The realization struck me cleanly as we made our way over the extended drawbridge, an admirable construction that remained sturdy beneath the waves of heat that threatened to draw life from us.

Ruins were self-contained spaces, little loops that reset quite often. Unless they went untouched, then, eventually, they’d spill over and release a tide of monsters onto the public. However, the ruin shifts, they began to make more sense to me.

The reason why the Hell Gate was unpredictable? Once both lesser demons were slain, their swords broken, it made this place a real place for a period of time. At least, that was the theory I ran with for now. It made sense considering the sheer randomness of what might occur should one seek the hellstone. Maybe every time the conditions were met, a portal was opened somewhere in the demonic hellscape that housed those spiteful princes.

A flicker of my gaze revealed the three stationary silhouettes that awaited our arrival. It was almost theatrical, I thought. Short of a demonic prince themselves, I pondered the identity of the party but it was revealed quickly.

“Hold on,” Alexandra whispered, sweat trickling down her face.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Andreas grumbled, his face probably locked in consternation beneath his helmet.

By now, the others felt it too. A combination of the scent of something burning, the sudden drop in temperature, and the air becoming so heavy it felt like liquid cement.

The faint traces of ancient glory that could be gleaned from the exterior of the castle stood in opposition to its interior. It was empty and long since ransacked for any potential wealth if the overturned vases and empty candelabras spoke of any truth. Beyond the darkness of the desolate and unending hallways, something echoed a small sound that pricked at my nerves nonetheless. I felt an urge to run into the shadows and entangle myself with whatever it might be, but it was only a passing thought, nothing to spur me into action.

“I heard the guild master of Sleeping Lion owns a place like this in Europe.” Kaylen broke the growing tension with a rumor, though I can’t tell if Alexandra was annoyed or pleased as she kept her eyes forward without the intention of humoring her subordinate.

“He does,” Andreas replied, his voice slightly muffled by his helmet. “It was owned by Vladimir the Impaler, or so the story goes.”

“He’s a heartless bastard so it makes sense,” Alexandra chimed to her old friend, making her derision for the aforementioned guild leader clear.

It wasn’t the time to dig deeper and I had no vested interest in hearing about the aforementioned figure. I held my blood spear tighter and kept myself alert.

Small tidbits of conversation flowed between the others, but as we approached the inner court of the castle, everything became silent. Alexandra took the vanguard, pushing open the creaking wooden doors revealing a well-lit room.

“You see them?” she asked in a low voice.

“Mhm,” Andreas nodded.

My Spirit Vision had highlighted the presence of enemies within the room.

“So, the intruders have arrived?” A voice that carried soft purr echoed through the empty court.

We spread out, placing our backs against the solid walls while scanning everything before us.

“And there is very a special one among you…” Stepping out of the shadows was something that resembled a human. Nearly two meters in height with a reddish tinge to his or her skin, long red hair, two horns pointed upright. They wore a long black coat, a frilly shirt, black trousers, and boots, with an ominous-looking rapier at its side that flashed with a dim glow. It could only be a demon and though it looked visibly less menacing than the so-called lesser demon I found that to be foreboding.

With a slender build and soft-spoken voice, I couldn’t tell its gender, that is, if the demon world even worked like that. For all I knew, they were just androgynous demonic spirits who could freely take on whatever form they wanted.

Besides the strongest, there were two other demons who wore armor, shields attached to their arms and swords on their hips. Their subservient behavior to the one standing at the forefront made the pecking order obvious.

The demon turned its narrowing eyes toward me, gently licking its lips as if a sumptuous feast as placed in front of it.

“It is you, isn’t it?” It asked me, choosing to ignore everyone else.

Even as Andreas raised his axe and Alexandra formed her dragon aura, its eyes stayed locked on me while its two subordinates stepped forward to guard its flank against sudden attacks.

While I contemplated a response, the demon began speaking again.

“You, the one who once borrowed a brand of power, the one who now turns his back on the laws that bind the world of the living and the worlds beyond it… I almost find it surprising that I would encounter you here had it not been for highnesses ability to see occurrences like these, I would have surmised it to be the work of fate.”

“Is it speaking to us?” Alexandra asked with a slight surprise.

“You don’t understand it?”

“You do?” Andreas turned to me.

“...It doesn’t seem like it’s willing to talk things out so how about we–”

“I must confess, I dislike being looked down upon.” The demon clapped and my surroundings warped.

I felt disoriented, sick, as my sense of balance was disrupted but I corrected it. I centered myself, nearly tripping over my own feet in the process, but managed to keep upright and ready.

“Now, that we are alone, allow me to introduce myself. I am Lythas and this lowly one is but a mere baron serving under his highness, Prince Eligos. In order to please his highness, I will cut you down here and parade your soul around each kingdom of Hell. When the other princes see that I, the proxy of Prince Eligos, cut down the one who has set himself against all natural laws, they will have no choice but to acknowledge my prince as a true contender for the throne.”

Our location changed and we now stood in a courtyard of sorts, empty and barren of plants. I couldn’t see a single door, likely his doing. The only possible escape would from above, but that was pointless. A skylight rested above us, but metal bars that were covered with what I guessed to be demonic seals rested above me. While searching for a possible escape route or something that would grant me an advantage, I tried to make small talk with Lythas.

“Well, since I’m going to be killed anyway, could you at least humor me? When you said that your prince has a knack for seeing events like this, what did you mean exactly?”

“It is but a simple thing, matters concerning budding conflict are often revealed to his highness. His revelations are beset by the inaccuracies of time, but he has truly outdone himself this time. If there was no need to act urgently and the price of traveling here, I believe he would have summoned a member of his strongest legions to deal with you. I will admit, I assumed that you would be something greater. However, I find myself disappointed. The way your eyes search for answers and opportunities are the signs of fear.”

“Fear?” My face froze before I broke out into a short stint of laughter. “Fear?” I said it again, stretching my enunciation with a genuine smile.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but, a baron is one of the lower levels of nobility, right?” I relied on my faint recollections of feudal systems and found myself chuckling even more.

All the while, Lythas’ expression darkened, crumbling as veins surfaced on its delicate skin. There was a devilish beauty to their appearance moments ago, but now only the world devilish applied as flames of anger flickered from within its eyes.

If what I vaguely recalled was true, then Lythas was only above a knight in terms of nobility, far below the prince he served.

“Enough talking, wretch!” The demonic baron erupted with a scream.

Her shout lacked the vague intonation that previously obscured the matter of her identity. No longer wearing a mask of composure, she drew her rapier and swung. It extended into a fluid whip that split apart the air with a deafening crack, bringing a wall of fire with it.

The heat licked my face, even beneath the Ivory Warden’s Armor, the innate barrier surged to light as I moved a step too slow. It stopped the power behind the first attack, but it was still troublesome.

My feet carefully glided across the hardened soil as her whip continued to give chase. Each swing split the ground apart, summoning a terrible fire with it. The weapon itself was a blur, only becoming visible once it had struck.

I wracked my mind for a countermeasure. I tried to close distance with a quick lunge forward but Lythas expected it, using a wide horizontal sweep to keep me at bay.

The barrier shattered, the brittle sound alerted me of it. Without the guarantee of the barrier’s defense, I couldn’t afford to carelessly allow attacks to hit me.

‘My breathless form won’t work… Crow-shifting might, but if I use it now she’ll be aware of it.’

I flung a gesticulating sphere of thickened blood that burst into dozens of small orbs once it was halfway to Lythas, but her whip turned into a blurry whirlwind. Catching fire, the whip thrashed about like a snake, releasing a high-pitched scream as it destroyed everything nearing it.

It was an intentional show of force telling by the taunting grin hanging on Lythas’ red lips, but my aim wasn’t to hit her. The droplets of blood that stained the floor began to coalesce into the shape of runes, but Lythas showed even that wasn’t something she’d ignore. She made a few simple swings and made the blood evaporated with her fire.

“You assume I would fall victim to such simple tricks!” The way she spoke made me feel as though I had insulted her in some way. With growing anger, her swings extended past their previous range.

I felt a strong shock pass through me as it crashed into my chest. I was caught unaware, unprepared to accept the strike that reached my bones. My body was carried back by the impact, only stopping once I slammed into a wall. I saw a bright array of stars when I forced my eyes closed. The pain caused by the strike was a simple thing to ignore, the effects it caused were not.

I lost my grip on the spear as if my hand had surrendered itself from my control. I scoffed down the blood that tried to escape from my mouth before I threw myself to the ground. Another attack, carrying far more power than the previous one, shattered the wall as it missed me. I heard pieces of debris hit the ground like shrapnel. I scrambled forward, under the assumption that Lythas won't relent until I was left battered.

She was angered by my earlier disregard of her nobility and wanted to make me feel it. To her credit, it fucking worked.

I hadn’t noticed her attacks changed once more until the pain of being struck with incredible blunt force had transitioned into the sensation of my skin being torn. I caught a glimpse as the whip touched my shoulder, curved barbs that were closer to teeth than thorns. As it launched past me, narrowly missing my head, the barbs tore through my armor and bit deeply into my shoulder, pulling me forward as Lythas brought it back to her side.

I freed myself before she had the chance to drag me along, but the damage was already done, my shoulder throbbed as blood poured from the broken cracks of the ivory armor. She swung once more with the grace of a ribbon dancer, but each movement left a small vision of hell in its passing.

‘Is it poison?’ As I felt my shoulder pulsate, I forcefully numbed the sensation of fire ants crawling beneath my skin and let blood gush from my new wound, pushing any potential toxin out with it.

I unconsciously looked toward Lythas’ shoulders while thinking of my wound.

It was subtle, but her shoulders, as well as her entire upper body, moved while she brandished the whip. I couldn’t see it in motion, but I recalled the movements she made and dodged. A blur ripped by me, failing to make contact.

‘So that’s it?’ I grinned knowingly, deciphering the physical tells of each attack right then.

A rush of excitement came as I moved with renewed vigor. I circulated my blood, stimulating my adrenal gland, forcing my heart to hammer away like a manic blacksmith wanting to forge a masterpiece. My breath grew hot, even as the fire rose up around me, I felt it couldn’t compare to the temperature of my own blood.

I knew what to look for in Lythas as she conducted her assault. With added agility, I launched into the air, spinning as I conjured a bloodspear clad in miasmic flames.

Lythas countered, demonstrating a surprising intuition, I could see she noticed my change and began to adapt, retreating while maintaining a constant attack. It was a good idea, the only problem was that it came to her a little too late.

Our weapons clashed together, but never for more than a brief moment. I let my hands put the bloodspear into an endless rotation and met the fiery whip. The resounding echo of our weapons making contact created an odd sound. Her whip carried an inordinate amount of force when it struck, but my spear moved with the momentum of a storm.

Strike. Strike. Strike. Deflect. Strike. The pace was set.

If I wanted to prove myself against the demon in front of me, or found excitement from overpowering an enemy through sheer force of will, I would’ve continued to engage in a single-minded attack until one of us dropped. Luckily, I wasn’t ignorant enough to resign myself to one method of fighting.

I released the excess blood that lurked within my body which caused a rippling fog of red to emanate from my skin. My movements quickened and a lingering trail of blood was left floating in the air wherever I passed. My spear had become a paintbrush of sorts, it drew red arcs with each swing.

Lythas was forced to change her approach again.

Strike. Strike. Strike. Deflect. Strike. We continued.

‘Did all demons fight so well?’ I thought as she continued to surpass any expectations I might have had.

A moment later, she looked to have properly adjusted to the newest obstacle I provided, so I added another change. Crows burst out of my body in the midst of my assault. Their vermillion tipped feathers shook as they silently spread throughout the spacious courtyard.

Strike. Strike. Strike. Deflect. Strike. A crescendo neared.

Another variable added, another change to our rhythm. It felt very much like a dance now. The practiced movements I gained from Penelope’s technique only served to bolster my offensive. I maintained pinpoint concentration, the crows didn’t need constant orders from me, but I would need to personally control once the moment came.

Lythas grew more reserved, no longer wearing an arrogant sneer, she sported a pensive grimace. Her eyes met mine and I could tell her mind was filled with uncertainty, having no way of knowing what I would do next.

Strike. Strike. Strike. Deflect–

I smiled, retreating– the ebb. My aggressive offense had receded until I looked as if I never moved to attack at all. Meanwhile, the strike she tried to receive never arrived, in the entirety of our skirmish, I hadn’t adjusted the frequency of my attacks. The tempo remained constant until now.

A break.

There was a moment between the sudden shift in my strategy. Her realization, my anticipation, it gathered, building toward something greater. I sent the crows down at once and they released a torrent of bloody sharps aiming for Lythas– the flow.

She reacted at once, attempting to break them with her whip, allowing me to quickly form the Spectral Bow before firing three arrows in rapid succession. Even as she pushed her physical body to its limits in an attempt to deflect the shards, she fell short.

I watched as she was pierced by the ghostly blue arrows and blood-red shards. The blood of a demon, a boiling, dark liquid, spilled onto the ground as she was wounded.

The shards that missed or were broken, dissolved and began moving to form shapes and curves as they slowly assembled into runes.

‘Keep your eyes here.’ I needed to distract her.

She let out a scream that voiced her damaged pride. I could see that there was a level of pain and humiliation that demons did not expect and when they did, they became irrational. Maybe that was the true nature of demons in the first place.

Her eyes burned holes into me, she withdrew her, favoring the use of its rapier form as she rushed toward me.

The previous grace of her technique looked as if it had been dulled by her turbulent emotions. Waves of heat emerged from her body, her breath grew uneven. Her pupils locked onto me and me alone.

I was given her undivided attention.

‘That’s it.’ I felt my lips curl in satisfaction in response to my growing fervor.

The air turned red. Was it my blood that caused it? Was it the heat? Or maybe it was a mirage set in motion by my growing desire? Her turbulence was infectious to me.

Our weapons created the music. Hers was an orchestra reaching the peak of their piece, they played an epic made up of anger itself.

The sound was deafening and direct while mine was quieter yet ripe with purpose, a chorus of string instruments descending into a lull while a soft percussion full of languid pulses accompanied it.

The glowing runes drawn on the ground signaled the finale, if this was a dance, it had reached its end. By the time Lythas understood that it was too late.

I dissolved my spear and slightly bowed to my partner. Our eyes locked and I could see it, the abrupt shock of realization, followed by immediate fear and dread, desperation, all sorts of emotions before she revealed a sudden peace.

“It seems that it is my loss,” she whispered softly, the last words she would ever speak to anyone were full of humility.

A violet light flashed and the end came in the form of a sea of blood and flames that began to devour the lowly baroness but she didn’t scream. She manifested all of her pride and dignity in the face of her own death and died without letting out the slightest of sounds. Her body crumbled into ash while her soul had been absorbed by me.

Once the fire had died, a demonic rapier was revealed amongst the scorched ash. Ignoring it for a moment, I bowed my head once more out of respect for her stoic departure and for the experience I would take from our fight.