Infinity: Reborn

Seraphina hefted another bundle of arrows, her wings folded tight against her back as she navigated the narrow walkway atop Umbra’s inner wall. The archers positioned here were mostly shopkeepers and crafters—demons she’d glimpsed in the markets but never properly met. With the trained warriors committed to the sortie beyond the gates, these volunteers formed their only remaining defence.

“More arrows here!” called a lean demon with scarred hands, probably a metalworker from his calloused fingers. Sera dropped the bundle beside his position, noting how his grip trembled slightly as he nocked another shaft.

The siege engines below hurled their projectiles with mechanical precision. Most struck stone, sending fragments cascading into the courtyards, but occasionally their aim found flesh. Sera watched the archers flinch each time a catapult arm swung forward, knowing one of those massive stones could reach them.

She was turning toward the next position when the acid bolt struck.

The sizzling projectile caught the archer three positions down—a portly demon who’d sold her dried fruit just two days ago. His cheerful haggling over copper coins seemed impossibly distant as his scream pierced the air. The acid ate through his shoulder, dissolving leather armour and flesh with equal hunger.

“Medic!” Sera shouted, though she knew the healers were already overwhelmed. The injured demon collapsed, clutching his ruined shoulder while the corrosive substance continued its work.

Sera forced herself to look away, continuing her supply run despite the bile rising in her throat. This was war—Vespera had warned her, but witnessing the reality struck differently than imagination. The shopkeeper’s agonized cries followed her along the wall.

Then something shifted in the battle below. Massive flames suddenly erupted among the siege engines, but they weren’t targeting Umbra’s defences. Paimon’s forces had turned, their spells striking Valac’s troops instead of supporting the assault.

The volunteer archers cheered weakly, too exhausted for genuine celebration but recognizing the tactical shift. Sera felt a surge of relief as she watched enemy formations crumble under the unexpected betrayal. Lilith’s plan had worked—somehow, the Empress had convinced Paimon to switch sides at the crucial moment.

“They’re retreating!” the metalworker archer called out, pointing toward Valac’s forces as they pulled back from the burning siege engines.

Seraphina gathered the empty arrow bundles, their leather straps still warm from nervous hands. The acrid smell of burning siege engines drifted up from below, mixing with the metallic scent of blood from wounded defenders. She was turning toward the supply depot when a familiar shadow detached itself from the wall’s merlon.

“Seraphina.” Vespera materialized beside her, obsidian skin catching the firelight from the battle below. “Are you alright? I saw that archer take a hit near your position.”

“I’m fine, Grandma.” Sera shifted the bundles to one arm, noting how Vespera’s silver-starred eyes searched her for injuries. “Just shaken. War is more… brutal than I expected, but it’s not something I can’t handle.”

The older demon’s expression softened slightly. Around them, the volunteer archers maintained their posts, some tending minor wounds while others watched the enemy forces regroup in the distance.

“Could you teach me some of your skills?” Sera asked suddenly. “I know how to move quietly from my guide work, but you’re… more than that. I want to be useful beyond carrying supplies.”

Vespera studied her granddaughter for a long moment, shadows rippling across her skin like liquid darkness. “You should understand that I can’t really teach you much. Most of my abilities rely on the fact that I’m a shadow demon. Your heritage gives you different strengths.”

Sera’s shoulders sagged slightly. She’d hoped for something, anything that might help her contribute more meaningfully to Umbra’s defence.

“There is one thing I could teach you,” Vespera continued, her voice dropping lower. “But I don’t think it would fit you.”

“What is it?”

“Assassination.”

Sera blinked. “Really?”

“Yes.” Vespera’s tone carried no warmth, only clinical assessment. “But you’d be better off sticking to Mathias’s lessons. Honest swordsmanship fits you better than a blade in the dark.”

“I thought you didn’t like him.” Sera tilted her head, genuinely curious. Her grandmother had been polite but distant whenever the scholar was mentioned.

“I don’t,” Vespera admitted without hesitation. “But for now, he should be harmless enough.”

“You’re overly protective, Grandma.”

Vespera’s expression hardened, shadows dancing more aggressively around her form. “Maybe. But you’re becoming too trusting again, and I don’t want to see you—” She stopped abruptly, silver pinpoints of light flickering in her black eyes.

Sera waited, recognizing the careful pause. Her grandmother rarely stumbled over words.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” Vespera corrected herself, her voice gentler now. “This world has already taken too much from our family.”

The way she said it carried weight that Sera didn’t fully understand, but she recognized the protective love beneath the warning. Her grandmother had always been cautious about new people, especially humans or half-humans. Mathias’s scholarly demeanour hadn’t won him any points either.

“I know,” Sera said softly. “But I can’t live in fear forever. And Mathias has been nothing but kind. His training is helping me feel more confident.”

Vespera nodded reluctantly. “Just… keep your guard up. Even with allies.”

Below them, the enemy forces continued their withdrawal, dragging wounded and salvaging what equipment they could from the burning siege engines. Paimon’s betrayal had given them breathing room, but Sera could see new camps forming in the distance. This respite wouldn’t last long.

“I should get these supplies distributed,” Sera said, hefting the empty bundles. “The archers will need fresh arrows soon enough.”

Vespera stepped back into the shadows. “Be careful, granddaughter. And remember—trust your instincts. They’ve kept you alive this long.”

* * *

Seraphina knelt beside the ammunition crates, methodically loading arrows into leather quivers. Her fingers moved with practiced efficiency, sorting broadheads from bodkins while keeping count of each bundle. The repetitive task helped calm her nerves after witnessing the brutal reality of siege warfare.

Footsteps approached across the stone courtyard. She glanced up to see Mathias walking toward her, his scholar’s robes replaced by practical dark clothing that allowed better movement.

“Do you need help?” he asked, crouching beside the crates.

Sera paused, studying his face. “I thought you didn’t want to take part in the war.”

Mathias scratched his head, amber eyes avoiding her gaze. “I couldn’t just let you sweat while I watch from the sidelines.”

The admission surprised her. During their training sessions, he’d always emphasized staying out of conflicts, focusing on knowledge rather than violence. Seeing him here, willing to help despite his reservations, made something warm bloom in her chest.

“Alright.” She smiled, pushing a half-filled quiver toward him. “Load these quivers. We’re going to distribute them to the archers on the walls.”

“Of course.” Mathias settled beside her, his movements careful and precise as he began sorting arrows. His technique lacked her speed but showed methodical attention to detail.

They worked in companionable silence for several minutes, the sounds of distant shouting and clanging metal providing a grim soundtrack. The enemy forces were regrouping, and everyone knew this lull wouldn’t last long.

“How are you holding up?” Mathias asked quietly, not looking up from his work.

Sera considered the question while sliding another arrow into place. “I’m fine. It’s just… war isn’t as glorious as the stories describe it, is it?”

“No,” he agreed softly. “It rarely is.”

“But I’ve witnessed worse.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, carrying weight she hadn’t intended to share. “Experienced worse.”

Mathias’s hands stilled. “What was it?”

The simple question hit her like a physical blow. Suddenly she was nineteen again, shackled in a stone cell while Solarian Inquisitors explained how they would “purify” her corrupted soul. The memory of rough hands and cruel laughter made her stomach clench, even after all these years.

She must have gone pale or made some sound, because Mathias immediately leaned closer, concern creasing his features.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

Sera shook her head, forcing herself back to the present. The arrows in her hands were real, solid. The stone beneath her knees was warm from sunlight. She was safe in Umbra, surrounded by allies.

“Don’t apologize,” she managed. “It’s something I mentioned first. It’s still painful, but…” She took a steadying breath. “This is exactly why we have to succeed here.”

Mathias waited, not pushing for details but offering silent support through his presence.

“I don’t want anything like that happening to anyone else,” Sera continued, her voice growing stronger. “What Empress Lilith is building here, it’s worth fighting for.”

She met his gaze directly, seeing something complicated flicker across his features. Understanding, perhaps. Or recognition of shared pain.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “It is worth fighting for.”

They returned to their work with renewed purpose, filling the remaining quivers in focused silence. When the last arrow found its place, Sera stood and gathered several bundles.

“Come on,” she said, adjusting the leather straps across her shoulders. “These archers will need fresh ammunition soon enough.”

Mathias collected his share of the quivers, distributing the weight carefully. Together they headed toward the inner walls, where defenders maintained their vigilant watch over the regrouping enemy forces.

As they walked, Sera felt grateful for his presence. Whatever had changed his mind about participating, she was glad he’d chosen to help. In a world full of uncertainties, having someone she trusted at her side made all the difference.

* * *

Lilith stood atop the inner wall’s battlements, her violet eyes scanning the distant camps where enemy forces regrouped in obvious disarray. Smoke still rose from the destroyed siege engines, and she could see clusters of demons arguing among themselves. The carefully orchestrated chaos had exceeded even her expectations.

Heavy footsteps approached from behind. She turned to see Paimon and Voso climbing the stone steps, both bearing expressions of grim satisfaction.

“Your Majesty,” Paimon said, inclining her horned head. “I managed to destroy most of their siege equipment and scatter Valac’s formations, but unfortunately I didn’t manage to kill him during my initial strike. He had better protective talismans than I anticipated.”

Lilith waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. Everything is still proceeding exactly as planned.”

The words carried more truth than she’d expected. When she’d outlined this strategy days ago, part of her had wondered if her gaming experience would translate to actual warfare. But watching the enemy camps descend into suspicion and recrimination, she felt a surge of confidence. The psychological aspects of leadership remained remarkably consistent between virtual and real conflicts.

“Besides,” she continued, “Valac’s death would have been convenient, but not necessary. What matters is that the other lords now question each other’s loyalty.”

Voso nodded approvingly. “The retreat was chaotic. Bael’s forces took significant casualties from Paimon’s flames before they realized what was happening. Eligos pulled back immediately, and Belial seemed more interested in preserving his own troops than supporting anyone else.”

“Exactly the response I hoped for,” Lilith said. “Demon lords survive by trusting no one completely. Today’s betrayal will make them paranoid about everyone’s true allegiances.”

Paimon’s yellow eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “My forces are integrating well with your defensive positions. Lord Voso’s organizational skills have been invaluable in coordinating our combined strength.”

“How many troops do we have positioned along the walls now?” Lilith asked.

“Eight hundred and fifty combat-ready demons, plus one hundred human cultists serving in support roles,” Voso reported. “But Paimon’s betrayal gave us much needed reinforcements. More importantly, we now have three experienced mages for every two of theirs.”

Lilith smiled, feeling the tactical situation crystallize in her mind. “Perfect. With Paimon’s forces integrated, we won’t need to resort to unleashing Mammon anytime soon. Better to keep our dragon in reserve while the enemy exhausts themselves against prepared positions.”

They spent several minutes discussing defensive rotations and supply lines. Paimon’s troops knew the terrain around Umbra from her previous raids, while Voso’s followers excelled at coordinating complex manoeuvres. The combination created a formidable defensive force that could adapt to changing battlefield conditions.

When the tactical discussion concluded, Lilith turned to address both demon lords directly. “You’ve both exceeded my expectations today. Paimon, your timing was flawless. Voso, your coordination prevented any confusion during the counter-attack. Thanks to your efforts, the demon lords will now look at each other with suspicion rather than focusing their hatred solely on us.”

Both demons straightened at the praise, though Paimon tried to hide her pleased expression behind scholarly composure.

“Which brings me to what we have planned next,” Lilith continued, her voice taking on a more calculating tone. She glanced around until she spotted Nyssa perched on a nearby merlon, the dark fairy’s amber eyes fixed attentively on her mistress.

“Nyssa,” Lilith called. “Did you do what I asked?”

The tiny fairy fluttered her torn wings excitedly. “Yes, Mistress! I delivered the message exactly as you instructed. The recipient seemed very interested in your proposal.”

“Good job,” Lilith said warmly.

Nyssa’s reaction was immediate and intense. Her amber eyes went wide with pure joy, and she clutched her hands to her chest as if Lilith’s approval was the most precious treasure in existence. The fairy actually trembled with happiness, tiny thorns along her shoulders bristling with excitement.

“Thank you, Mistress!” Nyssa breathed, her voice carrying an almost worshipful devotion. “I live to serve you! Always and forever!”

Lilith cleared her throat, slightly uncomfortable with the fairy’s overwhelming enthusiasm. She’d forgotten how intensely loyal NPCs could become when properly motivated. In the game, such reactions had been amusing character quirks. In reality, Nyssa’s devotion carried an unsettling edge that made Lilith wonder about the psychological complexity of supposedly artificial beings.

“Right,” she said, addressing the group. “Everyone should rest while they can. The battle will continue soon, and I suspect our enemies will try something more desperate during their next assault.”

Voso saluted formally. “I’ll check on the watch rotations and ensure fresh troops are positioned at key points.”

Paimon nodded agreement. “My mages need time to recover their strength.”

As her commanders departed to handle their respective duties, Lilith remained on the battlements, studying the enemy camps with renewed focus. The first phase had succeeded beyond her expectations, but she knew the real test lay ahead. Desperate demon lords were dangerous demon lords, and Valac wouldn’t accept defeat easily.

Still, watching the smoke rise from destroyed siege engines while her own forces moved with confident efficiency, Lilith felt something she hadn’t experienced since her gaming days: the intoxicating rush of a plan executed perfectly.