With a single, clean swipe of his right arm—which he had seamlessly morphed into a massive, sharp blade—the final demon went down in a heap. The tall man let out a small sigh. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he slung the thick blood from the steel before morphing his limb back into normal flesh and bone.
"Why do they keep attacking? Is it because they sense me?" he wondered aloud. His scarlet red eyes coldly surveyed the carnage scattered around the edge of the village. A full dozen demons had gathered here today.
"Two drakoraths, seven imps, and three reylfs. They've been coming with a lot more variety than at first," he remarked. He closed his eyes for a moment, his mind wandering back to exactly a month ago. That was when he first felt the massive portals to his birthplace tear open across Aetheria.
At first, nothing happened; no demons had come to the village. Then, after a few days, a small scouting group of imps appeared. Days later, a much bigger group arrived. As the month dragged on, significantly stronger demons started trickling in, culminating in the diverse dozen he had just slaughtered today. Zalathor opened his eyes, letting a cool breeze blow through his golden blonde hair.
"I should head back to Wolfdale," he muttered to himself. He turned his back on the corpses, preparing to leave.
He only took a single step before grinding to a halt. A distinct rustling echoed from the dense bushes of the surrounding forest. Without hesitation, Zalathor quickly re-morphed his right arm back into a lethal blade, fully prepared to fight again.
"Ple-please! Don't! Don't attack, master!" a pathetic, scratchy voice shrieked. A trembling imp with a single, half-broken horn stumbled out from the undergrowth, its scrawny arms raised high in absolute surrender.
Zalathor immediately leveled his bladed arm directly at the creature's chest. "What do you want, and why did you call me master?" he demanded, keeping his tone perfectly even and terrifyingly calm.
"I-I don't have a n-name yet! And only one br-broken horn, master! I-I can't harm you, so please don't attack!" the imp stammered in terror.
Zalathor took a slow, menacing step closer, causing the small demon to violently flinch backward. "I will not harm you if you actually answer my questions," he told it.
Upon hearing this, the miserable creature immediately threw itself into the dirt, groveling frantically at his feet. "W-we just sensed an incredibly powerful d-demonic ener-energy and came drawn to it, master! W-we didn't w-wish to e-enrage you!"
Zalathor listened in silence, taking a deep, measured breath before smoothly morphing his arm back into its normal form. "So that is what you were all attempting?" he asked.
The imp nodded its head rapidly against the dirt. "Y-yes, master! We didn't wish to anger you at all, m-master!"
Zalathor shook his head slowly. "Stop calling me master. I am not an Inner Demon like you."
The imp looked up, its wide eyes flashing with sudden shock and horror. "Y-yo-you aren't one master?" it muttered. Panic instantly taking over, the creature scrambled backward, kicking up dirt as it crawled away until its spine hit hard against a thick tree trunk. "Ple-please do-don't kill me or eat me, Outer One! I-I will leave! I'll tell all the others to do the s-same! I-I have s-some sway over them t-to do so!"
Zalathor stared at the trembling creature for a long moment before tilting his head slightly. "No, no. That's not what I want you to do."
He calmly closed the short distance the imp had just made, kneeling down to look directly into its terrified eyes. "What I want you to do is bring every single demon you know right here, to this forest."
The imp shook uncontrollably. "S-so you can k-kill us all? Please, w-we don't want to die!" it screeched.
Zalathor shook his head again, his tone remaining completely even and factual. "I don't want to kill you all. I want to change you. But if you don't do as I ask, then I will have to continue to kill all of you. Understood?"
The imp blinked, genuine confusion briefly overriding its panic. "Chan-change us?" it asked. It didn't dwell on the thought for long, however; this was a guaranteed way to stay alive. "O-okay! Whatever you wish, O-Outer One!"
With that, the imp suddenly shrank down, morphing its form into a small brown squirrel before quickly scurrying away into the dense underbrush.
Zalathor watched it disappear with mild curiosity. "That was... abnormal," he remarked softly.
Shifting his attention, he looked around the quiet, sprawling forest. "I should prepare for their arrival."
He raised his hands, seamlessly morphing both of his arms into heavy, sharp axes. Stepping over to the nearest thick trunk, he got straight to work on the very first step of his plan to change the demons.