Azareth

Doom was everywhere. The surface had turned into a hellscape, with fires erupting simultaneously across the land. The breach that had been opened — allowing the horde of demons to pour through — had sealed humanity's fate from the very start. And the blame lay entirely with one person: someone who had sought to change the way the world worked to spare others from suffering his own fate, but who, in the end, had only made matters worse.

It was quite windy now; Cliff woke up, his hair whipping violently in the wind. They were in the sky, traveling by plane.

Another dream...?

Troyka: "Sorry for waking you! I just needed to reopen the shield to replenish my breather's air supply!"

It was difficult to hear the boy, even when he screamed into the wind. The shield slowly closed again. He enjoyed the brief moment of chaos as it distracted him from the inevitable negative thoughts.

You have nothing to apologize for, Troyka...

Troyka: "Oh, and Cliff — thanks for getting these power cells for me! This one lasts way longer than the small ones!"

He pointed to the aircraft's interface, where the heavy power cell was inserted.

Troyka: "You know, not having my dad's help actually improves my performance! I'm learning much faster on my own! So... thanks for that too, I guess?"

What...? You're thanking me for effectively killing your father? How does that mind of yours work?

Troyka: "That's it — my breather is full! You can take another nap; we're still only halfway there!"

The shield finally closed, shutting out the roaring wind outside. Cliff closed his eyes, trying to focus inward.

My name is Cliff Cypher... I am not a demon, nor anyone else... I am Lily’s father and Martha’s husband... I haven’t lived any other life... I am just... myself...

He took a deep breath, reassuring himself that everything would be fine. If he forgot who he was, even for a second, another existential crisis would take hold of him. He couldn't sleep well in his bed because of the nightmares and the headache; so, now that he had a moment of peace, he could finally rest. He fell asleep and, this time, had no dreams.

It was complete silence. A soft voice woke him, gently nudging him. "Cliff..." the boy called out.

Troyka: "Cliff? Are you awake?"

The man slowly opened his eyes, feeling refreshed.

Troyka: "Ah, there you go! I've never seen you this calm, Cliff. I'm glad you could get some rest."

Cliff clutched his throat, somewhat uncomfortable.

Troyka: "Are you thirsty too? We've been flying for hours..."

The boy jumped from the aircraft, stretching his back. Cliff did the same, lazily.

Troyka: "I'm finally getting used to the surface."

Cliff looked around; it was the kind of place he had never been to before. There were buildings everywhere — like in a city — but they weren't made of metal, like those in the capital of Siffren. They had a different architectural style: less extravagant, more practical and brutalist. They were made mostly of clay and stone.

They had landed in an open area, however. There were other creatures there — mostly small dragons and rhinoceroses — but they didn't seem to mind the pair's presence. They reacted as if it were an everyday occurrence. A lizardman mounted one of the dragons and took flight. 

Troyka: "So... we're right in front of the place the card mentions."

He pointed to the massive wall beside them, but Cliff only just noticed it. Some creatures and demi-humans were walking toward the large entrance.

What is this...?

Troyka: "The place is still a little empty because we're early. Wanna go grab a snack? We still have one gold coin."

Cliff nodded. Troyka led the way, twirling the key to his aircraft. Then he suddenly froze, dramatically clutching his head.

Troyka: "Wait a minute — Siffren's currency doesn't work here!"

Wait, really? I've never been particularly keen on money...

Troyka: "Aw, shucks... But don't worry, I have an idea!"

He pointed enthusiastically at the giant wall.

Troyka: "Let's win the tournament! That'll get us loads of Azareth coins!"

Let me guess: I'm going to do all the work...

Troyka: "Let's get you registered! I'm sure there's at least one receptionist who speaks our language!"

They passed through the entrance; many demi-humans crossed paths with them, catching their scent but making no further interaction. Upon sensing Cliff's strange aura, they cast hostile glances his way. A large crocodile-man stood imposingly, looking down at everyone who entered. Troyka smiled innocently at him. The creature pointed at his backpack.

The boy feigned innocence, turning his gaze back to his obvious device. The security guard gestured for him to hand it over. Troyka froze, unsure of what to do. Slowly, he turned his back to walk away.

Troyka: "Cliff, it's all up to you now."

"Hold on!" a female voice shouted, making the boy tremble and freeze in his tracks. The owner of the voice approached them. It was the cat-girl who had encountered them in the town of Siffren. She posed elegantly, like a predator trying to seduce its prey.

Troyka: "Oh, it's you..."

"What kind of reaction is that?!" she blurted out dramatically. "You just got here and you already want to leave? What's the matter?"

The boy pointed at the crocodile-man with a scared expression.

Troyka: "That big, scary monster wants my backpack..."

"Him?" She turned to look at her coworker. "What do you mean, he wants your backpack? Oh, wait, I get it... He’s just the security guard. When I saw you yesterday, you were also wearing that mask." She pointed to his apparatus. " Do you need it to breathe?"

Troyka: "Y-Yes..."

The cat-girl knelt down and affectionately stroked his head. "In that case, you can come in," she said in a soft, comforting voice. The boy's eyes shone brightly.

Troyka: "Really?! Thank you, miss!"

She stood up and gave a thumbs-up to the crocodile-man, who merely snorted and looked away. "So..." she continued, "shall we get going? Let's get the two of you registered."

Troyka: "Oh, I'm not going to participate; I'm just going to watch."

"Whatever suits you best," the cat-girl assured as she led the way. She hopped onto a counter and pointed to a clipboard. "Please sign your name here."

Cliff wrote his name as instructed. "Well, you can wait here until your first match starts," she announced, "or you can go out for a bit, because there's still plenty of time."

They walked along the cobblestone streets, trying to appreciate the local architecture. The boy wore a smile, seemingly enjoying the trip.

Troyka: "I don't want to sound condescending, but this place seems a bit underdeveloped."

Is that your first impression? This looks good compared to Siffren's capital... and much less polluted, too.

Troyka: "You know what? I don't think I'm hungry enough to try these people's food... Our digestive systems probably can't process it properly, because it wasn't made for us. Well, my system, at least..."

Are you sure? I mean, it can't taste that bad... but I'm used to eating weird stuff to survive...

They walked around some more, until the boy got tired.

Troyka: "There isn't much to explore here. Shall we head back?"

The kid headed to the arena stands in search of an empty seat. Meanwhile, Cliff made his way to the preparation room. Before they entered, the cat-girl announced, "You may use any type of weapon, as long as the judges deem it balanced for everyone."

It was dark. The smell was... exotic, to say the least. Cliff sat on a bench while various creatures conversed among themselves; some were talking about him. He felt slightly uncomfortable, as he wasn't used to being the subject of conversation, but he was too preoccupied with other thoughts. He could feel his demonic side demanding to take control. If he stayed there for a few more minutes, maintaining his composure might prove difficult.

So it is the dark...

His hands trembled as he got increasingly anxious. He had never had to prove himself for a crowd before. It was his first competition. He was repeatedly tapping his feet on the ground, impatient.

Suddenly, the gates opened, bathing the dark room in sunlight. Cliff felt his consciousness refocus.

"Are you ready, warriors?" a female voice echoed in his mind.

Where is it coming from...?

"Now, step inside the arena, everyone!" she ordered in a triumphant tone.

The creatures left the dark room one by one; Cliff followed them, somewhat hesitantly. The crowd cheered at the sight of them. Some of the creatures were too large to walk through the gate, so they had to stoop. The most imposing one was a tall, blue-skinned troll holding a wooden club.

Cliff stepped onto the grass—it was a biome he was accustomed to. The arena was a massive playground featuring three environments: plains, a taiga forest, and a desert. A translucent barrier separated the warriors from the stands. For some strange reason, when Troyka fixed his gaze on his friend, he could see him clearly, as if he were close by.

"Now then, let's remind everyone of the rules!" the voice shouted, loud and clear. "You may use any methods to win, including teaming up! However, the only winner will be the last one standing! Have fun!"

Any methods, huh...? I wonder if this means fighting for the death...

The gates slowly closed, plunging the arena into silence. The sound of metal bars and chains served as a countdown. Cliff’s demonic heart pounded faster and faster until the gate finally shut.

Before he could even assess each nearby opponent, the troll struck him with its wooden club, hitting him from the side and breaking his right arm. His body was hurled across the terrain, bouncing off the grass before finally coming to a halt. The club shattered on impact, sending splinters of wood piercing into Cliff's skin.

He was in immense pain, yet he could not afford a moment's distraction. He rose using his demonic arm, slowly focusing on transforming his body. A carapace emerged from his left arm and covered his torso just before a rain of arrows poured down. He rolled to the side, grabbing an arrow and firing it back — but missing the elf archers who had targeted him.

They're really teaming up, huh?

The troll closed the distance and threw a punch, striking Cliff in the stomach with full force. His armor gave way slightly under the impact of the fist. He was sent flying once more, his body hurtling into the taiga. After crashing through dozens of trees, he finally came to a halt. He clutched his stomach, feeling nauseous. The troll approached again, but Cliff’s senses were now heightened by his survival instincts. The creature threw another punch.

He grabbed the creature's fist and crushed it completely. The monster tried to bite him, but he was faster, delivering a side kick to his opponent's head that shattered the skull — his leg was already protected by armor. The troll was hurled through the trees before crashing into the snow. As soon as the creature rose, clearly wounded, Cliff drove his fist into its heart, absorbing its life force. His human arm healed and was covered by the armor.

A piercing screech left him stunned. He turned to look; the sound was coming from the sky. It was a gigantic bird of prey spiraling down, poised to strike him with full force. Unable to move effectively, he tried to block the attack with his arms. The impact and pressure, however, tore through his limbs before hitting his chest and stopping, with the beak embedded in them.

He forced his arms apart, tearing the creature in half. A fireball struck him from the side, shoving him back a few meters. He turned to look at the attacker: a wizard in a purple hood. The figure raised its head, revealing itself to be a skeleton with red eyes. The wizard caused the book he was holding to float, its pages turning automatically. A fireball grew before the creature until it was launched, incinerating and destroying everything in its path.

Cliff dodged to the side and leapt toward the mage, grabbing his arm and launching himself into the air. He spun the wizard’s body in mid-air before hurling him into two armies of blue-skinned, white-haired demi-humans. They were fighting each other, fielding both swordsmen and archers. The skeleton's body served as a projectile, skidding across the snow and taking out a small portion of the troops from both armies.

Cliff landed beside them, sizing up each opponent. He was beginning to lose control of his own mind.

I would prefer not to kill anyone, but it's the only way to win... and they knew they would be in danger if they participated in this tournament...

They fired arrows at him, which he dodged, running around them faster and faster. His arms were still damaged.

I need to heal... I'm sorry... but it's not my fault that you came here, knowing you could die at any moment...

Cliff forced his demonic wings to emerge from his back; writhing in pain, he managed to do so without losing consciousness. He lined up the armies and flew through the ranks, tearing off the heads of those in his path with the palm of his hand and stealing their life force. Then, he landed in the snow and repeated the feat until he had finished them all off.

He stopped, exhausted and nauseous.

I didn't want to do this... I'm not a bad person, am I?

He clutched his head, conflicted.

Am I doing this right...? Am I doing the right thing?

He refused to grow his helmet, afraid of completely losing control. While he was distracted, a small blue dragon dove from the sky and bit Cliff by the hair, lifting him off the ground and taking flight. To keep him from struggling, the creature spun as it flew, leaving him disoriented. Just as he tried to cut his own hair — which had been strengthened by the nature of his body — the dragon released him and clamped its jaws around his torso, forcing him downward.

Cliff repeatedly punched the creature until he finally used his claws to pierce its hardened scales and begin absorbing its life force; The dragon then broke free and fell onto a mound of sand in the desert as it landed at a lower level. The beast struggled to rise, for it was severely wounded.

Another imposing figure emerged, silhouetted against the sun. It had the body of a horse but the upper half of a human. It was a centaur. Wielding a gigantic spear, it struck the sand, making the ground tremble. The creature stabbed the wounded dragon with its weapon, forcing a shriek from the beast before it fell silent.

Cliff stood up, bracing himself. He waited for the centaur to make the first move, and that is exactly what happened. The half-human began to run in circles around him, steadily picking up speed. Now, Cliff was the one being hunted. The creature’s speed became so great that he could no longer track it with his eyes. 

A sand-whirl was forming as the centaur stepped onto the sand to change direction and charge at him. He had no time to react other than to step back, suffering only a scratch on his cheek from the spear, which had an incandescent blade.

The beast made a wide turn, kicking up sand in its path that served as a smokescreen. Arrows flew toward him, but he dodged them by leaping and performing backflips. The centaur took aim and hurled its spear. Cliff narrowly escaped; the spear grazed his hair and pierced a massive sand dune behind him. A huge hole opened up, displacing a vast amount of sand.

The creature slammed its body against him, dragging him across the sand and over several dunes until they collided with the arena wall, unleashing a powerful shockwave. The barrier, however, was sturdy enough to withstand virtually any type of impact from within. Cliff shoved the centaur away with his legs using all his strength, sending it crashing violently onto the sand.

He rose slowly, the beast poised to charge again. Something, however, struck the creature from behind, cleaving its body in two. The approaching silhouette moved with such speed and violence that Cliff barely managed to dodge; the shockwave from the impact against the barrier sent him flying. The invisible wall wavered for a moment.

The same figure lunged at him again before he could recover, forcing him to resort to a desperate measure: a full transformation. The approaching missile tore through every dune in its path. Cliff quickly took flight, veering away from the path of destruction. Upon reaching the plains, the creature dug its leg and arm into the grass to slow down.

Cliff could finally catch a glimpse on that figure: it was a brute, sturdy minotaur. The creature stared up, locking eyes with him, and then began to charge and leap in his direction. He tried to dodge again, but the monster roared, causing him to lose his balance and become dazed. The monster grabbed his torso with a huge hand and hurled him to the ground, creating a massive crater in the grass.

He tried to break free, but the creature was too strong. It continued to crush him, breaking his bones, until he bit the monster's hand and grabbed one of its horns, snapping it off. He used the sharp tip to strike the beast in the eye, as the rest of its hide was too tough to penetrate. The creature recoiled in pain, clutching its eye.

Another volley of arrows rained down, striking the minotaur but dealing no damage whatsoever. Cliff rolled aside to dodge the projectiles, his bones still broken. The beast turned and went after the elven archers before shifting its attention back to the wounded half-demon.

He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline surging. The minotaur glared at him, bracing to charge at full speed. Cliff’s demonic wings were tattered, leaving him unable to fly. The monster scraped its hoof back and forth across the grass. It roared again, stunning the human and forcing him to cover his ears. The beast charged forward, striking him with its horn.

They crossed several mounds of earth before Cliff gripped the creature’s head with one hand and its horn with the other, slowing its momentum. He headbutted the creature with his hard-shelled helmet, striking with such force that the helmet shattered. Then, he tore off its nose with his demonic teeth, devouring it to restore his life force. Finally, he fired two massive purple laser beams from his hands, obliterating everything for a great distance.

The threat had finally vanished. Cliff fell to his knees, vomiting blood. He braced his arm against the ground while clutching his chest, feeling his heart throbbing. He felt so nauseous that the world was spinning around him. He couldn't move whatsoever.

What was that thing...? What did I... do...?

He fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Look how feeble he is..." a sinister voice echoed in his mind. It belonged to someone he had heard before. It was a void of absolute darkness; a woman was sitting in mid-air. "It is almost... exhilarating to see a mortal strive so hard and yet... never achieve greatness..."

Cliff’s mind plunged into darkness. An infinite ocean of emptiness engulfed his vision until he blinked, and everything turned white. Now, a pink-skinned female demon with white hair stood where the woman in the suit had been. She smiled sadistically; the black sclera of her red eyes gave her an ethereal appearance. Her horns and ponytail gave her a resemblance to humans, but in a deceptive way.

Pandora...

Cliff dredged the name up from the back of his mind. It had been deeply buried, but it surfaced after years of being pushed aside.

Or... Primordia...?

A second name surfaced, but Cliff wasn't sure of its origin. He hadn't known he was holding onto that memory.

He woke up suddenly, gasping for air, as if he were drowning. His vision slowly adjusted to the bright sunlight until he made out the figure of a woman watching him from a kneeling position, a smirk playing on her lips. "Hey you, you're finyally awake," she said, mimicking a cat. She looked a lot like the cat-girl he had met earlier.

I can understand her...?

Her hair was divided into green, red, and yellow sections. She wore a black outfit and a top hat, sported white gloves, and held a black-and-white wand in one hand. She looked like a magician — even more so than the other cat-girl. Her smile closed in the middle, like a feline's. "Did the nyat bite your tongue?" she asked, awaiting an answer.

What kind of accent is that? I can't understand a thing...

Cliff looked around, trying to recognize where he was. He was lying in the same spot where he had passed out.

"Confused? Awestruck?" she teased. "Nyou flatter me! You deserve a prize for surprising even the great Cabbit!"

Cabbit...? Are you the...

His eyes widened in surprise. She laughed at his reaction and gave his nose a playful tap. "Yes, I am the great Nyabbit!" she declared playfully. "I'm here because you're the last one left standing. Well, the last one left lying down, at least..."

She stood up and held out her hand to help him up. He accepted the help hesitantly.

Cabbit: "So, tell me your nyame, warrior!"

He knelt down and wrote his name in the dirt.

Cabbit: "Cliff?"

She tilted her head, and a question mark appeared beside her. Cliff thought he was seeing things, so he waved the image away, making it vanish into thin air.

Cabbit: "I don't understand the need to write on the ground, nyan... Let me hear your voice, challenger!"

He pointed to his throat and wagged his index finger, signaling that he couldn't speak. She stroked her chin thoughtfully as she looked upward. Then, a lightbulb appeared over her head just as she pointed a finger in the air, smiling.

Cabbit: "Oh, you can't speak! Well, nyow you can. Say your nyame out loud!"

Cliff: "Goodness gracious, I'm tired of hearing so many 'nyans'!"

Cabbit: "Nyan? It's my charm!"

Cliff took a moment to realize that the cat-girl had understood what he’d said. And that his voice was normal this time — without that demonic tone. He stared at her as if he had just seen a ghost.

Cabbit: "Did the nyat bite your tongue again?"

They exchanged glances for a while, until Cliff fully grasped what had happened. He scratched his forehead, thinking of the right words to say after so much time being a mute.

Cliff: "Why add 'nyan' to 'cat'? Isn't that redundant?"

Cabbit: "Nyan?"

Silence reigned as the two stared awkwardly at each other.

Cliff: "So I can speak now? How?"

Cabbit: "A magician never reveals their tricks! That's how magic works, nyan!"

Cliff: "So it was magic?"

Cabbit: "Nya— I got caught!"

It was that easy...?

They fell silent again, trying to find the next thing to say without sounding strange.

Cliff: "Listen, I have plenty of requests. Can we talk about them in private?"

Cabbit: "In p-private?! Nya! You could have said that sooner!"

"Wait a moment," said an approaching male voice. "Please." They turned to look at the man. He was a red-haired gentleman with slicked-back hair and bronze armor. He wielded a glowing red sword. "If I may, I would like to duel you, the current tournament winner." He knelt as a sign of respect, smiling serenely.

What is a human doing here? Is he from Siffren?

Cliff: "Who are you?"

Cabbit: "He's the winner of last year's tournament."

"Abn—" he cut himself off, quickly rephrasing. "I mean, Cabbit — please, allow me to introduce myself." He straightened his posture, touching his chest with one hand. "I am Gusttav the Third, Crown Prince of Simmel." He blew across his hand, sending a cloud of pink petals into the air.

Where did they come from...?

He brushed aside a few petals with a gesture, showing slight discomfort.

I can understand him too... He must be from Siffren.

Cliff: "Simmel? What's that?"

Cabbit: "It's the nation we're in right now."

I thought it was called Azareth... Wait, that's the name of the continent, dumbass... I'm not the best at geography.

Cliff: "Are you part of this nation's royal family? And you're also the winner of last year's tournament... That doesn't seem very fair, if I may say so."

Gusttav: "Are you accusing me of corruption? Not to brag, but I am the greatest swordsman in this country."

With that kind of equipment, I wouldn't doubt it... Wait, I don't think I should say that out loud.

Cliff: "Aren't you human? I don't mean to be disrespectful, but isn't this the land of the half-breeds? Do they accept you as their leader?"

Gusttav: "In this nation, everything is decided based on who is the strongest. So, yes, they do respect me."

Cliff: "Right, so you said you wanted to duel me? What's at stake here?"

Gusttav: "Nothing. This is purely for my amusement."

Cliff: "I hope this means we aren't allowed to kill each other, right?"

Gusttav: "Exactly. It's nothing more than a friendly match."

Cliff looked at the cat-girl, who was silently watching their interaction. He hesitated for a moment, afraid of missing that opportunity.

To be honest, I don't think this match is necessary at all — at least not for me... But I shouldn't go against the wishes of a member of the royal family, especially when they might be able to help me later on...

Cabbit: "Go ahead! I will wait until nya two finish."

Cliff sighed with relief, knowing his reward would be waiting for him. He looked at the prince and nodded.

Gusttav: "Great. Now, if you have no objections, I'll choose the arena."

He whistled; a few seconds later, a winged creature descended from the sky. It was a red dragon.

There's an arena right here... Why do we need to go somewhere else?

The prince mounted his minion.

Gusttav: "Come, challenger."

You challenged me, not the other way around...

They flew through the sky for a few minutes until they reached a spot with several floating rocks — not as large as islands, but spacious enough to stand on. They took their positions on different rocks, about ten meters apart from one another. The dragon rested on a larger block.

Gusttav: "You're probably thinking that my armor and sword make things easier for me."

Cliff: "Huh? How did you know?"

Gusttav: "I get that a lot, as a member of the royal family. We do have some perks, yes, but I don't need these items to be strong. Would you prefer I fought without them?"

That sword... there is something strange about it.

Cliff: "Wait, seriously? Nah, it's only fair that we fight with what we're used to. But... if I may ask, what are they made of?"

Gusttav: "This sword is made primarily of besterith. And the armor is made of bronze."

Besterith? I knew I could sense a... negative energy coming from it.

Cliff: "Bronze? Why not besterith as well?"

Gusttav: "I knew you'd want to know."

He posed elegantly, pointing at his opponent with a serene, almost sensual smile. Then, he made a gesture with his index finger, beckoning him.

Gusttav: "Come; come at me with everything you've got. I'll show you why I wear bronze."

Cliff: "If you say so..."

I shouldn't get too close to that sword.

Cliff lunged toward the prince, striking with his demonic claw. The swordsman brandished his sword, forcing the demon to recoil in alarm. He landed on another rock.

Gusttav: "There is something I don't like about gold..."

Cliff lunged again, as he knew of no other move he could execute naturally. Gusttav dodged; the half-demon had to spread both wings to slow down and avoid falling. He circled around, trying to hem in his prey.

Gusttav: "When you win a competition, you get a gold medal, right? That’s common sense."

Cliff tried to strike him from behind, but the prince was quick enough to react and brandish his sword. The demon lashed out with his claws at full speed, attempting to hit the composed man, who wielded his sword effortlessly, blocking every attack.

Gusttav: "But if you finish first, there’s no incentive to grow further. It’s a barrier. Now, the third-place finisher..."

At least this besterith isn't doing much to me...

The prince thrust the tip of his sword toward Cliff's face. Instinctively, Cliff used his demon mask to withstand the attack. It was a feint: Gusttav kicked him from the side, sending him flying.

Gusttav: "The bronze has a reason to aim for the gold, not the other way around. That is why I always strive to become stronger."

Cliff paused in mid-air, scanning his opponent's weak points.

Cliff: "So, what you're saying is that you prefer to be seen as strong, rather than as the strongest, so you can keep evolving?"

Gusttav: "You get the idea. I don't like the thought of reaching the top and getting complacent. The people who truly deserve respect are the ones who are always in the fight."

The half-demon chuckled, amused.

Cliff: "So you're using me as your punching bag?"

Gusttav: "You're using me, too. It's better than getting rusty, isn't it?"

Cliff: "Can't say I disagree..."

If I hadn't grown complacent with my sword style, I would have found a way to face a bysteen spear...

Cliff: "So you want to test my abilities too, right?"

That laser beam... I should be able to use it now.

Cliff pointed his hand at the prince, who remained on guard. He felt a burning energy build up within his demonic body and channel into his arm. Then, he fired several small purple bolts, which Gusttav deflected with his sword.

I knew it... so it's some kind of... negative energy?

Gusttav: "It's your chance to test your abilities, too. You don't seem to have mastered them very well."

Cliff: "Is it really that obvious?"

He flew at full speed with both wings, firing purple bolts at his opponent, who deflected them with his sword. As he drew close enough, he unleashed a claw strike — a move Gusttav was about to parry with his sword — when Cliff pulled back.

I sense the same energy coming from his sword... I could probably replenish mine by touching it, but...

Gusttav: "Are you afraid of my sword, Cliff? Why are you avoiding it?"

Cliff: "It's a long story..."

I think it's time to test how much I can release at once without passing out.

Cliff breathed slowly as his opponent raised his guard. Gusttav slashed through the air, unleashing multiple crimson strikes that tore through the atmosphere. The half-demon flew back, dodging them.

You can attack from a distance too?!

Cliff fired several bolts, which Gusttav destroyed with his red slashes.

This is getting ridiculous... It's all or nothing!

He focused all his negative energy into both arms, unleashing it in a surge that tore through the air and shattered the prince's sword strikes. Seeing the attack closing in, Gusttav pointed the palm of his free hand toward the incoming beam, materializing a translucent red shield before him that blocked the blow.

Huh?! I'm not trying to kill him, but he can block it this easily?!

Cliff intensified his flow of energy, beginning to tire. Gusttav did the same, with less effort than him. Then, the beam ceased as the demon exhausted his negative energy.

Gusttav: "Is that all?"

Cliff: "I think so..."

A rising wave of nausea hit him, forcing him to sit down on a rock.

Cliff: "I think I need to... rest a little..."