Saviour

The knight stood like a wall between them and the nightmare.

Clad in an exquisite looking radiant white armor, the man gleamed like a divine statue that had come to life. Intricate gold traced patterns ran across his chestplate and gauntlets, — each connecting to form the insignia of the church of 1Solaria. His helm, etched with the insignia of the church reflected the morning light that now poured through the shattered windows.

Despite his size, In his right hand, he held a longsword larger than most men's torsos. Despite the demon's monstrous form—oozing corruption and hatred from every pore—the knight didn't waver. His posture was perfect. Not stiff, not arrogant, but simply unshaken.

He turned his head slightly, his voice calm and reassuring beneath the echo of steel and blood.

"Are you alright, young prince?"

Damian blinked, stunned not just by the knight's presence, but by the serenity in his tone.