The Edge of Helplessness

"Ahhh… wow," the demon muttered, grinning down at Elaria's battered face. "You look so much more beautiful now. And all it took was bashing your head a few times."

Blood dripped steadily from her swollen face. Her body lay limp, unmoving.

"Elly! Elly! Ellyyyyy!!" Alarion screamed, his voice cracking with despair. "Please answer me! No, no, no, no!!"

The demon turned slowly, his mouth curling into a wicked smile.

"Ah… you're still alive," he said, almost sounding amused. "Tsk. Honestly, that's kind of annoying. I wanted to kill you quickly, painlessly, even. But if you insist…"

He dusted himself off and cracked his knuckles.

"Don't worry. I'm generous. I'll make sure it hurts this time."

He blurred forward, claws outstretched, aiming straight for Alarion's neck.

But then...

"Anstphio bel Al Gon!!"

A powerful gust of wind erupted behind the demon, slamming him face-first into a nearby tree.

He staggered to his feet, spitting dirt and bark, rage painting his features.

"You little forest pest… you just don't know when to quit, do you?"

Elaria was still alive,barely. Her hand trembled, the light of her magic fading from her fingertips.

Her thoughts swirled ,disjointed, fading.

"I guess… I pushed myself too far… Is this… the end?"

"Mom… did I finally live up to your expectations? Do you see me now?"

Her head slumped, hitting the ground. Motionless.

The demon approached her body.

"Huh… dead, after all."

He laughed.

"Hahahaha! What a fool. Used her last breath to save a human. Truly admirable… and truly stupid."

Alarion dragged himself forward, broken, bleeding.

"Elly… get up. Please…"

He gritted his teeth, tears streaking down his face.

"You said you were the greatest illusion mage, right? This is just a trick… just a trick… right?"

But her body didn't move.

"Please… stand up."

His voice broke.

The smell of blood hung thick in the air. Metallic. Sharp. A stench that clung to the leaves and lingered on the wind like an omen.

Alarion couldn't move.

He couldn't breathe.

His fingers clawed weakly at the dirt as he crawled toward her.

"Elly…"

His voice cracked, broken. Raw.

She didn't respond.

The forest around them was still ,too still. The birds had long gone silent. Even the trees, tall and ancient, seemed to recoil in silence as the weight of the moment pressed down like stone.

The demon stood nearby, watching him with narrowed eyes and a deep, disgusted scowl.

"Tch… Look at you," it muttered, folding its arms as it slowly stepped forward. "Crying over a corpse like a lost little animal. It's pathetic."

Each step was slow, deliberate ,mocking.

Alarion's hands trembled. He could barely lift his face from the ground. His ribs were shattered. His legs, numb. His entire body screamed with pain, but his soul,his soul screamed louder.

Why…?

Why did this happen?

Why couldn't I protect her?

She was just a child… She trusted me.

He reached toward her one last time. Her hand lay just beyond his fingertips, cold and still.

The demon crouched beside him now, close enough for Alarion to smell its breath ,pburnt sulfur and rotting meat.

"She died because of you," it whispered, almost gently. "You dragged her into this. She was safe before you came along. A curious little pest, maybe, but she might've lived."

Alarion's jaw clenched, his face twisting in grief and fury.

"You…"

The demon blinked. "Hm?"

"You talk… too much."

Then,with a roar that tore from the deepest pit of his soul Alarion surged forward.

His body burned with pain, but his arms moved on rage alone. He grabbed a nearby shard of stone and swung upward, aiming straight for the demon's throat.

It sliced clean across the cheek.

Blood sprayed.

The demon stumbled back.

For a moment… silence.

Then a slow, guttural chuckle rumbled from the demon's throat.

Its smile faded.

The temperature dropped.

The forest grew darker clouds blanketing the sky above like a shroud.

"You," the demon said softly, licking the blood from its cheek, "actually dared to lay your filthy little hands on me."

Its voice was different now.

Deeper.

Older.

The air seemed to hum with pressure.

"I was going to end this quickly," it continued, standing tall, eyes glowing with pure, seething malice. "But now… now I want to feel you break."

The next moment, Alarion couldn't breathe again.

Not because of pain.

Because the demon's hand was wrapped around his throat, lifting him into the air like a rag doll.

"I've slaughtered gods," it whispered. "Burned nations. Crushed heroes under my heel."

Alarion struggled, kicking, coughing blood.

"And you think… you... this broken, weeping insect... can wound me and live?"

Then came the first punch.

It drove into his gut like a hammer from the heavens.

Something cracked.

Then another across the face. Blood sprayed from Alarion's mouth.

Then a knee to the ribs.

Another crack.

Then he was thrown...no, launched..through the air, slamming into a tree with a sickening crunch.

He couldn't see. His vision was blurred. Red. His ears rang.

His hand reached instinctively toward the crate the one he'd carried since the island. It had rolled several feet away, half-buried in leaves and mud.

No…

He tried to crawl.

The demon noticed.

"Oh?"

It blurred again this time reappearing between Alarion and the crate.

"No, no. What's this?" the demon said mockingly, leaning over. "A precious little box? Something worth dying for?"

Alarion reached again.

The demon's heel came down like a meteor straight on his arm.

There was a sickening snap.

"AAAGHHH!!"

Alarion screamed, writhing as pain exploded through his nerves like wildfire.

The demon crouched over him, grabbing his other wrist.

"You don't get to reach for anything," it hissed. "Not anymore."

And then...another break.

Alarion's world went white.

His thoughts blurred.

He was slipping.

Darkness tugged at the edge of his vision.

But still…

Still, he glared up through one bloodied eye.

"…Bastard…"

The demon blinked.

"You're still conscious? Still talking?"

Alarion coughed violently, blood trickling from his mouth.

"I don't care… what you've killed… what gods you've burned…"

He forced the words out, each one heavier than steel.

"…You won't take that crate."

The demon stared at him for a long moment.

Then its lips curled into a new grin.

Not playful.

Not mocking.

But savage.

"You're interesting," it said simply. "Stupid. But interesting."

And then.....WHAM....a final kick to the chest launched Alarion several feet back. He slammed into the ground, rolling limply until he stopped just meters from the crate.

Unmoving.

Breathing… barely.

His body twitched. Broken. Bloody.

The demon turned to approach the crate once more.

And that's when it paused.

It wasn't Alarion.

It was the presence.

A shadow on the edge of the trees.

Still. Silent. Watching.

Cloaked in black. Face unseen.

And yet the demon's eyes widened.

It stepped back.

No words.

No threats.

Just silence.

The demon growled. For the first time… it hesitated.

Then, with one last look toward the crate and a low, furious snarli,it vanished.

Gone.

The forest remained quiet.

But something had changed.

The wind had shifted.

And Alarion, barely clinging to life, stared toward the figure through blurred vision.

"…Who…?"

But darkness claimed him before the answer came.