The scene snapped back to the battlefield.
The demon's grin faltered for just a moment as the sound of roaring soldiers and defiant civilians echoed behind the walls.
He glanced toward the stronghold.
Cheers. Salutes. Unity.
And then his gaze returned to Victor.
"You humans..." he said, his voice low and venomous, "you truly don't understand your place."
In the next instant, he shot forward—an explosion of motion.
His clawed hand arced upward in a savage uppercut, aimed like a hooked blade straight for Victor's jaw.
Victor reacted on instinct. His sword came up just in time, steel crashing against claw in a burst of sparks and pressure. The blow sent a shock through his arm—but he held his ground.
Without hesitation, he retaliated.
Death Slash—a vertical arc of raw power surged from his blade, cleaving downward with deadly intent.
The demon darted back, barely avoiding the strike—then veered left in a blur of motion, gaining distance. His grin returned, this time laced with twisted excitement.
"Let's raise the stakes," he hissed.
With a fluid sweep of his hand, crimson energy gathered in the air. It twisted and pulsed, coalescing into long, jagged weapons—formed from his own blood.
Blood Spear.
Three of them.
He hurled the spears in quick succession, each one whistling through the air with lethal speed—aimed straight at Victor's heart.
Victor's eyes narrowed.
The moment the Blood Spears launched, his body moved—fluid and precise.
He dodged the first with a sidestep, twisted past the second, and ducked beneath the third—all without losing ground. His movements were sharp, effortless, almost like a dance honed through countless battles.
Steel clashed with claw.
Claw met steel again.
The battle blurred into a deadly rhythm—attack, counter, dash, strike—each move more brutal than the last. Dust exploded beneath their feet. Cracks split the earth. Their power shook the battlefield with every exchange.
Victor slashed low.
The demon jumped.
The demon struck wide.
Victor ducked and retaliated.
The air screamed with their movements—too fast for the soldiers to follow. But they could feel the weight of each blow through the ground itself.
Then, it happened.
For just one second, Victor's stance shifted—a half-step too far, a moment too slow.
And the demon saw it.
With a vicious snarl, he drove his clawed hand forward—piercing straight through Victor's left side.
The sound was sickening.
Flesh tore. Blood burst.
Victor gasped, the breath ripped from his lungs. His vision blurred from the sudden pain. The demon's claws twisted, digging deeper, savoring the moment.
A hush fell over the battlefield.
Victor's breath faltered.
His vision dimmed—colors bleeding into one another, sound fading into a distant hum. The battlefield, the demon, the screams... all melted into silence.
His knees buckled.
The pain in his side was immense. Blood soaked through his armor. And then, his eyes closed.