Chapter 55: The Taste of Death (Part. I)

Ester faced the two remaining elves, their expressions frozen in an impassive mask of death. With a swift movement of her bladed arm, she blocked another arrow, snapping it in half with a snap.

“Is that all you have?” she sneered, her splattered blood glinting like jewels against her pale skin.

The two elves exchanged a worried look before splitting. The one on the left aimed for her heart, while the other shot at the side of her neck.

Razia

With a thunderous roar, a wave of energy exploded from the center of Ester’s chest, bringing with it rocks, trees, and snow in a deadly whirlwind. The force of the technique crushed the trees to dust and tore off branches, reaching for the two elves.

Their arrows were deflected, and Ester stood amidst the destruction, her hair blowing in the wind. Her smile was a crutch of cruelty and blood.

“Weak human,” the survivor growled, “you don’t know who you’re dealing with! I’m an elite member of the Royal Guard!”

“Then fight like one,” hissed Ester. But mentally she was just laughing, after all… “A royal guard wouldn’t even have the aura of a hornet like these guys… they must be renegades.”

The elf grabbed a dagger from his cloak and ran toward her, leaping onto a rock to propel himself in an eagle-beak attack. At the same time, his partner aimed his bow and began firing an endless volley of arrows toward her.

They both seemed consumed by rage and shame, their skills sharper than ever.

Damon watched in fascination as Ester dodged the arrows, moving like lightning. Her body contorted to avoid the projectiles, barely speaking and with slender grace.

The elves attacked with preternatural speed, slamming into her repeatedly with their attacks and the ice elemental’s cold blade. He heard bones crack, and she cursed loudly. But Ester retaliated with controlled fury, her dismemberment ripping a wide gash across the chest of the elf in front of him. The air pulsed around them.

Damon felt a surge of emotion. Fear. Resentment. Madness. Everything mingled within him. The weight of death pulled at him. Unnatural heat erupted beneath his skin, but he did nothing but watch, paralyzed.

He watched the elf strike Ester, his body slamming into the entrance of a saw and a whirling kick, swinging around his sword arm and striking the elf in the face. His opponent stumbled back.

Ester spun, kicking the elf’s back knee with her heel, knocking him off balance, landing on his back, sending the blade plunging deep into the elf’s gut. More arrows came, and she deflected them with her right arm, the blades shattering, then a wave of ice exploded from the armor and melted it.

The air was cold, filled with steam and smoke, the intense smell of blood and torn muscle.

Damon watched as the remaining elf staggered back in shock, kicking leaves upward. His hands clutched his cuts, and they bore dozens of red, dripping marks. But his face was numb, an impassive mask of cold fury.

“You madwoman… you… you will pay dearly for this…” he yelled at her, leaping back to catch his breath.

“You will pay now,” she snarled in response.

Stepping forward, she lunged, her arm twisting in a slashing motion to the right, aiming to rip the elf from collarbone to hip. He dodged at the last second with a whirlwind, but the icy blades opened four ragged gashes across his neck and left shoulder. Blood spurted onto the ground. He roared in pain.

The elf spat out a bitter sniff and crouched to retrieve a broad knife. Blood gushed from the wounds as he raised the blade to defend himself. At the same time, the remaining archer took careful aim at Ester’s exposed nape.

Damon stood still, his body trembling with adrenaline and something else boiling beneath his skin. His gaze was fixed on the scene before him, his thoughts racing with it. Wordlessly, he closed his eyes, focusing on the restless energy within him.

Around him, the air thickened, almost as if trapped. Then Damon’s eyes turned red and he began laughing that creepy way again.

“Haha… they called themselves royal guards,” he muttered with laughter, his eyes wide with adrenaline. “So pathetic.”

[You have gained new insight]

Suddenly, his body began to glow with a golden light, and his aura exploded in turbulent waves. Everything around him seemed to shake and tremble as if pricked by millions of tiny, invisible needles.

The deepest, infernal power was finally unleashed, flooding Damon with a searing sensation of power. He closed his eyes and felt the nether energy pulsing through him like an endless river.

The world began to blur as Damon lost himself in the sensations of this new, unfamiliar power. His laughter turned into a maddening madness, his body shaking uncontrollably with the force of the dark waves radiating from him.

Without warning, Damon fell to the ground, convulsing violently. His entire body contracted and then relaxed in a series of relentless spasms. He opened his mouth in a silent scream, his eyes wide with sheer terror and disbelief.

The ground shook, trees cracked and split, wounded animals ran panicked through the woods.

In the chaos, Damon saw Ester turn to him with a cold glare.

Damon’s laughter broke into a hoarse roar, followed by a deep crack from deep within his body, as if bones and muscles were adjusting to something not of this world.

The golden aura wavered, but beneath it emerged another color—a viscous, almost liquid scarlet that seemed to drip from the air itself. It was power, yes… but it was also corruption. The smell of sulfur and burnt iron spread, drowning out even the metallic scent of fresh blood.

The remaining elves faltered. The archer, who still held his bow drawn and aimed at Ester, now trembled. His wide eyes were no longer on the ice witch—but on the demon convulsing before them.

“T-this isn’t… human…” he stammered in Elvish.

Ester didn’t take her eyes off Damon. His cold expression betrayed no surprise, only calculation.

She saw his body arching, his muscles rippling in waves, his chest rising and falling in brutal spasms. The veins in his skin glowed like incandescent lines, a cruel map of pent-up energy about to burst.

“So this is it…” she murmured to herself, her tone thick not with fear but with recognition. “The first crack.”

Damon looked up.

His eyes, once merely red, were now cracked by golden fissures that flickered like embers beneath the irises. His mouth split into a wide, grotesque smile that no longer seemed human.

“You think you’re hunters…” His voice was distorted, as if another creature were speaking alongside him. “But you’re just prey that hasn’t realized it yet.”

The archer loosed the arrow, but the shot never reached Ester.

Damon’s aura exploded.

It was as if the air had been ripped from the forest. The nearest trees twisted and toppled from the invisible impact. The archer was thrown backward as if crushed by a giant, his body passing through two trees before falling limp, bones cracking with dry sounds.

The other elf, already bloodied and limping, widened his eyes, unable to move against the wave of power. His knife fell from his hand, his fingers trembling.

Damon advanced.

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