The Damned Demon

The crimson sky stretched vast above the land, darkness thick in the air as Valeria soared through it, her heavy sword sheathed on her back.

Each beat of her flight sent shockwaves rippling through the sky, her presence an eerie shadow moving against the bleeding dusk.

Below her, the land was filled with movement—clusters of demons from various clans, all armed to their teeth, waiting like scavengers circling prey.

Their banners flapped violently in the wind, their weapons gleaming with mana-infused power.

All of them combined were around 50,000 strong!

Their purpose?

To bring her down and capture her.

To hunt down her king who no longer had a kingdom to back him.

"There she is! The Immortal King's protector!" A gruff voice bellowed from the horde.

A war chief, a towering horned demon with a wicked grin, pointed to the sky with a thick, gnarled claw. His sharp teeth gleamed as he sneered.

"I told you she'd be passing through here soon! My plan wasn't in vain. Her king is alone now, and only she remains to protect him. If we take her down—then he's ours. The Bloodburners will pay for suppressing our clans for centuries! This is our chance to get revenge!"

A chorus of roars and cheers erupted from the bloodthirsty crowd.

"The bounty on his head will make us richer than kings!"

"The Draconians will reward us beyond our wildest dreams!"

"Capture that Bloodborn Guard!"

As one, they lifted their weapons, an array of siege engines, enchanted spears, and deadly ranged artillery aimed at the lone figure in the sky.

A second later, the battlefield erupted into chaos.

A storm of dark projectiles screamed into the sky, each one crackling with deadly energy. Arrows, spears, mana-infused bolts, and artillery fire formed a blackened rain, descending toward Valeria with destructive force.

The sheer number of attacks turned the sky into a swirling vortex of annihilation.

A deafening BOOM!

The sky cracked open with an explosion of mana, and a dense cloud of dark energy billowed outward, shaking the very air itself. Shockwaves trembled across the battlefield, sending ripples of force into the ground.

Smoke, thick and consuming, filled the sky.

Most of them grinned in satisfaction.

But then—

A voice, laced with disbelief, cut through the tense silence.

"Fuck! Why did all of you fire at the same time?! We needed her alive!"

Another snapped back, "You should've told us that before! How the hell were we supposed to know every fool here was going to attack at once?!"

But then a different voice, uncertain and trembling, asked the question that sent chills down their spines.

"Hey… I didn't see her body hit the ground. Did any of you?"

Silence.

The crowd stilled, their gazes snapping back to the sky as the thick smoke began to clear.

And then they saw it.

Her.

Still floating.

Still standing.

Valeria emerged from the smoke like a wraith of war, her figure framed against the crimson sky. The dark metal of her heavy armor didn't even bear any scratches, as if she had never been struck by a single attack from them.

No wounds.

No sign of weakness.

Just those eyes behind her helmet.

That cold, eerie crimson gaze piercing through the slit of her helmet like twin voids of death.

A shudder passed through the assembled warriors.

Their confidence wavered.

Fear crept into their bones.

"M-Monster…" someone whispered as they knew that the combined force of that attack should be more than enough to at least cripple a peak level Soul Devourer.

Then, a deep, guttural laugh broke the tension.

"Weaklings."

The booming voice belonged to none other than Yakurk, a towering, muscle-bound ogre with a grotesque scar carved across his face. His jagged teeth gleamed as he stepped forward, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Valeria.

"This chief take her down!"

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"Chief Yakurk?!"

The ogre's army of warriors—hulking figures of brute strength and raw power—followed behind him, their sheer size dwarfing the other clans.

"The chief of the ogres is here?! If a peak-level Soul Devourer like him is taking action, we're screwed!"

"He'll get all the bounty now!" someone lamented in frustration.

But Yakurk paid no mind to their murmurs. He cracked his massive knuckles and sneered.

"She tall and strong to be worthy of this chief's next woman! OAARGHHH!"

With a monstrous roar, Yakurk bent his knees and launched himself into the sky with explosive force, shattering the ground beneath his feet.

He surged toward Valeria like a cannonball, his thick hands reaching out to grab her.

His massive frame blotted out the sky as he closed in.

But then—

A single hand caught his face.

"...OHuh?"

Yakurk's eyes widened in shock.

He was stopped.

Mid-air.

Frozen in place like a puppet caught in its master's grip.

Valeria hadn't even moved.

She had merely lifted a single hand and caught his head like an insect in her grasp.

The battlefield below fell silent.

And then—

With her other hand, she grasped his thick, muscular throat.

Before he could even blink—

She pulled.

RIPPP!

A sickening, wet tear echoed through the air as Valeria tore Yakurk apart.

His body split into two halves, blood, and entrails gushing into the sky in a grotesque display of raw strength.

A fine red mist sprayed against her armor, dripping down the edges of her helmet as she stood motionless.

The two halves of the once-feared ogre chief plummeted to the ground, slamming into the dirt with a wet, lifeless thud.

Silence.

The men below could only stare.

The strongest among them, the chief of all ogres who had dominated so many people and lands—gone in a matter of seconds.

No struggle.

No chance.

Just death.

Cold. Unfeeling. Absolute.

Their confidence shattered.

Their courage snuffed out.

For the first time, the gathered clans felt true terror.

Then—

They saw her hands move.

A slow, deliberate motion—one palm pressing against the other.

The air crackled.

A sphere of crimson energy began to form between her hands, no larger than a cannonball at first, but as the seconds passed, it grew, pulsing with a dark, unstable light.

It hummed with unnatural energy, causing the very space around it to ripple and distort.

The ground trembled beneath their feet.

The sky darkened.

The ball of energy continued to expand, its edges flickering like a dying star, warping the very air around it.

The wind twisted toward it, drawn in by an invisible pull, bending trees and snapping branches in its wake.

Then, something even worse began to happen.

Light itself was being devoured.

Shadows stretched unnaturally long, contorting and twisting toward the growing mass in her hands. Colors bled from the world, the very essence of reality bending under its force.

That was when true panic set in.

"R-RUN!!"

Someone's cry cut through the turmoil, and suddenly, the ground erupted with movement.

Fangs, claws, hooves, wings—hundreds of demons scrambled for their lives, pushing each other aside, trampling the weak in their frenzied attempt to escape the doom that hung above them.

Others had collapsed to their knees, hands raised in a plea for mercy for they knew there was no running away from the wrath of a monster like her.

All they could do was pray she would be proud enough to not kill insects like them after begging for mercy.

But they had no idea she did not care.

Without a word, without so much as a flicker of amusement or malice, she merely thrust the seething sphere into the sky—

She never looked back at them.

She did not wait to see the horror unfold.

She did not need to.

And then turned away.

Her massive, armored form shifted effortlessly, her crimson cape billowing in the wind as she vanished into the distant skies, leaving behind only the harbinger of doom in her wake.

The demons below barely had time to comprehend what was happening before they began to feel the very air pulling them from behind.

The ground rumbled violently. The air itself twisted as an overwhelming force dragged everything toward the ever-darkening sphere that now hovered in the sky.

"I can't move!"

"Help! HELP!!"

The first to go were the ones closest and the weakest. Their bodies were yanked off the ground, lifted into the sky with terrifying speed. Their screams were brief, cut off as they were shredded apart midair, their very existence being devoured by the consuming force.

The vortex shrunk, becoming denser—hungrier.

Dirt, weapons, and shattered bones rose into the air, swirling in an uncontrollable storm of destruction.

More were dragged in.

A spelldancer, his hands glowing with desperate runes, tried to cast a teleportation spell—only to watch his own fingers dissolve as his body was ripped apart piece by piece, his magic failing him in the face of an inescapable death.

A towering brute of a demon, three times the size of a human, dug his claws into the soil, his muscles bulging as he tried to anchor himself—but the ground beneath him split apart, and his body was sucked upward, his flesh tearing layer by layer until only a skeleton remained, which then cracked and vanished into dust.

There was no escape.

The vortex continued to consume, devour, erase.

Those who had tried to fly away found their wings failing them, the very currents of the air twisting against them, dragging them back toward their doom.

"NO! NOOO!!"

Some fought. Some begged. Some simply stared in horror, realizing they were already dead before they even left the ground.

The vortex continued to shrink, its hunger intensifying, the energy within it crushing reality itself as it devoured the last remnants of its victims.

The battlefield, once filled with warriors, was now eerily still.

Then, with a final, silent implosion, the vortex collapsed into nothingness.

Not even a trace remained.

No bodies.

No bones.

No ashes.

Only the scattered weapons, a few bloodstains, and the faint echo of screams that no one would ever hear again.

And in the far distance, Valeria flew—never once looking back.

But she had no idea she had just annihilated the majority of the clans that were waiting to destroy whatever was left of the Bloodburn Kingdom.