Minutes Earlier
Xain, Clara, and Prince Mark moved swiftly through the streets, angling toward the park where Hittag and Gurion were supposed to be. The city should have been crawling with demons by now, yet the further they went, the more the absence gnawed at them. They encountered resistance, but only in ones and twos—stragglers that rushed them without coordination. Each time, Prince Mark ended the encounter in seconds, the G.E.A.R. responding with silent efficiency before the demons could even slow their pace.
Xain glanced around, unease creeping in. "There should be way more of them," he said quietly. "This feels… off."
Prince Mark did not slow. Another demon burst from an alley, and his right arm shifted smoothly, plating separating just enough for a compact, twin-barreled weapon to slide out along his forearm. It fired once. Superheated, magically reinforced rounds tore through the demon and the wall behind it, leaving nothing but scorched stone. The weapon retracted just as seamlessly.
Xain stared despite himself. "How many weapons does that thing even have?"
Prince Mark gave him a brief sideways glance, eyes never leaving the street ahead. "Six. Eight, if you count overcharged variants as separate systems."
Clara also looked at the G.E.A.R. with wonder, watching the armor move as if it were part of him rather than something worn. "That's way better than my cousin's," she said. "Not that his is bad, but this one just feels… feels different. Better."
"That makes sense," Xain said. "You've got to protect the heir, right?" He hesitated, then added, "Still surprised the King let you become a Noble, though. With how risky the whole operation is and all."
Prince Mark's head tilted a fraction. "You are unusually well informed."
Xain shrugged, a hint of embarrassment creeping in. "I read a lot. You just kind of learn stuff."
Clara looked at him with open amazement. "Just from reading books?"
Xain gave a small, awkward chuckle, but before he could answer, Prince Mark stopped abruptly and raised a hand. Both of them froze at once.
"There," Prince Mark said. "Combat. Multiple sources."
They had reached the edge of the park. Even from here, the distant clash of metal and explosive force carried through the air.
Prince Mark turned to them. "No more caution. You two run straight in. I will advance from above and clear anything in your path."
Jets ignited beneath his boots, controlled and precise, and he lifted off without another word, already angling toward the sounds of battle. Xain and Clara exchanged a glance, then broke into a sprint after him, not stopping to question the order.
Prince Mark flew above the treeline, tracking movement through the G.E.A.R.'s sensors and firing whenever a demon broke from cover and threatened to intercept the others. There were fewer targets than expected. Most of the host was clustered deeper in the park, packed beneath the densest canopy where blind firing would be reckless. Thermal scans gave him fractured silhouettes beneath the leaves, but he could not reliably distinguish demons from Hittag and Gurion.
He cut his thrust and dropped.
Branches shattered as he burst through the canopy, leaves and splintered wood scattering outward as he descended into chaos.
Demons swarmed from every direction, converging on a crude fortress of uprooted trees lashed together into a collapsing barricade. It was failing. Sections were already crushed inward as demons poured through the gaps. At the center, Hittag fought like a living siege engine, using his massive bulk to crush and hurl demons aside, while Gurion moved constantly beside him, striking with precise martial technique wherever he could. It was not enough. For every demon Hittag smashed, four more took its place.
The horde adapted.
Drakoraths forced their way in first, using their size to absorb blows and pin Hittag in place. Sharaykthuns slithered low through the wreckage, their curved blades carving into his legs, cutting tendons and forcing his steps shorter and slower. Imps scrambled over his back, hooked claws biting into exposed gaps as they tried to blind and hamstring him from above. It was brutal, coordinated, and relentless. Gurion fared worse. He was not built to fight demons in numbers, and the press of bodies threatened to drown him outright.
Prince Mark did not hesitate.
His left forearm shifted, plates separating as a long-barreled weapon extended into place. Precision rounds cracked through the air, each shot clean and deliberate. Imps dropped from Hittag's back one after another, skulls punched through before they could react. At the same time, panels along Prince Mark's back slid open, revealing a segmented array of launch ports. Steel, needle-like projectiles fired in controlled bursts, impaling dozens of demons mid-charge and pinning them to trees, roots, and one another.
Hittag and Gurion looked up.
"Finally sent someone to help," Gurion muttered between breaths, ears and tail drooping with exhaustion. "But who is that?"
"Doesn't matter," Hittag replied, forcing himself a step backward despite the blood running down his legs. "Just stay alive."
A shrill, scraping voice cut through the battlefield. "No! No! I was so close to killing them!"
Prince Mark turned.
An imp stood apart from the others—tall for his kind, about four and a half feet, armored, with two horns curving from his skull. His eyes burned with fury as he pointed at Prince Mark. "You tin can! I'll rip you out of that thing like tuna!"
Prince Mark raised his right arm. The compact twin barrels slid into place and fired.
The imp snapped his hand up. A swirling barrier of red energy formed in front of him, stopping the rounds dead. He clenched his fist. The bullets crushed inward, then screamed back toward Prince Mark at even greater speed.
A shield flared into existence around the G.E.A.R., the reflected shots detonating harmlessly against it.
"I see why they warned us about horned demons," Prince Mark remarked evenly.
The imp snarled. "I don't just have horns, tin can! I have a name!" He spread his arms. "It's Insidious! Remember it, because it's the last one you'll hear before you all die!"
They squared off again—
And then the air changed.
The pressure hit first, heavy and suffocating, forcing Prince Mark to lock his stance as every sensor screamed warnings. Insidious froze mid-motion and turned.
"Are they giving you trouble, Insidious?" a calm voice asked from behind him.
A figure stood there now, having simply appeared—Arkanis.
His gaze swept over Hittag, Gurion, and Prince Mark.
"I need to bring him back," the Demon Lord said as power rolled off him in waves, oppressive enough to warp the space around his form.
"So could you all die quickly?"