The Alliance supply depot loomed in the marsh's dusk, its wooden walls creaking under the weight of rain-soaked crates. Ares stood among barrels, the air thick with damp wood and the sour tang of swamp decay.
Dren, broad-shouldered with scarred hands, gripped his greatsword, his eyes narrowing at Ares' low whistle. "What's with the whistling, Ares?" he asked, his voice gruff, laced with suspicion.
Ares chuckled, his gray eyes steady, projecting calm. "Sorry, old habit—whistling keeps the nerves down. Kind of jumpy after those demons nearly got me," he said, flashing a disarming grin.
Dren snorted, his scarred face softening, a smirk tugging his lips. "Demons'll do that to a guy who plans instead of fights, huh? Fair enough."
The air hung heavy, lanterns casting flickering shadows across the depot's stacks. Ares' mind stayed sharp, the whistle signaling his demon team in the reeds.
Dren shifted, eyeing the towering crates of grain and iron. "So, just us two hauling this lot? Where're we even taking it?How will we even move it fast enough to evacuate on time?"
Ares leaned against a barrel, his voice smooth, calculated. "I placed you here in case of this scenario playing out, your skill, Storage, is enough to get everything here packed up in the blink of an eye."
Dren's eyes flickered, testing, his hand tightening on his sword. "Ah, so you know about my skill."
Ares smirked, his composure unshaken, reading Dren's caution like a map. "Ofcourse I know, I did place you here after all."
Dren nodded, his suspicion fading, a grin breaking through. "Alright, you're the real deal, just wanted to make sure you weren't some demon in disguise, they are clever like that after all, let's move this stuff," he said, raising his hand.
A white glow pulsed from Dren's palm, enveloping the crates in a shimmering haze. The supplies collapsed into a fist-sized, glowing ball, its surface pulsing faintly.
Ares watched, his mind steady, noting the skill's efficiency. Perfect Calculation already mapped their escape, getting the ball was his key to victory.
The depot's walls shuddered, a loud boom echoing from outside. Shouts and clashing metal rang through the marsh, the demons striking the guards.
Dren's eyes widened, thrusting the storage ball into Ares' hands. "Hold this—stay back," he barked, his greatsword drawn, rushing toward the door.
Ares tucked the ball into his coat, his steps measured, deliberate. He followed, his senses sharp, analyzing the chaos unfolding outside.
The marsh air stung with decay, lanterns casting weak pools of light. One Alliance guard lay slumped in the mud, another pinned by a demon recruit.
Rithessa stood commanding, her human form striking, bronze skin glowing under her tailored coat. Her amber eyes scanned the scene, her presence a quiet storm.
Irina flanked Ares, her leather coat hugging her lithe frame, emerald eyes alert. "Stay close," she whispered, her voice low, protective, her hand near her dagger.
Ares met her gaze, his voice calm, unwavering. "I've got this—watch for my signal, flank left if it goes south," he said, nodding.
Irina frowned, her fingers brushing his arm, lingering briefly. "Don't be reckless," she said, her tone soft but edged with concern.
Dren charged into the fray, his greatsword blazing with white holy energy. The air crackled, the blade's light slicing through the twilight haze.
Ares slipped behind, Veil of Shadows cloaking his movements, silent as mist. He struck Dren's lower back, a precise hit from Alliance training, forcing the sword to fall.
Dren grunted, the blade clattering into the mud, his body tensing. He spun, eyes wide, but Ares' precision had thrown him off balance.
Rithessa moved like lightning, her human guise shimmering, fading into her demon form. Violet skin gleamed, her third eye blazing, armor clinging to her powerful curves.
Her presence was captivating, her body a blend of strength and allure, magnetic in the lantern's glow. Ares noted it, his mind steady, focused on the fight.
Rithessa raised a clawed hand, dark energy coiling like a serpent. "Crescent Fang," she intoned, unleashing a whip-like arc of shadowy force.
The attack sliced the air, knocking Dren's greatsword further into the mud. He stumbled, crashing into the marshy water with a heavy splash.
The recruits cheered, their human forms fading, revealing horns, claws, and glowing eyes. They reveled in the flawless strike, no losses against a holy knight.
Irina stepped closer, her emerald eyes glinting, her leather outlining her form. "You played him perfectly," she said, her voice warm with admiration.
Ares nodded, the storage ball secure, his mind calculating next steps. The marsh's reeds rustled, hiding their escape route from reinforcements.
Rithessa's third eye glowed, her violet skin catching the flickering light. "Your deception was flawless, strategist," she said, her tone rich with respect.
The air buzzed with the recruits' excitement, their demonic forms vibrant in the dusk. Beating a holy-energy knight without losses was a rare triumph.
Ares scanned the marsh, his senses sharp, Perfect Calculation predicting Dren's resilience. A strong fighter like him wouldn't stay down long.
Water erupted from the marsh, Dren rising, his arms pulsing with white holy energy. His scarred face twisted with rage, betrayed by demons and Ares.
Dren gripped his recovered greatsword, its blade flaring with divine light. "You tricked me, Ares!" he roared, charging through the mud.
Ares stood firm, his gray eyes calm, analyzing Dren's movements. Perfect Calculation mapped the knight's trajectory, predicting a reckless assault.
Irina grabbed Ares' arm, her leather coat hugging her curves tightly. "We need to go, now!" she urged, her emerald eyes wide with concern.
Ares shook his head, his voice steady, commanding. "No one gets left behind, Irina. We finish this together."
Irina hesitated, her hand lingering, her gaze searching his face. She nodded, stepping back, her dagger drawn, ready to guard him.
Rithessa strode forward, her violet skin gleaming, third eye blazing intensely. Her armor, tight against her curves, shimmered as she summoned a whip of dark energy.
The whip crackled, its shadowy tendrils coiling like a living serpent. "Stay back, knight," she warned, her voice deep, resonant with power.
Dren sneered, his holy energy surging, the air buzzing with ozone. He swung his greatsword, its arc slicing toward Rithessa's chest.
Rithessa dodged, her whip lashing out, snapping against Dren's blade. The impact sparked, dark and holy energies clashing in a burst of light.
Mud squelched under their feet, the marsh reeds swaying wildly. Ares watched, his mind calculating angles, weaknesses in Dren's stance.
Rithessa's third eye glowed brighter, her movements fluid, almost dance-like. Her whip struck again, wrapping Dren's arm, yanking him off balance.
Dren roared, breaking free, his sword slashing in a wide arc. The holy light burned, scorching the air, narrowly missing Rithessa's shoulder.
Ares stepped closer, his senses sharp, noting Dren's faltering footwork. The knight's rage was his weakness, clouding his precision.
Irina's breath was warm against Ares' ear, her body close. "He's strong, but sloppy," she whispered, her voice low, steady.
Ares nodded, his mind mapping the fight's flow, unhurried. Perfect Calculation predicted Dren's next swing, a desperate overreach.
Rithessa spun, her whip cracking like thunder, catching Dren's wrist. The dark energy burned, forcing him to stagger, his sword dipping.
Dren's eyes blazed, holy energy flaring, his voice raw with fury. "You demons think you've won? I'll bury you all!"
Rithessa laughed, her violet skin catching the lantern's flicker, alluring and fierce. "You're no match for Crimson Fang," she taunted, her whip coiling tighter.
The air grew heavy, the marsh trembling with their clashing powers. Reeds snapped, mud splashing, as their duel tore through the dusk.
Ares signaled the recruits, their demonic forms lurking in the shadows. They held back, watching Rithessa dominate, their eyes glowing with excitement.
Dren broke free again, his greatsword swinging in a desperate arc. The holy energy flared, grazing Rithessa's armor, tearing a strip across her chest.
Rithessa snarled, her third eye blazing, her demonic aura surging wildly. Her whip pulsed, dark energy coiling into a denser, more potent form.
She leaped high, her violet skin shimmering, her torn armor revealing more curves. The sky darkened, her demonic essence radiating like a storm.
"Crescent Fang!" she roared, her whip transforming into a massive arc of shadowy energy. It descended, a crescent of darkness, slicing through the marsh air.
The attack struck Dren, the force exploding mud and water around him. He screamed, collapsing, his holy energy flickering, his body broken, barely alive.
Rithessa landed, her demonic form enhanced, violet skin glowing, third eye radiant. Her torn armor clung loosely, revealing her chest, a vision of fierce beauty.
Ares observed, his mind steady, noting her enhanced allure. Her curves, accentuated by battle-worn armor, were captivating, yet he remained focused.
Irina's hand brushed his, her leather coat outlining her lithe frame. "She's incredible," she murmured, her voice tinged with awe and pride.
Ares nodded, his gray eyes scanning the fallen Dren. The knight lay in the mud, breath ragged, no longer a threat.
The recruits cheered, their demonic forms vibrant, horns and claws gleaming. They celebrated the victory, a holy knight felled without losses.
Rithessa turned, her third eye dimming, her violet skin catching the lantern's glow. "Your plan worked, strategist," she said, her voice rich with respect.
Ares tucked the storage ball deeper into his coat, his mind already shifting. The Alliance would reel, but their stronghold waited next.
Irina's emerald eyes met his, her protective stance unwavering. "We need to move before reinforcements come," she said, her tone urgent.
Ares nodded, gesturing toward the sigil spot in the field. The group moved, reeds parting, the marsh air thick with lingering ozone.
Rithessa led, her demonic form commanding, her torn armor swaying. Her beauty was undeniable, a blend of power and allure in every step.
The sigil spot glowed faintly, its runes etched into the grass. Rithessa knelt, her claws tracing the symbols, reigniting their crimson fire.
The air hummed, the runes pulsing with ancient magic. Ares felt the familiar weight, the portal's pull stirring in his bones.
Irina stood close, her warmth a contrast to the cold marsh. "Ready?" she asked, her voice soft, her hand brushing his sleeve.
Ares gave a sharp nod, his mind steady, unyielding. The mission was done, but the war was far from over.
Rithessa pressed her palm to the sigil, and a fiery vortex roared to life. The flames engulfed them, pulling the group back to Crimson Fang's depths.