Chapter 670: True Demonlord [1] (1/2)
Sparks of electricity, ambers of flames, droplets of water, the heaviness of the dark-aura, and the calmness of the light. The barrier shuddered, the photo studio, otherwise a green block of nothing, dissipated into utter chaos. Footprints marred the greenscreen brown. Evil cackles, or so heard the investigators, sent danger signals across their psyche.
On one side stood the semi-transparent Vengeance, and on the other, stood an unknown demonic figure. The description matched the tales of what ancient writings told. A figure of half man and half goat – opposed to a goat head, the face was of a disfigured warrior. Shadows under the eyes, sharp teeth, and protruding horns made for a stellar display, obviously, not so much for the bystanders.
He bore no animosity nor emotions; a circle of elemental magical orbs circled each shoulder in increments of six. In addition, the instant Vengeance stepped closer, a strange barrier completely halted his advancements and attacks. The ceiling burnt as did the ground, a set of unheard words escaped. A tiny spark of light, heavy from what appeared, hovered to the floor, the tiny charges touched and *BAM.* The concrete floor tore underneath, the walls disintegrated, the clear night sky flashed for a moment, and by the same moment, a deafening explosion sent debris and people across the grandness of Oxshield.
'I can't fight him,' cringed the feisty guardian, '-he has the authority of a demi-god. I can't do harm even if I tried,' the last resounded sound was of a tree's crack. Shivers ran up Igna's sleeve, the scene played slowly beyond what he could see or hear.
”Master, a strong foe has arrived. If nothing is done, people will die needlessly.”
No time wasted, the instant, '-a strong foe,' crossed his mind, the body reacted in a burst of dense mana. '-Debris, people,' the crimson pupils bleached for the crystal whitened glare, '-I need to save them.' *Blood-Arts: Enlian.*
'To fight a demon, one must be a demon,' he leaped for the skies, the full moon silhouetted his body. Anywho watched would have seen the embodiment of what they knew as '-terror'.
*Spatial-Arts: Wormhole,* thought of '-we're going to die, God help me, I don't want to die, I still have so much to live for', were stumped by a sharp purple glee. The next thing, the victims sat in a hurdle before Julius, who albeit, kept a stoic demeanor.
A broken vestige of the studio would have been expected to plummet, instead, they feathered to the mercy of the breeze.
”Good display.”
”Who stands there,” the manifestation of his mana swallowed to naught, ”-are you the one responsible?”
”Yes, I guess,” said the buffed-beast, ”-my name's Cimi,” redden holes of which were eyes, scanned the vicinity in efforts to make sense of said situation, ”-I caused quite the mess,” the magical abilities went above expectation. The heart pulsed, a demon of such ranking would be in-between mid and high tier. ”You look strong,” he said to initiate small talk.
”I guess?” replied he perplexed at the behavior, ”-I don't sense malicious intent. What are you?”
”Who me?” another scan around, ”-I guess I can show you,” he dove to the ground. A patch of lonesome grass stood hidden behind a decorative behemoth of a boulder. ”-I said it before,” a twirl swapped the entire persona. Newly before stood a boy in a doctors' coat with round glasses. A cute-type of tiger beanie hid the horns, ”-the name's Cimi, I'm part of the Demonlord's army.”
”Demonlord?” the face scattered to the signet ring, ”-someone else bears my title?”
”You're a Demonlord too?” he blinked inches away from Igna, ”-I don't believe it.”
”I don't need you to believe either.”
”Well, whatever,” with a child's nonchalant vigor, ”-I'm sorry about the building I broke. Wasn't my intention, this realm has a lot of potential in the ways of ancient magic. I can summon a whole lot of spells to aid in the conquest. I guess the wormhole spell worked, I should have thought of a location first.”
”Sorry, what demon lord's army are you from?”
”Don't you get it?” he side-glance mercilessly, ”-I serve the son of three great gods, the overseer of the underworld, the true ruler of demons, the guardian of death, Hades. Well, I serve the son anyway, he's strong, very strong, the name's Zagreus. Maybe he'll come around to play someday, who knows.”
”Are you a fighter?”
”No, far from it, I'm the weakest demon out of the bunch. My job is to help the others, my minions are also the slowest and weakest. Still, doesn't matter anyway, we're strong enough for this pathetic realm,” the arms stretched to the studio, ”-I accidentally released my true form earlier, I don't know why. Someone had vicious killing intent, it was reflex, I think. Since this place isn't in the area of conquest, I'll just resolve the problem I made.” No incantation, no visible strain on the body or mind, the fragments returned and sealed at the prior locations. ”-There, it's solved. What's your name?”
”Igna Haggard.”
”Alright, cool. Nice to meet you, strange being, Igna Haggard, we are similar, I know you're strong, very strong,” a cheeky lick of the lips, ”-I hope we meet again very soon. For now, we invade and build a castle for the servants of evil!” the tone heightened menacingly,”-Ok no,” an abrupt stop,”-not evil, maybe… to hard, I don't want to think, goodbye.” *Poof*
'What was that. I can't reach Vengeance; did he lose the battle without fighting. Cimi, the servant of a Demonlord, quite the humble title. He had the powers of a demi-god, one who neared the ascension to divinity, or in the case of demons, Demonlord. The building was fixed in such a stoic manner, easy as breathing. My heart still trembles from the burst of mana. Alphia's going to be a warzone.' Steps of a worrying nature skipped along the asphalted road, it halted audibly and presumably looked about. The vampiric transformation returned to normal, wings retracted, the canines grew less blatant and the nails, covered in black nail polish, were trimmed and proper. A few shoves gave way beyond a slightly tall curb. Lights from the adjacent store blinded it who made such a ruckus. The outline, slender and curvy, long straight hair, a staple of what the industry called beautifully, watched aimlessly with hands clasped in prayer on the chest.
”Aceline?” he ducked below a branch and clambered onto the street, ”-is that you?”
”Igna,” she moved to hide the light, the face brightened, ”-where have you been?” she skipped forward.