An irregular barrage of knocks rang out on the door to the study in Kevin’s mansion. Over and over, begging for the attention of the sole resident. Beads of sweat collected and dripped down the messenger’s neck with each unanswered knock. His rough-spun clothing absorbed the moisture and refused to let it go, holding it in a muggy cloud of misery against the poor man’s skin.

“Sir hero! Lord Kevin! Please respond! I’ve been charged with informing my lord about demons spotted at the gates!” With each cry, the messenger’s voice became cracked and torn with worry that parched his mouth and threatened to steal his volume. “Lord Kevin, please respond! Lady Elena believes they’re the same ones that attacked you before!”

Silence followed, and then the audible sound of a fist splintering wood issued out from the other side of the door, accompanied by a bellow of rage and a very faint cry of pain. The messenger cringed back from the door, subconsciously trying to make himself a smaller target.

“WHERE!” Kevin’s voice roared out from the other side of the door, emphasized by the low thump that followed and, strangely enough, what almost sounded like the thud of limp flesh meeting stone. The messenger shook his head, bowing towards the closed door. He most definitely must have misheard that last sound. “The main gate, my lord!” he shouted at his worn boots. “The demons were spotted in the tree line. Lady Elena and her men have already left to pursue.”

“Very well,” Kevin said, quietly but with no less hatred, thankfully still from the other side of the door. “I’ll head off shortly, so go croak at someone else.”

The messenger slapped out a grateful salute and made quickly for the exit. “Yes, my lord! I wish you good fortune in the battle to come.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Inside the study, Kevin massaged his sturdy shoulders, glancing around the room to make sure that he had not forgotten anything. His desk was still mostly empty after that assassin had broken in and killed his old butler at one of his parties. Nonetheless it dominated the room, held in check only by the dusty bookshelves and the commanding form of the fireplace.

“Coat, potions, backup weapons. I think that’s all we need.”

Only silence met the hero, the study as quiet as it was before the messenger had interrupted his business and made him a bit… irritated with his news. Kevin straightened the edges of his coat as the vestiges of his moment of rage gradually left him. “Ah Well, it doesn’t matter much anyways. Besides, those lizards have always been good for some stress relief in the past. I just hope that bitch doesn’t finish them off before I get there.”

Kevin flipped his collar up and left the room, not even sparing a glance downwards as he stepped over the broken body of a young maid, her harried face frozen in a partially formed expression of surprise as she lay against the stones of the fireplace like a gruesome unloved toy.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The forest screamed and groaned under the onslaught that was the battle between hero and demon. Trees splintered as a tall demon holding a scimitar bathed in lighting, himself clad in spitting flames, parried yet another colossal blow from a brilliantly shining longsword, the force diverted and dispersed to cleave through a nearby oak tree. A woman clad in polished plate armor spat out curses of fury as her hair, as red as the flames that protected her opponent, writhed in a mockery of a halo around her head. She twisted the longsword to instantly free it from the heart of the oak, simultaneously instantly obliterating hundreds of years of growth.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Just stay still you bastard!” Elena shouted for what was not the first time today. Like their earlier clash at the Bastille, neither of the combatants had landed a meaningful hit on the other.

The demon grinned and another questing attack from his scimitar slithered towards her left side and she desperately dodged. That fuckstick. She grumbled internally. When the fight had begun, Elana could visibly see the triumph in that animal’s eyes when he noticed her shield-arm. Or lack thereof. That was enough to piss Elena off, and it only worsened when she realized that her own fighting instincts hadn’t yet adapted to not having a shield, something her enemy had quickly exploited.

Try as he might, Mavier failed to keep the grin from taking over his face ever since he realized that his foe had shown up to fight him without the benefit of her shield-arm, something that had quite frustrated him in their last fight. That simple achievement alone was enough to convince Mavier that allying with the half-elf was the right thing to do. If Tim could take away the shield-arm of a hero - a marvelous accomplishment despite her weakened and confused state! - who could tell what else he could do?

“I’ll tell you what,” Mavier mocked, “how about I hold my spare arm behind my back? Make it an even fight?”

Mavier’s smile only deepened as his mockery was met by an almost feral growl from his opponent, followed by a series of bone-shaking slashes with her longsword. One by one each slash was deflected as he used simplicity of his opponents rage against her, maneuvering his dance-like footwork so that his body came closer and closer to his opponent, each flowing step allowing for just a little bit more ground to be taken each time. A sizzling clang rang out as the last swipe in the flurry of blows issued by the longsword came to a halt, and Mavier’s palm cut forward in an open-handed strike towards Elena’s left side.

This hero is unused to fighting opponents of comparable strength. Her lack of control makes her weak. One set of strikes should be enough, Mavier mused as nearly ten palm strikes flickered against the left side of Elena’s undefended breastplate, each strike leaving visible indents and palm prints against the reinforced metal. Another ten strikes followed in the exact same spot, and Mavier smoothly backpedaled as the pommel of Elena’s longsword thudded into the space he had just vacated. Just enough. Scimitar met longsword again, and the straps of hardened leather holding part of Elena’s plate armor on her left side snapped. Muffled curses followed as the hero shook free of the falling breastplate.

Ahhh. This truly isn’t so bad after all. I might even be able to bump off a hero before the half-elf’s plan is a quarter of the way finished.

“Try not to get too distracted, hero. It would be a shame to end it this soon.” Mavier shouted, lunging forwards, catching Elena’s hastily raised longsword with the curved backside of his blade, and sending a haymaker straight towards her undefended stomach. He twisted the blade of his scimitar, an exhilarated laugh bursting out of Mavier’s mouth as the longsword shook while Elena stumbled backwards, desperately trying to catch her breath. However, even that was for naught as Mavier leaped towards her in a whirlwind of lightning and flame, scimitar biting into her unarmored shoulders and barrages of jabs pounding into her ribs. Several cracks followed, the hero wincing as multiple ribs broke under the onslaught.

Yeah. This is the good life, Mavier gleefully thought as each punishing strike hit home.