Chapter 517: Tainted
The curse demon hissed at the sight of me, her eyes narrowing. "Why have you brought a Tainted here, Devoted?" she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Is there not enough filth here already?"
She swept a hand towards the other demonkin, whose expression tightened. They didn’t react further but lowered their eyes, refusing to challenge her.
I expected Fyren to erupt in anger or at least defend me, but he barely spared her a glance. Instead, he strode into the pavilion, his towering demon form casting a long shadow over the others.
"Apostle of Curses," he said, his voice resonating with power, "What is it you wish to know? If your only intent is to insult my Oracle, be grateful if I don’t incinerate your entire army as I leave."
Fyren’s aura flared, suffocating the weaker demons and demonkin, causing the illusory map to waver. I instinctively stepped back, groping for Fable, my tail swishing nervously. I had never seen Fyren so domineering, and I couldn’t tell if he was bluffing. Was this how demons negotiated at a war council?
While the others cowered, Luke merely sighed, gesturing towards the map with a hint of annoyance. He shot the curse demon a subtle glare.
"Forgive me, Lord of Ash," he said, maintaining the same politeness he had displayed earlier. "This fortress is the last line of defense for the Ingrid Alliance. Once we take it, the entire Alliance will be open to us. There are seven demon gates open in their lands, which, if we can reach in time, will almost double our available forces."
Fyren crossed his arms, studying the map. "And what would you ask of me?"
Luke hesitated, a slight, almost imperceptible twitch running down his tail. "They’ve managed to persuade a company of Church mages to support them. Our spies in the city tell us there’s a seventh-level sun mage among them. While I could crush them eventually, taking the city would prove costly with their mana cannons."
"You have thousands of scions at your command," Fyren said dismissively. "I’m astounded you ask me to take action when your forces seem sufficient."
One of the other demonkin tentatively raised his head. "Lord of Ash," he pleaded, "our troops were severely weakened in the battle for Brithlite. While they yearn for more bloodshed and destruction, we barely outnumber the enemy. Without your Devoted, we’ll—"