~Most believe themselves to be lions… until they meet one~

Eluvia

Thin, long, rapier-like blades glinted in the low light of the room as I fanned out the morphed ends of a few of my hair’s clusters.

The double-edged razors looked deceptively flimsy from how dexterously I could manipulate them. Unless one was close enough to pick up on the low hum they made every time the air moved over their forms.

Satisfied that the control over my inherent ability hadn’t suffered the same fate as my body, I allowed the blades to lose their forms – firstly turning into shapeless tendrils and tentacles, and then dissociating back into individual strands.

In truth, each white strand on my head was technically a tentacle on their own, made up of a mix of strong, magically pliable metals and other magica infused minerals that gave my hair its supple flow.

‘…An average of a hundred and fifty thousand hair follicles,’ I let a deliberate ripple run through my cascading mane as I took inventory of every individual strand at the foreign thought.

The species of Demons I belonged to were closely related to the aethereal beings of the abyss that subsisted on vague concepts constructed by sapient creatures of the world so that they could maintain their shapes.

Whatever I could imagine, was rendered by these thousands of strands effortlessly at the speed of thought – within the constraints of my innate powers.

The only thing I couldn’t do was to change the colour of my hair, which was light purple at the roots, silvery-white along the rest of it, only to end in strong vermilion highlights.

The rumour in the castle was that the ends of my hair was permanently stained that way from the blood of all the enemies I had slaughtered.

The truth was less macabre though, because my hair had been that way from birth.

I shook my head clear of the tangential distraction.

In the time I had been up, this strange allure with my own body and my powers had begun occupying a good portion of my thoughts. So much so, that my irritation and anger at how debilitating my injury was, had taken a backseat to these welling feelings of fascination and curiosity.

My mind kept wondering how it all worked, despite my already extensive mental library of knowledge on magic and its applications.

I had never before found myself so strongly wanting to unravel the very mechanisms of the world’s more ambiguous workings.

‘I need to find and slay the trident wielder… eventually,’ I reasserted my plans, brushing my fingers over the location of my wounds.

Though that goal was for further in the future.

Preparations would have to be made first, alongside meticulous planning.

I moved away from the bed and to the mirror over the washbasin – wincing at the pain after forgetting that I could no longer be too hasty with anything.

I turned a few strands of hair into finger-thick tendrils to adjust the bindings of my blindfold, along with making minor adjustments to the comfort of my clothing.

I was wearing a black, form-fitting dress that went down to my knees, with long silken sleeves and lacy embroidery finishes and frills. Along with thigh-high raven socks and ankle-high stylish black combats laced with red.

A frilly black band, with girthy red ribbons held my silvery-white hair back from fanning all over my shoulders, aside from my twin braids… Plus black gloves with frills at the wrist tied with red silky ribbons.

Some of the linings, ribbons and threading were coloured blood red – a bold embossment to all the black.

After a slight adjustment of the high collar, my injuries were completely hidden while I had managed to keep my usual aesthetics.

‘Well… Most of it can be hidden,’ I turned my head to the side to check the thin, black angular burn pattern across my left cheek.

I did a second pass, making sure that the white ribbons over my eyes were tight and secure before I made my way out of the medical wing.

“Do you not have civilian clothing aside from your bedwear?” General Drosera’s clone eyed me critically.

My hair paused from auto-weaving my signature twin braids…

It took a second for me to realise that the Demon Queen must have notified her of my leave.

“This is sufficient,” I replied, my hair resuming the completion of my braids.

“I suppose it’s kind of… endearing,” she mumbled. “At least you’re not armed to the teeth,” the Alrune noted at the absence of the silver chains and crystal ornaments that usually adorned my hair.

“Is it… too unusual?” I asked, running the fingers of my right hand through my hair.

“Casual looks stilted on you,” she said after a moment of thought.

‘Ah… there’s the backhanded compliment…’ I internally sighed. “Fashion is nuanced,” I countered.

“Can’t say I understand it,” she replied dryly. “But thankfully our attires serve for more than just modesty. Shame I had to destroy your armour… Though the other option was to leave you in it to die.”

It was pointless trying to direct any sort of animosity towards the Queen’s third in command.

General Drosera could heal Demons to the same extent she could ruthlessly fold them.

Besides… I was rather grateful she didn’t just let me succumb to my wounds.

I had vague recollections of the mess and blood as she tried to piece my body together while I fought her due the excruciating pain.

Words of genuine gratitude towards her were on the tip of my tongue when her attention shifted to something behind me.

“It’s rare to see you here…” General Drosera addressed the person to my rear left.

It was then that I noticed that I had no magic detection on that side. Two thirds of my magica-detection ability was just… missing!

A coldness ran down my spine and spread into fading pins-and-needles down my extremities.

I had never felt so naked and vulnerable.

Turning around to face whoever it was would just cement my weakness. But thankfully the person spoke up.

“Lady Eluvia, you have four days to move your people from my lands,” the voice addressed me in a strained and irritated tone. “There are no resources to spare for an entire city’s worth of Demons!”

“I’ll need more time,” I replied to General Zephyr.

I wasn’t the one in charge of Shard-haven, even though my position afforded my family some level of influence.

“Seven days then,” he grunted. “After that I’ll be dealing with this matter myself.”

I spun around – but his massive, callous hand was already encompassing the entirety of my left shoulder.

I clenched my teeth and resisted the lurching pain that shot through me as he made light pressure with his fingers.

Fifty translucent adamantine-rending blades were already pressed into every vulnerable recess of his golden armour.

In the days previous, I would have been faster than him.

Now I could see the recognition in his gaze as he took note of the new limitations to my movements.

“I didn’t mean it as a threat,” he batted away one of my blades that was pressing into his temple through his visor. “Over the past few days there have already been hundreds of complaints and objections from both sides – the inhabitants and the refugees. The front lines take priority in my eyes, but if I have to deal with domestic issues, then I’ll do it the only way I know how.”

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“Violence?” I questioned, letting the anger seep into my damaged vocal cords.

“Do we Generals speak any other language?” he countered, removing his hand from my shoulder and walking away – ignoring the way my blades screamed against the metal of his armour in passing, until he was out of reach.

He was the Fifth after all… the notion of stopping him – even at my best – was not possible with the nature of our compatibilities.

There was no way I would be able to stop him.

“Drosera…”

“You’ll owe me,” she promptly answered.

“Handle the logistics,” I told her.

“And you’ll be…?” the clone arched a brow, as I limped past.

“…Making vacation plans,” I replied gruffly as I left the infirmary.

Since I hadn’t put in a request beforehand, I was made to wait as a carriage was prepared to take me to the Scorpio Obelisk in the city’s central plaza.

Both the wait and the ride there were boring and uneventful.

I had never left the castle traveling by road before, so I had never noticed how isolated in the middle of nowhere it was.

Distances were moot points to demons powerful enough to fly dozens of times over the speed of sound.

‘Demons that powerful are outliers – not the norm.’ I realised.

There were seventy-eight Generals of us spread across the Demon Realms… of which only twenty-two were of any relevance to the immediate force that surrounded the Demon Queen and protected the Obsidian Throne.

The rest of the fifty-six Generals managed their own towns and provinces, concerned with using their powers to deal with far more mundane matters.

In truth, most of the Demon populace didn’t even know how to fight or use their magic and abilities in any combat capacity.

My mind strayed as I thought about how regular my family was.

There was my older sister, my younger sister, and our mothers – of which one was a Harionna and the other a Shoggoth.

Though all four of them were far more powerful than the average, I was the only one who was capable of becoming a General.

‘Is being the Eighth that much of an accomplishment…?’ I wondered for a bit as I watched the scenery rush past.

There was the constant power struggle for rank… the dangers of combating the humans’ Heroes…

Neither of which had ever been of interest to me, since I was mostly involved in keeping the spatiotemporal stability of the Demon Realm, and repairing any tears.

The only other reason to keep my position – aside from the perks of high-rank access – was that my family could be supported entirely off of my privileges, which left them free to pursue their hobbies instead of tiresome jobs.

A moment later I caught myself speculating about the intricacies behind my family’s phenotypical appearances.

‘Again, this pattern of thought…’ I clenched my teeth, causing the lower left side of my jaw to have a spasm of pain.

That seemed to clear my mind of the alien words.

I didn’t even know what the word ‘Genetics’ meant, aside from a vague sense in my head that related it to the difference between individual Demons… and perhaps even humans.

“We’re here your Ladyship,” the coachman announced gingerly as he held the door open.

I hadn’t realised that the carriage had even stopped.

Concern at my own mentality welled up in the pits of my stomach as I silently disembarked, and waved him off with a dismissive motion of my good hand.

The leader of the Tinkerer’s Guild was already at the door to greet me as I entered.

“I take it you’ve already wasted another ungodly amount of my good magi-stones,” the Goblin crossed her arms across her spilling chest, as her overly large ears lowered in annoyance.

She was shorter in stature, so I didn’t much mind how bold she got towards me.

“Greetings Gizmo,” I offered a small smile. “It’s been a while…”

“…Only a week and a half,” the short-stack narrowed her eyes at me. “Where’s your combat-veil?” she asked.

Wordlessly I reached into the folds of my hair, and pulled out the tangled and broken remains of the thin silver chains and crystal ornaments that attached between its links.

Gizmo’s eyes went wide in horror as she carefully took the pieces of the artefact from my fingers.

“Parts are intact,” I noted.

I had been wearing a portion of it yesterday just in case, since even on castle grounds, confrontations like the one I had had with General Zephyr, wasn’t that uncommon.

“What happened?” she asked in a grim tone, her eyes darting critically over every section of irreparable damage.

“Hero attack on Shard-haven,” I briefed her.

“I heard. So, you were at the front-lines for once?”

“First responder. Tended evacuations.” I explained.

“A hero… did this…?!” she motioned the broken veil up to me.

I could see the dejection in her eyes… it pained me to nod in confirmation. “I was caught unguarded,”

“And the shield?” Gizmo asked. “Did the shielding hold?”

I shook my head. “The attack was overwhelming.”

The Goblin sighed. “After boasting so highly of my designs… only for it to fail,” she chuckled dejectedly. “You must have been very badly hit because of me.”

Heroes often broke the laws of the world in the way they used their powers.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I assured her, refraining myself from running my fingers over my hidden wounds.

We walked further into the establishment.

Gizmo grabbed an apron from a hook as she led me through to her workshop in the back.

The furnace was already aglow with heat and four of her apprentices were already hammering away and shaping near-molten metal.

None of the goblins bothered with formalities towards me even if they made nods of acknowledgments towards my presence.

The only rank that mattered in the workshop was Gizmo’s, and I honestly found that very endearing.

“You have to understand that your veil is… well, was unique beyond measure,” she said as she picked up a hefty hammer from the hook of a nearby rack. “It was so difficult to make the first time that I didn’t think to manufacture a backup. You’re the only one to use a weapon like it anyways… I got complacent I guess.”

“It served me well,” I replied.

“You’ll need a temporary weapon I take it?” she arched a brown at me as she moved to her own table. “I don’t have anything custom available. The best ones in the shop right now only have some basic dual enchantments. Frankly, none of them are even on par with your eldritch rending. So, unless you want a shield…”

“Crystal seeds.” I told her.

Gizmo’s eyes glinted in surprise. “Another strange idea of yours I see…” she said when she recovered from unusual demand. “I take it you’ll want them enchanted?”

“Quad-enchant?”

“It’ll be challenging, but doable. Expensive as all hell though…”

“Bill the castle,” I told her.

A mischievous smile graced her lips. “How many are you going to need for this new endeavour of yours?”

“A thousand.”

She considered this for a second. “And your enchants?”

“Mass-by-speed, Supercritical, Infusion, Insidious,” I listed.

“I was estimating for high-tier enchantments, but with such low-tiered ones…” Gizmo mulled over it a bit. “Tell you what, I’ll make two thousand seeds in three days, if you make it worth my time.”

Being a challenge that I could immediately rise up to, I pulled the trident from my hair and settled it between us on her work table.

Silence filled the room as everyone took notice of the glinting gold of the hero’s weapon.

Only the watermill running the mechanical contraptions in the workshop was audible above the held breaths in the room.

“Lady Voltz disabled it,” I said after a good minute of every Goblin in the place being struck silent.

“Eluvia… is this…?”

“What struck me,” I said, answering before she could stammer through asking the question.

“And you’re alive?!” Gizmo exclaimed. “Fuck! That’s a General for you I guess…” she scratched the back of her head. “I know what I said, but what do I even do with this?”

“Reverse engineer it,” I told her.

The Goblin eyed me. “You want this magi-tech in your veil… don’t you…”

“You know me best,” I noted.

“Have you turned suicidal?!”

“So I’ve been questioned…”

“I’m good with my hands, but I’m not that good. This will take weeks or even months.” Gizmo set her hammer on the table and sighed. “I’ll have to call in a lot of favours to expedite this, but you can leave it to me.”

“I’ll be back soon,” I bowed lightly.

“Are you sure you don’t need a weapon?” Gizmo asked while I made my way out.

“Not an immediate concern.”

The receptionist bowed lightly to me as I walked out the store to the bustling street outside.

All who recognised me, parted from my path or offered passing pleasantries, both of which I wasn’t obligated to respond to.

Some of the upper echelon Demons I bumped into seemed to want to grab my attention for lengthier conversations, but I was neither in the mood or the mindset to do so.

The fame that came with being a General of my rank was annoying, but that also meant that most knew of how powerful and dangerous I was. So, the majority simply gazed from afar and stayed out of my hair’s immediate range.

However, my limp wasn’t something that I could hide, and my destinations was quite the distance away since Gizmo’s building was located on the riverside edge of the city.

Of course, I didn’t usually fly over short distances, but the prospect would have been far more appealing for travelling the capital city. But even the thought of sending high amounts of magica through my body’s damaged circuits nearly sent me into shock.

A small gaggle of Demon children came barrelling down the street caught in fits of giggles and words of haste… as a vendor came sprinting after them with anger on his face.

I found myself wondering why humans would want to put an end to our existence, until I turned a corner and abruptly ended up in front of a butcher’s shop… selling human meat and various parts, including internal organs.

My stomach rumbled slightly.

I hadn’t eaten anything since I had woken up, and with my body as damaged as it was, I couldn’t adequately absorb as much atmospheric magica as was normal for Demons.

Feeling famished was putting it lightly.

‘Right…’ I sighed. ‘We eat them.’

Humans weren’t staple, but they were more magica-dense than the monsters we hunted or kept as livestock.

Since the war however, humanity couldn’t bury their dead from the battlefields they lost on, since there would be nothing left to bury.

I found myself staring at the open torso of what was clearly a human child hanging from a hook with preservation magic shimmering around it.

“I see you’re looking at one of my prised pieces your Ladyship,” the elderly sheep-like Demoness smiled at me, creasing the crow’s-feet on her face into deeper prominence. “Would you like me to wrap it up for you?”

“Is there black pudding?” I asked.

“Sure,” the woman nodded and started preparing her knife.

If I was here then I should at least buy something that my mothers would enjoy.

I would get something more memorable for my sisters as well.

Perhaps that would placate my family somewhat…

Though I still had work to do beforehand.

“Blood and sausages, please,” I added.