The Demon Lord Is An Angel
Chapter 116: A Chance To Fight

Chapter 116: A Chance To Fight

The spell flashed, and instead of falling to the ground, Kir found himself suspended in mid-air.

"The vermin around here get bigger every day," the slaver, Brooker sneered.

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you," Kir said as he quickly assessed the spell suspending him in midair.

It was a variation of a standard hard-air confinement. One he could break as soon as his back was out of the man’s line of sight.

"You weren’t in Ledot’s little band... how did a demonkin fall in with a bunch of escaped slaves?" Brooker asked, before answering himself, "No matter, you’ll sell for extra..."

Kir growled, then burst his wings from their confinement, shattering the man’s spell. "Fuck you, that’s how."

Diving for the slaver, Kir almost ate a spell to the face, dodging as the man let loose a jet of unformed mana. He flew in a closing arc, dodging three more such beams when out of nowhere Stella appeared, pulling Brooker’s jacket and throwing off his spell.

Swearing, he clambered, trying to rip her from his back. As Kir neared, Stella jumped free, flying around and landing on Kir’s shoulder right before his feet hit the ground.

Kir grabbed the slaver by the arm a moment later, twisting it almost to snapping. "Call off your men and I’ll let you live," Kir threatened.

"Y-you’re an angel?!" The man said, his eyes full of Kir’s crimson wings. "Why are you- You can’t kill me... the Syndicate and Araqlun have an agreement!"

"Call off your men!" Kir demanded again, twisting his arm. Who or what was Araqlun?

"I-I I can’t!" the slaver shouted.

"Then I can’t leave you alive," Kir snarled. A moment later the human’s shoulder dislocated as Kir enhanced his strength enough to snap his forearm in his palm, crushing the bone into splinters.

Brooker screamed and screamed.

"Let him go, Kir," a familiar voice said. Warmancer Cadence stepped closer.

From all around the camp, guards and adventurers started to arrive. Kir wrenched Brooker to his feet and placed a clawed hand on his throat. "You would keep working for a slaver?" Kir challenged her.

"That is between me and him. I am contract bound not to allow his death," she drew her hammer. "Leave him alive, and I’ll grant you safe passage."

Stella landed on Kir’s shoulder, eyeing all around. There were at least a half-dozen spells that he could sense, to say nothing of conventional arms, at that moment. Kir had his doubts about being able to weather all of them... But maybe in his war form...

Biting his lip, he shook himself free of the bloodlust welling inside.

"On your honor then, Warmancer?" Kir asked.

"I swear on my daughter," she replied.

Kir pulled Brooker’s ear closer. "Tell your Syndicate that their days will end soon, at my hands."

With a push, Kir sent Brooker stumbling forward. Simultaneously he shot up into the air with a flap of his wings, aiming himself north as Brooker shouted "Kill him! What are you waiting for?!"

If anyone took the man up on his orders, Kir didn’t notice. He was too busy angling north and flying as fast as he could, searching for the trail.

"Oh fuck, you nearly gave me a heart attack, Kir." Stella held on to the space between Kir’s wings. "I hope Cheshy will be okay."

Kir stayed silent. He needed to focus; stay on course and find the trail. He no longer had any idea how much time he’d lost...

The minutes flew by as Kir’s worries mounted. He’d hoped to spot the posse pursuing the Black Sheep in order to intercept them.

Suddenly the sounds of clashing steel drew his attention.

He angled toward it, and the first thing he noticed was a clearing filled with fallen trees and bodies.

Amarena cut down a bull-like beastkin as she wove her way in a whirling, circling dance along her remaining opponents. It was a far more graceful performance than she’d shown him, and she was doing so outside her war form.

And she was fighting alone.

Kir shifted into his war form as he landed, stowing his wings and landing heavily on a mage that had been aiming for Amarena.

The crunch of bones and abbreviated cry left Kir feeling just a little sorry for the mage, but there was no time to focus on that when the important thing was ending the fight.

Charging forward, he bodied a fighter, breaking the man’s arm as he threw him by the shield into a tree.

There was an archer and several sword and spearmen, and Kir’s first move was to free Amarena up by roaring for their attention before wading into the battle. He grabbed a spear as it was thrust at his face, snapping it with a twist of his palm.

"Fuck! There’s two of them!" the adventurer called out, backing away and fumbling for his knife.

"Let’s get out of here!" a female voice, one of the other frontline fighters, followed.

Neither Amarena nor Kir pursued as they broke and ran.

"What happened?" Kir asked.

"Your people were ambushed. That bunch was the rearguard, the rest of them fled when I cut down three of their number." She looked sideways at Kir, "Go, see to your friends. I’ll make sure these are dead," she gestured.

Looking around, Kir saw six bodies. He nodded his thanks and turned away from the battlefield, sprinting to find Noir and Sam holding onto a wound in Caroon’s chest.

The wound was too wide for them to completely seal, even with the cloth.

As Kir approached, Caroon looked at Kir deliriously.

"Oh hey, it’s you... welcome back," he coughed.

Noir looked up "K-Kir. I know it will hurt, but can you heal him?"

Kir paled, he noticed Sam’s left arm was dangling limply, and so he gently pushed her aside to help hold the wound.

"I can’t," Kir answered, feeling useless, even though his war-form hands were more than sufficient to cover the wound. "I’m sorry..."

"There has to be something-"

Caroon coughed out a laugh. "It’s fine, Noir. It’s fine..." He looked at Sam, "I’m glad you’re safe... I’ll wait around for you... me and... Namosa..."

The light left his eyes, and beneath his hands Kir felt Caroon’s heart slow, and slow... until finally there was no beat left to feel.

Noir removed his hands first.

Kir followed suit a moment later, until a movement drew his eye toward the battlefield.

Amarena approached, Namosa in her arms. There were two arrows in her chest, one of which had pierced her heart. A look of shock remained frozen on her face, and Kir was grateful when Amerna set her down and reached to close her eyes.

"You should go," she advised grimly.

"I’m not leaving them," Noir said. "They deserve to be buried properly."

"I’ll see to it. I will continue to wait here until I meet with the warmancer," Amarena said.

"She isn’t going to meet with you," Kir replied. "I was told that another warmancer might though."

"Who?" Amarena asked.

"The one I’ve been wanting to meet," Kir said, before he reached underneath Caroon and stood. "Let’s put them in the cart... We can bury them at my home in Darlbridge."

Amarena nodded, clearly unsatisfied with Kir’s answer but accepting that now was not the time.

With Noir’s help, they righted the cart and wrangled one of their assailant’s mounts - a land raptor - and improvised to mount the cart on it.

Though Kir was hostile to the notion, Amarena arranged the enemy corpses in a line, leaving them each one weapon on their bodies. She respected them as warriors, but Kir could not see past their mercenary shift as would-be slavers.

Noir and Sam were still in shock as they set out, about half of an hour after Kir arrived. They stared blankly at the bodies of Caroon and Namosa. Kir stayed in his war form, Stella on his shoulder, as he walked next to the cart.

Noir accepted it when Kir brushed his shoulder with the back of his palm, but when Kir tried the same with Sam, they flinched away, glaring at him as they clutched their injured arm.

Flinching, Kir froze for a moment before saying, "I’m sorry."

Sam turned, their voice cracking with anger. "You were gone!" they shouted, before turning and bend forward enough to rest their chest against their knees.

For hours, silence and sobbing were the only sounds that accompanied the patter of the raptor’s stride.

Toward evening, instead of making camp, everyone quietly agreed to rest for a couple of hours before continuing. Sam simply abstained.

The only noise they made were whimpers of pain as Noir changed their bandages. An arrow wound went through her shoulder, and Stella put her magic to work cauterizing the wound before it was rebandaged.

Kir felt a little guilty for feeling relieved when Sam and Noir finally went to sleep, leaning against each other in the cart as they stayed as far from the corpses as possible.

Stella joined them, shapeshifting to resemble Cheshire and providing them with some downy warmth as she wrapped them in her wings.

Thus, Kir continued to walk. Alone with his regrets.

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