The three men were frozen, paralyzed by the presence before them. None of them knew what to do. Aziz could feel his internal energy pulsing through him, barely contained, his skin stretched tight as if it might burst. Fury coursed through his veins. He had arrived just in time to hear Delilah’s screams. When he tried to touch her, she shuddered, covering her face and whimpering. She was in shock.

Seeing her like that—broken, trembling in the dirt—something inside Aziz snapped. A red mist clouded his vision, blood pounding in his ears. He didn’t understand why. The pit was supposed to have stripped him of these human emotions. But there was something about seeing Delilah like this, writhing in pain, that reminded him of someone else. A small boy, not so long ago, left alone in the pit. In pain. Broken and scarred.

As Aziz advanced, the largest of the group—the one who had called the lanky man “boss”—stumbled backward, tripping over Marcus’s unconscious body and landing hard on his rear. He mumbled a prayer under his breath. Aziz had no idea what he looked like to them, but frankly, he didn’t care. He’d lost all sense of reasoning. It wasn’t just that Delilah’s suffering echoed his own; he hated to admit it, but he had grown attached to the little chubby girl. The thought that someone had dared to hurt her filled him with an uncontainable rage.

He wasn’t weak like then. He could protect someone now.

“What are you all standing around for?! There’s only one of him! We can take him!” shouted the lanky one, his voice wavering despite his bravado. Aziz kept moving forward, each step drawing the shadows closer around him like a shroud.

"But isn’t that the G-Ghost? Look! Those unholy eyes and that mad look! Just like Roof said!" stammered the wide-eyed one, taking several steps back in fear.

"Shut up, Prick! Ghost this, Ghost that! Who cares? Think about what the new Star King will give us if we take him down! We just need to—"

Annoying.

The lanky one’s words were cut off. Blood sprayed onto Prick’s face, warm droplets splattering like a crimson rain. A fountain of scarlet erupted into the air, and both Do-Jo and Prick stood in stunned silence, eyes wide, unblinking. They stared at the headless corpse of their leader, still standing for a heartbeat before it crumpled to the ground with a dull thud. The head rolled a few meters away, coming to a stop in the dirt.

Silence.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Aziz had grown impatient. He had severed the head from the body with a mere flick of his hand, using Shadow Grasp as effortlessly as breathing.

Screams.

“Curses! Oh Gaia! Save me!” Prick screamed, tripping over himself as he bolted toward the treeline, his spear clattering to the ground behind him.

Do-Jo stood frozen, his eyes wide with terror. He could barely comprehend the scene unfolding before him—the demon with purple flames burning in his eyes stepping forward, slow and deliberate.

"P-Pl-Please… I had no choice! They mad—" Do-Jo stammered, his words catching in his throat.

Aziz closed the distance in a heartbeat, stepping over Marcus’s unconscious body. He crouched down, meeting Do-Jo’s wide, terrified eyes. The stench of urine filled the air as Do-Jo trembled uncontrollably, his pants soaked. Aziz twitched his nostrils in disgust but remained calm, eerily so.

"It’s a shame," Aziz said, his voice almost conversational, as though they were discussing something trivial. His expression was serene, a stark contrast to the chaos in Do-Jo's mind.

Do-Jo’s breath hitched as he flinched, but Aziz didn’t blink, his purple eyes locked on the man’s trembling form.

“If you had run first," Aziz said softly, "you might have survived. Your friend had the right idea.”

Do-Jo swallowed hard, his mouth too dry to respond.

Aziz’s voice lowered, deadly and calm. “Someone has to send the message. No one in this forest touches what’s mine.”

Do-Jo shuddered, his gaze flickering to the ground, unable to meet those burning eyes any longer.

"Do you want to live?" Aziz asked, his tone almost gentle now, as if offering salvation. Do-Jo could only nod, his entire body shaking with fear.

"Then go. Chase after your friend and kill him," Aziz continued, his voice a deadly whisper, each word cutting like a blade. "Then return to your Star King and tell him this: I will take what I owe in blood. You touched what’s mine, so I will take everything of yours.”

Do-Jo’s eyes widened in disbelief, but he nodded frantically.

Aziz leaned in closer, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “Don’t even think of disobeying me. I am always watching.”

In that moment, Mal, the dark serpent, slithered out from Aziz’s shoulder, his sleek form sliding down Do-Jo’s shirt, disappearing beneath his clothes. Do-Jo gasped, too terrified to move, feeling the cold scales against his skin.

“Go,” Aziz said, standing up slowly. "But should you fail... know that you will die a most horrible death." He paused, the weight of his words heavy in the still air. “Let me tell you, black-death poison would make you wish I ended you here.”

Do-Jo couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over Marcus’s body as he bolted toward the trees, leaving his dead comrades behind.

Aziz watched him flee, his face expressionless. He let the silence settle over the clearing, broken only by the distant rustle of the forest, and then, almost as if nothing had happened, he turned his gaze back to Delilah and Marcus.