily human but its form anything but. Its body was wrapped in a dark, blackish-purple exoskeleton that gleamed faintly in the dappled light of the forest canopy. The chitin looked thick and unforgiving—more armor than flesh—with subtle ridges and spines along the shoulders and limbs that suggested both strength and durability.
Its arms were long, ending in clawed hands with thick, jagged fingers clearly adapted for tearing through earth—or flesh. Its head was angular, narrow at the top and widening near the base, crowned with two forward-curving horns. Where a mouth should have been were a pair of segmented, ant-like mandibles that twitched rhythmically, clicking together with unsettling precision. And its eyes—four of them—burned yellow, slit-pupiled and unblinking, arranged in a line across its brow in a way that gave it a constant expression of cruel intent.
"You have a name?" the black knight asked, stepping forward, his voice unreadable. His eyes flicked to the horns—Please don't say yes, he thought grimly.
The demon turned toward him with a slight tilt of its head. Its mandibles flexed once before it spoke.
"Barbados. Male."
The voice was low, gravelly, filtered through the clicking of its maw.
"Now you may die knowing you fought someone strong."
The black knight sighed, irritation creeping into his breath. Of course. Another named, horned demon. Because why not?
He raised his greatsword and angled it forward, the shadow-forged blade humming with restrained power.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," he said coldly.
Then he charged.