Luca's blade was mere inches from Nate when something utterly unimaginable happened.
From within Nate's chest, a grotesque, pulsating growth began to tear through his clothes. The sound of ripping fabric was drowned by Nate's own screams of shock and pain. A misshapen head emerged, covered in glistening black sinew, its eyes glowing a malevolent crimson. The face was unmistakable—the same as the Commander of the Demons of Greed who had arrived earlier.
"What in the name of the High Elves—?!" Nate gasped, stumbling backward, his face twisted in terror.
The abominable head sneered, its voice a sickly rasp. "Don't act so surprised, *partner*. After all, we made a deal, didn't we?"
The head extended a shadowy limb, parrying Luca's incoming sword with an echoing clang that reverberated through the chamber. The force of the blow sent Nate's legs skidding across the blood-slick floor, the demon in his chest controlling his movements like a puppet.