Everyone froze in stunned silence.
Xain was gone—replaced by a demon none of them had ever seen before. Confusion and shock rippled through the clearing, but no one was given time to process it.
The Demon of Hatred moved first.
He vanished in a burst of speed, closing the distance in an instant, and drove a punch straight toward Arkanis's face. Arkanis reacted immediately, snapping his left arm up and catching the blow on his forearm. Even so, the impact forced him to slide backward across the ground, boots carving deep furrows into the earth.
"Don't space out, bastard," the Demon of Hatred growled, already moving again. "You tried to kill a kid!"
He dashed forward a second time before Arkanis could respond.
*W-where did he come from? Where is Xain?* Clara's thoughts raced as her eyes searched frantically around the battlefield, trying to find him. He was nowhere.
Prince Mark stared, heart hammering. *Did… Xain turn into that? What is going on?* It was the only explanation that made any sense, even if it felt impossible. He clenched his jaw and shook the thought away. *Doesn't matter. The demon seems to be on our side—or at least not on the Demon Lord's side. That's enough.*
His attention snapped to Insidious, who was still standing there in a daze. Prince Mark raised his left arm and fired the high-caliber precision firearm. The shot cracked through the air, snapping the imp out of his stupor as he hastily threw up his red, swirling barrier, the rounds slamming into it and stopping dead.
"Clara!" Prince Mark shouted.
She turned toward him immediately.
"We don't have time to worry about where Xain is or what happened to him," he said urgently. "Focus on the demon! We have to get the other two out of here!"
She nodded and pivoted, loosing fire arrows toward Insidious. This time, instead of blocking, the imp darted aside, narrowly avoiding them.
"I'll kill you both!" he screamed, throwing his arms out as his power surged, lifting the scattered bullets into the air and sending them back toward them in a chaotic barrage.
Meanwhile, Arkanis and the Demon of Hatred collided again.
Arkanis ducked and weaved beneath the demon's swings. They were wild, but frighteningly fast, each one carrying brutal force. He spun his staff mid-motion, fire magic flaring as the tip reshaped into a blade of searing plasma, and slashed toward the demon's abdomen.
The red horn of the Demon of Hatred flared with light.
He caught the plasma blade with his bare hand.
The magic unraveled instantly, nullified the moment it made contact.
Arkanis's eyes widened at the sensation of his magic being erased so effortlessly, but there was no time to dwell on it.
"Take this!" the demon roared.
He twisted into a roundhouse kick, his left leg blazing with power, glowing just as brightly as the plasma he had just destroyed. Arkanis raised his staff and blocked, but the force blasted him backward. His body slammed into a tree with a thunderous crack, snapping it in half as he landed.
Arkanis straightened slowly, exhaling as his gaze locked onto the Demon of Hatred. He did not look injured—but he did look cautious now.
"I think I know who you are now," he said evenly. "I just need to confirm something first."
"Oh yeah?" the Demon of Hatred roared, baring his teeth. "Is it this, you piece of trash?!"
His blue horn ignited with light as he threw both hands forward. From his palms erupted several thin, razor-like blue slashes that screamed through the air toward Arkanis. Arkanis reacted instantly, slamming the butt of his staff into the ground. Space folded, and he vanished.
The slashes tore harmlessly past where he had been, carving through dozens of trees in their path, trunks shearing apart as if sliced by invisible blades.
Arkanis reappeared behind the demon.
"Yes," he said calmly, "it was exactly that."
He drove a palm strike into the Demon of Hatred's back. The impact launched the demon forward, his body skidding violently across the ground. He dug his claws into the earth, gouging deep trenches as he fought the momentum, slowing himself before finally grinding to a stop.
The Demon of Hatred straightened, rolling his shoulders as he turned back toward Arkanis.
"You're the Demon of Hatred," Arkanis continued, tilting his head slightly. "I have read about you. A horned demon with no name, bearing a grudge against the devil of your era—Leviathan. You hated him, though history never recorded why." His gaze sharpened. "Despite lacking both name and title, you were as strong as—if not stronger than—a considerable number of named horned demons and even Demon Knights. Is that correct?"
The Demon of Hatred scoffed and rose fully to his feet.
"Looks like you did your homework," he said, fists tightening. "But what does it matter?" He leaned forward, killing intent radiating off him. "Just because you know about me doesn't change the fact that I'm going to kill you!"
He moved to charge—
And suddenly the ground felt wrong.
Gravity crashed down on him, crushing his body as if it had multiplied tenfold. The Demon of Hatred snarled, muscles straining as his movement stalled.
"It helps me gauge your strength," Arkanis said evenly. "Because now I know you originate from the Fourth Generation."
The red horn of the Demon of Hatred flared.
The crushing force vanished instantly, the gravity magic unraveling as if it had never existed.
"Yeah," the demon replied, rolling his neck as he straightened, power gathering around him. "And compared to back then?" He grinned viciously. "This is going to be a piece of cake."
He braced himself, ready to hurl the stolen force back at Arkanis. Across from him, the Demon Lord raised his staff, magic coiling as he prepared to respond.
The clash between a mind born of the Generation of Peace and a mind forged in the Generation of Death was about to truly begin.