Chapter 212: God and man
A sickening crack echoed as the neck twisted far beyond what should be humanly possible, the head completing an unnatural turn with a wet pop. The smile never left Robert’s face. No, not Robert anymore. Something else was wearing his skin like a trophy. The hollow eyes shimmered with flickers of ice-blue flame, and the air around Damon dropped several degrees.
"You..." the demon rasped, voice like glacier shards scraping against bone. "Such a familiar scent... Blood. So much blood. And such potent blood, too." Its eyes, still glowing embers of abyssal fire, seemed to pierce through Damon, analyzing, consuming. "You, little mortal, reek of something... interesting."
The ground around Robert began to crack, black ice spiderwebbing out from beneath his contorted feet. The swirling snow, which had been dancing around him, now began to turn an ominous black as it coalesced into jagged shards that floated menacingly in the air.
The next instant, the demon unexpectedly ran towards Damon with an unnatural speed, using Robert’s legs that looked more like claws now. "You must be the reason why the thread of fate was leading me to this shit hole of a world. What are you? Your blood is making me desire all sorts of things." The demon screeched, sending a chill down Damon’s spine.
Damon did not waste any time as he instantly conjured a blood lance in his hand, the strongest attack he could muster. The lance had fire, shadow, and even hints of lightning swirling around it. It howled with unstable power, a chaotic convergence of elements.
Damon did not even waste a single moment, throwing the lance before the freakish thing could reach him. The lance tore through the storm like a missile, warping the air in its path, leaving behind a trail of crimson fire. The demon shrieked in delight rather than fear, throwing its body forward to meet the attack head-on. The moment of impact was apocalyptic.
A blinding flash consumed the field as the lance collided with the demon’s chest. Fire erupted outward, snow and ice vaporized in a shockwave, and the earth beneath cracked open like brittle glass. Black shards of corrupted frost rained down across the battlefield, each one humming with residual demonic energy.
When the smoke cleared, the demon stood hunched, its chest smoldering, a crater where its heart should have been. But it was laughing.
A low, guttural sound that grew louder, fuller, until it shook the bones in Damon’s spine. The wound was sealing, no, freezing over from the inside, as tendrils of black ice snaked outward to rebuild what had been destroyed.