The Damned Demon

Rhygar led Asher and his group to a grand, imposing building. The structure stood tall and majestic, its architecture reflecting the draconian love for opulence and power.

The building, with its lavish decor and imposing presence, seemed more like a palace than a temporary residence.

Large windows adorned the walls, offering a view of the Draconian landscapes.

Dark stones and intricate carvings adorned its exterior, and the massive doors were flanked by towering statues of previous kings, their eyes set with gems that glinted menacingly in the light.

"You and your people will be staying here during your stay in our kingdom," Rhygar announced, gesturing towards the building, "These servants and maids will be at your disposal should you need anything," At his signal, a large number of servants and maids stepped forward, bowing deeply in a well-rehearsed display of subservience.

Leonidas, observing the arrangement with skepticism, whispered to Caelum and Silvan, "Stay? In such a nice place with lots of servants? What are they cooking up? I thought there was only going to be a spar, and then we could go back home?"

"Right... I would be less surprised if they were planning to skin us alive now," Caelum replied, shaking his head in distrust.

"It seems like it may not end in a simple spar," Silvan added, his eyes narrowing as he assessed their surroundings.

Asher, tilting his head slightly, gave the building a thorough once-over. He then turned to Rhygar and asked, "Am I wrong in understanding that we are going to be here for more than just a day?"

Rhygar responded with a sly curve of his lips, "You need to be in top shape for what's about to come. After such a long journey, how could we not make arrangements for you and your people to rest today and talk business tomorrow?" he said, his words dripping with a mix of hospitality and hidden intent.

Asher and Naida glanced at each other before Asher shrugged and said, "Well then, I appreciate such hospitality. But you don't mind if I take a walk around your cities, right?

Rhygar's smile took on a patronizing edge as he responded,"You are free to do so," he said. However, his next words carried a veiled warning, "But I'd advise you not to stray too far from the capital. Foreigners like you tend to meet unfortunate ends daily or are simply never heard from again. They are simply too weak to survive on their own."

The underlying threat and ridicule in Rhygar's words was clear, and it didn't escape Asher's notice. Nonetheless, he maintained his composure, "Thank you for such helpful advice," Asher replied, his voice laced with a hint of irony. He then turned and headed towards the building, signaling to the others to follow.

The building itself, with its luxurious interior and attentive servants, felt more like a gilded cage than a place of rest.

But they knew they sure as hell needed to rest, even if they had to do it in enemy territory.

Under the shifting light of the blood moon, an ominous atmosphere loomed in a large clearing, shrouded in a thick mist.

This clearing, surrounded by a dense, foreboding forest, was dominated by a single, towering structure. Its pinnacle reached high into the sky, visible from miles away, piercing the night like a sentinel.

Into this eerie area, a werewolf with crimson fur and dark green eyes was violently hurled into the clearing. His body rolled across the ground, coming to a jarring halt amidst the mist.

It was Boragor, his face battered and bruised, a stark contrast to his usual fierce demeanor.

He coughed out blood, his body wracked with pain from what happened after he returned with a failed attempt.

As he struggled to regain his senses, Boragor's eyes suddenly quivered with fear. He sensed an imposing presence nearby.

Looking up, he saw a pair of blood-red eyes glowing within the mist, belonging to a intimidating, muscular figure seated regally on a large throne made of bones.

*RUMBLE!*

A bolt of crimson lightning suddenly flashed up in the sky, illuminating the majestic figure briefly.

His skin was red, and his neck-length white hair was thick and smooth. He sported a thick white mustache without a beard.

His muscles were quite huge, and rippling with strength, veins pushing up against his skin.

He looked old, but his entire figure and demeanor were brimming with an air of dread and power that only added to the chilling atmosphere.

His aura was completely reserved yet anyone standing in his presence can feel their bones rattle and their heart tremble.

This sensation multiplied hundredfolds was what Boragor was feeling now as he realized the gravity of his situation while grappling with his shock.

His instincts kicked in as he crawled forward, his voice trembling with desperation and fear, "O Great One... I never knew you came out of seclusion after so long. I-If I had known, I...I would definitely have prepared something big to mark your return. Still...Y-You didn't have to grace this servant with your presence personally. I-I could have conversed with the Moonsayer."

Before he could utter another word, Boragor was abruptly slammed and pushed into the ground.

A burly foot with sharp claws pressed down on him with immense force. "I am right here, you pathetic thing," came a deep, menacing voice.

Boragor's eyes widened in shock and fear, taken aback by the sudden presence of the Moonsayer himself.

The figure looming over him with white fur and blood red eyes was the chief of the Moonbinder Clan, the embodiment of power and authority.

"And who gave you the permission to address the Great One? You won't speak unless you are allowed to," the Moonsayer reprimanded harshly, pressing his foot down even more firmly on Boragor. The sound of bones creaking under the pressure echoed through the clearing, adding a visceral sense of danger to the scene.

Boragor, now in agonizing pain, cried out, "This little one didn't mean any disrespect to the Great One! Have mercy!" His voice was filled with desperation, pleading for leniency from the Moonsayer and the Moon Guardian.

The Moonsayer turned his attention to the Moon Guardian, seeking guidance on Boragor's fate, "Great One, should I finish him already? Nobody who breaks our confidence deserves to breathe a second longer," he asked, his voice resonating with a sense of finality but brimming with reverence.

The Moon Guardian, shrouded in mist, hummed thoughtfully before responding in a deep, rumbling yet calm voice, "No. Tear away his arms and legs and cripple his mana circuit. Death isn't really the apt punishment for weaklings. Let him be reminded of his weakness till his last breath."

Boragor's face twisted in terror upon hearing the Moon Guardian's decree. He began to plead more fervently, his voice quaking with fear, "Please... Please forgive me. I know I committed a very grave sin and betrayed your faith in me. But please... give me another chance, and I won't disappoint you. I swear on my entire bloodline!"

The Moonsayer growled in response, his disdain for Boragor palpable as he pressed his foot down even harder.

The sound of Boragor's spine creaking grew louder, "How dare you beg for mercy," the Moonsayer scolded, "You not only wasted all the rare Thunderstones we gave you, but you also failed our Guardian's order and made him come out of his seclusion. Mercy should be the last thing you should be dreaming of."

"You must be wondering…" The Moon Guardian began to speak, making the Moonsayer and Boragor hold their breaths, "...why we didn't take care of this ourselves when it is the most effective way."

Boragor blinked his eyes as he also had the same question. It was not as if the Moonbinders had anything to be afraid of, especially if their guardian was personally supporting them.

Still, he answered with a wince, "Of course not, O Great One. I know you all are too busy to handle such small matters, especially you. That is why we little ones exist only to take care of such matters, though what happened today will never happen again."

"No. That young alien isn't supposed to die by our hands…not yet," The Moon Guardian said as his blood-red eyes glinted briefly.

Not supposed to die by their hands? What does that even mean?...

Boragor couldn't guess what he meant exactly, but he knew the Moon Guardian was the oldest and strongest of them all and had powers beyond anyone's comprehension.

He could know things others possibly could not.

The Moon Guardian, observing Boragor's desperate pleas, contemplated for a moment before speaking in his deep, rumbling voice, "On second thought, I am willing to give you another chance. It will show whether you are a disgrace to your own bloodline or not."

Boragor's eyes flickered with a glimmer of hope, but the Guardian's next words sent a shiver down his spine, "But if you fail, all your women will be taken by our clan, and your children put to death as punishment for their chief's failure."

Boragor's throat tightened, and he gulped audibly, the gravity of the ultimatum weighing heavily on him. But he knew it was a common punishment carried out in cases like this.

Nonetheless, he nodded eagerly, kowtowing and expressing his dramatic gratitude, "Thank you for showing me mercy, Great One. I will not fail, even if the seven hells were to swallow our world."

The Moonsayer, clearly skeptical of Boragor's newfound resolve, scoffed and delivered a harsh kick to the werewolf, "Then what the hell are you still doing here?" he growled.

Boragor, not daring to linger a moment longer, nodded hastily and scurried away, his injuries a painful reminder of the consequences of failure.

As Boragor and the Moonsayer departed, a new figure emerged from the shadows.

A short, bald man with yellow skin, round ears, and large gray eyes approached the Moon Guardian.

His smile was wide, revealing all his teeth, "O Great One, the end of your seclusion will surely be causing ripples across our realm within the next few days. I have been waiting patiently all this time, and you never fail to amaze this servant. Your timing couldn't be more perfect," he said, his voice tinged with admiration and intrigue.

The Moon Guardian shifted his gaze towards the man. He hummed deeply, "Orbos..." he said, "Have you prepared what I instructed you all those years ago?"

Orbos nodded with a knowing smile, "Of course. It has already been set in motion."

"Then all we have to do is wait," With these brief words, the Moon Guardian rose from his throne of bones and began to walk away, his figure gradually fading into the mist.

Orbos's lips curved into a knowing smile as he bowed deeply, "Consider it a success already," he proclaimed confidently.