Blind Spots

Noah parried to the left with his sword, timing the block perfectly.

As he executed the block, the half-demon, thinking it had the upper hand, retracted its claw and slashed its right arm toward Noah's waist. But Noah's grey blade was there to meet it, slicing across the creature's forearm and spilling dark ichor.

The half-demon clutched its wound, yowling in agony as Noah closed the distance in a single bound, thrusting his blade into its chest. With each impalement, he felt his power swell, his confidence in his weapon becoming boundless.

Observing the transformation, Noah noted how demonic influence seeped into a being's soul. As the soul suffered corruption, the turmoil within manifested outwardly, converting the soul into a black demonic essence that became the newborn demon's shell and arsenal. Their insatiable need to sustain and grow their demonic soul drove them to harvest more mortals or turn on one another. This was why demons could never be allowed near large populations; their mental influence could infect thousands.

Yet, people could adapt to this influence; those who survived grew stronger.

One mercenary, his cries filled with anguish and mouth awash with blood, clutched a golden necklace around his neck, calling for his mother, untouched by the transformation.

"Run! Find help!" Noah shouted at him.

The mercenary nodded, his mind clouded, stumbling away, his footsteps echoing into the night.

The winged demon wouldn't allow him to escape so easily. It leaped from its perch, spreading its wings as Noah intercepted, his back throbbing. He'd only taken a few steps before a wave of dizziness overcame him. He bowed his head, ears ringing, vision blurring to darkness.

Must keep going. I must stop it from harming anyone else.

Lifting his head, he surged towards the demon, his sword severing the tip of its lashing tail.

With a hiss, the demon turned, its hideous visage locking eyes with Noah.

It was taller than him, stronger, but within striking distance, he could kill it.

The demon's eyes glowed red, searing Noah's soul with their gaze, but the pain was negligible compared to the burn of the Afen Flames. He charged, his sword whirling down in a furious arc.

The demon recoiled, its wings beating in retreat, unwilling to face Noah's rapid onslaught.

Behind, the mercenary continued his frantic escape, having already put a considerable distance between himself and the predator.

"Núin's Edge!" Though not proficient in the spell, Noah gave it his all, a spike of force piercing the demon's flesh. It closed its wings, only to spread them slowly once more.

That's it, wear it down. The demon had been reckless to descend from the trees; it had underestimated him.

Noah watched carefully for openings.

"You're bleeding," the demon murmured.

Noah couldn't see his back, but he could feel the blood soaking his clothes and skin, sticking uncomfortably. If he kept bleeding out like this, he'd die from blood loss before deciding the outcome with the demon.

In fact, since the horn's blow, Noah's strength had been reduced by more than half. The more blood he lost, the weaker he felt, agony gnawing at him, preventing clear thought and focused fighting. The wound bled unabated, his life force ebbing away with each heartbeat.

The demon approached, and Noah swung his blade, only for it to sidestep and deplete his strength further.

"I've seen many demon hunters come and go in the dungeon," it spoke, "the strong and the weak, noble adventurers, ambitious paupers, the pure and the tainted. They all share one trait—arrogance."

Noah advanced on foot, drawing ever closer, forcing deep breaths. But the pain wasn't from lack of air; it was the steady loss of blood that proved fruitless.

His legs grew heavier.

"You've lost too much blood. Don't exert yourself," Gladius cautioned.

"I—I have to." Noah pressed on, though the winged demon kept its distance leisurely, ensuring he couldn't close in.

He stumbled, nearly collapsing, his vision darkening, head heavy. When had his body become so burdensome? Even walking forward was a struggle.

"Ascend," the demon gestured, and Noah's sword slipped from his grasp.

No! Without his blade, Noah was defenseless.

The demon lifted the grey sword with its dark powers, raising it high into the air, letting it float and rotate, examining the blade.

"I find your weapon intriguing. Where did you acquire it? It's clearly of demonic craft."

Noah looked up at the hovering sword, its orientation constantly changing.

"A fine piece of craftsmanship, beyond human capability," the demon admired the sharpness, "In fact, I noticed it during our first encounter..."

There was an opening...

His hand rose slowly.

"What are you doing?" the demon noticed Noah's movement.

"Astral Phantom!"

The sword spun in the air, and at the moment Noah caught it, blade forward, he unleashed the hunter's curse. A vast force surged through the air, far greater than the dark magic the demon used to bind the blade, propelling it swiftly towards the beast.

For the first time, genuine panic crossed the demon's face. It folded its wings defensively, but the grey blade pierced through, embedding deep into its flesh.

Noah felt an air current created by his own will. He drove the grey sword downward, deeper into the demon's casing, relentlessly tearing through its defenses, targeting its demonic core.

The demon screamed, its wings flaring out as it tried to remove the blade embedded in its wing. With one side weighted down by the weapon, it could no longer fly.

It resigned itself to scuttle on the ground, lunging at Noah. With a swift strike, it sent Noah flying, his body colliding with a tree.

Bang! Blood spilled from Noah's mouth as he crashed to the ground, the impact rattling his very core, any remaining strength evaporating. He knew it was over; he couldn't even lift a finger.

"It's too late, we're done for," Gladius despaired, "You're utterly useless."

"I'm the one dying, not you. You can return to hell," Noah laid on the ground, breathing slowly.

Bleeding, injured, exhausted.

"I'd rather be devoured by this lowly servant than be driven back to hell, to be enslaved by the Lords of Chaos," Gladius cursed, "I despise you!"

"Can't you save me?"

"Oh, now it comes naturally to seek my help? The answer is no. Healing you costs me my power. The soul I gained from that giant demon is all used up; I have nothing left," Gladius complained, "So now, the countdown to your life begins."

The winged demon crawled toward Noah.

"Who's inside you?" it asked, confused, "Why do I see two souls?"

"I am your master," Blade demon forced its voice outward.

"I don't understand," the demon said humbly, "How may I assist you, my lord?"

"Stay away," Blade demon threatened, "Go elsewhere to feast."

The demon let out a grating laugh, "It's you! The Blade Sovereign, the Monarch of Edges, the Supreme Cutter. No wonder you could forge such a weapon..."

Gladius showed fleeting irritation in Noah's soul; it didn't want to appear too afraid.

"What do you intend to do?" it bluffed, "I am a demon lord."

"I cannot tolerate your existence in this form, my lord," the demon whispered, "Reborn in hell, and you shall regain your strength."

Gladius roared with futile rage within Noah's soul.

The demon turned abruptly.

Weakened Noah heard the approach of hoofbeats. A horse in the forest? Who would risk riding in?

"Tremble!" the demon roared at the rider.

Noah saw it radiate malevolent energy, its visage emitting a terrifying light, capable of driving all to madness and decay.

The rider, silent, charged forward, their spear piercing the demon's gaping maw, then released the weapon, reined in the horse, and drew their sword.

The demon's skull was impaled by the massive pine-wood lance, its body crushed by the impact, falling heavily to the ground. Noah clenched his jaw, rising from his bloodied state, pulled the black knife from the demon's wing, and swiftly slit its throat, dark corruption spilling forth.

"Mercy—mercy—" the demon wailed, its demonic soul leaking from its shattered shell, not returning to hell but swiftly absorbed by Noah, becoming food for Gladius.

Noah gasped for breath, his body aching all over.

"No—why—" the demon cursed in agony, twitching limply, "I only wanted—to soar in a new world—"

"You came to the wrong place," Noah said softly.

"Right? Wrong? By what right do you decide..." Its claw raised feebly, pointing at Noah.

He remained calm. This was the justice of mortals, their triumph.

"As an appetizer, you were adequate," Gladius, once fearful, now reveled in devouring the demon's soul.

Noah, catching his breath, leaned on the blade, looking toward the rider.

Rocher removed her helmet, completely sealed except for a slit at the eyes. And her horse—how daring! Blinded by black cloth and ears stuffed with linen, the horse had no sight nor sound, brought to Noah by the rider's skilled guidance, now pacing bewilderedly, unaware of its whereabouts.

"Is it dead?" she asked, "From what I've seen, we've accomplished something remarkable."

"Yes," Noah's energy drained completely, and he fell backward, collapsing to the ground.