The demon finally stepped fully into the open.
He was tall—his posture relaxed but coiled, like a predator that didn't need to hurry.
Long white hair spilled down his back in loose, wild strands, catching the red glow of his own mana.
Two horns curved from his head, smooth and polished, their surfaces catching blue and crimson highlights as if stained by old battles.
His skin was pale, almost porcelain, contrasted sharply by black, intricate sigils carved along the side of his face—ritual markings that pulsed faintly with power.
His eyes were the most unsettling part.
Red. Not wild. Not furious.
Amused.
They gleamed with intelligence and experience, the gaze of someone who had survived countless wars and enjoyed every one of them.
A black, armored coat clung to his frame, etched with living crimson lines that pulsed in time with his breathing, like veins feeding a monstrous heart.
Mana leaked from him in slow, deliberate waves, setting nearby debris vibrating.
