The night in Paris was still drowning in blood. Flames licked the skies while smoke curled like serpents, and the metallic stench of spilled life clung to the air. Streets were rivers of crimson. Screams echoed, broken by the clash of steel and the guttural cries of demons.
At the center of this chaos stood Rehan, Ishita, and Zahir. Their weapons dripped black ichor, their breathing heavy—but their will unbroken.
Then Rehan saw him.
Ethan—surrounded by hordes of low-ranked demons. His blade swung in desperate arcs, carving down one beast after another, yet more swarmed over him like a tide. His shoulders bore deep gashes, his chest heaved with ragged breaths, and his strength was fading.
Rehan's heart tightened. Rage and desperation burned in his eyes as he shouted:
"Zahir! Go to Ethan! We'll carve you a path!"
Zahir met his gaze. For a single second, their eyes locked in mutual resolve. Then Zahir gave a firm nod.
"Understood."
In the next heartbeat, chaos erupted.
Rehan and Ishita surged forward, blades and spells tearing through the ranks. Screams burst, black blood splattered, and flesh was ripped apart as they carved a narrow path through the army. The world blurred into a dance of death as Zahir darted into the opening, like a desert storm bursting free.
He was close—just a few meters from Ethan—when the world suddenly shifted.
---
The Interruption
A shadow moved. A massive force exploded from the side.
Instinct screamed in Zahir's blood. He twisted, his body rolling aside just as a monstrous strike smashed into the ground. Stone shattered, the earth split, and nearby walls crumbled into ruin.
Dust cleared.
And there he stood.
A towering demon cloaked in black armor, twisted horns spiraling from his skull, his crimson eyes glowing with malice. His voice was a guttural growl that shook the air:
"Human… you were moving toward Ethan. But your fate has changed."
The demon's fanged grin widened.
"I am Dravok. 8th Rank of the Abyss."
For a brief moment, Zahir's chest tightened. An 8th Rank—one of the pillars of the demonic hierarchy. But fear lasted only a second. He bared his teeth in a grin, gripping his blade until his knuckles turned white.
"You think you'll stop me? I am the lion of the desert. Come then, monster—let's see whose strength breaks first."
And their brutal duel began.
---
Zahir vs Dravok – Desert Fury vs Abyss
Dravok swung a clawed arm, each strike shaking the ground like an earthquake. Zahir dodged by inches, rolling beneath the monstrous arcs, his blade flashing whenever a gap appeared. Every block rattled his bones, every dodge scraped against death.
Zahir's counter came in a blur—an elegant slash born of tribal war dances passed down through generations. His blade tore across Dravok's shoulder. Black ichor burst forth, sizzling as it hit the ground.
Dravok roared, the sound like a collapsing mountain, and lunged.
BAM!
A single punch sent Zahir crashing through a crumbling building, stone and dust swallowing him whole.
Coughing, blood dripping from his lips, Zahir rose from the rubble. His eyes burned with untamed fury.
"Damn monster… this is only getting fun."
Spinning his blade, he unleashed a sandstorm-like whirlwind attack, the battlefield erupting into a storm of grit and steel.
---
Meanwhile – Ethan's Fall
While Zahir clashed with Dravok, Ethan's struggle grew desperate. His arms trembled with each swing. Demons sank their teeth into his side, claws raked across his legs.
With a roar, he cut down two beasts, black ichor splattering his face. But his body betrayed him—knees buckling, vision blurring.
From the distance, Rehan's voice cracked across the battlefield:
"ETHAN!! Hold on!"
But Rehan and Ishita were themselves drowning. The demon army surged around them like a tidal wave. Ishita's spells faltered, exhaustion painting lines across her face. A demon's claw nearly seized her wrist before Rehan's blade cut it down, spraying ichor into the night.
Yet still, they were being pushed back.
---
Rehan's Breaking Point
Rehan's heart throbbed painfully as he saw Ethan collapse to one knee, Zahir entangled in a battle that shook the ground, and Ishita gasping beside him.
For a moment, hopelessness threatened to devour him. His grip on his sword tightened until blood trickled from his palm. His chest heaved, and he whispered through clenched teeth:
"Are we… going to die here?"
The cries of demons rang louder, closer. Ishita screamed as another lunged toward her, only to be split apart by Rehan's desperate strike. His eyes burned—not from rage, but from the sting of helpless tears.
Everything was falling apart.
The Descent of Akira Tanma
From above, a figure descended through the smoke. His coat flapped in the bloody wind, his blade gleamed under the moon, and his aura crushed every demon into trembling silence.
Akira Tanma had arrived.
His boots touched the broken ground with a soft thud, but the force of his presence made it feel like the world itself bowed. His eyes, cold and razor-sharp, scanned the battlefield.
Then they landed on Ethan—bloodied, broken, collapsed in the dirt.
Something inside Akira shattered.
His calm, his restraint—it all burned away, replaced by a storm of pure wrath. The ground around him cracked under the weight of his killing intent.
His voice boomed like thunder, shaking the air itself:
"Who dares… who dares to put my brother-like friend Ethan in this condition?!"
The demons trembled, some collapsing outright under the pressure. Akira's grip tightened on his sword, veins bulging with fury.
"I'll make every last one of you pay—with your lives."
The battlefield went silent.
The storm had arrived.
And for the first time that night, it was the demons who felt fear.