A CIVIL DEMON (2)

The disciple sarcastically raised a brow. "Then why don't you try to slice the demons' necks with your bare hands? Why do you need your sword? Master of Cheimon?"

"You cannot compare your nameless bow to Cheimon," came a dry response.

Marshall threw his hands in the air, gesturing at his bow. "My nameless bow covered your back last night!"

"And my point was that your bow is not a spiritual weapon. It provides no additional boost. You should learn how to use your spiritual energy without supportive tools, then think about investing in a proper weapon," Wyn explained.

The disciple folded his arms over his chest, tapping his foot impatiently. If the snow deity was in a talkative mood, did it mean he would answer any question? 

"Why can't the demon enter the field?" Marshall shot out.

As expected, the question was answered, "There is a spiritual frost barrier around the Marble Garth. It reacts to demonic energy and weakens any demon that crosses it. Beings of lower intelligence might cross into the Marble Garth without noticing the boundary."

Marshall took a good look around, noticing the barely perceptible pale blue smoke lingering around the perimeter. Like a flickering dome of spiritual energy, it stretched up to the treetops. Now it made sense why it was so cold in the field. 

"I see..." Marshall hummed, satisfied with the gained understanding. "So this place is called Marble Garth, huh?" He had no idea the seclusion area had a name. How fancy.

Marshall shifted his attention back to the beast, scrutinizing its appearance once more. The demon remained calm, softly tapping its hooves on the ground while maintaining its focus on the disciple. When it noticed him looking in its direction, the coarse fur-covered arm raised once again, beckoning him closer.

"Did you see that?" Marshall tapped Wyn's shoulder. "It kept doing that earlier!"

"Pay it no mind," the snow deity coolly advised, removing Marshall's hand. "There is no need to engage with demons."

But the disciple didn't leave it alone. "Hmm, but it's watching only me. Isn't that strange? It hasn't looked at you even once," Marshall thought out loud, squinting at the demon.

Wyn looked to the demon, his brows tightening as he considered it. 

"It should be fine to get closer as long as I don't cross the barrier, right?" Marshall questioned.

Wyn looked at him as if he had suggested they invite the demon inside for a tea party. "Do not approach it."

Yet, Marshall was already halfway across the field. He wanted to examine the peaceful creature. It wasn't every day one got the chance to run into a civil demon. As he got closer to the beast, it appeared to smile at him, welcoming the disciple.

"What's up, fluffy guy?" Marshall waved, keeping a few meters' distance.

The demon gave him a slow nod. It seemed to want the disciple to come even closer.

He surveyed the beast from head to toe, or rather, from fur to hooves, then took a step forward.

The thick fur on the demon's face shifted as it raised its thick brows in recognition. "Child," it rasped, "you are the impure child, are you not?"

Marshall gave it a surprised blink. He hadn't encountered a speaking demon until then. How fascinating! 

"Child, come," the beast repeated.

Although it could speak, its voice sounded like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing against each other.

"Enough. Do not listen to it." Wyn startled Marshall for the second time.

"Damn! You move like a ghost!" the disciple blurted out.

The snow deity cast an unamused glance at him, Cheimon in hand. Meanwhile, the goat-legged demon took a step back, its yellow eyes narrowing. It must have sensed that Wyn was the creator of the spiritual frost boundary.

"This guy seems pretty insistent on taking me somewhere," Marshall told the snow deity.

"Demons are deceivers. You should not converse with them," Wyn countered.

The beast let out a low growl, displeased with Wyn's interference. "Impure child, it is time."

"Time for what?" Marshall tapped his chin, deciding to play it out a little. "Alright, let's say I follow you. What's in it for me?"

"Shei Marshall," Wyn said in a warning tone.

"Wait, let's see what it has to say," Marshall insisted, curious to find out what it was about.

The demon's eyes glowed faintly, a sinister smile unfolding across its beastly face as it stretched out a fur covered hand towards the disciple. "Come. You are ready. Time has come."

Marshall frowned, trying to understand what the time had come for. It just kept repeating the same thing, not explaining anything. This was confusing. And why it was so fixated on bringing him specifically? Its determination was eerie.

"Why me? Look at this gentleman next to me, he is very capable," he jokingly pointed at Wyn and an icy gaze swept over him like a sharp wind. 

The next moment, Cheimon left its sheath, aiming for the beast's neck.

"Wait, wait! Hey!" Marshall exclaimed, moving in front of the blade, but the demon was already backing away.

"You cannot escape your fate," with this warning, the goat-legged demon disappeared into the woods, the rumble of its hooves disappearing into the distance.

A frustrated groan left the disciple. "What fate?" he shouted after the demon, but it was long gone. Marshall turned to Wyn sharply. "Why did you scare it away? We could've found out something new!"

"No good will come from keeping a demon around," Wyn coolly responded, sheathing Cheimon.