Archer's arms flailed in an attempt to get the daemon's hands – rather claws – off of him. His magic wasn't working, and he didn't have any other choice but to fight with brute force. He was rather strong for an affinity-less faey, but then again, perhaps physical strength wouldn't do much in when it comes to fighting daemons.
"Let go of me you fucking daemon!" the man-child yelled.
Archer screamed at the top of his lungs, but Mephis wouldn't have any of his little attempts to escape. The daemon had shifted and carried the faey with claws that had vice-like grip. The talons dug into his shoulders, but then again, he didn't care that the faey would be injured or not.
The deal was to save him from the in-betweens. There wasn't anything that said he would bring him without any scratches. It was just one tiny injury. There were much worse cases.