Chapter 15 - Blood in the Wasteland

The moment the creatures emerged from the mist, Damien felt the shift in the air. His senses, now attuned to both the draconic and demonic energy that flowed through him, sharpened. His instincts screamed that something was wrong. These creatures weren't random. They weren't just dark things prowling the wastelands-they were waiting Hunting.

The first to reveal themselves were the Nightstalkers-hulking black-furred beasts with glowing red eyes, their massive, elongated limbs tipped with razor-sharp claws. They prowled the edge of the battlefield, their mouths filled with jagged, salivating teeth. Behind them hovered Wraiths, their ghostly forms flickering in and out of view, their dead eyes gleaming as they drifted in the mist, their skeletal hands grasping the air, hungry for life force.

Then came the Demons.

Twisted, armored figures, standing taller and broader than any human Their blood-red skin glistened beneath jagged black armor, adorned with demonic runes. Each demon held a massive weapon-a glowing sword, a monstrous axe, or a spiked mace, dripping with the dark energy that fueled their every breath. Their eyes burned with hellfire, and they looked directly at Damien as they advanced, as if recognizing him.

Damien's heart pounded in his chest, but not out of fear. They're here for me, he realized. The demons weren't hunting his team-they were here to take him. To drag him back to where they believed he belonged, back to Asmodeus and the Seven Devil Kings. He could feel it in their eyes, their movements. The weight of their purpose hung in the air like a noose around his neck.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on that. His team needed him. He needed to be their shield.

"Formation!" Damien barked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. His team fell into line, each member ready for battle, though their eyes betrayed a flicker of nervousness.

Toren moved to the front, his massive warhammer glinting in the dim light as he readied himself to block the oncoming attacks. Behind him, Leira's hands shimmered with the soft glow of her light magic as she whispered spells of protection casting shields over the group Isolde and Maia moved into their flanking positions, their weapons gleaming with readiness.

The first Nightstalker lunged for Toren, but the hulking warrior swung his warhammer with brutal precision It collided with the beast's skull, crushing it in a single blow. The creature dropped, but another was already pouncing. Before it could reach Toren, Damien reacted, summoning the wind of Typhon's Wrath. A gust of gale-force wind slammed into the creature, hurling it back into the mist. The beast landed in a broken heap, unmoving.

His draconic senses roared to life, feeding him energy from Fafnir's Draconic Mana. His skin began to harden, scales forming beneath the surface, and his muscles coiled with the strength of the dragon. Every breath he took was laced with a growing fire, power waiting to be unleashed. His body responded instinctively, enhancing his strength and speed.

But the demons were advancing. faster than he could process. The lead demon, larger than the rest, brandished a massive sword glowing with demonic energy. It swung the blade with earth-shattering force, aimed directly at Toren. The warrior met it head-on, his warhammer colliding with the blade in a burst of sparks and a thunderous crash.

"Toren, fall back!" Damien shouted, his voice filled with urgency.

"I've got this!" Toren bellowed, his muscles straining as he pushed back against the demon's monstrous strength. For a moment, it seemed like he could hold his ground.

But Damien saw what Toren didn't.

A second demon was moving in from the side, faster and deadlier, its blade flickering with the same dark energy that fueled their twisted forms Damien's heart clenched. He had no time to think--only react.

Summoning the Draconic Mana surging within him, Damien dashed forward, his skin hardening into scales, his fists crackling with energy. He felt the weight of Fafnir's power in every step, felt the winds of Typhon swirl at his command. But he wasn't fast enough.

The second demon's blade plunged into Toren's side, the dark magic tearing into his flesh, warping his insides. Blood erupted from the wound, spraying the ground in a horrifying arc. Toren's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening in a silent scream as the sword twisted inside him, shattering his ribs with a sickening crack.

"No!" Damien roared, but his voice was drowned by the chaos around him. He reached Toren just as the second demon pulled its blade free and delivered a final, merciless blow -driving the sword through Toren's back, the tip emerging from his chest with a grisly squelch.

Time seemed to freeze.

Toren crumpled to his knees, blood pouring from the mortal wound, his warhammer slipping from his grasp His eyes, once filled with life, now stared blankly at the ground. A soft, wet gurgle escaped his lips as he collapsed, face-first, into the dirt.

Damien's world narrowed to that single moment. Toren was dead.

His mind screamed in rage, his fists trembling with unchecked power. It was my fault. He should have been faster, should have used his powers earlier. But he'd hesitated. He had failed to protect the person who had trusted him with their life. Toren was gone because of him.

Something inside Damien snapped.

He felt the cold grip of demonic mana rising within him, mingling with the burning heat of his draconic energy. His body was already teetering on the edge, but instead of giving in to the chaos, Damien found a focus-a purpose. He would not lose anyone else.

With a surge of raw power, he unleashed both his draconic abilities and demonic essence, allowing them to meld together but keeping his mind razor-sharp. His scales thickened, glowing faintly with an infernal fire as Fafnir's mana roared through him, but it didn't stop there The demonic mana flowed alongside it, dark tendrils of energy curling around his limbs, enhancing his strength and resilience without taking control.

For the first time, Damien found a balance between the two chaotic forces warring inside him. His desire to protect his team, to save the others from Toren's fate, sharpened his focus. The wild, untamed energy became a weapon he could wield.

The lead demon, the one that had cut Toren down, moved to strike again., Damien stepped in, faster than it could react. His fist, charged with draconic power, collided with the demon's chest, sending it hurtling through the air with a bone-shattering impact. He could feel its ribcage collapse under the force of his strike.

The second demon swung at him, but Damien was already moving. He sidestepped the blow, his arm glowing with the swirling energy of Typhon's Wrath. He summoned the winds, a howling tempest that ripped the demon off its feet, spinning it violently before smashing it into the ground with a sickening crunch.

Demons, Nightstalkers, Wraiths-they all closed in, but Damien was beyond them. His body glowed with the energy of both draconic and demonic mana, controlled but lethal, He tore through the battlefield, a force of nature, cutting down everything that stood between him and his teammates.

The others fought valiantly behind him. Leira was chanting healing spells, desperately trying to keep everyone protected, her light magic flickering with fear but determination. Isolde and Maia flanked the remaining demons, their blades flashing in the dim light as they hacked through the lesser creatures.

But Damien was everywhere. He was their shield, their sword, their storm.

A Nightstalker lunged at Leira, but before it could reach her, Damien's fist connected with its skull shattering bone and sending the creature sprawling. Another Wraith reached for Maia, its ethereal hand outstretched, but Damien summoned a burst of Corrupted Light, its twisted brightness searing through the creature's spectral form, destroying it in an instant.

The battlefield was a blur of violence and power, but through it all, Damien kept control. His heart was a furnace, burning with the desire to protect those still alive, to make up for the loss of Toren.

The last demon fell, its body crumpling under Damien's final, bone-crushing blow. Silence followed, broken only by the labored breathing of the surviving Wanderers. The ground was littered with corpses--demons, dark creatures, and Toren.

Damien stood in the center of the carnage, his fists still trembling with energy. His eyes turned to Toren's lifeless body, the blood staining the earth around him.

He had saved his team, but it hadn't been enough. Toren was gone.

As the adrenaline drained from his body, the guilt returned. He had unleashed his power, controlled it, but not in time to save the one man who had stood with him in the face of death. And now, that same power -the power that the demons had come