Power of a Great Demon!

Anne returned to the rocky hill with a sense of anticipation, but as she approached, her heart sank. The once verdant patch of land, where she had carefully nurtured green plants, had inexplicably reverted to its former barren, desolate state. The sight caught her off guard, her pace instinctively quickening as unease gnawed at her.

She furrowed her brow, trying to make sense of the situation, and hurried forward.

When she finally spotted the Great Demon, still standing in his usual place, gazing silently at the distant moon, Anne's tension eased slightly. The knot in her chest loosened, and she allowed herself a quiet sigh of relief. At least he was still there, unchanged.

Stepping cautiously towards him, she asked in a soft, careful tone, "What happened? Why does it look like this place has gone back to how it used to be?"

The demon, his gaze still fixed on the sky, shook his head without a word. His silence lingered, like the heavy clouds before a storm, and no matter how many questions she posed, he offered no answers. His stillness was impenetrable.

Anne looked at him for a moment longer, a complicated mix of emotions flashing across her face; pity, frustration, and something else she couldn't quite place. She sighed inwardly, knowing that pressing him further would yield nothing.

And so, this became her routine. Every few days, she returned to the rocky hill to visit the silent Great Demon. Time moved forward as if caught in a gentle current, and three years passed in the blink of an eye. The demon remained unchanged, as did Anne. She spoke to him often, sharing stories of her life outside the hill, recounting the simple and the strange, always hoping for a flicker of response, though none ever came. But she kept coming, kept talking, as if her words could one day break through the veil of his silence.

On one such day, humming a light tune, Anne approached the rocky hill once more, only to stop dead in her tracks. Her breath caught in her throat. There, in the clearing, stood several strangers, men and women clad in extravagant robes, their presence imposing and cold. At their feet, the Great Demon lay, bound and wounded, his body crushed under the weight of a powerful ritual circle. His once formidable wings now hung limp, his figure pinned helplessly to the ground.

The air was thick with oppressive energy, a suffocating aura of destruction that radiated from the group. It took every ounce of Anne's strength just to remain standing, the weight of their presence bearing down on her like a physical force. Her limbs trembled, but she refused to kneel.

One of the men, an elder with a stern face, looked down at her with disdain. His voice was cold and biting as he spoke, "So, the little girl from the Marshall family... A so-called genius, yet she chooses to betray her own kind by consorting with a demon."

His words struck her like a slap. Anne froze, the accusation leaving her stunned and confused. "What? What are you talking about?" she stammered, her mind reeling.

The rest of the group looked at her with the same cold detachment. There was no surprise in their eyes, they had known all along that she had been visiting the rocky hill. They saw her not as a person, but as a traitor.

Before she could gather her thoughts, the one called Arthur, who seemed to command the group, glanced at her briefly before turning his attention back to the bound demon. His voice was calm, but it carried the weight of finality. "Kill her."

A man beside him nodded and raised his hand, directing an overwhelming force toward Anne, as if she were no more than an afterthought.

In that moment, the Great Demon, who had remained silent all this time, let out a thunderous roar that shook the ground. "She is one of your kind!" he bellowed, his voice filled with a raw, primal fury.

With a surge of strength, the demon spread his broken wings and pushed against the ritual circle that held him. The ground trembled as the air around them pulsed with energy. The ritual circle flared with a blinding light, struggling to suppress the demon's rising power.

But for a brief moment, the Great Demon stood, his massive figure defying the magic that sought to keep him down. His eyes, usually void of any expression, now locked onto Anne's. In them, she saw a flicker of something; an emotion she couldn't fully grasp. Was it concern? Regret? She couldn't be sure.

Under the crushing pressure of the energy palm descending toward her, Anne didn't struggle. Her body was frozen in place, not by the magic, but by the turmoil in her heart. She stared at the demon, her mind swirling with fear, confusion, and an aching sense of reluctance. What was happening? Why did it have to end like this?

As the light from the ritual circle grew brighter, the distance between them felt insurmountable, and yet, in the silence that stretched between them, it was as if they were closer than ever.

The big demon watched as Anne's lips moved, silently speaking words he understood, though no sound escaped them. He saw the terror and sadness in her eyes just before the massive energy palm crashed down, mercilessly slamming her into the ground beneath the rocky hill. The impact was thunderous, sending dust and debris scattering in all directions. And then, there was silence.

For a brief moment, the entire rocky hill was still, as if time itself had paused to acknowledge what had just happened. Inside the shimmering ritual circle that held him, the big demon slowly straightened, his towering figure standing tall and unmoving. He didn't flinch. He didn't react. The stillness in his demeanor was unsettling.

From the distance, Arthur, the leader of the group, broke the silence with a booming, mocking laugh. "Ha! HAHAHAHA!" His laughter echoed across the barren landscape, filled with a twisted sense of triumph. His initial fear, sparked by the demon's sudden movement, had been replaced by confidence as he saw the creature bound by the ritual circle once more.

"I almost thought you'd break free," Arthur sneered, wiping the sweat from his brow. He cast a glance at the others. "Did you get all of that?" he asked, his voice dripping with self-satisfaction as he turned toward the strongest warrior, the one who had unleashed the fatal blow on Anne.

"Yes, leader," the warrior replied with a respectful bow. "I've recorded everything."

"Good," Arthur nodded, a wicked smile curling on his lips. "Make sure it gets copied and spread far and wide. Let the people see the fate of those who side with demons. Let this be a lesson to anyone foolish enough to consider defying us."

But before Arthur could bask in his victory, a deep, chilling voice pierced through the air. "Why?"

The word was spoken softly, but it reverberated in the ears of all who heard it. Arthur's smug expression faltered as he slowly turned toward the source of the voice. His eyes met the piercing, dark green gaze of the demon. Those eyes were filled with a cold, ancient rage.

Before Arthur could even respond, the air around them crackled with an ominous energy. He barely had time to process what was happening before he witnessed the demon's claws; razor-sharp and swift, ripping through the shimmering ritual circle that had been meant to hold him. A deafening tear filled the air as the demon's claws tore a gaping hole in the barrier.

"Impossible!" Arthur's voice cracked as panic seized him. He spun around, barking orders to the others. "Hurry! Strengthen the ritual circle! Wilson! Slade! Control it before he escapes!"

But it was too late.

With blinding speed, the demon's claw shot out, cutting through the air like a blade. It reached the warrior who had struck Anne down, the strongest among them. The man didn't even have time to cry out before the demon's claw ripped through his head, shredding it to pieces. Blood sprayed across the ground in a gruesome display of power, and the warrior's body crumpled lifelessly to the earth.

"Close the ritual circle! NOW!" Arthur screamed, his voice filled with disbelief and terror. The other warriors scrambled, their faces pale with fear as they desperately tried to seal the gap in the ritual circle. Sweat dripped from their brows, their movements frantic.

For a moment, it seemed as though they might succeed. The hole in the ritual circle slowly began to close, the shimmering energy knitting itself back together under their combined efforts. They barely had time to catch their breath when they saw it, an eerie crackle of energy spread across the ritual circle, growing into countless fractures that spider-webbed across its surface.

The demon spread his massive wings, their dark, leathery expanse blotting out the sky. He was calm, his voice steady and cold as he spoke. "This ritual circle..." He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locked on Arthur and his group. "It can only hold me for two breaths."

As if to prove his point, the entire ritual circle shattered at that very moment, disintegrating into fragments of starlight. The oppressive energy that had once bound the demon was gone, dissipating into the night like dust in the wind.

The destruction of the ritual circle unleashed a violent backlash. Arthur and his comrades were thrown from the air, their bodies crashing to the ground as they coughed up blood. They lay scattered across the rocky hill, dazed and broken, the weight of their defeat settling in.

Hovering above them, the Great Demon spread his wings wide, his dark green eyes now filled with a terrible, indifferent judgment. He looked down at Arthur and the others with a gaze devoid of mercy, as though they were nothing more than insects beneath his feet.

"But what did you truly accomplish in those two breaths?" His voice echoed in the air, emotionless, as he floated effortlessly above them, his power undeniable and terrifying.

The sky seemed to darken further as the Great Demon loomed over them, his presence vast and overwhelming, casting a shadow over the broken bodies of those who had dared challenge him.

The remaining warriors struggled to push themselves off the ground, but each attempt was met with an overwhelming force, slamming them back down as if the very earth itself was rejecting them. Arthur, the once-confident leader, tried to raise his head, but the crushing weight of demonic power held him firmly in place. He had never felt anything like this before, this was not the restrained strength of a high-level demon. No, this was something far beyond what they had prepared for.

True demonic power.

As the realization settled in, panic washed over Arthur. The demon they had so confidently suppressed wasn't some mere A-level threat. It wasn't even a being that conformed to the laws of the world they knew. This creature, standing before them now, transcended the limits of life itself; something beyond their comprehension, beyond their reach.

"The human race," the demon's voice echoed coldly, "has always produced a few wise men." With a simple snap of his fingers, one of the powerful men on the ground suddenly convulsed. His body shriveled as the flesh and blood were drained from him, leaving behind nothing but a skeletal husk. The sight was horrifying, but the demon's tone remained calm, as if discussing something mundane. "He was a teacher to me... a friend. And yet, he died. His last wish? For me to protect your kind."

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped the demon's lips, his voice dripping with disdain. "How absurd. I defended you against invaders, blessed the human race with protection, and this... this is how you repay me?" His eyes burned with a fierce, green glow. "You called me an evil ghost. You hunted me, attacked me, branded me your enemy. But in truth, I allowed it, because—" he paused, the cruel smile returning, "—you are simply too weak to matter."

Without warning, the demon extended a clawed hand, and Arthur's body was dragged toward him as if pulled by an invisible thread. In an instant, the demon's fingers wrapped tightly around his throat, lifting him effortlessly into the air. Arthur choked, his hands scrambling helplessly at the demon's grip, terror coursing through every fiber of his being.

"For a people without external threats, having a demon to fight against was convenient, wasn't it?" The demon's voice was low and menacing, his grip tightening ever so slightly, causing Arthur to gasp for breath. "It gave you purpose. I let you continue your little war, but there was always a line you should never have crossed."

The demon's eyes flared with fury as his gaze hardened. "That girl... Anne... She was one of your own! The only human I've ever encountered with a spark of transcendental talent. Her heart was pure. Her mind, sharp. She was everything you arrogant, petty, and vicious people are not." The demon's voice rose in a rage that shook the air. "And you killed her! You, with your blind arrogance, snuffed out the one soul worth saving!"

The air around them erupted with a violent, chaotic energy. The ground beneath the warriors cracked and trembled. Before anyone could react, the demon's fury tore through them like a storm of blades, reducing every last one to nothing more than shredded remains. Their screams were swallowed by the whirlwind of demonic rage, their bodies disintegrating into pieces too small to even leave behind traces.

When the storm finally subsided, only Arthur remained, sprawled on the ground, his body battered and broken, trembling uncontrollably. He was the last one left, gasping for air, his mind racing between fear and disbelief. The heavy silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by his ragged breathing.

After what felt like an eternity, the oppressive atmosphere began to ease. The demon, now standing calmly over Arthur's quivering form, placed his clawed hand on his head. Arthur flinched but was too weak to resist.

"I won't kill you," the demon said, his voice cold and distant. "You are one of the so-called 'heroes' of your people. Killing you might tip the scales, might send your fragile race spiraling into decline. But remember this—" he leaned in closer, his dark green eyes locking onto Arthur's, "—the Great Demon is dead. You and your companions, with your cowardly sacrifice, killed him. That is the story you will tell."

Arthur, filled with desperation, began to kneel, his forehead repeatedly striking the ground as he groveled for mercy, too afraid to speak, too terrified to think of anything else.

The demon released his grip, allowing Arthur to collapse in a heap. "I will disappear from this world," the demon continued, his voice now eerily calm. "And this hill of rocks will vanish along with me. You will no longer have my protection. Your race will fend for itself."

As the demon turned away, his massive wings spreading behind him, he stretched out his arms. Slowly, as if conjured by some ancient magic, Anne's broken body began to materialize before him. Her form, once destroyed, now reassembled, cradled gently in the demon's arms as though she were merely asleep.

With one final, emotionless glance, the demon's figure began to fade into the shadows of the rocky hill, his presence disappearing like mist. But his voice lingered, soft yet chilling, in Arthur's ears.

"Though I spare your life, know this, your punishment will be eternal. The pain of having your soul plucked from your body will be with you, forever… and ever."

Arthur's trembling did not cease. His face, pale and drenched in sweat, was frozen in an expression of pure dread. Even as the demon vanished into the night, the lingering presence of his curse settled deep into Arthur's bones, a reminder that some fates were far worse than death.