"Ready up, you two. We're nearing the spot from two days ago," the black knight called over his shoulder, his voice low but firm as his pace slowed beneath the thick canopy.
Lennix gave a sharp grin, elbowing Derek lightly. "Stay close to me, Carver. We really don't want another hostage situation on our hands."
Derek let out a theatrical sigh. "Don't worry, I've learned my lesson. I'll cling to you like a bear cub to its mother."
The vampire chuckled, fangs just barely visible in his smirk. "You really did spend all that time practicing sarcastic one-liners in your room."
Derek gave a dramatic bow. "And you spend yours brooding in front of a mirror or whatever it is vampires do in their free time."
Lennix laughed again, but then looked down at his hands as they walked, flexing his fingers thoughtfully. "So... what do you think?" he asked, glancing at the black knight. "Should I go claws or those new knuckles? I've been practicing with both."
Up ahead, the black knight came to a stop. Shadows pooled tighter around him as his massive greatsword formed in one fluid conjure in his grip. He didn't look back as he answered.
"Why not both?"
Lennix blinked. He stopped walking, as if hit by divine revelation. "Holy shit, you're right."
Without hesitation, his hands began to shift—his right hand morphed as his fingers turned into long claws, sharp and black as obsidian, while the knuckles on his left thickened into jagged plates of hardened bone, rough and ridged like iron-studded stone.
"Why didn't I think of that before?" he muttered, holding them both up like a kid with brand new toys.
Behind him, Derek shook his head, clearly amused. *Goddess, his stupidity is somehow... endearing,* he thought, then looked to the black knight. "Well, I don't have much prep work. I think we're good to go."
The knight gave a small nod. "Alright, then. Let's do this."
The three of them stepped into the forest, moving through the underbrush toward the area where the demon had first clawed up through the ground. The trees above were quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves. Roots jutted up from the forest floor like twisted bones.
"Hope the ground doesn't collapse under us," Lennix muttered, watching his footing carefully.
"I doubt it tunneled that much," Derek said, though the last word came with a soft, practiced, nervous chuckle. "Hopefully."
"Real reassuring," Lennix shot back.
The black knight suddenly raised a hand, halting them.
"Quiet," he said. His tone was sharper now, focused. "Do you feel that?"
Lennix paused, scanning the area with sharpened senses. "Feel what? I don't feel anything. It's just birds and trees out here."
"I think I feel something," Derek lied smoothly. He didn't think—he knew exactly what it was. "Might be something only magic users can pick up on," he added, tone calm and convincing.
The knight hummed low in his throat. "They're disguising the portal. Some kind of illusion." He narrowed his gaze as he turned, eyes locking on something. "Luckily," he added, "I know a thing or two about illusions."
They followed as he approached two ordinary-looking trees. Nothing marked them—no runes, no shimmer, no distortion. Just bark, moss, and shade. Still, the black knight stepped between them without hesitation, crossing the space like it was a threshold.
And just like that—the illusion dropped.
The world shifted.
For a heartbeat, everything warped—colors bled into each other, the edges of trees and sky smeared like wet paint, and the light itself twisted unnaturally. Then, all at once, clarity snapped back into place with a crackling hum of displaced magic.
The black knight, Lennix, and Derek now stood in a clearing suffocated by ash and corruption. The air was hot, heavy, tainted with the acrid stench of sulfur and burning rot. At the center of the clearing loomed a portal—not just another ragged tear like the others scattered across Aetheria. This one was constructed.
A massive obsidian arch framed it, black stone veined with pulsing red runes that shimmered like molten lava. The portal itself swirled violently, a storm of crimson and violet energy contained unnaturally within the arched frame. It pulsed like a heartbeat—alive.
And surrounding it... were demons.
Not a scouting party. Not a skirmish force. An army.
Dozens upon dozens. No—hundreds. All different shapes and sizes, their twisted forms forming a loose camp. Some were stacking dark crates. Others sharpened weapons or muttered in foul tongues. And woven among them were at least two dozen horned demons—whose sheer presence made the ground seem heavier.
The three of them froze.
Even Derek, for all his control, felt his breath catch. His eyes widened in genuine disbelief. "Wha—what is this?" he breathed.
"There's... there's so many of them," Lennix murmured beside him, voice barely audible.
"Too many," the black knight said, low and grim, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his shadow greatsword. "Way too many for us to face alone."
Then the demons stopped what they were doing.
One by one, heads turned. Clawed fingers twitched. Blades were drawn. The stares of over a hundred twisted eyes locked on the intruders—and the tension was instant. All three of them braced, and Derek readied himself. The time for pretending had passed—if he didn't use his true power now, Lennix and the black knight would die.
Then—
"Hold."
The voice cut through the air like a blade.
Instantly, the demons froze. Then, like trained soldiers, they stepped back and aligned into rigid files, forming rows along either side of a central path.
A figure walked through the gap.
He was tall, built like a fortress, clad in black plate armor from head to toe. A longsword was slung at his hip, a kite shield strapped across his back. Every step he took was slow and deliberate, the metal of his boots clinking softly against the corrupted ground. His presence radiated purpose, discipline, command.
When he reached the center, he stopped a few paces from them.
"We are not scheduled to invade yet," the knight said, voice calm, deep, and unwavering. "As a knight, I will abide by honor—and grant you the chance to leave with your lives."
He lifted a hand, gauntleted fingers poised.
"Go. Prepare your defenses. Meet us again with proper blades drawn and your courage intact. Give us a battle worthy of song—not a slaughter."
Then he snapped his fingers.
A violent gust of wind exploded outward from him. The force struck like a hammer, slamming into the trio and hurling them back. The world twisted again as they were thrown from the clearing—and then the illusion reformed around the space, sealing it once more in forest and silence.
The three of them hit the ground hard just outside the hidden clearing, coughing and stunned.
Derek sat up first, brushing dust from his robes. "I think it would be best if we do as he said," he offered dryly, this was a positive for him even with what he'd just seen.
Lennix nodded rapidly. "Yeah. Yeah. I really agree. Like, I've never agreed with anything harder in my entire life and unlife combined."
The black knight got to his feet slowly, letting the greatsword dissolve into black mist. "As a fellow knight," he said, definitely not rattled in the slightest—no, his hands certainly weren't shaking—"we should be grateful for his... honor."
He looked toward the others.
"And get the hell out of here. Now."
Without saying another word, the three turned and began their retreat, moving quickly through the trees—heading back to the village to prepare for war.