Derius stood in the center of the room, still a picture of strength and composure, while the twenty women moved like a devoted court around their king. Silken hands polished the black leather of his armor, others buckled straps with a care that bordered on worship. The demoness leaned against the bedpost, quietly observing — part amused, part bewildered — at how these women treated him like a living god.
"You're really leaving us?" one of them whispered, fastening the last plate to his shoulder.
"I have to," he said, his voice smooth but resolute. "Veythar won't come to me."
That answer seemed to break something in them. One by one, they began speaking.
"I'll miss your voice in the mornings…"
"The way you smile when you know you're about to win…"
"How you never… run out of strength," another murmured with a blush.
"You made me forget what fear was," one said, tears threatening to spill.
"And you made me remember what desire is," another added, clutching his gauntlet like it was a relic.
The demoness blinked. This was… more intense than she expected.
By the time the last buckle was fastened and the final strap secured, half the room was sniffling and dabbing their eyes. He didn't offer comfort — not in words, at least. Instead, he simply looked at them, that unreadable but magnetic gaze telling them everything they needed to know.
When he finally stepped away from the bed, the women parted in silence, each touching him as he passed — a brush of fingertips, a squeeze on the arm, a fleeting kiss on his hand. It was ritual and farewell all in one.
Outside, the early light was cruel and golden, and the demoness hesitated. Derius reached into his satchel and pulled out the robe — that enchanted, sun-defying garment he'd promised her. Draping it over her shoulders, he tied it himself.
"Now you walk under the sun as if it was made for you," he said, his fingers lingering for a moment on the knot.
They left to the sound of soft weeping behind them. As they moved down the road, the demoness stole a glance at him. "You enjoy leaving them like that, don't you?"
Derius smirked without looking at her. "I enjoy being worth missing."
And so the journey to Veythar began — one carrying the weight of longing, the heat of unspoken promises, and the kind of tension that made the road ahead feel far shorter than it really was.
---
The Steelguard Assembly
The great hall of the Steelguard Assembly was built from stone said to have been quarried from the bones of a slain mountain giant. Sunlight poured in through high windows, catching the polish of armor and the edges of weapons that had ended wars.
When Derius entered, the air shifted — not from fear, but from recognition. They knew his face, his reputation, and the countless times he had stood between humanity and annihilation. Even the youngest recruit there had heard the stories — the battles where a single man had turned the tide.
At the head of the chamber, High Commander Tharion Veylen rose from his seat. His armor was a history of campaigns, each mark a battle survived.
"Lord Derius," he said, voice deep as thunder. "You honor us by coming in person."
"I came to warn you," Derius replied. His tone was measured, calm, but carried the weight of a man who knew the road ahead. "I'll be entering Veythar. If something goes wrong… you'll need to stand guard. Hold the borders. Keep the human realms safe."
A ripple of surprise passed through the room. Warriors exchanged glances — some skeptical, others openly doubtful.
"Veythar?" rumbled a scarred veteran, folding his arms. "You won't last an hour there. No human would."
Another, a woman with braids down her back and a sword across her lap, frowned. "The air alone will strip the breath from your lungs. Their fire will burn you to ash. It's suicide."
Derius simply looked at her. "It's necessary."
"You're a warrior, Derius," Tharion said, stepping forward. "One of the finest. But Veythar isn't like the battlefields you've fought on. It's a place meant to keep humans out — permanently."
"They won't keep me out," Derius replied quietly, a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes.
The Steelguard didn't know. They couldn't know. That the man before them carried not just human blood, but the legacy of a demon strong enough to walk the burning streets of Veythar without flinching.
Tharion exhaled, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to argue further. "Very well. We'll keep the borders locked and the watchfires lit. If you fail… we'll make sure what comes out of Veythar doesn't make it far."
Derius inclined his head. "That's all I ask."
As he turned to leave, the murmurs began — quiet, clipped, but loud enough to follow him down the stone corridor.
"Dead before he reaches the gates…"
"…madness to even try…"
"…bravery or stupidity, there's little difference in Veythar."
The demoness fell into step beside him, her heels clicking in perfect rhythm with his boots. For several breaths, she said nothing, merely glancing sidelong at him with that faint, infuriating smile she always wore when she knew more than everyone else.
"They don't know, do they?" she finally said, voice smooth and low.
"Not yet," Derius answered without slowing.
"You enjoy it," she accused lightly. "Letting them think you're just another mortal walking to his death. You like the moment when they realize they were wrong."
He gave her a half glance, the corner of his mouth curling. "Maybe."
She tilted her head. "Or maybe you hide it because you know once they see what you are… they'll never look at you the same way again."
His jaw flexed, but he said nothing.
Her smile sharpened. "Half-human. Half-demon. The man who can breathe their poison air and walk through their fire like it's summer rain. The man who—"
"—doesn't need his secrets spoken aloud in Steelguard halls," he cut in, voice low but edged.
She laughed softly, leaning just close enough that her breath brushed his arms. "Oh, I'll keep your secret… for now. But when you come back, Derius…" She paused, savoring the moment. "…they'll either kneel or run. And I can't decide which will be more fun to watch."
He didn't answer, but his silence was thick with something that made her grin all the wider.
By the time they stepped out into the courtyard, the sunlight caught on her dark hair and his shadow stretched long across the cobblestones — a man walking toward a place no human was meant to survive, and a demoness who knew he would.