The plaza looked like a festival that had run head-first into the end of the world. Splintered trestle tables lay strewn like snapped bones, and bright banners sagged in smoking tatters across broken stalls. Dust drifted in slow spirals through fading sunlight, turning every beam into a column of floating embers. Roy's crew formed a battered ring around him, boots gritted into cracked cobblestones, shoulders brushing whenever one of them steadied the other. Each breath felt stolen, because the air itself vibrated with the power bleeding from their foe.
Archduke Vol, once merely a man, now wore a full demon's shape. Wings thicker than sailcloth flexed behind him, the span wide enough to blot out the sunset over half the square. His skin had turned the dead gray of river clay, stretched tight across layered muscle. Firelight flickered on the tips of his fangs when he smiled, and that smile alone was almost enough to splinter courage.
A slow, cold current tugged at the core of Roy's mana, a frigid tendril of energy that threatened to constrict and extinguish his very being. Each beat of his heart felt like a drum leading to an inescapable doom, a rhythm mirrored by the relentless numerical descent Serenity whispered in his ear. "Ninety percent. Eighty-nine. Eighty-eight." Her voice, usually a comforting hum of data and logic, was now an icy, detached metronome, ticking off numbers with an unsettling precision that felt less like a status update and more like a countdown to execution. The very air in the cramped control room seemed to thicken with the oppressive weight of the draining power, each flicker of the holographic display a stark reminder of the dwindling reserves. Roy's breath hitched, a desperate plea for more time catching in his throat, but the digital march of Serenity's voice continued, a chilling harbinger of the inevitable.
Takara moved first. The runes on her gauntlets burst sapphire as triple shields bloomed from her palms, each pane folding over the next like petals of light. Vol answered with a casual whip of corrupted energy. The black bolt shrieked across the distance, struck the shield, and detonated in a fountain of sparks that slammed Takara three paces back into Roy's chest. He caught her elbow, teeth clacking from the jolt.
"He's draining while he casts," she growled, fury edging her breath.
Eryndra wasted no words. Vents along her armor hissed open, releasing ribbons of dark dust that spiraled round her calves. Her body blurred, half here, half elsewhere, then re-formed beside Vol with Warrex's axe already in motion. The demon conjured a blade of shadow to parry. Metal screamed against darkness, windows imploded, and the axe shattered in Eryndra's hands, shards skittering away like shrapnel.
Warrex's roar bellowed through the square. He hammered a fist on his chest, rage and heartbreak tangled in the sound. "That was a gift, you rancid bastard!"
Vol's laugh rasped like stone on stone. Another bolt coalesced in his claw. From above, Zehrina dropped on a disk of swirling dust. A spiral of iced lightning hurled from the hands, colliding with Vol's bolt mid-air. The spells canceled in a concussion that rattled teeth.
Unarmed but unbroken, Eryndra snapped a kick into Vol's ribs. The impact lifted him a foot, fractured stone in branching patterns. He replied with a back-elbow aimed at her head. She phased ghost-pale, the strike slipping through translucent armor, then solidified and hammered both fists into his sternum. Thunder rolled, though no cloud stirred.
Warrex charged through falling debris, brandishing the shattered axe haft like a club. He ducked a flick of Vol's wing, slapped a timed spell against the demon's thigh, and threw himself clear. Chains of light snapped from the grenade and cinched Vol's leg, staggering him for the first time. Warrex shouted triumph, diving behind a splintered cart. "Yes! I knew learning that spell would come in handy!"
The bindings snapped at once, strength overwhelming spellcraft, but they bought precious seconds. Lutrian filled them. He braced a light crossbow on one knee, sighted, and fired three light bolts. The first shaved a wing spar; the second buried in Vol's shoulder; the third punched beneath the collarbone and burst in violet fire. For a heartbeat the siphon stopped. Serenity noted it with clinical indifference: sixty-five.
Eryndra, a blur of amplified power, saw her chance. Vol, momentarily off-balance, presented a sliver of an opening. With a grunt of exertion, she planted her feet, the ground beneath her cracking as the force of her movement channeled through her. She twisted, a coiled spring of muscle and magic, and unleashed an amplified fist. It wasn't just a punch; it was a percussive shockwave, a concentrated blast of kinetic energy aimed squarely at Vol's jaw. The impact resonated through the very air, a sound that dwarfed the roar of a cannon, and sent a sickening crack through what should have been an unyielding neck. Vertebrae, hardened by untold horrors, audibly fractured.
Before he could even register the blow, Eryndra followed up with brutal efficiency. Her leg swung in a devastating pivot-kick that connected with his kneecap. The bone, previously thought unbreakable, buckled with a sickening crunch, forcing the monstrous Vol to one knee. His head, however, defied the laws of physics, spinning farther than any mortal neck could possibly allow. With greasy, wet pops, sinew rewove itself, mending the damage with horrifying speed, as black tar-like blood, thick and viscous, dribbled from the edges of his expanding, self-satisfied grin.
Above, Zehrina, ever the opportunistic hunter, swooped with predatory grace. Her intention was clear, exploit the fleeting vulnerability, to lance the vulnerable seam at the root of his monstrous wing, a chink in his seemingly impenetrable armor. But Vol, ever full of grim surprises, lashed out. From his spine, hidden until that very instant, a prehensile tail, barbed and whip-fast, sprang forth. It caught Zehrina mid-flight, wrapping around her thigh with bone-shattering force. A sickening snap echoed through the air, and Zehrina cried out as her armor fractured. She was thrown, a rag doll caught in a hurricane, spinning out of control. Her body struck the rooftop tiles with a catastrophic impact, hard enough to crater the sturdy material, sending a shower of ceramic shards into the night. With a final, desperate gasp, she slid from sight, vanishing into the labyrinthine shadows of the rooftops below.
Below, Takara, her face a mask of grim determination, hissed. There was no hesitation, only immediate, focused action. She vaulted, a protector in motion, toward the spot where Zehrina had fallen. Her shields, usually a shimmering barrier of arcane energy, spat sparks like an angry forge as a hail of razor-sharp bone shards, remnants of Vol's unnatural healing, ricocheted off their surfaces. Unflinching, Takara reached Zehrina, who lay moaning, her leg twisted at an unnatural angle. With a powerful surge of adrenaline, she hauled the injured mage over her shoulder, Zehrina's weight surprisingly light in her arms, and sprinted with desperate urgency. Their only hope lay in reaching the meager cover offered by a toppled merchant cart, its broken wheels and splintered wood a pathetic but vital shield against the encroaching darkness and the relentless, regenerating horror that was Vol.
Warrex ducked a sweeping claw, chopped Vol's calf, and was flung aside by a wing. He skidded until friction bled his speed, spit teeth. Veins bulged midnight blue. He howled, voice hoarse with berserker brew.
High above, Lutrian locked fresh light cartridges glowing hellfire red. He worked the bolt with a craftsman's calm, the way a carpenter sets nails. When the chamber closed he rose and advanced, blood soaking his sleeve.
Roy's vision tunneled as the cold gnawed deeper. Forty-seven. Copper coated his tongue.
Vol blurred for him, talons wide. Roy forced a sphere of light to life. It flickered but held. Claws struck crystal, spider-webbing fractures as he siphoned it away. The demon pressed. Then a spear shrieked in, punching through Vol's left wing and yanking him backward in a fan of black ichor. Lutrian's arc-anchor fought gravity, buying Roy a heartbeat.
Newly energized, Warrex vaulted forward, bringing his axe down deep into Vol's trapezius. Though the demon's backhand crushed half his ribs, Warrex clung to Vol, snarling into the gray flesh until he was finally shaken loose.
Takara slid Zehrina behind the cracked fountain, planted ground plates, and hammered rune stakes. A shield of light flared up, lattice thin, radiant as sunrise. It blocked Vol's path, humming with borrowed power.
Eryndra crawled from the crater she had made. Her vents coughed sparks. She charged anyway, body flickering between substance and smoke. She tackled Vol, knee driving into spine, armor blooming phantom fire. Vertebrae burst. Black blood fountained.
Vol heaved her off, wing hanging limp. Dust shook loose from every facade. His aura spiked, a black nova peeling outward, turning benches to gray silhouettes and flinging bodies like straw. Roy ricocheted across splintered stageboards.
Every inhale scraped broken bone. Murmurs wavered around him, but words blurred. He saw Vol rise from the crater, haloed by guttering flame, wound hissing. Each step cracked stone, slow and certain.
Val knelt yards away, hands shielding his ears. Vol's glare carved contempt. "Stand or die in their ashes." Val trembled, unmoving.
Roy forced one knee under him. Dust pattered his coat. He keyed the comm, voice scraped raw, "Serenity, if my mana hits under fifteen percenet and this guy still shows no signs of defeat, nuke the town to oblivion. We cant let this guy torture thousands more for hundreds of years."
"Acknowledged, Captain," Serenity replied, brittle but steady.
Vol barked laughter. "Cowardice." A marble head lay at his feet. He punted it; the stone smashed Roy's ribs anew.
Eryndra clawed from rubble, crazed, eyes glowing with residual energy. Lutrian limped beside her, lining the crossbow just below Vol's ribs. Warrex staggered up as well, axe chipped but eager.
Takara's runic shield shimmered, a filigree of power right in Vol's stride. He punched it. Instead of shattering, it flexed and stole a fraction of his drain. Three seconds passed. Then the ground plates snapped and the bastion winked out.
Vol towered over Roy at last. Blood hissed from his ruined wing but the smile never faded. One claw rose for the final thrust.