30. Falling Star

How did he get here?!

In that instant, all the demon wanted to know was the answer to that question.

It accepts that its arrogance caused it to appear prematurely, and even rejoices in this unexpected little change, but it cannot accept his sudden appearance. This scene is almost like the usual trick of third-rate playwrights when resolving the final act—not knowing how to resolve all the conflicts, they simply bring in a god, using an omniscient and omnipotent figure to solve everything.

It was furious about this, yet it pondered it endlessly, utterly perplexed...

However, at that moment, the ancient object draped in human skin suddenly vanished, like a castle built of dust that was completely destroyed by a gentle breeze.

The demon was stunned.

phantom......?

A piercing pain shot through its body from behind—it was Logan Grimner, who had ruthlessly severed its remaining wing, followed by a second bolt of lightning. It transformed into a venomous snake, plunging deep into its flesh. It was a beautiful strike, one that would normally not even be worthy of approaching, yet now it ravaged its flesh with unrestrained ferocity.

This series of misfortunes and humiliations made it resentfully change its mind about fleeing.

It turned around and used a burst of psionic energy to send Logan Grimner flying as he was about to swing his axe again, before turning its gaze to the rune priest who had created the illusion.

"You!" it glared at him venomously.

The wise man Irnist simply smiled as his wolf guards rushed past him and pounced on the wingless demon.

The latter opened its mouth, unleashing a psychic scream that forced them to slow, then unleashed a gust of wind. The instant it appeared, it extinguished the flames burning on the cannon deck, whipping up countless shattered corpses and blowing them towards the wolf pack. This attack, seemingly harmless and merely an insult, planted the seeds of fire within every piece of flesh…

The sound of the collision was fleeting, followed by a series of loud crashes, and several wolves died on the spot.

Irnist immediately changed tactics, raising his hand to unleash psionic energy, creating a shield for his brothers. At the same time, he took a rune from his waist and slammed it to the ground. As the stone from Fenris shattered, a viscous, blood-like liquid flowed from it, surging and writhing like a living thing, rapidly approaching the demon.

The latter immediately recognized it as a binding array with built-in tracking capabilities. It sneered disdainfully, rendering the array ineffective with a single glance. Then, it channeled evil magic, manipulating the dead wolves to stand up again.

It manipulated them to crash into the rune priest's shield. Five of them were destroyed by the other wolves, but the last one completed its task—the demon infused it with psionic energy, causing it to explode. Irnist suffered a magical backlash on the spot, and blood gushed from his seven orifices.

The scene was horrifying, yet his expression remained calm, as if he weren't worried at all. The demon coldly spun a wisp of thought, using its most proficient method to infiltrate his mind, witnessing the Fenris tundra and Irnist's apprenticeship, instantly grasping a wealth of information...

However, as it flipped through his memories, Irnist's voice also rang in its heart.

"You shouldn't look into my past; there's nothing there that can help you," the wise man said with a smile. "By the way, you probably don't know much about us... When we have the chance to bite the enemy's throat, we never just take one bite."

The demon understood his meaning in an instant.

In the blinding flash of fire, it abruptly retreated—the second wave of boarding torpedoes arrived, even denser than before. And this time, they actually brought him there.

The warrior appeared before it, his fists clenched.

Without a word, it shrieked again, trying to escape, but the warrior's fist was already upon it.

This punch was simple, direct, and utterly devoid of any frills, a stark contrast to its clashes with Irnist's psionic magic, yet it contained a power that even a demon could hardly withstand. The punch slammed solidly into its chest, turning it into a rolling pebble that crashed through decks and cabins...

When all this finally came to a stop, the demon found itself floating in space.

Fragments of the Hope of Correl spun endlessly around it, its blood drifting in the vacuum, reflecting starlight and omnipresent radiation, creating a spectacle that held the viewer's gaze captivated. Even it itself was inevitably drawn for a moment by the infinite variations contained within...

It stopped thinking, staring blankly at everything before it, but was startled awake by a burst of crimson-gold flames—however, it was too late to react, for the warrior had already arrived, stretched out his left hand, grabbed it tightly, and then threw a punch.

With just the first punch, the demon's chest cavity was pierced through.

It painfully raised its left paw, barely managing to block the second punch, at the cost of shattered flesh and broken bones. At the same time, it subconsciously manipulated its psionic energy to tear open the gash it had made on the hull of the Hope of Corell, forcibly enlarging it several times over, sucking out dozens of crew members.

It swiftly drew them over, imbuing them with psionic energy, transforming them into shields that blocked the warrior's attacks... But he didn't hesitate at all, simply punching and shattering these shields one by one. His power, like cannonballs, pierced through the shields and struck the demon, sending it flying backward repeatedly.

It frantically searched its memories, using every spell it could muster, trying to find a way out, but the warrior's left hand held it tightly, refusing to let go. Those eyes were far brighter than the illusion conjured by the rune priest, containing an absolute and pure willpower.

Looking at it, the demon suddenly realized that it was afraid.

Then they began to fall, plummeting into the world below the battleships that were engaged in combat.

A cold wind swept in, and two streaks of light streaked across the sky of Amegiddon, which had been cleared by the previous bombing—one a filthy deep blue, the other a bright crimson gold. They fell straight to the ground, crashing into the depths of the deserted ruins under the watchful eyes of the surviving soldiers of the Steel Legion.

The ground trembled, and before the dust kicked up by the impact had settled, the battle resumed.

The demon changed tactics; it no longer considered resistance, but instead unleashed a spell that required a short charging time, at the cost of its own entrails being ripped apart. It transformed into a shield around itself, distorting every subsequent attack from the warrior, causing them to miss their mark.

It no longer wanted to resist; it only wanted to escape, but the warriors caught up with it again.

He seemed tireless, insensitive to pain, and unstoppable. No matter how the demon unleashed lightning, storms, or flames to harm him, it was all in vain... His fists pounded on its broken body again and again, and that pure willpower tore apart every bit of pride it possessed, bringing with it an even deeper fear of death.

In the end, it even started to hallucinate.

In a daze, it saw a longsword that had been repeatedly forged over hundreds of centuries. It had been broken and damaged, but it was not rusted at all and remained sharp.

With the final blow, the sword pierced it.

How to describe this feeling? The demon didn't know the answer, but it could describe it—it felt the willpower emanating from the warrior's fists dissolving it like molten lava, erasing its very existence. It hadn't been banished, yet it knew perfectly well that these were two completely different things; it could never return to the warp, nor would it ever be reborn.

It will die.

But why? Why do you have such power?

In its final moments, the demon released countless subtle thoughts that seeped into the warrior's mind, seeking the truth.

Then it laughed, a laugh filled with a wicked satisfaction.

"You...you pathetic weapon," it whispered. "The way you killed us will slowly kill you as well."

The warrior pulled his right claw from its mangled body, gazed at the demon being burned to ashes in the winds of Amighiddon, and spoke calmly.

"I know," he said.

-----------------

The wolf pack dispersed in silence.

The lights had been restored, but the corpses around had not yet been cleared away. Those who knew nothing of the truth lay on the cold deck, blood staining everything. No one spoke, only silence. The wolves silently cleared away the bodies—brothers', mortals', all treated equally.

Logan Grimner bent down and looked at Gesme Kisnaros. His eyes were wide open and his teeth were clenched.

He was dead. The cause of death could be a bomb that hit his body, or it could be the departure of that demon. Logan couldn't say for sure, he just watched calmly, his gaze slowly moving to the hand that was still tightly clutching the rose knot even in death.

He stared at it for a moment, then reached out, trying to pry his fingers open and remove it. He didn't know why he wanted to do it, but it certainly wasn't because he wanted to insult him.

But he couldn't get it off.

Kisnaros's fingers were clenched so tightly. Even in death, his fingers remained gripping it firmly.

Logan tried once and then stopped.

He could easily have broken those fingers, but he didn't. Instead, he straightened up and looked around. The riddled corpses came into view, and finally he turned back to the lord inquisitor lying on the ground, letting out a soft sigh.

Annika Jastutier's voice came through the communicator on his waist, giving a brief report that she had ordered all ships to cease fire. She had taken over Kisnaros's command, a welcome development for the pack. But for some reason, Logan felt no joy whatsoever.

He only answered with a single word, "Okay."

After a while, he gave the order: "Bury him, and return his ashes to the Inquisition. Tell them that Lord Inquisitor Gasme Kisnaros died at the hands of a demon."