“Just shut up already, you damned monster…”

  Alexander nearly struck his own mouth to force himself into silence. He even tried to regulate his breathing, making it almost imperceptible—as if even the faint sound of his breath could become a weapon in his enemy’s hands.

  No. Because of me, that monster has learned to use magic… he has learned to fight… and if I keep talking… he’ll most likely learn our language too… and I don’t know what might happen.

  The evolution of the Lord Daimonas was the most terrifying thing Alexander had ever witnessed in his life.

  Desperation began to tighten around his chest. The situation was not merely bad… it was critical.

  What am I supposed to do? I can’t keep fighting, because that way the Lord Daimonas will keep learning… but if I don’t fight, he’ll kill me… and then he’ll attack Gignit.

  “Ηλθε η ωρα να τελειωσει αυτο.”

  The Lord Daimonas spoke again in that horrifying language and released the nauseating energy. Corrupted magic coiled around him like a dark embrace, enveloping him and saturating him with unnatural power.

  Then he brought each hand to the opposite shoulder and drove his long claws into his own flesh.

  And seemed to seize something from within.

  Slowly, from the region of his shoulders, he drew out two elongated bones reinforced with hardened joints. Their edges were jagged, grotesque… yet razor-sharp. Far too sharp. They looked capable of cleaving through anything.

  Alexander’s eyes widened in shock.

  Is that… a sword?

  The macabre bone weapons became shrouded in Daimonic magical energy.

  “Ετοιμασου να πεθανει?, ανθρωπε.”

  The instincts of the Lord of Gignit forced him to act.

  Alexander blinked… and the world shifted.

  From staring at the Lord Daimonas, he suddenly found himself looking at the sky, veiled by the smoke of the fire still spreading.

  And then he saw it.

  As if time had thickened and slowed, one of those bone swords sliced precisely through the space where, a second earlier, his neck had been.

  The air split.

  That was too fast! he thought, violently straightening his torso. And now he knows how to fight with swords? But we… from the very beginning…

  Alexander frowned and released a sigh heavy with exhaustion and accumulated strain.

  That’s right… from the very beginning we’ve been fighting with swords… it’s the first thing he should have learned.

  “Το βλεπω· εσυ, ανθρωπε, εισαι ακομη ικανο? να αποφευγει? τα πληγματα μου. Αλλα αυτο θα ειναι μονον προ? το παρον. Οι ευλογιε? του Κακου θα ατελειοποιουνται… και οταν φθασουν στην ακμη, τοτε θα ελθει η ωρα του θανατου σου.”

  The Lord Daimonas gripped both putrid bone swords tightly. The irregular, splintered blades exhaled a damp stench, as though they still carried remnants of the flesh from which they had been torn.

  “Τωρα, κλαψε, υποφερε και αιμορραγησε για τον Κακο!”

  He lunged at Alexander without hesitation. First, he aimed for his neck with a downward slash; when it missed, he twisted his wrist and converted the motion into a direct thrust toward the abdomen. Without pause, he chained another strike—this one horizontal, aimed at the torso.

  Alexander evaded each assault by the narrowest margin. With chilling clarity, he watched those bony blades carve through the air, whistling as they sought to sink into his flesh and tear him apart until nothing remained but a lifeless body fit to be devoured.

  He’s thrusting like a novice… but… I sense something worse. Something that could become a tragedy.

  His eyes stopped tracking the blades themselves and instead followed the shoulders, the elbows, the twisting of the Lord Daimonas’s torso. And that was when he understood.

  Little by little… at an unnatural pace… he’s improving.

  It was not his imagination. The trajectories were becoming cleaner. The wrists corrected their angles. The thrusts no longer wasted themselves in empty air—they targeted vital points. Alexander was forced to dodge with increasing strain; air alone was no longer enough—now he needed momentum, rotation, calculation.

  He retreated while his enemy advanced with deliberate steps. Eight eyes watched him without blinking, dissecting him with surgical coldness. The sensation was unbearable—as though eight invisible blades pierced his skin and burrowed into his soul.

  And then he committed one of the gravest sins of any combatant: he stopped perceiving his surroundings.

  “But what the—?”

  His heel struck something hard and elevated. A thick, winding root jutted from the churned earth. His balance shattered. His body pitched backward without control.

  He began to fall.

  And as he descended, one of the Lord Daimonas’s swords was already tracing a straight line toward his torso.

  Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiius.

  The blade reached him.

  The edge pierced flesh.

  Blood erupted in a dark arc, suspended for an instant as though the world itself had held its breath… before crashing to the ground in heavy drops.

  Alexander thrust his left hand against the earth, forcing himself upright and regaining his footing.

  That was close… Alexander thought, lowering his gaze to his now-exposed torso.

  If I hadn’t twisted at the last moment, my stomach would be open.

  He seized his ruined garments and tore them away in a single motion, leaving his torso bare—scarred by countless cuts and blows… and marked now by a fresh wound from which the mephitic Daimonic miasma began to seep.

  It’s true that if I keep fighting, this monster will keep learning… but now I’m doomed… the Daimonic miasma will probably consume me within hours… and I’ll die.

  He looked at his hands, stained with blood and soaked in that dark miasma.

  Valentina… Christopher… Selestia… I don’t think I’ll see you again… I’ll probably die because of the miasma… but…

  He frowned. And even though he was now virtually condemned to an excruciating death, there was more conviction than ever in his eyes.

  “Listen to me carefully, scum… I will kill you, I swear it. I swear I’ll kill you—and it doesn’t matter if you keep learning how to fight,” he clenched his right fist and raised it to chin level. “There is no way you can defeat us. Your life ends here.”

  He surrounded himself with the characteristic magical energy of water.

  “Water Elemental Magic: Water Sword.”

  In his right hand, a double-edged sword took shape—beautiful and bubbling, forged entirely from aquatic magic. And it looked razor-sharp.

  Alexander held it in his right hand at first, raising it above his head, the tip pointed toward the sky. Then he gripped it with both hands.

  “Not yet!” he shouted, as blazing magical energy flared around him.

  “Fire Elemental Magic: Fire Sword.”

  He pulled his hands apart—and the water sword split in two. From that separation, a second blade was born, this one formed of fire.

  The fiery aura blazing along Alexander’s left side seemed to struggle against the bubbling water aura enveloping his right. In his hands, both swords radiated raw power, eager to carve down his enemy.

  “Listen to me carefully, being of the abyss,” Alexander tightened his grip on both hilts. “You have sentenced me… and for that, in revenge… I will drag you with me into hell!”

  Lord of Gignit and Lord Daimonas.

  They stared at one another for a moment, studying each other.

  The eight eyes of the Lord Daimonas observed Alexander, analyzing him; every imperceptible movement was seen… and learned.

  Meanwhile, Alexander was drenched in sweat. He was bleeding. His muscles screamed with vicious spasms of pain—the consequence of exceeding 106% reinforcement. All it brought him was agony. And worst of all… the miasma seeping from every wound the Lord Daimonas had carved into him throughout the battle.

  And even so—immersed in that torment, enduring unbearable sensations, slowly dying as the Daimonic miasma consumed him—Alexander faced the Daimonas with unwavering conviction.

  With swords in hand, they each took a step. Then another. And finally one more.

  In the blink of an eye, they were face to face, locked in violent collision.

  Alexander and the Lord Daimonas clashed blades in a breathtaking duel in which neither showed the slightest intention of yielding.

  Steel met bone. And with each impact, for the briefest instant, a spark flared in the narrow space between their weapons.

  At the same time, particles of fire and water—along with the mephitic, revolting residue of Daimonic magic—burst outward in every direction, vanishing into the wind… and then into nothingness.

  Some trees collapsed.

  The ground became etched with countless gouges—the result of swords striking earth after narrowly avoided blows.

  With every clash against those bone-forged blades… my arms are going numb…

  The impacts continued.

  Alexander lowered his body and launched a slash with his left blade, then another with his right. Both crashed against the Lord Daimonas’s weapons.

  It resembled a dance of blades—one that would end only when one of them exhaled his final breath and exhaustion devoured the last of his strength.

  More particles leapt into the air, forming around them a kind of dome in which those sparks shone like stars. It was as if a fragment of the night sky had descended upon the earth, only to bear witness to such a savage and desperate confrontation.

  Alexander’s body vibrated violently with every impact. And he noticed that each strike from the Lord Daimonas carried slightly more force than the last.

  He was so focused on the Lord Daimonas that the world around him began to blur and lose its shape.

  He shifted aside as the Lord Daimonas attempted to cleave him in two with a vertical strike. The blade struck the earth instead, splitting it open and releasing a surge of Daimonic miasma through the crack.

  Now!

  Alexander intercepted the Daimonas’s second strike, deflecting it and forcing open a direct path.

  He twisted his body and aimed for its head, but the Lord Daimonas reacted at the last instant. Even so, the blade connected, carving across its torso. The monster brought a hand to the wound.

  “It’s only a matter of time before you die.”

  This time, Alexander advanced. He pressed the attack again. The Lord Daimonas, momentarily absorbed in observing its own wound, failed to raise its guard and was struck by successive slashes that landed cleanly.

  Alexander shifted styles mid-combat.

  From the front, drawing on the art of fencing, he advanced with measured steps. One foot slid forward, his arm extended in a precise lunge. The water sword pierced the abdomen of the malevolent being.

  Then he transitioned into movements drawn from Kendo. Beginning with disciplined footwork, he closed the distance again and, bringing both swords together as if they were one, raised them above his head. He executed a fundamental vertical cut. The blade descended straight down, striking the Lord Daimonas directly.

  Its abdomen split open.

  Alexander leapt back, startled… but smiling, certain his assault had taken effect.

  “And I hope that hurt, you damned—!”

  From the torn abdomen of the Lord Daimonas, a mass of viscera spilled outward. It was the most grotesque sight Alexander had ever witnessed. Intestines and coiled entrails writhed in the open air—yet they were not mere flesh. Every surface bore eyes and mouths, and they strained toward him hungrily. Instinctively, he staggered back several steps.

  “Your guts… whatever you have inside wants to eat me,” he muttered, a sickening chill racing up his spine. “It’s the most nauseating thing I’ve ever seen.”

  The Lord Daimonas did not respond. It merely watched as its own entrails stretched toward Alexander. Then, without hesitation, it seized the pulsating mass of intertwined flesh and forced it back into the gaping wound. The torn abdomen began sealing shut immediately.

  “You are a disgusting existence… why don’t you disappear from this world already?”

  He could not finish the sentence. He was forced to lean backward as both bone swords swept past his neck by mere centimeters.

  Regaining his footing, he collided with the Daimonas once more at close range. Again, the impacts thundered, and elemental sparks mingled with the reeking miasma that saturated the air.

  Alexander crossed his twin elemental blades to intercept a vicious slash.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  And for the second time, the being from beyond the natural order of Kosmos smiled.

  The Lord Daimonas still had his other hand free, gripping the hilt of its nefarious blade with unnatural force. It squeezed so tightly that veins bulged along its forearm… until they split through the skin, revealing a writhing mass of tongues that protruded and quivered in anticipation.

  It was as though the arm itself savored the imminent death of its prey.

  “Πεσε ενωπιον τη? κακια?, τεκνον του φωτο?.”

  And it unleashed the strike meant to end the life of the Lord of Gignit—

  But once again, it failed to find its mark.

  Alexander had evaded even from that compromised position. He leapt clear and, in the same motion, lashed out with the fire sword, slicing across the Daimonas’s torso once more. The wound this time was shallow.

  And that did not matter.

  “You will not defeat me!”

  Suspended in the air, Alexander spun clockwise, settling into a flawless stance. The Lord Daimonas would have no room to evade this strike. Perhaps… this would be the end.

  “FINALLY, YOUR TIME HAS COME!”

  The water blade carved toward the Lord Daimonas’s neck with nothing to impede it. Victory was within reach. The liquid edge hovered a heartbeat away from severing flesh. Relief flickered across Alexander’s face.

  But nothing unfolded as expected.

  The Lord Daimonas’s head shifted backward—no, not backward, not to the side.

  It sank into its own body.

  It retracted inward until it vanished entirely, as though it had decapitated itself from within.

  “DAAAAMN IT ALL!” Alexander roared as he passed by. “I HAD YOU AND YOU DODGED AGAIN! YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT DAIMONAS! JUST FUCKING DIE ALREADY!”

  The Lord Daimonas leaned forward, both swords aligned toward Alexander, and once again employed a grotesque variant of air magic: an aerial step.

  The ring drawn beneath its feet burst into a pitch-black flare, and it surged forward at full speed.

  Consumed by uncontrollable fury, Alexander raised both swords and intercepted the assault. But the instant those diabolical bone blades—now lined with watching eyes—collided with his own, he was hurled backward.

  The Lord Daimonas did not yield an inch.

  It drove him head-on, seeking to impale him with those monstrous weapons.

  Trees split apart as both bodies tore through them, dragging ruin in their wake and annihilating what little of the forest still stood. New corridors of devastation were carved open. The earth was ripped apart. Vegetation was severed, burned, and dissolved.

  Small magical beasts and wandering spirits fled in terror, desperate for refuge.

  And if they failed to escape…

  They died.

  ? ? ?

  “They must be just ahead!” Hermán’s voice rang out, thick with urgency. In his mind, only the image of his friend smiling at him… and then vanishing lingered. “WE HAVE TO HURRY! ALEXANDER NEEDS US!”

  “It’s been a while since we heard the collision of magical attacks,” added UNO, running beside his brother, both trailing behind Hermán. “That worries me… far too much.”

  “I HEAR SOMETHING!” Mansot shouted. Far from relieved, he frowned as dread tightened in his chest. “The fight… it’s still going on! They’re very close now, just like you said, Hermán… just a little further ahead!”

  “And they’re moving,” Tobías added, clenching his fists as he thought of his friend. “I can hear them getting even closer.”

  “Lord Alexander is incredible,” said Tadeo. “He’s been fighting that horrifying monster all this time… and he’s still standing.”

  “Yes,” Jhon nodded grimly. “I don’t see myself capable of that… of fighting to this extent against something like that…”

  ? ? ?

  SBOOOOOSH

  Both were hurled out of the undergrowth and dense vegetation. Around them rose a storm of dust, splintered trunks, and countless leaves dragged upward by the violence of the impact.

  Their bodies slammed against the hardened earth. They bounced at least twice. They rolled again before the Lord Daimonas rose fully, swords still in hand.

  Alexander, on the other hand, skidded several additional meters.

  Too many wounds, burns, and torn patches of skin marred his body—earned from crashing against the ground and being dragged across it. It would not have been an exaggeration to say that the earth had nearly flayed him alive.

  Now countless raw abrasions covered every exposed part of his body. Even his face—twisted with fury—was cut open, and from those wounds the mephitic Daimonic miasma seeped outward.

  Nothing mattered to him anymore.

  “DAMN IT, YOU DAMN DAIMONAS! JUST DIE ALREADY!”

  Rage began to devour his mind. He was so consumed by frustration—by the inability to find a path to victory—that fury seized control.

  He forced himself upright and screamed toward the sky.

  “I’LL KILL YOUUUUUUUUUUU!”

  Without strategy or restraint, Alexander hurled himself at the Lord Daimonas in an almost suicidal charge.

  The eight eyes of the Lord Daimonas caught the advance instantly, and without hesitation, it answered in kind.

  They crashed back into close combat, attacking with everything they had left. But this time, the violence surpassed every previous exchange. It was savage.

  Crimson blood and dark Daimonic ichor sprayed in every direction, soaking the battlefield. A spreading blackened stain formed beneath their feet, widening as they carved into each other again and again.

  The attacks came from all angles—high, low, left, right. Neither granted even the smallest window to breathe.

  And neither wanted to.

  They cared only for inflicting as much damage as possible.

  Alexander slashed into the Daimonas’s body, watching his blades tear through putrid flesh. But each time he opened a wound, a new eye blossomed within it… or it split open into a grinning mouth.

  Meanwhile, the Daimonas cut Alexander from every direction, inflicting unbearable agony. Yet Alexander no longer processed the pain. He understood only one thing—within the warped clarity of his fury—that each cut drenched him in more Daimonic miasma and shortened his life further.

  And it did not matter.

  The only thing that mattered was killing his enemy. That was why he attacked without pause. His body no longer obeyed the commands of his conscious mind.

  And then his eyes rolled white.

  His body, ironically, took control and assaulted the Lord Daimonas with even greater ferocity.

  I managed to regain my consciousness… but I can’t control my body anymore…

  Alexander watched himself fight, but from a distant place—as though trapped deep within his own subconscious.

  My instincts took over… that’s why “I’m” fighting like this. I’m not even trying to protect myself… I’m absorbing most of his cuts… luckily they’re superficial… though that doesn’t matter. The miasma is killing me.

  He could only observe as he tore open the Lord Daimonas’s abdomen again and again. But none of those strikes carried enough force to finish it once and for all.

  And unlike “him,” the Lord Daimonas adapted.

  It stepped back. It crouched. It guarded. It slipped away from thrusts. And then it countered with increasing precision—strategic, calculated.

  Alexander exhaled from the depths of his consciousness.

  He evolved again… he no longer fights like a novice. Now he moves like someone seasoned… decisive… stronger… while my own body seems to be unraveling…

  It seems that in the end I’m just a loudmouth… I won’t be able to defeat him… my body can’t endure much more… it’s about to collapse…

  And those thoughts were undeniable.

  While the Lord Daimonas continued to evolve, Alexander was unraveling.

  Their remaining blades clashed again—this time with devastating force. Both poured every last ounce of strength into that exchange.

  The fire sword shattered. One of the bone swords splintered apart and dissolved.

  Now each of them held only a single blade.

  The Lord Daimonas struck first, its sword grazing Alexander’s shoulder and carving a line of searing pain across it. But submerged in madness, Alexander endured.

  And instead of pressing the attack with his remaining weapon… he mirrored the act.

  He hurled it.

  The tip buried itself in the Lord Daimonas’s body… and then vanished.

  The eight eyes studied Alexander’s completely whitened gaze for a brief moment.

  And once again—

  They launched themselves at each other.

  The battle collapsed into something even more primitive. They abandoned blades and relied on the final weapon any body possesses: their fists.

  They smashed into each other.

  They pummeled without restraint.

  Alexander’s fists crashed into the Daimonas’s torso, abdomen, even its face, spraying black blood from that grotesque vertical mouth.

  In return, the Lord Daimonas unleashed a relentless storm of punches, knees, and kicks upon the human before it. Alexander’s head snapped violently from side to side beneath the weight of those massive blows.

  But the difference between them was vast.

  Alexander fought purely on instinct—like a cornered animal.

  The Lord Daimonas, meanwhile, had already learned to fight like a seasoned combatant. It even weaponized Alexander’s own style against him.

  “Uhhh…”

  Alexander’s body groaned as a knee struck him squarely in the face. One of his molars shot free and vanished into the blood-soaked earth.

  But he did not stop.

  His body reacted at once. A savage right hook split the vertical mouth, then his hand shot forward, seizing the Daimonas’s tongue in a brutal grip. He yanked hard and unleashed a barrage of left-handed punches into that black, lifeless abdomen.

  “AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  Alexander screamed.

  “Grrrrrr…”

  The Lord Daimonas answered only with a low growl.

  It was as though their roles had reversed.

  Alexander had become the beast.

  And the Lord Daimonas—the cold, calculating executioner.

  Suddenly, the Lord Daimonas’s mouth snapped shut.

  Fangs sank into Alexander’s flesh, piercing deep.

  The pain was blinding.

  “AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  He screamed again.

  But he did not yield.

  His body leapt forward, clambering onto the Daimonas’s torso in a grotesque embrace, and from that position he hammered down upon its face with savage blows.

  “AAAAAAAHHHH! AAAAAAAHHHHH!”

  He roared in pure fury as the Lord Daimonas staggered backward several steps—until it was finally forced to release him.

  But Alexander’s fractured mind had deteriorated so far that his instincts—reduced now to something purely feral—drove him further.

  He lunged and sank his teeth into the Lord Daimonas’s neck with all his strength.

  He tore away a chunk of putrid flesh.

  And sprang back.

  Upon hitting the ground, he staggered back several meters… and began vomiting blood.

  His taste buds ruptured inside his mouth. The inner flesh of his cheeks burned and would not stop bleeding. After all, he had bitten into the most toxic and corrupted flesh in Kosmos. No living being could ingest something like that without courting death.

  He clutched his throat.

  His mouth burned.

  Everything burned.

  He could no longer feel his tongue.

  And he would probably never taste food again… if he survived.

  For a fleeting moment, Alexander regained consciousness.

  He realized his body no longer responded to him. He could not move even a single millimeter. With immense effort, he managed to turn his neck when he heard words spoken in that infernal language.

  “Αυτο ειναι το τελο? για σενα· γινε το πρωτο σκαλοπατι τη? ελευσεω? του Κακου.”

  Alexander turned his head.

  The last thing he saw was an enormous fist—nearly the size of his own head—slamming into the left side of his face.

  The impact obliterated him.

  “Πεθανε…”

  Puuum.

  His left eye burst.

  The Lord Daimonas had stolen one of his windows to the world.

  The Lord of Gignit was hurled away like a projectile, smashing into the earth and bouncing again and again, powerless to stop.

  Behind him trailed a streak of fresh blood marking the path of his fall.

  His body crumpled. His strength abandoned him. He had nothing left.

  And in that moment, Alexander Hope—

  The leader of Gignit—

  The man who never retreated, who had stood his ground against such a macabre horror—

  Had lost the battle.

  The Lord Daimonas leapt forward, nullifying magic once more and executing its grotesque imitation of air magic.

  “Υποφερε αιωνιω?.”

  Once again, it manifested a sword formed of vertebrae—lined with eyes and mouths, from which tongues protruded, eager to chew through Alexander’s flesh.

  All eight eyes locked onto its fallen prey, fixed upon him alone, utterly disregarding its surroundings.

  The vertebral blade was only meters away from impaling Alexander’s body, which struck the ground once more. After the bounce, more blood spilled from his nose, his mouth, and the torn flesh of his shattered forehead.

  Alexander perceived the world as a blur. It was a miracle that consciousness had not yet abandoned him. And the last thing he managed to distinguish—before his body rolled and struck the ground again—was a shadow… then another… stepping into the battlefield.

  CLINK. THUUUUUF.

  The sharp clang of weapons colliding echoed across the battlefield.

  Alexander struggled to keep his eyes open, but the world remained a dark, distorted blur. As his body tumbled, shifting shadows seemed to lunge toward him, trying to seize him mid-flight, desperate to halt his violent trajectory.

  None succeeded.

  And just as his body struck the ground one final time, he felt it—two hands catching him at last. The stop was abrupt, yet those hands were warm… so warm that they did not merely stop him, but held him. Shielded him.

  Alexander no longer felt the earth beneath him. It was as though he floated for a moment, descending slowly until his feet brushed the ground—too weak to support his weight.

  But those hands eased him down. With trembling care, they touched his face, his arms, his torso… not with clinical detachment, but with desperate understanding of the damage he had endured.

  “W-w-who is…?”

  “Honey… my Alexander…” Even in his ruined state, he recognized his wife’s voice. “You’re safe now…”

  “Va… Va… Valen…”

  “Alexander, don’t try to speak… don’t strain yourself anymore… please… it’s enough…” Valentina’s tears streamed down, falling over his battered face without restraint. “You don’t need to keep fighting… look at yourself…”

  She wept in pain, in anguish, in terror. Seeing her husband—the love of her life—in such a shattered state tore at her soul.

  Alexander was broken.

  Bones fractured.

  One eye gone.

  Skin torn, burned, nearly flayed.

  His mouth bled without stopping.

  And the miasma was killing him.

  “Honey… how much you’ve suffered… I can’t believe I wasn’t by your side to fight that monster… Oh my gods, I’m the worst wife alive! I don’t deserve a husband as perfect as you…”

  She lowered her gaze to the ruin where his left eye had been, fragments still clinging to the ravaged socket.

  She embraced him—pulled him close without caring that the Daimonic miasma might seep into her own skin.

  Her tears fell onto his open wounds, where the mephitic corruption continued to slowly extinguish his life.

  “Honey… please… forgive me… I should have come sooner… and because of me you’re hurt like this… the miasma is consuming you…”

  Her brow tightened as she imagined that monster tearing into him.

  “This time… it’s my turn to protect you. Alexander, you don’t have to worry about anything… just like you always do… this time your wife will fix everything. I’ll eradicate that filth… and then I’ll purge every trace of miasma that’s causing you so much pain.”

  “But first… at least… let me clean your eye…”

  Water gathered in her hands. Carefully, she brought it to his face, joining the flow above the bridge of his nose and letting a gentle current wash away the blood and remnants that obscured his vision.

  “This won’t hurt… you won’t feel pain anymore…”

  Alexander breathed with difficulty. Yet more than seeking air, he seemed to be struggling to speak.

  “Va… Valentina…”

  “Honey, just rest. I’ll go kill that monster right now.”

  “Li… listen to me…”

  At last, the Lord of Gignit forced the words out.

  “Alexander…”

  “Va… Valentina… The Dai… Daimonas evolved… into a Lord… a Lord Daimonas… he’s too strong…”

  “My Alexander, and you have—”

  “P-please… be quiet… and listen to everything I have to tell you… otherwise… everyone will die…”

  ? ? ?

  CLINK. THUUUUUF.

  For the first time, the Lord Daimonas experienced something shared by all beings, to one degree or another: surprise.

  Its eyes widened.

  Its vertical mouth parted slightly.

  Its entire grotesque body reacted when a human hurled himself in front of it and, katana in hand, intercepted the vertebral blade before it could finish Alexander.

  “You… will not. You won’t hurt my friend anymore. Do you hear me? Disgusting Daimonas.”

  Hermán entered the battle—and the first thing he did was save his best friend’s life.

  The Lord Daimonas regained a semblance of composure and shifted its weight forward, attempting to overpower him. The force of the push drove Hermán’s boots into the earth, cracks spidering outward beneath his feet.

  “Μονον απετρεψε? να προσφερθει η ζωη εκεινου του ανθρωπου στον Κακο… Αντι αυτου, η δικη σου θα πεσει στη κακια του.”

  Hermán turned his face aside, clenching his teeth, fighting back the violent urge to vomit on the spot.

  “What the hell is that?” he muttered, forcing his eyes open again, barely able to steady himself after hearing the Lord Daimonas speak. “This bastard… his voice… it’s revolting.”

  He raised his guard and braced every muscle to absorb the next strike. Even so, the blow was so brutal that Hermán was forced to leap backward to regain his footing.

  “For a second, I thought my ears had burst… but it doesn’t hurt anymore. What’s happening?” He looked up as the Lord Daimonas advanced. “Is this… a Lord Daimonas? And Alexander fought this for so long?”

  “Αφανισου και δωσε μου τη σαρκα σου, ανθρωπε.”

  The monster unleashed a slash toward Hermán, who was already in motion to intercept it.

  PUUUUUM.

  The Lord Daimonas’s head snapped violently to the side as it absorbed a solid impact. The attack veered off course, and Hermán seized that instant to retaliate with a shallow cut.

  “Your voice is the most horrifying sound I’ve ever heard!”

  “Why don’t you just kill yourself?”

  Mansot and Tobías burst into the fray, striking with everything they had.

  “This Lord Daimonas is the most horrific thing I’ve ever seen… and I’ve seen horrors in Kosmos,” UNO said grimly, one of the elven brothers.

  “And our leader stood against it… that’s unbelievable,” DOS added. “It’s hard to imagine Lord Alexander endured this without losing his mind. Just looking at it makes me want to vomit.”

  Both brothers followed through with a synchronized kick to the chin, forcing the Lord Daimonas’s head to snap upward under the impact.

  “He’s remarkably resilient to physical punishment,” Tadeo said, appearing at the flank of that ruinous being and driving a heavy blow into its ribs. He was forced to leap back at once, as a mouth split open at the point of impact. “He can alter his body just like when he was nothing more than a filthy Daimonas.”

  “It’s the first time I’ve seen a Lord Daimonas,” Jhon added, moving closer to the group. “He looks monstrously powerful… and just imagining fighting him makes my stomach twist.”

  “BUT WE DON’T HAVE A CHOICE!” Hermán roared, landing squarely among them, fury blazing across his face. “ALEXANDER, OUR LEADER, HAS BEEN FACING THIS ABOMINATION ALL THIS TIME! AND HE DID IT ALONE!”

  He drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs.

  “NOW IT’S OUR TURN TO RETURN THE FAVOR!”

  The Lord Daimonas observed as more fighters arrived, positioning themselves behind the group known in Gignit as The Ten Strongest. Every gaze fixed upon the monster’s new form—revulsion, even outright disgust, rippling through the ranks.

  Simply looking at it strained the mind.

  “YOU UNDERSTAND!” Hermán shouted again.

  “YEEEEEEEES!” the small army answered in unison, voices ringing with conviction as they raised their weapons skyward—a declaration of readiness.

  “YOU—LISTEN TO ME WELL… DAIMONAS! THIS TIME ALL OF US WILL BE YOUR OPPONENTS!” Hermán leveled the tip of his blade at the creature. “KOSMOS WILL BREATHE EASIER WHEN YOU DIE!”

  “Εφθασαν περισσοτερε? σαρκε? για να προσφερθουν στον Κακο!”

  With the exception of Hermán, many present doubled over—vomiting, screaming in agony, or collapsing outright—as the Lord Daimonas’s profane language assaulted them for the first time.

  “The same thing happened to me!” Hermán shouted, never taking his eyes off the creature, which now pointed at them with its putrid fingers. “It’ll pass! And then we strike together!”

  “Αγαλλιασθε, τεκνα του φωτο?· ο Κακο? απαιτει τα? ζωα? σα?, επιθυμει να γευθη τη σαρκα σα?, και εγω, ο σκοτεινο? δουλο? του, θα του δωσω ο,τι επιτασσει… παντε? υμει? θα πεθανετε.”

  ? ? ?

  Valentina’s eyes were wide with disbelief. Not only because of everything Alexander had endured at the Lord Daimonas’s hands… but because of what that creature was capable of.

  “Alexander… what you’re saying… is it true? That thing… can it really do all of that?”

  “Yes…” Alexander answered with effort. “The… the Lord Daimonas can learn everything his eyes see… anything… martial arts, your movements, the way you step… even your magical attacks… he can learn it all.”

  “But… that’s something that…”

  “Valentina… you need to warn everyone… as quickly as possible…”

  Her eyes widened further, and a cold shiver ran down her spine.

  “If everyone attacks him with what they know… they’ll only expand the Lord Daimonas’s arsenal. Right now, he’s mastered the way I fight… and several of the techniques I used against him… Please, Valentina…”

  Alexander clenched his fists with the last of his remaining strength.

  “You have to kill him as soon as possible… if you don’t… that monster will destroy Gignit.”

  Kosmos: War for Existence.

  We’re only getting started.