Erik stood motionless, his breathing shallow and deliberate. The two assassins charged at him, their movements filled with malicious intent. But Erik barely moved, his eyes fixed on them, a shadow of something dark flickering beneath his calm exterior.

As the first assassin lunged with his blade, Erik twisted effortlessly, stepping aside with a sudden fluid motion. The blade passed through empty air, and before the assassin could react, Erik’s own weapon was already slicing through the man's neck, sending him collapsing to the ground.

The second assassin didn’t fare any better. Erik dodged each strike with a ghostly grace, sidestepping the secret weapons with ease, his movements almost hypnotic. The assassin’s confidence turned to confusion, then terror, as Erik’s blade shot forward with the speed of a snake, slicing through his body like it was nothing more than a shadow.

Erik stood still, his sword dripping with blood, looking almost like he was mesmerized by the fresh spill. The scent of iron and death seemed to pull him from his trance. As he turned to look at the Queen's still form, his expression contorted, and he let out a low, almost animalistic growl. The dark corners of his eyes deepened, his face becoming almost sinister as his voice echoed through the debris-laden night.

The remaining assassin, realizing the horror of what she had just witnessed, froze. She took a step backward, her eyes darting from Erik's grim, glistening blade to the blood-soaked figure standing before her. Her hands trembled, and her axe slipped from her grasp, clattering to the ground.

“I… I… Please… Spare me,” she whimpered, her voice shaky, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t know! I… I thought... I thought you were just a scholar!”

Erik’s gaze met hers, his eyes dark and piercing, no mercy reflected there. His voice was low and cold, like a whisper of a shadow that carried across the broken battlefield.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Idiots… all of you,” Erik muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Did you truly think you could defeat me so easily? Your arrogance has cost you, just like your precious comrades .”

The assassin’s fear swelled, making her tremble even more. Her breath hitched, her eyes darting from Leson to Erik, her axe trembling in her hands.

Erik stepped closer, his movements now deliberate, almost like he was savoring every second. His voice, quiet yet chilling, echoed across the battlefield as he recited a poem he had composed in the seconds before.

"Fools, you thought you were clever,

That your lives could be spared forever.

You thought me nothing but a shadow,

A scholar in disguise—how shallow.

Now your blood stains the earth,

Your arrogance has sealed your worth.

You rushed to death without a thought,

And now it's your soul that will be caught."

Erik’s eyes locked onto the assassin, his voice now dripping with cruel enjoyment.

“Such a simple mistake,” he continued. “To think you could kill me so easily. How terribly you miscalculated.”

The last assassin, trembling, looked into Erik’s eyes and recognized the horror she had stumbled upon. The very person who had been whispered about in legends. The demon in human form. Fear surged through her, and she staggered back, her body trembling uncontrollably.

Erik stepped forward again, his presence overpowering. The assassin dropped her axe, the weapon falling to the ground with a sickening thud. Her body shook as tears streaked down her face, her voice breaking.

“Please… please, don’t kill me,” she begged. “I’ll… I’ll do anything! I’ll tell them… I’ll tell everyone that I’ve seen the demon!”

Erik’s gaze softened, but only slightly. A cruel, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he responded.

“Yes, you’ve seen the demon, haven’t you?” he said, his voice like a blade’s edge. “But it’s too late now, isn’t it?”

With that, Erik’s sword flashed again, and the assassin collapsed to the ground, her words fading into the night.

Leson could only stare in stunned silence, his heart racing as the weight of Erik’s true nature settled around him like a shroud. Erik, once a calm and composed scholar, was now something far darker. The poem, the cold detachment, the brutal efficiency—everything about Erik now felt like a storm that had been unleashed.

And in the blood-soaked silence that followed, Leson understood. Erik was no longer just his cousin—he was a force of destruction, and a demon had indeed been hiding beneath the scholar's guise.