Chapter Twenty-Five: Commander's Strength

Next, the demon commander Tarik D. Enzo spoke in a hoarse voice devoid of emotion, “If it hadn’t been for the momentary mercy of the witch Irindale that day, did you really think, as a mere low-ranking knight, that you could have walked out of the Rodney Mountains alive, even with a weapon of light? Ignorant dwarf, you may not understand the true power of darkness.”

The dwarf Maclin’s gaze was unwavering as he replied, “Light will always drive out darkness. I came from the Dwarven Kingdom to the Continent of Radiance in search of the blessing of the Supreme Temple of Light. As a devout follower of the light, I will never stand by and let the evil schemes of demons succeed before my very eyes.”

Enzo wasted no more words. With a sweep of his arm, he stirred the stale air within the room. A dark aura poured from his body, thick black mist like storm clouds blanketing the land, pressing down once more upon the golden light radiating from the dwarf’s hammer.

Carlos watched as the darkness surged again, gradually dimming the radiance from the dwarf’s hammer. His hair stood on end, and he barely dared to breathe, feeling a growing sense of despair.

He simply couldn’t fathom how the demon commander, who’d had his neck broken by his father’s summoned puppet “Radiance” just the other day, could be alive once more.

There was no time to dwell on it.

A foul, bloody stench assailed Carlos’ nose again. The crimson mark on his forehead began to pulse and glow.

In the next instant, Vivian suddenly produced a substantial strip of gray cloth from who-knows-where and slipped it gently into Carlos’ hand.

“Cover your nose with it, and breathe slowly,” Vivian whispered.

She too had tied a piece of gray cloth over her nose and mouth. The bit of her face that remained exposed seemed flushed.

Vivian avoided Carlos’ startled gaze as she slowly drew the wooden wand hidden behind her back.

Carlos hurriedly pressed the cloth tightly to his nose and mouth.

He didn’t know what the gray cloth was meant for, but it carried a faint, feminine fragrance. Its effect was immediate—the dark aura no longer invaded his body, and his spirit lifted.

What a marvelous thing—able to ward off the corruption of darkness, and yet breathing beneath it remained easy.

But there was no time to marvel; Carlos tensed at once.

“Be careful—he’s coming!” Vivian warned sharply from behind.

Her wand instantly sparked with a greenish glow, which blossomed into a screen of light before her.

Carlos turned in surprise.

He saw the demon Enzo pounce like a tiger, a fierce rush with black light flickering in his solid, powerful fist.

A sharp crack followed as the demon’s fist easily shattered the green barrier, as if smashing a pane of thin glass.

Without slowing, he charged forward. As he neared Carlos, his fist blurred into a shadowy claw, reaching for Carlos’ chest.

He was so fast—Carlos had no time to react. In the blink of an eye, Carlos thought he was doomed to fall into the demon’s grasp, when suddenly a dazzling golden flash swept past him with a whistling sound, striking hard.

With a resounding thud, the great hammer of light collided with the massive fist before Carlos, unleashing a burst of blinding radiance and a muffled boom.

A split-second later, a green orb of light shot from behind—Vivian’s wand releasing its magic—striking Enzo’s arm at close range. A burst of black blood mist exploded into the air.

Yet, contrary to expectation, the demon did not recoil from the blow.

Carlos saw it clearly: just ahead, the demon commander Tarik Enzo’s lips curled into a chilling smile as he let the blood mist from his arm drift.

Ignoring the dual assault of the hammer and elven magic, the darkness around him erupted in full, forming a dense black shadow behind him.

With a guttural sound, the demon, swathed in black energy, grinned savagely and, with shocking strength, deflected the dwarf knight’s golden hammer. Seizing the opening, he struck the dwarf squarely in the torso.

The dwarf knight Maclin buckled, sent flying backward by the force.

With a tremendous crash, his body smashed through the wooden door behind, splintering it to pieces as sawdust and dust whirled in a gray wave.

Carlos scarcely comprehended what had happened before his vision blurred again—a slender figure was sent flying with a cry, and a wooden wand clattered to the floor.

Vivian had spent the last of her elven magic to conjure a protective barrier, barely withstanding Enzo’s blow.

Even so, she staggered, struggling to remain upright.

Carlos’ eyes went wide. In just a few seconds, his jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

He had always known that a demon commander would be formidable, but he never imagined such overwhelming power.

He was used to his father, Mori, arriving with his summoned puppet “Radiance” in moments of danger. Usually, a single collision sufficed—the towering, burly Radiance would simply crush the offender’s skull.

Such scenes had once astounded him, yet were ultimately straightforward—like bounty hunters dueling, a single shot deciding life or death.

There was no way to truly gauge strength.

Only now, witnessing Enzo’s devastating assault, did Carlos truly grasp the might of a commander-level opponent.

His mind went blank, even as he wondered: if commanders were this powerful, what would generals or kings be like?

As the dust cleared by the door, the dwarf knight Maclin staggered but rose again, clutching his golden hammer. Blood ran from the corner of his mouth—a sure sign things were dire.

“Pitiful dwarf knight, you’re still standing. Always so resilient—you took three heavy blows in the Rodney Mountains and survived. It seems dwarves are a hardy lot. Yet, it’s just as well you’re only a beginner knight, unworthy of the light’s blessing, otherwise you might actually be a match for me.”

Enzo stepped close to Carlos, mocking the Light Knight as he placed his hand firmly on Carlos’ shoulder, leaving him no chance to escape.

Carlos tried to move away, but Enzo’s iron grip held him fast.

Clutching his wounded abdomen, Maclin spat bloody saliva and looked at Carlos. “So, all your trouble finding that little witch was for this young human noble?”

Enzo did not reply, only turned to look at Carlos, whose face was twisted in anger as he struggled to break free.

“Little one, this time you won’t escape,” he said.

With those words, a red light blazed suddenly from Carlos’ forehead, flaring as brilliantly as the most dazzling magic.

Sitting on the floor by the vanity, the young witch Melu Irindale watched with a mix of excitement and terror.

A bitter, cold smile appeared on her lips, her eyes gleaming with barely contained fervor as she muttered, “At last—it’s come at last. After inhaling so much of this corrupted darkness, you still dared to touch the body of one with demon’s blood. Now, at last, his bloodline has been awakened.

“Foolish Enzo, as a kin of the Dark God, do you see what you’ve done? To offend the cherished child of the great Dark God—even as one of his own race, you too shall be devoured.”

Melu Irindale had always wanted to set the record straight: as a true witch, she worshiped the Dark God—not those demons who arrogantly claimed to be his kin.

Even though witches often made pacts with demons, it was always a matter of mutual use.

They were not the demons’ servants—there was a fundamental difference between them.