Maven POV

  Maven Silbric was a soldier.

  A good one. Or at least, that’s what his platoon seemed to think. In reality, Maven was terrified. Terrified of war. Terrified of fighting. Terrified of death.

  But he was a soldier.

  “Captain Maven! We have arrived at the outside of the lizard's territory! Commander Ilyros awaits you!”

  “Understood. Thank you,” The gruff, lean-bodied Elf responded. He straightened his torso, gently running a hand through the pristine platinum blonde hair atop his head as he slowly moved through the ranks of soldiers, coming to a stop as they approached the outskirts of the lizardmen's swamp.

  Finally, he reached the front, feeling the gaze of what felt like an infinite number of soldiers behind him, and the war-torn commander of the Stoneguard, clad head to toe in stunning black plate armour, greeted him without even bothering to turn. “Maven.” The voice was calm and steady, fitting for the leader of such an operation, which was tasked with burning the castle before them to the ground.

  “Commander,” Maven replied, trying and failing to match the unwavering tone of his commanding officer. “What would you have me do in the upcoming battle?” The fourth captain of the Stoneguard, one of many, considering they were the second largest guard of the four elven guards, knew that his summons meant that the plans had changed.

  “I have received orders to leave no survivors,” Ilyros continued. “You will be responsible for ensuring such a matter is accomplished.”

  “How so?” Maven replied, almost happy, eager to have been taken from his original role as the primary assault team.

  “Follow behind the main platoon and focus on ensuring the injured are taken care of, as well as ensuring their injured,” he nodded towards the humongous, intimidating fortress of flames before them, “do not survive.”

  Maven nodded, breathing out a sigh of relief as he took in his new task. “Who will be taking my place, then?”

  “I will,” Ilyros answered sternly.

  The elven captain’s face reddened in embarrassment, feeling ashamed at being assumed unworthy of his original task, but he did not argue.

  This is for the better. There is almost no risk of being defeated at the back. No lizard could possibly defeat Ilyros, after all. Maven reasoned to himself.

  Ilyros regarded the elven captain with unreadable eyes. “That is all,” he said dismissively, turning his head slightly to address a second captain beside him.

  Maven shrugged, hurrying back towards his platoon and relaying the new orders, which garnered… mixed reactions, to say the least, but eventually his entire platoon had made its way towards the back of the army of five hundred elves.

  “Why are we even doing this…?” a small elven soldier whispered timidly.

  “Excuse me?” Maven called out, low and challenging.

  “Nothing, Captain!”

  Maven stepped forward, eyeing his subordinate with a calm gaze, mirroring that of the terrifying commander he had been speaking to only a few moments before. “If you have criticisms for the King or the royal family, I would dare say that such messages would be better off out in the open,” Maven smiled slowly, revealing a set of perfect and pristine white teeth.

  The elven soldier eyed the ground sheepishly, then finally turned his head forward. The captain of the Stoneguard felt a tinge of remorse. After all, he himself knew little of the reason behind the sudden violent assaults that he and his fellow companions were being asked to carry out, but if their King had allied with the Aspects themselves, who was a lowly captain like him to criticize his superiors?

  A roar rang out from in front of the platoon of elven soldiers.

  The battle was beginning.

  The front gates of the lizardmen’s fiery castle were smashed to bits by a massive battering ram, manned by two enormous bison-like creatures known as Drathorn, charging forward on four, hulking legs and covered in a coat of brown fur. Splinters of wood flung outwards, nearly crashing into the neat, orderly rows of elven soldiers, and Maven watched as they readied their blades for war.

  But nothing happened.

  “Uh, Captain. Forgive me if I am mistaken, but this is the right fortress, yeah?” One of Maven’s soldiers whispered in confusion.

  The captain stood completely still, eyes narrowing in observation.

  Then, an explosion.

  Maven and his soldiers immediately surrounding him were flung backward with immense speed, collapsing to the ground a few feet away. The elf captain sat up, rubbing his eyes while his head pounded in agonizing pain, swiping desperately at the cloud of heavy, thick smog that had suddenly appeared before him. He spotted scales, then long, muscular tails attached to powerful, large torsos wielding spears, glaives, shields, and curved, serrated blades.

  Then he heard the screams.

  “Maven! Help—” The familiar voice of his companion disappeared with a wet squish, and Maven closed his eyes.

  Then, he steeled his will, drawing the curved shortsword attached to his hip.

  You bastards will pay! He thought to himself.

  A menacing voice answered him, however. “Not so fast, elf.” It spat with vitriol. A small, heavy hand landed on Maven’s shoulder, and he slowly turned his head, bracing for whatever horrible creature would be the one to kill him.

  It was an angel.

  “You! Were you sent by the Aspect in Ilvareth?! I have heard only rumors, perhaps—”

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Oh, quiet down, will you, I’m not on your side,” the girl complained.

  “What…?” Maven began, then he felt the air in his chest rush outwards with terrifying speed. His eyes flung open, and his heart began to hammer like a blacksmith pounding on his most perfect creation.

  A humongous, muscle-bound demon with a black pitchfork was rampaging through the once orderly rows of elven soldiers, flinging purple magic across the battlefield and snuffing out life in droves, like a farmer who had decided it was time to harvest his crops. Maven watched as one of his fellow Stoneguard captains, a woman he felt was even stronger than he, fell in a single blow of the massive demon’s weapon.

  I’m going to die. It was the only thought ringing in his mind.

  Another voice interrupted his horrifying realization.

  “Atea, let's leave him alive for now. He’s probably no threat, and I have a feeling he might be able to carry out an… important task for us,” the voice was calm and measured, almost cheerful, a stark contrast to the death and destruction calling out from around the elven captain.

  But Maven didn’t need to see the voice to know that the being standing behind him was the most terrifying person on the battlefield.

  Is this the demon that was rumored to have taken the Prince’s arm? I thought such a tale was a fabricated story to save face for the royal family! Maven thought frantically, but even in his heart, he knew that the rumors were true.

  The demon behind him was stronger, possibly much stronger, than the crown prince of the elves.

  The prince himself was hardly the strongest being in Ilvareth, that title being reserved for King Calenvir himself, but the prince rivaled the strength of the commanders, and he was relatively young for an elf and had room to grow still. Even the first commander of the Stoneguard, Ilyros, would likely be hard pressed to defeat the prince on his own.

  So what exactly could I, a lowly captain, not even a first seat at that, do against this terrifying being? Maven thought in despair.

  “Signeir,” the demon suddenly said, while the angel’s hand simultaneously lifted from Maven’s quivering shoulder. He stopped, then readied himself.

  “I’m not afraid!” Maven screamed in fear, slamming his shortsword against the demon's shoulder as he twirled around.

  But there was no blood.

  In fact, Maven’s shortsword had come to a stop an inch away, held between the jaw of a tiny creature around the demon's back. He blinked twice, shifting his arm ever so slightly and attempting to wedge his blade free, but it was no use.

  So it’s true. The true dragon of will has aligned himself with this demon as well… Maven thought in resignation.

  The demon smiled thinly, grabbing Maven’s arm with an impossibly powerful grip, causing the elf to loosen up on the blade in his hand, then the demon casually ripped it away, tossing it several feet into the distance.

  “Please don’t—” Maven began, but the demon shushed him with a finger, instead allowing the elf to crumple to the floor in despair.

  “No,” the demon commanded, somehow grasping the captain's head both softly and firmly simultaneously, inching it towards the carnage around him. “You will observe.”

  Maven didn’t bother to struggle, allowing the demon to guide him.

  [Summon Greater Named Fire Spirit]

  [Parasitic Nemesis]

  [Willing Host]

  Several skills, two of which were completely unfamiliar to the relatively long-lived elf, were cast by the demon, and a blast of blue flames shook Maven to the core.

  You can’t be serious… he thought.

  A being with four arms, four blades, and a floating necklace of glowing runic spheres appeared, scorching the ground where he stood, while a near-exact copy of the demon appeared beside the fire spirit. With a flash of golden light, a floating weapon also appeared beside the demonic clone.

  Is this technique like Valthir’s? Perhaps— But he couldn’t finish the thought.

  “This will be the most fun I’ve ever had,” the demonic copy spat viciously, then he too became encapsulated by fire, this time with a dagger at his side and a floating crown of runic spheres.

  Can he create a clone that speaks? Even Valthir can’t do something like this. Maven contemplated incredulously.

  “Agreed,” the four-armed fire spirit replied.

  “Whatever you say, bestie!” another voice called out, and to Maven’s utter surprise, the only possible answer was that the flying golden glaive was the source of the voice.

  It was rumored that the Aspect in Ilvareth had a sentient weapon as well, but how does this demon have one?! Maven continued to think in utter shock.

  “Shut up, spear,” the demon’s clone spat, reaffirming Maven’s suspicions.

  Then, with a blur of motion, the trio of mysterious beings was gone.

  Maven closed his eyes as his fellow elves screamed in terror, completely unable to resist the onslaught from the impossibly powerful creatures upon them, but the original demon sighed, leaning down low to whisper in his ear.

  “Watch, or I will find someone more willing to listen.”

  Maven’s skin crawled at the words, and his eyes flung open immediately, although he wished with all his heart that he could’ve closed them once more.

  The only word to describe it was death.

  He watched his comrades fall, dying before even fully understanding that they had been injured. Fellow captains, friends, allies, rivals, all fell in tandem, as if they were nothing more than animals to be slaughtered. Joining the fray were a myriad of lizardmen, each one armed to the teeth with spears or curved blades, gutting elven soldiers in a vicious surprise attack. The original demon that Maven had spotted, the humongous creature with black wings, also joined the trio of insanely powerful creatures.

  He was a whirlwind of absolute chaos.

  How did this happen? The lizardmen should’ve never seen this coming! And this damn demon! What kind of monster has been unleashed on this world? Maven thought frantically, catching a glimpse of the demon beside him out of the corner of his eye. He looked on with a blank expression, as if he weren’t even there. He and the dragon are not even fighting. If his followers and summons are this terrifying, what can this monster do?

  Maven shivered at the thought.

  However, there was one last ray of hope.

  Ilyros. The first commander of the Stoneguard.

  Even as the Elf thought it, he saw the tell-tale signs of his commander's combat skills. A pair of earth golems, each one towering over the battlefield, hurling elemental magic and wielding immense strength. Each one was easily more powerful than even a first captain of one of the four elven guards.

  But they weren’t standing tall, tearing into hordes of lizards like Maven had expected. No, they were crumpled to the ground in a pile of rubble, and in between that rubble…

  Was the bloody, battered, and lifeless body of the commander he had known for his entire life. Maven couldn’t even form a thought, simply looking on as the entire army of over five hundred elves, captains, and the commander Ilyros, fell with no resistance.

  A tear fell from the elf’s eyes, and he began to wail. “Why?! Why are you doing this? What did we ever do to you, demon?! Tell me, tell me, tell me—” Maven cried out in complete, utter terror, slamming his hands hopelessly against the ground.

  “Are they always this… pathetic?” The angel in white asked.

  “Why? Why you ask?” The demon muttered viciously, gripping Maven’s head with a strong hand. “Because your people did this to mine, and you would’ve done it to theirs.” He gestured with his chin towards the lizards. “So here is your chance, elf. Return to your King, and tell him that Lucivar wishes to speak with him. Alone.” The demon paused, moving his gaze to the nearly depleted army of elven soldiers. Maven followed with his own eyes, as if every movement was controlled by some unseen, terrifying force. “Otherwise, this is what you will be left with.”