Originus was quiet. For once, the ancient dragon had no immediate quip or sharp remark, only thought.
'Demon?' The word echoed in his mind, strange and unfamiliar. He had lived since before the first realms had stabilized, yet this term felt like something alien, something that did not belong to the natural order of existence.
Leon, still catching his breath, pressed a hand to his temple. His senses were slowly clearing, and with them came clarity. The corruption inside him twisted, writhed, then settled, it was familiar yet foreign. He analyzed its flow, the texture of its essence, and after a long silence, he exhaled sharply.
"No," he said at last, his voice low but firm. "Calling it a demon is too far-fetched… it felt like she was on the verge of becoming one."
The thought sent a chill through him, deep into his marrow.
