Chapter 87: [87] Demon (2)

Artie arrived in Artaris in a rush, her, Ash, and Yennefer stopping immediately they got to the square.

“Remember the plan?” she asked quickly.

Ash and Yennefer nodded, then they all left in different directions.

Artie went north of the village where Artaris bordered the forest. When she arrived, there were already a few guards waiting for her, as well as her father.

“How are things with Eliron?” he asked, his expression hard.

“He’s fine. It would take more than Drakili to bring him down, demon or not.”

Lazarus nodded, relieved by her words. “I am surprised though, to think Drakili was actually a traitor. When Eliron told me, I was still skeptical about it…”

Artie had taken off her elaborate clothes. She was already wearing a reasonable undergarment, so she did not have to hide to change.

She began strapping on her leather armour with the help of her father as he spoke. The armour in question was made of thick, grey mammoth hide processed by one of the elves.

Because of how difficult it was to work with the mammoth hide, only three pieces of armour had been made, Artie, Ash, and Yen each having a piece.

“He was right about Drakili. But I do hope he is wrong about his prediction…” Lazarus glanced at the forest, feeling a chill run down his spine.

The last time Artaris was attacked, they barely survived. Eliron had informed key individuals about his suspicion earlier, so they were as ready as they could be, but…

“Can we really stop them?” Lazarus’ heart was heavy with worry.

He had witnessed the sheer strength of the high elves in the past. They were not the type to be trifled with.

This time, they were not sending a mercenary group, but an assassin trained by them.

“Have faith,” Artie said coldly. “His plan will work, I am certain of it.”

She spoke in a definite manner, which struck Lazarus as odd since Artie was not the type to trust anyone so deeply.

Now that she was in full gear, Artie sat down on the grass, her sword on her lap as they waited for whatever would come for them.

“Besides…” She continued. “This is nothing compared to what is to come.”

From where she sat, she could see another group taking their position in the distance.

Yennefer had switched to simpler clothing, and accompanied by Ash and Durin, they arrived at their post.

Unlike the guards who wore thick, multi-layer leather armour, the only armour Yen wore was a breastplate made of mammoth hide.

As a mage, she needed to be mobile so that she could evade attacks while striking from a distance.

BANG!

They heard a booming explosion from where Eliron and Drakili were, and Yen couldn’t help but pray for his safety.

•••

“Demonic Fist—First Stance, Soul Corrosion.”

Drakili drew both arms back and then punched plain air repeatedly. The air trembled as balls of dark purple energy flew right at Eliron.

The agile lord cleaved the first energy blast with his sword, dodged under the next one, feeling his hair rise up as it passed him, then slammed the flat side of his blade against the last one, sending the energy ball exploding against the floor.

As a cloud of dust engulfed his figure, more energy blasts flew right into the haze, but inside the dust cloud, Eliron dodged all of them with ease, his body blurring with each step.

Whoosh!

He suddenly shot forward, cutting through the dust like lightning as he reached Drakili.

The demon tensed and drew his fist back, the energy forming around his hands.

He was about to launch it forward when Eliron’s blade flashed.

Instantly, multiple cuts appeared on his arm, right from his forearm to the tendons on his elbow. The arm fell by his side, leaving him with only one good arm.

He raised the lone arm to shield himself, but he was too slow to react.

Eliron’s blade came in a clean, vicious arc, cleaving his head right off his shoulders.

Blood splashed out like a fountain, bathing the lord red.

But it was not enough. Eliron knew he needed more than that to kill a demon.

He tightened his foot on the ground, swinging his entire body as he brought the sword back, slicing up the head again and again until fleshy chunks were all that remained.

“More!”

To kill a demon, you had to do so much damage that it would find it difficult to regenerate form.

But that was not all… You had to do it as fast as possible.

Eliron’s body became a blur of motion, blood spewing in whatever direction he swung.

Bang!

His final hit sent Drakili’s battered, messed up body crashing a few meters away from him, the body still without an ounce of motion.

Now it was Eliron who looked like the devil.

From the tip of his head to the soles of his feet, he was covered in blood, yet he still seemed filled with energy.

Even after the grueling fight with the demon, Eliron had barely summoned any spells, which just went to show how much he had grown since he first arrived.

Blood continued to pool around Drakili. His body was a mess. He was clearly dead and no longer even had a head.

Yet, Eliron still held his blade up.

“Enough with the theatrics. I hear demons come with many lives, a shitty demon like you must have three at least—”

VWOOOSH!!

“AHHHHHHH!!!”

A shockwave cut past them, Drakili’s sinister aura becoming even more disgusting to bear.

His tattered body mended itself, flesh bubbling out of his injuries with veins and bony spikes until he was as good as new, a new head rising in its place.

Actually, he was better than new.

Drakili had grown slightly bigger. The armour coating him was thicker, and it shielded more parts of his body.

“Now we’re talking!” Eliron smiled devilishly.

Drakili spat out blood and held part of his nostril, sneezing out a shard of bone.

“Not bad. But that was just my base form,” Drakili smirked. “The more you kill me, the stronger I will grow!”

“So go ahead and try again, you bastard. Try your best to kill me!!”

The purple aura around him exploded outwards, his black skin shimmering as it was infused with raw power.

Eliron blinked, and Drakili was right in front of him.

“Demonic Fist, Second Stance. Implosion!”

Eliron raised his sword, supporting the blade with his other arm as the blow came.

BANG!

He was flung back by the sheer force behind the blow, but what surprised him more was his sword.

Elven steel was one of the toughest materials used in making swords, and yet… it had chipped.

His mistake was thinking he could take the blow without reinforcing it with mana.

“Tch!”

Eliron’s feet landed atop the river some meters away from them, sliding back as the water splashed against his body, wetting his clothing.

He frowned as he watched Drakili conjure up his next move.

Drakili inhaled as much air as he could, his chest swelling, eyes blazing as he watched Eliron, and then he released it like a compressed bomb, a beam of sinister mana surging from his mouth in continuous streams.

Eliron watched the coming attack patiently.

He flicked his sword, the hilt rotating on his palm, then over the other side of his hand and onto his grip, just before he flipped it in the air in front of him.

Tzzzzzz!

Light blue currents surged around him, electrifying the water as it climbed over his body like crazed serpents.

Just as the sword’s pommel faced him, Eliron slammed the base of his palm into the sword.

[SSSR Skill Storm Breaker]

BANG!

There was a sound of a thunderclap, a miniature shockwave blowing the river to the side as currents bubbled around Eliron.

The entirety of the sword was coated in lightning as it flew towards Drakili.

Once the sword met the coming energy beam, it cut right through it, blowing it away with ease.

And then it crashed into Drakili—

His entire torso was blown to bits, turning the rest of the vengeful demon into barbecue beef.

The sword found its way back to Eliron’s hand, and he lifted it to the sky.

“One more to go…”

The demon had already begun to heal, his muscles coming together quickly, and his mana multiplying in potency and quantity.

Once Drakili’s head had reformed, he stared up at the sky, a lost look on his face as he cursed.

“F*uck!”

The sky had turned grey, the sun refusing to give its light as it was shrouded by dark clouds.

“I have seen this before…” he muttered under his breath.

Lightning sparkled in the sky, creating thunderous sounds that shook the village.

Then the rain began to descend, washing away the blood that had stained the floor.

Standing in the river, a single hand raised to point his sword into the sky, was the man who controlled it all.

The only elf capable of bending the weather to his will.

Eliron smirked. “Permit me to flex just a little bit…”

Drakili’s mana surged greater than it had ever done. His muscles all contracted, his bony armour growing bigger in an attempt to shield him.

“Curse you, ELIRON!!”

His words were drowned by the sound of a thunderclap, as lightning descended from the sky like divine judgement.

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