The Demon's Fury

As Andre sped through the night sky, the world turned into a chaotic mix of wind and moonlight. His previously unknown power allowed him to move forward at an incredibly fast pace, driven by the beating of his monstrous wings. The cold wind whipped at his face, a freezing caress that took away his breath and burned his eyes. He only slightly noticed it, as his senses were overwhelmed by the intense, primal energy flowing within him.

Underneath, the well-known scenery of his youth unfolded like an abandoned tapestry. Rolling hills melded with thick forests, and rivers twisted like silver ribbons through the terrain. However, Andre did not witness any of it. Elian's remains, the one who had a deep affection for this land, were interred far below, out of reach beneath the demon's boiling wrath.

He was like a tornado of revenge, a sinister comet soaring towards a direct clash with his history. Eristia, previously a symbol of optimism, now beat in his thoughts like a persistent sore. It belonged to him, taken from him, and he desired nothing more than to get it back, even if it required spilling blood.

As Eristia approached, the specifics became more defined. The castle's pristine white walls, once the center of his kingdom, were now marked and darkened. Flags with the emblem of the Ironclad Duchy - a symbol of a closed iron fist smashing a rose - fluttered boldly in the night breeze.

Hatred blazed intensely, like a fiery white inferno within his chest. These were the scavengers, the jackals who had gnawed on the remains of his creation. They would pay. Every single one of them.

Andre descended closer to the ground, with the wind making a loud noise in his ears. The guards below, wearing strange iron armor, appeared to cower under him, unaware of the huge threat rushing towards them.

He had no desire to engage in a fight. Not yet. He desired a stronger reaction, an immersion in the blood of those who had stolen his possessions.

Andre landed on the castle's battlements with a final, bone-jarring beat of his wings. The shockwave caused by the impact shook the ancient stone, causing loose mortar to come loose and leading to a surprised cry reverberating from a lower location.

He bent down, his unnatural shape outlined against the moonlit sky. A deep growl, a noise that made him shiver, came out of his mouth.

"You have taken something that doesn't belong to you," he croaked, his voice a rough murmur filled with the threat of unimaginable aggression. "Now, you will face the consequences."

Two guards, who heard the noise, turned the corner at the end of the battlement. Their bold and confident expressions turned pale as they made eye contact with the sinister figure positioned above them.

One boy who was tall and thin with messy light brown hair asked a question nervously, his voice barely above a whisper. "Who...who are you?"

Andre's mouth twisted into a grin that looked more like a sneer, exposing a flash of pointed teeth. "Your worst nightmare," he whispered, his voice filled with poison.

Andre moved so quickly that it didn't make sense. He transformed from a large shadowy figure to a fierce and furious whirlwind in the blink of an eye. Sharp claws cut through skin and bone effortlessly. A choked noise, a splash of red, and the initial guard collapsed dead on the floor.

The second guard, filled with terror, didn't manage to scream as his eyes widened. Andre's second hand struck, the claws piercing the young man's chest with a horrifyingly loud crunch. A choked sound, a frantic reaching in vain, and then silence.

The strong, sweet smell of blood pervaded the atmosphere, heavy and overpowering. However, Andre hardly noticed it. A wild growl burst out of him, causing chills to run down his own back. This wasn't about seeking revenge; it was a basic instinct, a powerful desire to demolish everything in his way.

A loud horn sounded from inside the castle, piercing the silence of the night. Andre's head jerked upwards, his otherworldly eyes shining with a sinister glow. Reinforcements. Perfect.

Tons of men emerged from the shadowy depths in their tens, a vast expanse of armored forms adorned with the symbols of the kingdoms that had taken power unlawfully. They were a strong group of six hundred, they formed a circle around Andre, raising their weapons and displaying determined yet fearful expressions on their faces.

Andre threw his head back and let out a roar that echoed across the night sky, a challenge, a promise of carnage. A demonic smile, wide and chilling, stretched across his face, revealing a row of razor-sharp fangs.

"Come then, you maggots!" he bellowed, his voice a guttural rasp that sent chills down even the most seasoned warriors. "Let's see how many of you I need to tear through before you learn your place!"

For a moment, the soldiers paused, feeling the undeniable inhuman threat emanating from Andre. Following that, they let out a loud battle cry and advanced.

The clashing of metal against metal created a chaotic noise that overshadowed all other sounds. Andre navigated through the crowd like a devastating tornado. His claws, infused with Azurael the Ensnarer's power, struck out, not only ripping flesh but also leaving shining black marks that drained the life energy from those he attacked.

The men were shouting loudly, but their cries for help could not be heard over the noise. Blades scraped against his skin, causing minor cuts that did not hinder his pace. The soldiers fell one after another, their lifeless bodies collapsing onto the blood-drenched stone.

A brave knight, wielding a two-handed axe, successfully struck Andre's shoulder with a glancing blow. Andre let out a painful roar that was both inhuman and strangely vulnerable. He whirled around, his sharp claws moving rapidly, and tore through the knight's chest effortlessly.

The destruction persisted. Andre, a terrifying reaper, moved gracefully among the crowd, spreading death and despair as he went. The overwhelming scent of blood and iron permeated the air, a nauseatingly sweet fragrance that appeared to energize him.

One by one, then in pairs and groups of three, the soldiers began to falter. The original fervor had faded away a long time ago, being substituted by a chilling, immobilizing fear. They hadn't arrived to confront a man, They were confronting a demon.

The final soldier, a tearful young man, remained by himself, his hand trembling as he held his sword. Andre towered above him, a terrifying predator reveling in the kill.

"Please," the soldier whimpered, his voice barely a whisper. "Have mercy."

Andre's demonic smile widened. "Mercy died the day you stole my kingdom," he rasped, his voice dripping with venom.

His claws twitched, a final, chilling promise of oblivion. And then, silence.

Andre was enveloped in a pervasive odor of iron and despair. He assessed the sight of destruction, a depiction of defeated fighters illuminated by the dim moon. The final sound of a diminishing shout vanished in the darkness, creating a spooky quietness afterwards.

An abrupt noise - a deliberate, slow clapping - broke the silence. Andre spun around, his unnatural red eyes searching the darkness. On the castle's ramparts, a single person stood outlined by the moon's light.

He wore strong steel armor, with a sergeant's emblem displayed on his breastplate. He stood with perfect posture, in sharp contrast to the hunched figures surrounding him.

"Impressive," the figure boomed, his voice a deep baritone that resonated with a quiet confidence. "Truly impressive. You've cut down a swathe through these… men."

Andre remained silent, his gaze narrowed, trying to pierce the darkness obscuring the man's face. Finally, the figure stepped forward, revealing a face etched with experience and a battle-scarred beard the color of iron.

"Sergeant Victor, at your service," he said, offering a curt nod. "And you, demon… you have made a mistake comin here, now i'ma show you what happens when you mess with the 10 kingdoms."

Andre's lips curled into a snarl. "Demon? That's what they call me now?"

Victor's gaze remained steady. "A more fitting title escapes me, considering the carnage you've wrought."

A flicker of amusement, dark and twisted, crossed Andre's face. "So brave for a human," he rasped which was ironic considering what he was before. "Do you come to challenge me as well?"

Victor's hand drifted towards the hilt of his broadsword. "Someone has to put a stop to this madness."

He unsheathed the weapon in a practiced motion, the moonlight glinting off the polished steel. "Perhaps you've forgotten how to fight a man, demon, but I haven't."

A guttural chuckle rumbled from Andre's chest. "Forgotten? Hardly. But facing a human… well, that's almost quaint."

Andre dashed towards Victor in a blur. However, the sergeant, experienced and toughened by battles, was familiar with close combat. With remarkable agility, he evaded the attack, swiftly raising his sword to deflect Andre's clawed hand, causing sparks to fly.

Andre let out a loud cry of shock, the strength of the collision causing a vibration in the earth. He made another sudden forward movement with his claws, which were shining, but Victor was like a storm of steel, his actions accurate and effective. He maneuvered around Andre's aggressive assaults, parrying strikes with his sword and avoiding thrusts with a graceful movement that complemented his age.

Andre's demonic eyes showed a reluctant admiration. This Victor, a human, showed remarkable bravery and skill in battle, almost crossing the line into recklessness. He wasn't only battling to survive, but also to uphold honor, fulfill duty, and hold onto a glimmer of hope in the midst of daunting challenges.

Andre, for the first time since his transformation, felt a flicker of something akin to amusement. He wasn't just toying with his prey anymore. This… this was almost… interesting.

He engaged in battle with a fresh fervor, delivering a flurry of strikes that pushed Victor onto his back foot. The sergeant, breathing heavily, defended and counterattacked with decreasing effectiveness. There was no denying the difference in power.

However, Victor did not give in. He battled fiercely with a desperate intensity, every clash of swords showcasing his unwavering determination. He was aware that he couldn't emerge victorious, not in reality. However, he refused to give up his position, unless the demon was made to pay with blood.

Andre, his patience with malicious intent dwindling, noticed an opportunity. He pretended to attack with his right claw, causing Victor to defensively deflect the blow. Next, in a quick and sudden motion, his left hand struck out.

The dark power of Azurael was infused into the claws as they plunged deeply into Victor's chest. The sergeant's face showed a mix of surprise and an odd feeling of resignation. He coughed, his armor stained with a spray of crimson.

Then, Victor fell to the ground with a soft thud, loosening his grip on his sword. Andre yanked his claws out, the sergeant's life energy fading away in the darkness.

For a brief moment, he remained in that spot as the strong scent of blood filled the air, with only the sound of his own breathing breaking the silence. A dark sense of excitement surged within him, a disturbing pleasure in his own brutality.

However, underneath everything, there was still a hint of something different lingering. A recollection, maybe, of a period when bravery and selflessness were not unfamiliar ideas. A slight reflection of the person Elian used to be.