The Way of a Demon Lord

The Institute unit.

Six individuals rode into the premises. A chilling sensation dug deep into their bones. Everything was frozen- the grassy ground, the building walls, and the rubble on the centre of.

They looked up. The area where the bridge was supposed to exist was empty.

"A level 9." One of the horsemen said.

The one leading them was an old man. He was wearing the same uniform as that of General Sprinter. "A strong one at that." He frowned.

"Where is General Sprinter? The signal came from here, and undoubtedly- a battle took place here." Another man spoke.

"I don't sense his energy signature anywhere nearby." The old man continued. His eyes furrowed even further. He whipped the halter and the horse charged towards the rubble.

"Hyah!" The others followed.

The magical horses jumped over the pile of rubble, and landed on the opposite side.

The scene they witnessed clasped at their heart. Their eyes almost popped out from the socket.

A battered old man was on his knees. The stubborn pikes of ice which refused to melt made him look like a porcupine, the spikes restraining him from dropping all the way to the ground.

"Tim!" The old man who wore the same four starred uniform hopped down from the steed and rushed to his comrade.

A red magic circle appeared on his palm. The surrounding temperature began to rise up. The icy javelins began to melt.

He took out a supreme grade green potion from his pocket and caught the now freed General Sprinter with his hand, preventing him from falling down.

The others jumped down from their steeds as well and surrounded the duo.

"Tim!" The newcomer shouted, his eyes all red. "Tim!"

He laid him on his arm and uncorked the healing potion with his thumb before taking it to the battered man's mouth.

But his lips- did not move.

"Sir…" One of the sentries took a step forward.

A tear escaped the old man's eyes as he raised his hand, shutting the sentry up.

He dropped the healing potion to the ground while his eyes darted through his martyred friend's body. He suddenly frowned.

One of Timothy's hands was broken, the fingers were cut as well. But his other hand was clenched into a fist.

The General took that fist and opened it. There was something written on the palm with blood. The man used his own thumb nail to 'draw' letters.

'2 Calam'

That's all it was written.

"How many fugitives were there?" The man asked with a shaking voice, his eyes still locked on the bloody letters.

"Two."

He turned to the tyrannised face of the General. "Your death is not in vain." He stood up, with the dead body in his arms.

The others took a step back and stood straight.

"Men…" The General said, his eyes all serious. "The two who robbed the first auxiliary treasury… are Calamity Class threats."

Both Adrian and Irene were sitting inside a carriage. His body was shivering.

"Did you have to act so cool and freeze me along with everyone?" He asked.

"I am sorry." She said, without an iota of guilt or remorse in her. However, he closed in and gave him a hug, warming his body with hers.

After a few seconds, Adrian stopped shivering and looked outside.

They had rented this carriage a few streets away from the Institute detachment. Their destination was set to the South of the city where they had come from. The journey would be a couple of hours long. But at least they were safe- for now.

If there are any road blockades ahead, they could easily run away again. After all, there would be no high level amongst the patrols. Even if there are, they would be level 7s at most.

Irene had almost reached her peak, and Adrian was recharging himself as well. Sensing that there would be no more fatal danger, he dropped his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes.

The job was fucking too tiring. He would Take compensation from Elise later.

A few hours later, Irene nudged his shoulder- waking him up.

"You didn't sleep?" He yawned and stretched.

She shook her head. "I was keeping an eye out. We have already reached the Southern district."

"Give me a stalactite." He reached out his hand.

She snapped her fingers. A sharp and short stalactite formed on his palm.

He gripped it hard and began to apply makeup on himself. He was done in a few moments.

Irene snapped her fingers again, freezing the bloodied half of his face and disintegrating the blood besmirched weapon.

A few seconds later, the layer of ice shed off his face. Those who had not interacted with him earlier would not be able to recognise him at all.

The small hatch at the front opened. "We are in the Southern District. Where shall we go?"

Irene turned to Adrian.

"Stop here. We will sightsee for a bit before heading home."

The window closed. The carriage halted, parking beside the road.

Both of them got out. Adrian stretched yet again before handing two gold coins to the coachman. "Keep the change."

The coachman left with the empty carriage with a smile on his face. He never expected to come upon such rich passengers in the middle of nowhere in the dead of the night.

"Getaway drivers sure are cheap here." Adrian smirked.

"Getaway driver?" She turned to him.

"You won't understand. The flower is safe, right."

She opened her robe a little. The flora was plastered to the leather with ice.

Adrian nodded and looked around.

The streets were completely empty, devoid of any humans. There were days of light coming in from the East. The sun had just begun to rise up.

"Let's go."

Two hooded figures walked through the quiet streets of the dawn. After half an hour of work, they reached a tavern.

"Is it easier creating tunnels under taverns?" He muttered.

Both of them entered the establishment.