40.

The elevator opened silently and the heavy stench of smoke billowed over him as he walked out across the flat decks of the warship. The pitted and scarred surface of the warship had been cleaned up, metal replaced in a patchwork of armor that looked like a patchwork quilt. Erak searched for where that flying shape would be, but the choking smoke was impossible to see through.

“I can help you, if you approve. I can do a lesser version of what Sword did, for a short period of time,” Pomp said, finally emerging from his armor and poking his whiskery snout about. Erak nodded and the word flashed as he felt Essence gather around him and then burn his eyes with the slightest of stings.

The world was laid bare, becoming a sea of floating lights as he viewed the Essence signatures. His foe was flying quickly, only moments away from hovering over the Armory. Erak looked down at the ship and had to look away, the metal under his feet glowing vibrantly gold. The vision faded away and Pomp panted loudly in his ear as if he had just run a long race.

Erak walked across the deck, getting to the point that would be closest to where the shape would emerge. He stood there, spear in hand and waited. The light from the fires below gave enough illumination that he could see the swirl of the smoke as the creature closed in.

Funnels were formed in a rhythmic beat, smoke churning in just to be pushed out in a burst of power. Small at first, it rapidly grew in size until he realized it was closer to the size of the Deathsworn he had encountered earlier. Wings three times its height jutted from its back, leathery wings that cracked the air with every beat. A fiery, three tailed, whip dangled from one hand a small bronze buckler from the other. Black hair blew free in a sheet of onyx behind the female figure.

She had wide shoulders and her armor was bronze with spikes erupting from her shoulders. Her face was bare and it was an angelic ruin. Cheekbones as sharp as a razor, cruel lips turned in a vicious smile as her whip twisted like a serpent. Corruption distorted her pale red skin, staining her skin in flaking rashes.

A bolt of Essence flew from the Armory’s walls, one of the cannons firing at the shrouded shape. Her whip flickered and one of the tails cut through the bolt of Essence and it detonated in an explosion of crimson halfway between her and the Armory. Laughter belted forth and it was terrible in its beauty.

Fury lvl. 29

A Seraphim that has been corrupted by Hellflame and bound to a Lord of Hell

Erak stared at the extra line of information before looking at Pomp. The little dragon bounced about, some of its strength having already returned from his exertion.

“I can glimpse pieces of Truth. Not as much as your Sage, but more than you could. Since we are bonded, you can now see more,” the little dragon said. Erak shrugged. He didn’t need the extra information to kill the creature.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

The Fury continued to float above the Armory and cut apart the fortresses' assaults with ease. Erak couldn’t see much happening beneath the cover of the smoke clouds, but flashes illuminated the smoke as they raced around at ground level. Another assault on the walls.

Erak thought towards Pomp and the dragon turned to look at him, wiggly eyebrows raiding off of his brows. A tongue poked out as he looked down on the battlefield and then he nodded.

“It’d be close, but possible. You have the ability and your armor is good enough to survive the initial clash. I don’t advise it though. Your timing will have to be perfect.” Pomp froze when Erak looked at him and then sighed.

“My apologies, my calculations will have to perfect. Just use it when I say. I just want to let you know, if you die, I die. I don’t want to die the night I was born, Erak.” Erak shrugged. Death came when it came.

“A bit more to the left. She’s moving in a circuit, she’ll be closest to us in forty seconds.” Pomp did the calculations while Erak crouched down, legs coiled like tight springs.

The Fury burst into fire, an aura that lit the sky as her whip sent fiery bursts down on the defenders as she flew around the circumference of the fort. Each blast hit with the force of a bomb, bright light spilling across the ground. Down below warriors were dying with no hope of ever facing this enemy.

“Now!” Pomp roared in his ear. The Fury was wheeling his way, wings beating lethargically as she continued to cast below her. She was a few hundred feet below him and closing fast. Erak moved without thought, all the force he could conjure as he leapt at where the Fury would be.

The wind whistled through his helm and his eyes watered as he fell like an arrow toward his unsuspecting prey. The demon was still cackling as she slaughtered the defenseless soldiers. Erak kept his arms tight to his body, spear pointing down. Pomp was nested with his snout next to Erak’s ear, partially encapsulated in Erak’s armor.

For a moment, a gloriously long moment, Erak felt the weight of duty lift. The sharp point of his spear and the enemy before him the only thing in his world. A smile formed on his scarred face and he let a chuckle form and break free, the sound stolen on the screaming wind.

Then the moment was gone and Erak was smashing through the haze of heat around the Fury. Heat blistered his face and fingers, the intense blaze heating the metal till he glowed, then he was through it and slamming into the demon. His rare spear pierced the demon through her back where her great wings came out, where the armor was thin and flexible.

Her laughter turned into a shriek of pain and then they were tumbling. Erak clutched his buried spear with all his might and his free hand grasped at anything as the world spun. He grabbed a handful of her mane and clenched it tight as tried to right themselves so the Fury was facing the ground when they hit.

His speed had diverted them away from the Armory and toward the district that the mantle holder was supposed to be at. A whip lashed at him, burning a furrow across his back, charring the armor and leaving a small divot where the lash had streaked across it. Pain emanated from the strike, but Erak could do nothing but grit his teeth and continue to wrest the larger demon around, using his spear and handhold as points of leverage.

The ground was growing large in his field of view. Buildings formed up around him, tall apartment complexes, towers of stone and metal with broken windows. Erak peered over the demon’s shoulder and saw a five story building of yellow stone and he hoped nothing was inside of it. Then the building was taking up his entire view and Pomp was screaming in his ear.

“NOW!”