Demon

Cries reach my ears. I look over the rows of infernals, my eyes finding the basilisks. Our loyal partners had already initiated the fight. Firing magic from the air and performing swift dive attacks they pose enormous danger to the enemy's mages.

The infernals realize this as well. They begin their charge.

"ROOARR!"

"Kill! Rip them apart!"

"More skeletons for our army hehehe!"

Under inhuman roars and ghastly chackles the infernals clash against our soldiers. The barrier doesn't survive for more than a couple of seconds. As powerful as it was against the enemy's magic, the frailer it proved against spears and swords.

I have seen battles against infernals before but never personally experienced them. Now that I stand so close I clearly understand how their chaotic nature reflects on their fighting styles.

They have no formation to speak of. Undead skeletons try to overwhelm their enemies with numbers. Powerful demons have both pure physical strength and attacks accompanied by magic.

It was mostly flames, ice, or dark magic which barrels down on our soldiers, putting the shield bearers to the test.

Our elite army on the contrary fights with great discipline. Comrades have each other's backs. Shield bearers block before spears shoot through the gaps like vicious snakes, aiming for the enemy's weak spots.

Meanwhile mages lend their support, aiming either for dense crowds or concentrate their attacks on troublesome opponents.

Yet the infernals do have fighters who can pose a threat to our formation.

The earth trembles as a demon twice my height makes his way through the crowd. His appearance proofs how disorganized the enemies really are as he shoves away his own alleys without a care.

Both his thick arms carry great swords like those popular among the barbarians in the east.

"Endal! Stop him!"

Finally! Finally, my brother gives the order. My time to participate in the battle has come. I salute the crown prince before exchanging a fleeting look with my beloved, feeling her encouragement.

Flame of the South shares my emotions, fanning the flames, causing the temperature in the surroundings to rise.

I adjust my mind as I dig my heels into the ground. With a powerful push I jump. I sail above everyone's heads. I notice some of the infernals looking at me warily, but my target is clear.

"Ahhh!"

Letting out a liberating shout I swing my sword, aiming right for the big demon's head. His grey face turns stern. He seemingly didn't expect someone to dare face him directly. His movements are hasty as he crosses his swords before his head, blocking my blow.

The towering demon with a body sculpted from pure muscles is forced to tumble backwards. Meanwhile I land amidst the infernals. Flame of the South burns brightly, its magical power intimidating the enemies, holding them of for now.

My eyes find the demon's. He lowers his swords, speaking in a deep, echoing voice, his ugly maw revealing sharp fangs:

"Who are you?! I have never seen someone like you among the empire's soldiers."

"Demon! I am Endal! Soon, this name will bring horror to any infernal who hears it!"

"HAHAHA how ambitious, little chick! Do you think you are the emperor?!"

Indeed, even among infernals father was a feared figure. The demon's mocking words have no effect. On the contrary, I take them as a motivation.

I narrow my eyes, lowering my posture. In a flash I appear before my opponent. Although I have low magic potential, I have found a way to leverage mana in the most efficient way by taking my body as the medium.

By filling my body with mana, it not only nurtures my body's strength over time, but it also gives me the ability to unleash it in combat.

Our soldiers train in a similar manner but for some reason my body seems to be naturally aligned to such a method. Thus, after my magical potential has initially been deemed inferior, I took the route of harsh training day and night. And now I can finally prove that I am not one bit less powerful than my peers!

My eyes blazing, I swing my sword with both hands. The demon is tall and sturdy with thick skin. If I had any other sword I would need to aim carefully. But not with Flame of the South.

The crisp sound of metal colliding can be heard as I and the demon clash. His wide swings carry a lot of force which surges through my body.

My arms tremble but the demon suffers as well. Sparks separate from Flame of the South, falling on the demon's skin. This was no ordinary fire magic but one with a vicious suppressive effect against evil.

The demon growls as flames latch onto his skin, causing burn wounds. Dark magic washes over his body shaking off the fire.

Yet despite his pain the demon never stops moving. His two swords cause the air to shake as he roars maliciously:

"Give me your neck, little warrior!"

I don't answer. My sword moves faster and faster as I hold off the demon's assault. The flame intensifies the more we clash. I think I see a hint of fear in the demon's eyes.

I grin as I suddenly feel the connection between me and Flame of the south reach another level. Flames roar towards the sky like the most gorgeous phoenix. A blazing inferno engulfs my body. Weaker infernals surrounding us flee in fear and those which move too slow are burned to ash.

In my eyes only the grey-skinned demon remains. As I stare at him, I can see the faintest movements of his body. His legs look weak, shaking. He loses his confidence. I decide to attack!

I rush towards the enemy like a god of fire. The clashing of metal resumes. Now I take the advantage. With every attack, flames latch onto the demon's swords, threatening to burn off his arms.

The demon can only hold on by producing more and more dark magic. Yet this won't save him forever.

"I refuse to die… to a little chick!"

The demon's enraged roar barely reaches my ears over the sounds of the battlefield. But even so I notice an obvious change in him. Runic patterns begin to surface on his skin like a dense, black net. His formerly red eyes turn complete white making him look lifeless and eerie.

Suddenly the demon's attack patterns change. The rhythm of the battle is broken. Each of his moves becomes highly efficient, using just the perfect amount of strength and targeting the weaknesses in my defence.

For a moment I am suppressed by a heavy pressure. My arms are strained trying to keep up with the demon's assault.

However, if something like this could stump me, my years of gruelling training with the empire's best warriors would have been a waste!

Fighting by instinct is something which has long been ingrained in my bones. I switch up my fighting style. My sword moves more randomly yet somehow always manages to block the demon.

The melody of our fight changes. If it was a rhythmic like a metronome earlier, it is now chaotic mixing long and short notes.

It immediately becomes apparent that the demon finds it difficult to cope. The blazing flames continue to melt his defence.

Finally, I notice a mistake. The sword in the demon's left builds up momentum for a moment too long. But in battles of this level a moment can be deadly.

I immediately throw my body weight into my next attack. A deafening noise erupts as I push the demon's right sword away. This move leaves me wide open for a counter, but I know the left sword will be too slow.

I fiercely stab forward. Flame of the South pierces through the demon's lower chest. Blood splashes but is directly evaporated by the flames.

The flesh around the demon's wound begins to burn, the sickening smell barely discernible on the battlefield.

"AHHH!"

The demon screams in pain. It is the power of Flame of the South which deals way more damage than what can be seen on the surface.

Blinded by pain the demon finally brings down his left sword. I can feel the wind from his attack stirring the flames around me. But with such a serious injury his fate is already decided, his movements inhibited.

The sword moves too slow, allowing me to dodge easily. As I draw back Flame of the South more blood streams from the demon's injury, burning from the lingering fire magic.

Sluggish in movement the demon isn't prepared for the rain of attacks I unleash on him. With a swing of my sword his left arm gets severed, the sword falling to the floor. His right arm quickly follows.

The demon sways, barely able to keep on his feet. His eyes return to normal. They betray his unwillingness as my sword gets bigger in his view.

With a flash of flames the demon's head separates from his body, flying high into the sky, burning to ash before it hits the ground.