The Extra Wants Control
Chapter 108 - 108: Demons 2: We are winning... but where are they?

A primal roar echoed across the savanna, a rallying cry that sent shivers down even the hardiest demon's spine. Alyssa, a towering tiger-woman clad in gleaming obsidian armor, led the charge of her Beastmen army. Her three sisters, tigresses each with unique stripes and a fierce glint in their eyes, flanked her.

Together, they were a whirlwind of claws, fangs, and sheer ferocity, tearing through the demonic hordes like a hurricane through a field of reeds.

On the dwarven front, the rhythmic boom of cannons echoed through the caverns. Golems, hulking automatons of steel and stone, stood stoic as automated turrets lining the defensive towers unleashed a torrent of fire and enchanted projectiles. The demonic horde, once a raging tide, found itself decimated by the relentless rain of dwarven firepower.

Across the Elven Glade, arrows rained down from the emerald canopy, silent harbingers of death. The nimble Elven archers, infused with the magic of the forest, weaved through the battlefield, their movements blurring as they unleashed deadly volleys. The remaining demon forces, their ranks thinned and morale crumbling, were mere targets for elven precision.

Even the human battlefields, a chaotic mix of sword clashes and guttural roars, felt a shift in momentum. Soldiers, weary but determined, pressed their advantage, cutting down the remaining demonic stragglers.

Then, in an instant, the battlefield fell silent. The demonic Barons and Viscounts, those once-terrifying figures who commanded the demon armies, vanished. One by one, they blinked out of existence, leaving behind bewildered silence. Confusion rippled through the ranks of both demons and defenders.

A hulking Orc warrior, mid-swing of his massive axe, blinked in disbelief. A winged Imp, claws poised for a deadly strike, hovered in the air, its tiny head swiveling in confusion. The human Captain, his voice hoarse from shouting commands, looked around with an uncertainty he hadn't felt all day.

The silence stretched on for a beat, then two, then abruptly erupted into action. The remaining demon hordes, bereft of leadership and facing newfound defiance, crumbled. The human soldiers, seizing the opportunity, charged with renewed vigor. The elves, their whispers turning into battle cries, unleashed a final volley of arrows.

The Beastmen roared in triumph, their claws finding purchase on fleeing demons.

The tide turned in a heartbeat. What was once a desperate struggle became a rout. The battlefield, once a scene of carnage, was now a graveyard of defeated demons. The question lingered in the air, hanging heavy with an unsettling mystery – where had the demon leaders gone?

But for now, the victorious races savored the taste of victory, a bittersweet triumph tinged with the unsettling silence of their vanished enemy.

Disbelief crackled through the air like static across a battlefield radio. The last demon, a lumbering brute with glowing red eyes, crumpled to the ground, dispatched by a well-placed arrow. A human soldier, chest heaving, looked around, his eyes widening in the sudden silence. The battlefield, a brutal tapestry of blood and bodies moments ago, now held an unsettling stillness.

"Where'd they go?" a young mage sputtered, her voice echoing the collective thought.

The news had spread like wildfire across every continent. From the scorched plains of the Beastmen territory to the emerald depths of the Elven Glade, the demonic Barons and Viscounts, those harbingers of chaos, had vanished in a blink. The confusion was palpable. Experienced warriors scratched their heads, perplexed by the sudden absence of the enemy's leadership.

"Magic?" a grizzled Dwarven general rumbled, his voice heavy with suspicion. "Some infernal trickery, no doubt."

Heads nodded in agreement. The idea of a mass demonic teleport felt outlandish, a plot point for bards' tales. The possibility that someone, or something, else was responsible never entered the conversation. The thought was simply too fantastical, too outlandish.

In the war council chambers, however, a different kind of silence reigned. The air crackled with a tension that had nothing to do with the recent victory. Leaders, their faces etched with a mix of curiosity and unease, exchanged glances.

"There are no reports of any unusual magical activity," a human advisor stated, her voice clipped. "It wasn't a mass teleport."

A weighty pause hung in the air.

"Then who?" an Elven ambassador finally breathed, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the room.

The answer, for now, remained shrouded in the same mystery that had swallowed the demon leaders. But in the quiet corners of their minds, a seed of doubt had been planted. The races, so focused on their immediate enemy, had failed to consider a truth more unsettling - perhaps their enemy hadn't vanished at all. Perhaps, they had simply been taken.

A sickly green glow emanated from the runes etched into the obsidian floor, casting an unsettling pallor on the captured demons. Verona, her violet eyes gleaming with a predatory intensity, surveyed her unwilling guests – 70 Barons and 16 Viscounts, all radiating a simmering frustration.

"Hello," she drawled, her voice laced with a hint of amusement, "Ready for round two?"

A chorus of snarls and growls erupted from the demon horde. One Baron, a hulking brute with horns like twisted iron, stepped forward his hoof hit the floor. "What is this farce? Are you trying to torture information from us?"

Verona's smile widened, devoid of warmth. "Information? Why would I need that...No, I have something planned, much more interesting than that." She swept her gaze across them, lingering on the lone figure who hadn't joined the chorus of defiance. A Viscount, radiating an aura of power that dwarfed the others, his expression calculating.

"Fighting wouldn't accomplish much," the Viscount finally spoke, his voice a guttural rasp. "You've clearly outmatched us. Proceeding will be suicide."

A ripple of agreement coursed through the demon ranks, replacing bravado with a cold pragmatism.

"But you were already on a suicide mission, weren't you?" Verona scoffed. "Did you truly believe a ragtag group of Barons and Viscounts could conquer these lands? Perhaps your superiors might pose a challenge, but only you?"

" Screw this." A low growl rumbled through a Baron at the back. Before it could escalate further, he looked for an exit amd started flying, a desperate bid for freedom. But an invisible barrier crackled to life, sending him crashing back down. He scrambled to his feet, frustration twisting his features.

"We can come to an agreement," the Viscount interjected, his voice carrying a hint of desperation. "Release us, and we'll ensure the demon realm leaves 'you' alone for a century. My father, is the…"

His sentence was cut short as a throwing star, shimmering with glacial cold energy, materialized from thin air and embedded itself in his collarbone, spinning with a malevolent hum. The Viscount flinched, a flicker of morbid surprise momentarily replacing his steely resolve.

"Deals?" Verona said, her smile turning chilling. "I'm not interested in deals." Her violet eyes scanned the captive demons, a hunger flickering within them. "I'm interested in something else."

A hush fell over the chamber. The demons, their bravado shattered, finally grasped the true danger they were in.

Without further warning, the Viscount snarled and pressed a hidden button on his his clothes an armour formed around him. A surge of demonic energy crackled around him, a desperate act of defiance. The other demons, realizing their predicament, followed suit, unleashing a cacophony of dark magic.

The chamber thrummed with chaotic energy, a cacophony of fire, brimstone, and shadow. Yet, Verona stood unfazed, a predator savoring the hunt. A cruel smile stretched across her face. "Finally," she whispered, her eyes glowing with a terrifying excitement.

The chamber became a chaotic maelstrom of demonic fury. Viscounts and Barons alike unleashed torrents of fire, summoned writhing tendrils of shadow, and launched themselves at Verona with a feral desperation. But their defiance was a guttering candle against a hurricane. Verona danced through the onslaught, her movements fluid and precise.

However, while avoiding their attacks, her true focus lay elsewhere. Her gaze darted between the demons, not with fear, but with a great curiosity, scholarly curiosity. She watched as they channeled the chaotic energy of the demon realm, how it flowed through their veins, how they molded it into destructive spells. A cruel smile played on her lips.

"Hmm," she thought, "Just as I thought. They filter the chaotic energy give it a… direction? No they give it a nature. Shape it to their own dark desires, a twisted, cynical and malevolent."

The realization sparked a new question in her mind. "If their energy leans towards the cynical and destructive, then…"she trailed off. Her gaze then drifted mana, searching for it's source of the mana – the energy fueling Elnova – what she met was a dimension closed off. She couldn't pry further no matter how much she tried.

A wry smile spread across her face. "So, mana," she thought, upper cutting a demon baron. "What lies beyond that veil? What nature does it hold?"

Frustration flickered momentarily within her. She attempted to peer through the shimmering barrier, to glimpse the source, but it remained stubbornly opaque. "Too weak," she muttered. "Not yet strong enough to unravel its secrets."

Verona's contemplations were cut short by a searing blast of fire that singed the tip of a tendril of violet energy she used to deflect it. Her study of the demons continued on, but within the storm, a new seed of knowledge had been planted. Now, not only did she want to understand the demons' power, but a desire to understand the nature of mana.

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