This power

The power given to those who can survive in the jail are truly awe-inspiring.

This is something Thomas should be happy for because the pair were interested in keeping newcomers and allies alive.

One does need their entertainment and news to come from somewhere.

So, as Thomas was in the process of drowning in his own blood, the past-ification of demons grew ever closer.

Now, it is also important to note right here, no matter how strong something seems in the jail, there is always something more. Stronger, or smarter, or more mobile, but nothing is ever truly untouchably powerful.

This includes the people ripping through tens of demons that could individually cripple the military of a small nation.

Again, just living in the jail strengthens you.

Absurdly.

Thomas might not get there though since he is now unconscious on the floor in a pool of his own blood.

“SCARLET! HES BLEEDING OUT! GET HIM TO CAMP!” The deep voiced hammer wielder yells at his partner.

I would describe him as a regal man with a well-kept beard, clean clothes and a bit of fat rounding out his belly, but that description only matched him when he first arrived here.

Now though, underneath the seven foot tall tower of blood and gore, lay thickly layered red-hued demon leather armor is a man who could stare death in the eyes without flinching, a man who remains mostly calm in the face of anything.

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His name is Warmonger, fitting for his strength, he had a scraggly beard, dark hair and limbs built like tree trunks.

The only thing that anybody can find to annoy him with, is a death he could prevent.

Scarlet, though, is more regal, and the opposite of War upon arrival.

Scarlet first arrived as a crazed woman, lashing out at anything and everything, an aptitude for the dark arts waiting to be discovered, now used for keeping her clothes and body clean, the blood being turned to powerful waves of death radiating off her body.

Scarlet has chest length, light orange hair, thin limbs and is dressed more like an assassin than a mage, and was around 6 foot.

The dark purple robes magically imbued with cleansing power swayed around as she easily cleared the distance between Warmonger and Thomas.

Thomas, in the time it would take light to travel even a centimeter, simply disappeared, the air slamming back into place with a loud clap.

“Bloody woman, leaving me to clean up the mess…” Warmonger mutters under his breath.

Scarlet, holding Thomas, appeared from a portal that one could mistake for the night sky.

Around her were multiple very heavily reinforced walls, doors, and cells.

These were the living quarters for now, Scarlet knocking on one of the reinforced doors.

“Who- oh shit! Bring him in, now!” a voice not unlike that of a teenager who has not reached puberty sounded from the other side of the door, along with the rattle of a steel drawbar moving.

“Thought that would be your response, Mr. Cleric.” Teased Scarlet

“Thought I told you not to call me that, Scarlet.” Responded the cleric.

“Well then tell me your real name, after you save this boys life.” Explained Scarlet, now that the door was open, Thomas was on the bed in the corner, and the medical equipment was available to Cleric.

Cleric was about 5 foot 9, so not terribly short but not tall either.

He had shoulder length blonde hair, dark skin, yellow eyes, and had very soft features. He wore a light grey coat, and was absurdly agile and flexible.

I do mean absurdly, as this boy could literally rotate his upper body 360 degrees without any pain or assistance.

If you want me to do all these explanation things, for the jail I mean not the characters, in a separate chapter, then leave a comment telling me below.

I probably will forget, but hey, I’m trying.