Much of the castle had been destroyed and Meven wanted to settle the score with whoever had left the bruises on Larren. He had noticed that both on her arms and her face, there were marks of blows and torture. He was furious with such cowardice and was determined to return the favor mercilessly. Syrh found them shortly after she entered the castle. To her surprise, everyone found on the way, old or female, defenseless or not, died.
Finally, after leaving a trail of death, they had arrived at the dungeon of the Unpronounceable, the Throne Room. He was waiting for them on his throne. Around him, there were horsemen and on the vaulted ceiling, there was room for bats and their masters to enter the enclosure. The demon smiled. For so many years, he hardly saw a diversion like that. Some fun was provided by the three of them.
- Now. - He started to say. After a moment, he continued. - If it isn't the Trinity of Vengeance or would it be of Rancor? Wait, maybe ... Yes, maybe it's the Trinity of Madness? You can only be crazy when you dare to invade my kingdom, attack my castle and, above all, enter the Throne Room without my permission. I like crazy people and everything. What I don't tolerate are disobedience and folly.
Larren raised her fists and clenched them in response. Her fists and eyes started to shine. She spoke and said in such a way that Meven was tremendously impressed:
- It is not the Trinity of anything, scumbag. Prepare yourselves, for you have dared to imprison me and torture me without mercy. None of you'll survive to repent, nor will you have enough time to plead for your miserable lives. You'll all suffer and despair. One by one.
With a quick fly, which took Syrh by surprise, Larren lunged at the first bat and punched it ruthlessly in the face with such force that she threw it against the wall. The rider's leg got stuck and snapped. He cried out in pain, but Larren punched him so hard that she crushed his skull. A mixed paste of blood, bone, and meat adorned the place ominously. Without wasting time, she attacked his neighbor, holding him by the neck, and crushing him without mercy. Larren saw the knight try to break free. In response, she squeezed even harder and the sound of bones breaking echoed through the room. Again, without wasting time, she grabbed the bat, now without a rider, and hurled it at the floor. The sound of crushed meat sounded like a music note in the ears of the ritualist. Such humiliation caused the demon to rise. That affront was unforgivable.
- How dare you humiliate me in my castle?!
He drew his sword and ordered the knights to attack. This time it was Meven who surprised the spider with his ability to become a shadow. The shadow struck a knight, threw him aside, and charged against another. At one point, the peace of the Throne Room had been replaced by an insane fight. Among the Knights, Larren spotted Rekdra. Her anger became hatred. Her hatred made her stronger. For a brief moment, Rekdra met her glowing and furious gaze, which became more and more intimidating. In that look, she saw the opportunity to test her true strength. She smiled, satisfied and determined. She drew her spear. It was time to settle the score with her enemy.
Of the many who tried to get close to Meven and Larren, few succeeded. Syrh impeded their ways by weaving her magic webs. She was there not only for support. No way. She was in that fight because of the years that her people suffered from so many devastations. Now, as a representative of her people and convinced that this would be the last time that the Unpronounceable would face anyone, she went on the offensive. One of the horsemen, of the few who remained, received a blow from Syrh on the face. A kick so powerful that his helmet was smashed together with the face of the unfortunate one. The wet sound of flesh and blood smashing, of bones shattering, gave the arazna a satisfying sensation. She wasted no time and struck the bat in the eye of the bat with the dagger, all the way to the hilt. Once again, the gratifying sound came to her and she needed to hear more. Better, she needed more. A lot more.
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the huge enclosure, Larren faced Rekdra. No strokes were wasted. No words had been said. The only thing that prevailed was violence and aversion. In a spear stroke, Rekdra tried to impale her opponent, but Larren knew how to fight with spears, much more than any other weapon. She also knew that there was a limit to each type of strike delivered by a spear. Of course, this varies according to the size of each one. However, Larren used all her flying skills and narrowly dodged the thrust. When she saw that she hadn't been hit, she acted quickly and held the spear in both hands in a firm, convinced grip. Rekdra felt the spear abruptly removed from her hand. Larren tossed the spear away, without care. She grabbed Rekdra's arm and with the same force of strength removed her from her mount. With a brutal scream, she hurled her against the floor. The rider hit the ground, bounced off once, and skidded to the floor. Larren followed. Her flight speed made her get close enough that Rekdra couldn't get up in time. The ritualist grabbed her leg with a firm grip and pulled her to hit her against a pillar, however, the bat's shadow took shape on the wall and she realized it. It came with a silent and treacherous flight, but it didn't count that Larren had noticed. Larren used Rekdra as a weapon and hit the bat on its chest, so she threw it against a pillar, which in turn hit it back in its way. Again, she struck another blow, only this time it made it hit the ground.
Rekdra had broken her leg. The ritualist threw her on the floor. The knight tried to crawl away, close to her master, in search of salvation. Larren held the bat by the leg:
- A mount's place is next to its Knight.
She lifted the bat and slapped it on the back of its master. Once, raised the bat again, twice, raised one last time, thrice. She struck three times with all her strength. The bat had died in the second blow, and although Rekdra was in a pool of blood on cracked soil from the blows, she was still alive. Disoriented, but alive.
- If you want to drag yourself shamefully to your master, allow me to help you.
Larren purposely grabbed the broken leg. Rekdra cried out in pain.
- Suffer. - Larren said ruthlessly, twisting her leg. Rekdra was in agony, but Larren continued to cheer. - Suffer more. Now, as I said, allow me to help you to return shamefully to your master!
Meven saw the ritualist lift her opponent's body by the leg, turn twice and throw it towards the demon, who received the full blow to the face. Syrh saw, without being able to believe it, as a human, she achieved such a feat. Meven called her:
- It's our chance! Come!
The arazna came to her senses. At the moment, the most important thing was to stay focused on combat. If she survived, she would ask the ritualist questions.
The Unpronounceable fell over the throne, smashing it under his weight. Meven jumped on him with the necessary momentum to deliver a powerful blow. His dark arm hit the rib cage, piercing the flesh, tearing muscles, breaking bones, spilling blood ...
Larren passed by a dead knight, took his spear, and invested with all his speed that her flight could provide her. Meven noticed it and thought it was better to get out of the way. When she leaped away from the body of the Unpronounceable, his cloak shook as if caught in a strong gale.
The demon recovered in time to see her with the spear, but he saw it so well that he noticed, unfortunately, that the spear was just inches from his right eye.
The growl of pain and agony was the loudest sound that echoed in the room.
- How dare you?! - He cried out in agony of pain.
- You dared to imprison me. - While speaking, the ritualist abruptly removed the spear and pierced it in the neck. - You dared to torture me. – She broke the spear so that its tip was lodged. - You dared to redeem me, but nothing you did will compare to what I'm going to do to you!
Furious, the demon pushed her with his arm, which made her walk away.
- And everything that was done could be redone countless times more.
His mocking laugh made Meven so enraged that the veins appeared on his red face. Never in his life had the deacon felt hatred for someone as he felt for that demon.
- Listen demon. - Meven caught his attention, causing his laughter to cease. - I know your real name. I was sent to kill you. For me, you would die a quiet and brief death. But now, you won't die soon. You are going to beg to be killed.
Upon hearing those words, the demon faltered. The aura that came from the ritualist was insanely destructive. In the face of that test of power, it was more than obvious that he wouldn't be able to win that fight under the current conditions.
- No, human. I won't beg for anything. That's all for today. When I get more advantage over the situation, I will look for it, of course. - He spread his wings, convinced that he would go away. - I read the message that was meant to be delivered to this Akhenahi. - A ritualist who deserves more of my attention. Until then, tell her that I will prepare our meeting properly.
- Syrh, now! Meven shouted.
The arazna conjured her magical webs and took the enemy by surprise.
- We haven't finished talking.
Gradually the demon was being imprisoned so that he couldn't even stand.
Meven appeared in his view:
- We'll do your ritual, O failed king. Every part of your body that can contract from pain, will contract more than once. We won't do anything in a hurry. After all, I have to teach Larren how to do an advanced ritual. She'll acquire so much knowledge. - Meven looked at him. - Like well-deserved revenge.