The cold of the Void Cell seeped into his bones, as Theodric von Adler pretended to be merely human. Soul-forged iron manacles bit into his wrists, a dull ache beneath the meticulously crafted illusion of weakness that cloaked his true form. He lay on the bare obsidian slab, not with the despair of a captured spy, but with the coiled tension of a predator assessing its cage. His startlingly yellow eyes, the one feature his illusion couldn't fully mask the intensity of, traced cracks in the ceiling far above.
Donarstraza. The name echoed in his mind like a war drum. The Fallen Goddess reborn. Intel confirmed. A catastrophe brewing. His thoughts flew instantly to Aethelgard, to the sun-drenched spires of the capital, and specifically to Crown Princess Evelina. Her fierce spirit, her strategic mind… and the target her lineage would paint on her back if the demon continent, unified under its vengeful goddess, turned its gaze outward once more. The Treaty of Ash and Iron felt flimsy as parchment against the weight of that ancient power returning. His duty as Protector of the Realm, as her Guardian, clenched like a fist in his chest. He needed to escape, to warn them, to prepare.
The heavy clang of the cell door shattered the silence. Not the grunting jailors this time. The air itself thickened, grew heavy with ozone and a simmering, metallic rage. Karnazul, Lord of the Nine Blades, filled the doorway. His ash-grey skin seemed darker in the cell's gloom, his crimson pupils fixed on Theodric with an intensity that went beyond mere suspicion. It was… personal.
"So," Karnazul's voice was a low rumble, barely contained. "The surface-rat who caught the Goddess's eye." He took a step into the cell, his obsidian tail lashing once, sharply, against the floor. "Tell me, human. What trick did you use? Some petty enchantment? A pheromone distilled from sun-rotted flowers?" He leaned closer, the heat radiating from him palpable. "Her gaze lingered on you. Unsettlingly so."
Theodric met the molten stare unflinchingly. The jealousy was naked, almost childish in its ferocity, yet dangerous coming from such a being. An idea, audacious and steeped in old lore, crystallized. "Perhaps," Theodric replied, his voice calm, belying the human fear he projected, "she recognizes strength, even bound. Unlike some who rely solely on title and brute force."
Karnazul snarled, a sound like grinding stone. "Strength? You are chattel. Less than the dirt beneath her claw."
"Prove it," Theodric challenged, pushing himself up on the slab, the chains clinking. "Or are you afraid a mere 'surface-rat' might embarrass the mighty Lord of Nine Blades before his Goddess?"
Rage flashed in Karnazul's eyes. "You dare?"
"I invoke the Rite of the Iron Gavel," Theodric stated, his voice ringing clear in the confined space, invoking the ancient demon tradition. "I challenge you, Karnazul, before the echoes of the Void. If I defeat you in single combat within the Arena, my life and freedom are forfeit to me. Or does your Goddess's 'right hand' fear the judgement of steel?"
The challenge hung in the air. Karnazul stared, momentarily stunned by the human's audacity, knowing the rite, invoking it. Then, a vicious smile split his features. The jealousy found a perfect outlet. "So be it, worm. Your death will be a service, removing a distraction." He gestured sharply. Guards materialized, unlocking the manacles with rough haste. "To the Void Arena! Now!"
***
The Void Arena wasn't a grand colosseum. It was a vast, natural cavern adjacent to the cells, its floor smoothed obsidian, its walls disappearing into fathomless darkness above. Cold radiated from the stone, a stark contrast to the heat pouring off Karnazul as he paced like a caged beast. Word had spread. Lesser demons lined the upper ledges, their eyes gleaming in the dim light cast by floating, witch-fire orbs.
Theodric stood calmly at one end, rubbing his wrists. He projected human vulnerability, but his senses were hyper-alert, his suppressed mana a tightly coiled spring beneath the illusion. Karnazul tossed a simple, functional longsword towards him. It clattered on the stone. "Die with steel in your hand, at least," Karnazul growled, drawing twin blades of dark, serrated metal that seemed to drink the light. Fire flickered along their edges.
Before Theodric could pick up the sword, a new presence filled the cavern entrance. Donarstraza. Her towering form was silhouetted against the light from the corridor, her wings slightly spread, her golden eyes wide with alarm and… something else Theodric couldn't quite place. "Karnazul! What is the meaning of this?" Her voice echoed, resonant with command and underlying panic. "I commanded him secured!"
Karnazul whirled, dropping to one knee instantly, but his voice was tight. "My Liege! The prisoner invoked the Rite of the Iron Gavel! He challenged me! And he swore," Karnazul added, the lie fueled by jealousy, "to take your life if freed! I could not ignore such blasphemy!"
Donarstraza's gaze snapped to Theodric. He met it, his yellow eyes steady, giving nothing away. He saw the flicker of confusion, the conflict within her. "He is bound! He poses no threat!" she protested.
"The Rite is sacred, My Liege," Karnazul insisted, rising. His crimson eyes burned towards Theodric. "His challenge stands. His death will be swift."
Theodric bent and picked up the offered longsword. It was serviceable, but merely iron. He hefted it. "I am ready."
"Fight!" Karnazul roared, not waiting for Donarstraza's further protest. He exploded forward, twin blades becoming a whirlwind of dark metal and hungry fire. The attack was ferocious, overwhelming, meant to obliterate a human in seconds.
Theodric moved. Not with human speed, but with the preternatural grace and precision of Aethelgard's pinnacle. He didn't meet the whirlwind head-on. He flowed around it. The borrowed longsword became a blur, not attacking, but deflecting. Clang! Clang-spark! Clang! He parried Karnazul's furious strikes with impossible timing, the iron blade ringing against the dark serrated metal, sparks flying. He was a rock in the storm, unmoved, untouched. He used footwork Karnazul had never seen, angles the demon lord couldn't predict.
Karnazul disengaged, breathing heavily, not from exertion but from shock and burgeoning fury. His eyes, wide with disbelief, scanned the seemingly ordinary human who had just casually deflected an assault that would shred lesser demons. "What trickery is this?" he bellowed. "No human possesses such skill! Reveal yourself, coward!"
A small, cold smile touched Theodric's lips. The time for hiding was over. He needed freedom, and Karnazul's pride was the key. He let the intricate body illusion spell dissolve like mist.
Where the ragged prisoner stood, a knight materialized. His form was taller, broader, radiating an aura of contained power that momentarily stilled the murmurs from the demon spectators. His armor, revealed beneath the fading illusion, was polished steel chased with silver, intricate dragon motifs coiling across the breastplate. His yellow eyes blazed with unwavering focus. In his right hand, the simple longsword. But in his left, shimmering into existence as if drawn from the air itself, was another blade. This one was different – broader, heavier, its edge gleaming with a strange, pearlescent light. It looked less like a weapon for killing and more like a shield forged into a sword.
"Theodric," the knight stated, his voice now resonant, devoid of any pretence. "Knight-Captain of the Dragon Court of Aethelgard. Protector of the Realm. Guardian of Crown Princess Evelina. Wielder of the Lord of the East." He raised the broad, pearlescent blade slightly. "Rider of Taimat."
A collective gasp, a rustle of fear, went through the demon onlookers. Karnazul froze. His crimson eyes widened, recognition dawning, followed by a wave of pure, incandescent rage mixed with… shame? Memories flooded back – the Sundering Wars, a duel amidst crumbling fortifications, the sting of defeat, this human standing over him.
"You!" Karnazul spat the word like poison. "The Dragon Knight! I lost once, Theodric. I will NOT lose again!" Jealousy was consumed by the fury of past humiliation. Fire erupted around Karnazul, not just on his blades, but wreathing his entire form. He became a living pillar of flame, roaring forward, abandoning finesse for pure, destructive power. Twin blades became rivers of molten death.
Theodric met the charge. He wielded the borrowed longsword now in his off-hand, a flickering extension of his will, launching precise, distracting thrusts and cuts at Karnazul's joints and eyes – offensive maneuvers designed to harass. But his main defense was the Lord of the East. He held the broad blade not to strike, but to intercept. Karnazul's fiery blows, capable of shearing stone, slammed into the pearlescent surface. CLANG-SHOOOM! A deep, resonant chime echoed through the arena, not the ring of metal, but the sound of a massive bell. The Lord of the East didn't just block; it seemed to absorb and dissipate the kinetic force and heat. Flames splashed harmlessly against its surface, leaving no mark. Theodric stood firm behind the impenetrable defense, the ground cracking slightly under his boots from the transferred force, but he was unharmed.
Karnazul raged, unleashing torrents of fire, trying to overwhelm, to find an opening. But Theodric was a master. He used the Lord of the East like an immovable tower shield, deflecting, parrying, grounding the fiery onslaught. With the longsword, he struck like a viper – not deep killing blows, but sharp, stinging cuts on Karnazul's arms, a shallow gash across his ash-grey cheek. Each small wound fueled the demon lord's fury, making him reckless.
Finally, seeing Karnazul overextend on a massive downward cleave, Theodric moved. He dropped low, the Lord of the East angling to deflect the blow upwards. At the same moment, the longsword in his other hand flicked out, not to stab, but to hook behind Karnazul's leading ankle. Theodric surged upwards, using the demon lord's own momentum.
Karnazul, unbalanced, his massive blow deflected skyward, stumbled forward. Theodric pivoted, a whirlwind of steel and pearlescent light. The Lord of the East came around in a devastating horizontal sweep, not with its edge, but with its flat, impossibly dense side. It connected with Karnazul's armored ribs like a battering ram.
THOOM!
The sound was sickening. Karnazul was lifted off his feet, the breath driven from his lungs in a pained gasp. He crashed onto the obsidian floor ten feet away, his twin blades skittering from his grasp. He lay stunned, groaning, ribs likely cracked, fire guttering out around him.
Theodric stood over him, breathing steadily. The Lord of the East rested point-down on the stone beside him, unmarked. The borrowed longsword was still in his other hand. The Void Arena was utterly silent.
Donarstraza stared, her golden eyes wide with shock, confusion, and a dawning, terrifying understanding of the power before her.
Theodric looked down at the defeated demon general. There was no triumph in his yellow eyes, only cold purpose. "Mercy, Karnazul," he stated, his voice echoing in the stillness. "A courtesy you offered me little. Remember it. And remember this: Aethelgard watches. The Dragon Court watches. Tell your Goddess." He deliberately didn't look at Donarstraza, keeping his focus on the prone figure. "The Rite is fulfilled. My life and freedom are mine."
He turned, the Lord of the East shimmering and vanishing as if it had never been. He kept the simple longsword. He needed a weapon. His path to the exit was clear. The demons on the ledges shrank back, awed and terrified. He walked past Donarstraza without a glance, the weight of his true identity and the message he carried hanging heavy in the cold air of the Void Arena. Karnazul groaned on the floor, beaten not just in body, but in pride, his jealousy now ash in his mouth beside the taste of familiar defeat.