Chapter 18: The War Demon

“He’s still alive, right?” Cassandra Ashborn said to the old wizard, Draeneal Ashborn. Her voice dripping with arrogance and conceit.

Draeneal smirked and, “For now.” His voice weighed down by the weight of his years. Each word of his was heavy enough to match the gravity of the situation, and yet there remained a mocking attitude in his tone.

“Seems like you’ve gotten up in the years old man,” Camus quipped, his voice tinged with impatience and unease. “Isn’t it time you pass on your skills and mana to our neice here, and retire?”

Annoyed by the suggestion, Draeneal retorted sarcastically, “That’s something only the great commander Camus can do. This old man is too feeble to bear the burden of the enormous talent of our neice.”

Camus shot back, “If you think so, there are many more remarkable young ones ready to volunteer.”

Cassandra's gaze flickered between me and Narb, silently conveying her command. With a subtle nod, Narb swiftly guided me to the side, positioning me beside the mysterious little girl and my master, flanked by the imposing presence of the three hulking guards.

Interrupting Camus and Draeneal's exchange, Cassandra stepped forward with purpose, “Let’s get started.”

The two stopped their petty bickering and looked at Cassandra who was now standing in the middle of the cave under the full moon light.

With a nod from Cassandra, Draeneal assumed his role, his expression grave as he prepared to commence the ritual.

The wizard in a grand show gripped his wooden staff embedded with a large crystal and lifted it over his head. The air crackling in anticipation. With a resounding thud, he brought the staff down upon the cave floor.

The moment the staff touched the floor, waves of mana rippled through the ground. In an intricate display of magic, a radiant golden magic circle got drawn on the floor of the cave with Cassandra at the epicenter of the circle. The magic circle looked overly complicated with complex runes and symbols, stretched wide enough to encompass both the man lying on the ground and the pile of corpses nearby.

The air hummed with energy as the intricate design glowed casting eerie shadows across the cavern walls.

As Camus and the others remained on the outskirts of the circle, Cassandra's voice rang out, dripping with satisfaction, "How the mighty have fallen."

Upon closer inspection, it became apparent that the man within the circle lay unconscious, prompting Cassandra's gloat to falter. Irritated by the lack of response, she shot Camus a pointed glare, silently urging him to rouse the man from his slumber.

With a twisted smile, Camus boldly strode into the circle, his gaze fixed on the unconscious man lying before him. With a powerful swing, he delivered a vicious kick to the man's stomach, eliciting a pained gasp and a spatter of blood.

As the man jolted awake, coughing and sputtering, Camus cast a cynical glance in Draeneal's direction. "Looks like he's still clinging to life," he remarked with a smirk, his tone dripping with contempt. He continued, “You still might want to hurry and get it over it before he kicks the bucket.”

Camus, with a callous grip, bent down and grabbed the man by his hair and hauled him unceremoniously towards Cassandra.

As he dragged the man, the flickering of the light in the man’s eyes made it clear that he was unconscious and drifting in and out of awareness.

Cassandra delighted in his misery and pain as her lips curled into a cruel smile. He coughed up more blood.

My master looked at the man with pity and concern. The little girl on the other hand did not react in any manner and her defeated expression remained unchanged.

Draeneal produced a gleaming bracelet from his robes, the very same one that the man had received in the letter I had delivered to him in Aether. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed the bracelet to Camus, who caught it effortlessly before presenting it to Cassandra with a deferential nod.

Cassandra's attention shifted to the little girl, her expression hardening with malice. With a subtle gesture, she signaled to the hulking soldier standing behind her.

Without hesitation, the soldier stepped forward and seized the chains binding the little girl, hauling her roughly into the center of the circle. My master bristled with anger, her fists clenched in frustration, yet she remained rooted to the spot, unable to intervene as the scene unfolded before her.

As Cassandra's eyes bore into the trembling figure of the girl, a sinister gleam danced in her gaze, dripping with venomous spite.

“It’s time you return to me what’s rightfully mine,” Cassandra maliciously whispered in the girl’s ear.

The little girl’s small figure shrunk further as she slouched and trembled.

“Not even the great war demon can help you now,” Cassandra remarked while looking at the man lying on the ground. “After all, you’re nothing but a useless trash without any mana or trait.”

Cassandra opened her palm before the little girl and commanded, “Now, hand it over. Hand over the link.”

Camus in a confused tone repeated, “War Demon? This thing?” He pointed at the pitiful man.

“Doesn’t look like much does he,” remarked Cassandra?

“This thing? Are you sure?”

Cassandra smiled as he looked close in the man’s unfocused eyes, “You think so because he’s still asleep.”

“Huh? th-”

"Let's hurry uncle," Cassandra interrupted. “And it's best if we don't wake him," she mumbled under her breath. She turned to the little girl, “Hurry and hand over the link, dear.”