The Damned Demon

Leonidas fought with the ferocity of a wild beast, his axe cutting through the air in destructive arcs of reddish mana.

Two of the werewolves, their crimson fur matted with rain, lunged towards him with a savage hunger in their eyes.

Leonidas's shock was palpable as the werewolves absorbed his attack with mere grunts, their tough bodies seemingly impervious to his powerful strikes. They countered with an onslaught of poisonous claws, aiming to tear into him with lethal intent.

"Fuck off!" Leonidas roared, his voice carrying a draconic timbre that caused the werewolves to grimace in pain.

Seizing the moment, he swung his axe with all his might, aiming for their necks.

Yet, to his dismay, his attack merely caused a shallow bloody gash, enraging the beasts further.

"GROWLLL!!*

With a brutal force, they slammed him onto the ship's surface, sending several of his teeth flying from his bloodied mouth.

Pinned down, Leonidas stared defiantly into the snarling faces of the werewolves, his bravery unwavering even as they poised to plunge their venomous claws into him.

*Whooosh!*

Suddenly, the air was split by the sound of a blade cutting through the storm.

A ring blade, blazing with dark green flames, sliced with deadly precision, severing the vital nerves in the werewolves' necks.

Blood gushed forth as their eyes widened in shock before they collapsed lifelessly on the top of the ship.

But then their corpses got kicked away, letting them roll off the ship and fall into the dark depths of the clouds.

Leonidas, astonished and lying battered on the ground, looked up to see the king standing over him, his figure imposing and the ring blade in his hand still glowing with a eerie flame.

"Your Majesty..." Leonidas gasped, a profound sense of relief and gratitude washing over him.

Despite his injuries, his eyes shone with admiration and awe towards his king, who had just saved his life in the nick of time and also killed those two ferocious werewolves with such ease and precision.

But Leonidas' eyes widened when Asher suddenly lunged towards him and rolled over.

"Wha-!"

*Krashhhk!*

Leonidas felt his heart almost leap out upon seeing that a terrifying lightning bolt struck the place where he was just a second ago.

He then realized that his king managed to move him away in the nick of time. How could he have such reflexes and great senses at an age like that?

"Stay alert! This is far from over!" Asher said with a grim look as he pulled up Leonidas and rushed off, making Leonidas come back from his daze and spit out blood with a determined expression.

Silvan moved through the chaotic fray with a lethal grace that belied the savagery of the battle.

Engaged with two hulking werewolves, his movements were a mesmerizing dance of death, his rapier a flickering extension of his will.

As the werewolves lunged with bared fangs and extended claws, his dark red eyes glowed. With a subtle gesture, he manipulated his own blood to form razor-sharp tendrils that lashed out, striking with precision and speed. The tendrils, almost sentient in their movement, entangled the werewolves, momentarily halting their ferocious advance.

Silvan seized this moment, his rapier slicing through the air in swift, calculated arcs.

The blade, imbued with his vampiric essence, left trails of shimmering energy, cutting into the werewolves with deadly efficiency.

One werewolf, caught off guard by the unexpected assault, let out a howl of pain and surprise as the rapier pierced its shoulder, the wound sizzling as if burned by the vampiric energy.

"Fucking bloodburner!!"

The other werewolf, enraged by the sight of its fallen comrade, attacked with renewed ferocity.

Silvan, however, anticipated the move. With a fluid turn, he sidestepped the lunging beast, his rapier finding its mark in a vital spot.

The blade impaled the werewolf with a dangerously accurate precision, its tip emerging coated in dark blood.

As the second werewolf collapsed, its eyes wide with shock and pain, Silvan withdrew his blade with a clean, swift motion.

The two fallen werewolves lay motionless, their eyes fading as the life drained from them.

But right then, Silvan caught sight of Oberon in dire straits.

Oberon, with a deep laceration on his arm that hissed ominously with the sound of poison, was desperately fending off two werewolves, one of which, the larger one, was a fucking Soul Devourer!

He, exuding a sense of cruel amusement, taunted Oberon, "How fun it is to watch a little drake struggle before us," he laughed contemptuously as he bashed up Oberon left and right.

"Ugh! Argh!" Oberon groaned each time they pummeled him from both sides, and this bigger one was purposefully toying with him.

Blood spurted out of his lips, and his face got swollen to the point he could barely open his eyes.

"Blechk!" An agonizing groan echoed from his lips as one of them dished out a sharp uppercut to his jaw, making his front teeth, including his fangs, fall out.

"Too bad we don't have much time to play with you. Tear out his throat, Khorun!"

"With pleasure, Larz!"

Khorun, a Soul Purger, lunged at Oberon's throat.

*Slishh!*

Suddenly, a rapier sliced through the air with lightning speed, impaling the werewolf's neck cleanly, the blade emerging out the other side.

Oberon, caught off guard by Silvan's timely intervention, grunted in displeasure, his pride wounded at being saved but also relieved since there was no way he could take on that Soul Devourer in his current state.

Seizing the moment, he retreated as if his life depended on it, leaving Silvan to face the Soul Devourer.

Silvan turned, though he didn't look surprised but disappointed.

"Such a good older brother you have," Larz sneered, grinning wickedly, "Too bad he is the reason you are going to die."

"Don't talk too much," Silvan retorted, his rapier glowing with a bloody aura as he aimed a swift strike at the werewolf's solar plexus.

But Larz was quicker, "Too slow!" he barked, smacking Silvan's arm with a forceful chop of his massive hand. The impact fractured Silvan's forearm, causing it to twist grotesquely.

"Argh!" Silvan cried out in pain as his rapier clattered to the deck.

Before he could recover, Larz delivered a thunderous kick to his chest.

Silvan coughed up blood, the force of the blow sending him flying until his back slammed against the barrier. He crumpled onto the ship's surface, barely conscious, his chest heaving with labored breaths.

Just as Larz prepared to walk over and finish him off, his eyes suddenly widened to their extremities.

From out of nowhere, a heavy sword plunged into his back with lethal precision.

In one swift, upward slice, Larz's upper body was torn into two halves, his face a mask of shock, splitting gruesomely down the middle.

Eradicator, her dark armor gleaming menacingly under the stormy sky, kicked away the split corpse as if kicking away some dirt.

But suddenly, three more werewolves lunged towards her back without making any loud sounds, their huge maws opening to tear off her neck.

However, Eradicator was swift and moved with a warrior's grace, her heavy sword carving a deadly arc through the air.

The blade met the chests of the werewolves with a resounding clash, cracking their ribs and sending them flying backwards, their bodies smashing against the ship's barrier.

But Eradicator wanted to make sure they were dead and finished them off with another cleaving arc from her heavy sword.

Boragor, who had been observing the battle from a distance with his arms crossed, watched in disbelief as one of his Soul Devourers was effortlessly cleaved in two by this Bloodborn Guard bitch.

He then saw her dispatch three mid-level Soul Devourers with a single, devastating move.

His eyes narrowed as he turned his attention to the alien brat. He was far stronger than he had anticipated, just as that temptress had warned.

Asher, with his figure suddenly becoming invisible here and there while using his ring blade, had taken down two Soul Purgers with apparent ease and was now suppressing two low-level Soul Devourers.

"You weaklings...How dare you..." Boragor growled lowly, his voice seething with rage and disbelief.

The air atop the Skycrawler grew tense, charged with a palpable sense of impending doom as Boragor prepared his attack.

He stood, a towering figure of wrath, his muscles bulging and veins pulsating with dark energy. The mana he gathered crackled around him, a swirling vortex of wind and poison that distorted the air with its sheer intensity.

With a deafening roar, Boragor released the attack. It surged forward as a vortex of destruction, a tempestuous blend of razor-sharp wind blades and a venomous mist that turned the air a sickly green.

The attack tore through the battlefield with an unstoppable force, carving deep cracks in the ship's shield as it hurtled toward Asher and Eradicator. But the shield was already regenerating before further damage could be caused.

Eradicator, reacting with a warrior's instinct, activated her defensive powers. Her armor and heavy sword glowed with a deep crimson light, a blood barrier springing up around her.

But the onslaught was too powerful. The wind blades slashed through the barrier, tearing into her armor with a force that sent shockwaves through the air.

The poisonous mist enveloped her, seeping into the cracks of her armor, causing her to gasp in pain as it corroded her defenses.

Meanwhile, Asher, facing the oncoming storm of destruction, had his brows raised just as he was done dealing with those two low level Soul Devourers.

Seeing such a destructive, poisonous storm about to crash into him, he transformed into his Hellbringer form immediately.

The moment Boragor's attack struck him, the force was so overwhelming that his skeletal form was blasted apart, bones scattering like thousands of shards in a violent explosion.

Yet, even as the pieces of his Hellbringer form flew across the surface of the ship, they began to regenerate rapidly, the dark green flames weaving the bones back together with an eerie, supernatural speed.

As his form fully regenerated, he surveyed the scene with a gaze that burned with dark green flames.

The aftermath of Boragor's attack was devastating. His vassals, each a genius in their own right, lay scattered across the deck of the Skycrawler, incapacitated or severely injured.

Only Oberon was nowhere to see. As expected from that son of a bitch…However, it was not like he could be of any help now after getting beaten black and blue.

Eradicator, usually an unyielding force on the battlefield, was struggling to rise, parts of the armor covering her arms and legs blasted away by the attack.

Blood seeped from the lower half of her helmet, matching the color of her cape, and Asher could clearly discern the severity of her poisoning.

He was not surprised by the devastation wrought by Boragor; he knew all too well the immense power a peak Soul Devourer wielded.

The gap between a mid-level Soul Devourer and a peak one was vast, a chasm that few could bridge, requiring years, perhaps even centuries, to overcome.

The difference was even more than that of a Soul Eater and a Soul Devourer. And Eradicator was only a mid level Soul Devourer.

Boragor's heavy footsteps caused the ship's protective shield to vibrate subtly as he approached Asher. His menacing grin was one of triumph and malice, his eyes gleaming with the prospect of victory.

He was shocked to see a mere peak Soul Purger surviving his attack head-on, and it made him realize why everyone was calling this alien an Immortal Genius. But it didn't matter to him, for he knew this alien wasn't really that immortal.

"What? Feeling scared, brat?" Boragor taunted, his voice dripping with contempt before adding, "But that's good because I am going to make you feel so scared of living a second more, you will beg me for death. Let's see how many times your weak bones can regenerate until then."