Chapter 74:  the Demon’s Final Gift

Mayra raised her voice in righteous fury.
“Foul demon, shut your stinking maw and return to the hell you crawled from. It’s over.”

The demon laughed again—but this time, it was the mad laughter of desperation.

“Over? No… not until all of you are dead!”

It raised its clawed hand to the sky—then, in a grotesque twist, plunged it into its own chest.

SHLUNK!
For a moment, Curtis  simply stared, puzzled.

But Mayra’s expression changed instantly.

SHREEEEEE!
Her staff of light shot forth like a bolt from the gods themselves.

THUD!
The beam speared through the demon’s heart a second time, sending its body flying before it slammed into the air-bound chains holding it in place.

Though the demon now hung limp like a skewered beast upon Mayra’s radiant staff—swinging absurdly in the air—it showed no concern for its grotesque display. From its wounds, where blood might have once spilled, surged something far fouler: thick, pulsing tongues of black fire, ominous and alive.

Thwack! Thwack!
Lances of light rained down relentlessly, embedding themselves into its body with divine fury. Yet with every strike, the seeping fire only swelled, as though feeding off the very blows meant to quell it.

“Yes, strike me down—do your worst!” the demon mocked, voice thick with cruel amusement. “This is all your feeble power can manage, is it not?”

“Delly! Lilia!”
Mayra, ignoring the taunt, called out urgently.

“Pull the strike team back! Now!”
“Wh-what?!”
“Into the mist—immediately!”
“Y-yes, understood!”

“Lord Curtis ! Subdue Lord Moritz—with full force!”
“As you command.”

By now, even the Brutan warriors understood that Moritz was far beyond redemption. There was no longer any need to tread carefully around the matter. Curtis , unburdened, summoned the full wrath of his magic.

Moritz, who had stood silently all this time, finally stirred. In answer to Curtis ’s advancing magic, he conjured his own fire—and the duel began.

BOOM! CRACKLE!
With both the spirit and mage now attacking in concert, it should have been a one-sided battle. Moritz, surrounded and outgunned, ought to have crumbled.

And yet, slowly, steadily… he began to push back.

At first it seemed a trick of the eye—a fluke. Was he holding back until now? No, that would be madness. In such a moment, only a fool would toy with restraint.

No—this wasn’t deception. This was power growing.
His magic was amplifying.

“Be cautious, Lord Curtis !” Mayra called as she hurled another spear of light.
“The demon has offered itself as sacrifice!”

“What?”
“It’s relinquishing its borrowed form—returning all its strength to the contractor!”

“But why?!”
Such altruism was not the way of demons. Their contracts were never generous—at best, a compromise, at worst, an exquisite trap.

“Why, you ask?!” the demon howled, its form now engulfed entirely in writhing black fire, white lances jutting out of its charred body like bones through torn flesh. Still, it screamed with unbroken fury.

“It is a gift, child! A final gift for the one who cast aside your scornful mockery of strength!”

“This is how far you’ll go just to spite me?”
The demon laughed, wild and jubilant.
“Until we meet again—if you’re still alive! KHAHAHAHAH!!”

And with that, it detonated.
The black flames exploded outward in a cataclysmic burst, tearing through the air and devouring its own corpse. There was no body left to bury—only ashes and silence.

And then—

FOOOOOOOOSH!
From Moritz’s core, a wave of searing flame surged outward like a living tide, incinerating everything in its path. The very earth—once soaked in mud—was scorched dry in an instant.

“What the hell is that?!”

Curtis  stared in horror as his aqueous spells—entire torrents of conjured water—were vaporized before his eyes. The fire hadn’t just grown stronger. It had transcended.

“Even after the purification… and it’s still that powerful?!”
Mayra bit her lip in frustration.

Even a fake, a mere projection of a demon, was still a demon. And demons were tenacious. Even a bishop couldn’t destroy one in a single strike. Despite spear after spear driven into it, the beast had refused to fall until the miracle of light weakened it.

Could anyone truly blame Mayra? How could she have predicted this? That the very man who’d summoned the church would be its greatest betrayer? That a demon would—against all logic—sacrifice itself for a mortal?

A projection could be cast off and abandoned. But to relinquish its power instead of reclaiming it… no demon made that choice lightly.

Just how deeply had it come to hate Curtis ?

And yet, none of this was Curtis ’s fault.

“Is there no way to stop this?”
“That kind of power doesn’t last long,” Mayra said. “Endure it, and—”

She never finished.

KRA-KA-BOOM!
The ground where she had stood erupted in a fiery blast. She barely managed to hurl herself aside before the explosion swallowed the space entirely.

“Urgh!”
“Gah!”

Even at a distance, the shockwave struck her like a warhammer. Mayra was thrown into the air, spinning helplessly before crashing to the ground.

Curtis , too, took the hit. The explosion tore apart nearly half the wall of water surrounding his spirit, sending him stumbling. He would’ve fallen—had the spirit not caught him like a living shield.

The heat, the pressure, the raw force—it was worse than before. Even Curtis  groaned, the pain searing through his limbs.

Can I even survive this…?

The spirit was already working to repair itself, tendrils of water knitting walls anew. Thankfully, no follow-up strike came. Perhaps that devastating blast had required more time, more power.

If I dismiss the spirit, I lose my only buffer. But if I stay still, I’m a sitting target. I’m not agile enough to dodge that fire. I need… I need a way to disrupt his casting.

Ideas raced through Curtis ’s mind like lightning. Then—something clicked.

It might not work. But it was better than waiting to burn.

“Your Grace!” he cried out.

Across the field, Mayra—already rising to her feet—met his eyes.

“Attack from the flank! Or behind—just keep him pressured from a distance!”

She nodded, and without hesitation, vanished into motion.

Under normal circumstances, she might have attempted close combat. But Moritz, now transformed by demonic fire, was far stronger than before. Getting too close meant death.

Fortunately, Mayra’s Miracle of Radiance gave her range. Like a divine archer, she would strike from afar.

Curtis  turned to his spirit.
“Aim for the ground.”

The spirit did not hesitate. Where once its torrents had blasted directly at Moritz, they now raked the earth, churning the soil and sending mud and stone flying.

The ravine was full of loose rock, but not barren—beneath the stones, there was dirt. The blasts tore open the ground, unveiling muddy terrain and spraying debris in all directions.

“He cloaks flame in shadow… targeting wherever his eyes fall,” Curtis  murmured to himself.

With a sharp command, he guided the streams of muddy water, weaving them with precision.

A wave of filthy, turbulent slurry rose high—then surged toward Moritz like a crashing tsunami.

“Let’s see you detonate that without seeing where it lands.”