Chapter 227: Fracture XXXII
The interior of the privacy dome turned an eerie red hue, amplifying the wispy shadows that circulated the outside. Ozra leaned forward, his previously unremarkable visage much less human-looking now that it was bathed in crimson. The motion forced his neck against the point of my blade, drawing no blood, making only the slightest impression.
I nearly ended it right there. Fighting Ozra directly wasn't an option. Even if he didn't have considerable leverage over me, the sheer difference in ability and experience was substantial. But that didn't mean I was powerless. Despite his age, resources, and an entire demonic legion's share of accumulated power, there was still one thing I had that he didn't. The ability to stop this entire interaction from happening in the first place. It would set me back, potentially weeks. But with my sister's soul on the line, it was a small price to pay.
Vibrations from the inscription at my throat resonated into my sternum, as they flooded with mana.
"This is unseemly, arch-fiend," Vogrin said, voice heavy with disdain.
"I will not be judged by the likes of you," Ozra didn't move. Didn't so much as look at him.
"Not only is he a contracted soul, he is one that invited you into his home. You risk turning him into yet another cautionary tale," Maya added, moving in a creeping flank to Ozra's left.
I paused, taking a deep breath to steady myself, prepared to plunge into the dark. Then a possibility formed in the back of my mind, one cobbled together with information from Vogrin's theory and prior dealings with the arch-fiend. I shoved down the rage to a distant simmer and forced myself to think strategically. "Interesting. Of the many descriptives that could apply to you, Ozra, desperate has never been one of them. Yet here we are."
"What?" Ozra balked, his malevolent cheer dying instantly.
"You style yourself after the greater evils, in both aesthetic and demeanor. Abyssal powers that lay in wait for supplicants to approach them, hearing their pleas and entreaties from a seat of perfect, unflinching authority. Not a bandit razing travelers on the open road." Something tugged on the sleeve of my sword arm, small fingers plying at the fabric.