Jareth barely had time to process the overwhelming force before him. The once-alluring figures of the enemy harem girls had shed their illusionary grace, now standing as warriors clad in battle armor, their gazes sharp with predatory focus. The three-eyed dark elf who had called him 'King Romelo' led the charge, her movements fluid yet deadly.
He barely dodged as a whip of dark energy slashed past his cheek, searing his skin with unnatural heat. The succubi moved in tandem, their claws infused with dark magic, aiming to cripple him. Jareth parried a strike from a vampire wielding twin curved daggers, but as he deflected one, another lashed out with her rapier, forcing him to retreat.
"Damn it…!" he muttered, breath ragged. These weren't just illusions or seductresses—they were elite warriors, each radiating a power that rivaled the strongest foes he had faced. His usual battle instincts faltered. Their teamwork, their speed, their mercilessness—it was unnatural.
Bahamut's voice rumbled in his mind. "Jareth, if you don't stop hesitating, they will break you."
A lamia launched forward, her serpentine lower half propelling her at inhuman speed. He barely blocked her sword, but the force sent him skidding backward. The dark elf smirked, her three violet eyes gleaming.
"Struggling already, 'Boy'?" she taunted. "You're quite different from the one we remember."
Jareth didn't have time to decipher her words. The air grew thick with lethal intent as spells ignited the chamber, the temperature oscillating between freezing winds and scorching flames. He needed a new approach. He couldn't fight them head-on—not like this.
Gritting his teeth, he focused. The moment the next attack came, he ducked low, slipping past their formation. Instead of attacking, he kicked over a massive basin of boiling water, creating a thick steam cloud. With a burst of speed, he vanished into the haze. The enemy girls hissed in annoyance, scanning the room for his presence.
He tightened his grip on his sword. I need to take them out one by one.
Meanwhile, on the battlefield outside at Elaria, Nerina and Lyra braced themselves as the void rift pulsed with malicious energy. The two hulking Demon Lords stepped forward, their towering forms crackling with power. One was a beast of muscle and metal, his flesh fused with obsidian armor, glowing with hellish embers. The other was a gaunt, pale giant, his clawed hands twitching with dark energy, his hollow eyes locked onto them with soulless hunger.
"Lyra," Nerina muttered. "We have to be careful. These aren't ordinary demon lords."
Lyra wiped blood from her lips, nodding. "We take them together—"
Before she could finish, the first Demon Lord moved.
It was too fast.
A massive clawed fist smashed into Lyra, sending her flying through the air. She barely had time to react before she crashed into the ruins of a crumbling tower. The impact shattered stone and sent debris flying. Nerina's heart pounded as she saw Lyra slump forward, blood trickling down her forehead. She wasn't moving.
"LYRA!"
The second Demon Lord was already closing in, his movements eerily smooth despite his grotesque frame. Nerina twisted her lance in her grip, breathing heavily. She was alone now.
The Demon God, still watching from above, chuckled. "Let's see how long you last."
Nerina launched forward, her lance spinning in a deadly arc. Water magic surged around her, creating a bladed vortex. She aimed for the armor-clad Demon Lord first, piercing through his side. But instead of recoiling in pain, he let out a guttural laugh, grabbing her lance mid-strike. With a brutal yank, he sent her flying, her body smashing against the blood-soaked ground.
Pain flared through her limbs, but she rolled to her feet just in time to dodge the gaunt Demon Lord's dark tendrils that lashed out, cutting deep into the earth where she had stood. Her mind raced. She couldn't fight both of them like this. She needed to even the odds.
Gritting her teeth, she thrust her hand forward. The battlefield trembled as water from the ruined city streets surged upward, forming a massive tidal wave. She directed it toward the armored Demon Lord, forcing him backward, drowning him in a torrent of pressure. But before she could capitalize, the gaunt Demon Lord was already behind her.
Too fast!
A clawed hand raked across her side, cutting through her armor. Blood sprayed from the wound as she gasped in pain, stumbling forward. Her vision blurred for a second, but she forced herself to stay standing.
The Demon God's laughter echoed across the battlefield. "A shame. I expected more from the Silent Death Duo."
Nerina clenched her jaw, ignoring the pain. She couldn't afford to fall here. If she did—Lyra, Eden, Jareth—everything would be lost.
She took a deep breath, channeling the last of her strength. Her blue eyes burned with determination.
Even if she had to face them alone.
Back in the bathhouse, Jareth's ambush plan had only partially worked. He had managed to incapacitate two of the enemy warriors, but the remaining ones were now enraged. His body was littered with shallow cuts and bruises, his breath ragged.
The three-eyed dark elf flicked her wrist, summoning a curved black blade. "You're resilient," she admitted. "But this is where it ends."
Jareth exhaled sharply. He could feel Bahamut's power surging within him, urging him to unleash everything. But if he did… he might not be able to hold himself back.
He looked toward the exit. If he could escape—
No.
He steadied his stance. He wouldn't run. Not this time.
As the enemy harem warriors closed in, their weapons gleaming under the dim candlelight, Jareth raised his sword. His blood dripped onto the floor, mixing with the steam as his golden eyes burned with unrelenting resolve.
Outside, the battle for Elaria raged on. And at its heart, Nerina stood against impossible odds, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her fingers tightening around her lance.
The two Demon Lords loomed over her.
Lyra lay unconscious.
And the Demon God watched with cruel amusement.
A storm was coming.
And no one knew who would survive.