Jareth panted, his vision blurring from exhaustion and blood loss. Romelo was too strong, too fast. Every strike he threw was met with overwhelming force. Every dodge, countered. His body screamed in protest, his grip on his sword weakening with every passing second. His strength was failing him.
Romelo grinned, his confidence unwavering. "Is that all, hero? I expected more from you."
Jareth wiped the blood from his mouth, forcing himself to smirk despite the pain. "You talk too much."
Romelo's eyes narrowed. The amusement in them had begun to fade. The Demon Lord had toyed with him long enough—now, he was going in for the kill. Jareth saw it in the way his stance shifted, the way his aura darkened.
And he knew.
If Romelo landed the next strike, it would be over.
Jareth braced himself, gripping his sword tightly. He had one chance. One desperate gamble.
He feigned a moment of weakness, his legs buckling as if his body had finally reached its limit. His breath came in ragged gasps, his shoulders sagging. His fingers loosened ever so slightly around his weapon.
Romelo took the bait.
With a triumphant sneer, the Demon Lord lunged, his blade flashing in the dim light, ready to carve Jareth apart. But just as Romelo committed to the attack—
A whisper, ancient and powerful, resonated deep within Jareth's soul.
"You dare gamble with my power, boy?" Bahamut's voice rumbled, laced with both irritation and pride.
"NOW, BAHAMUT!" Jareth roared in his mind.
For an instant, the world seemed to shatter.
A sudden surge of power erupted from within Jareth's core, his muscles igniting with an overwhelming force. Bahamut's presence flared, his ancient draconic energy pouring into Jareth for just a single second.
"Tch! Reckless fool... Fine! Take it!" Bahamut growled, unleashing a sliver of his divine might.
Jareth vanished from Romelo's sight.
In that single heartbeat, his speed exploded beyond human limits. His blade, once struggling to match Romelo's, now moved with terrifying precision. His entire being became a blur of raw, untamed power.
Romelo's pupils shrank. "What—?!"
SLASH!
Jareth's blade cleaved through Romelo's defenses, severing his right arm at the elbow. The Demon Lord's cry of agony shook the battlefield, his severed limb crashing to the ground, black blood splattering across the stone.
Jareth landed, panting, the glow of Bahamut's power fading as quickly as it had come. The boost was gone, but the damage was done. His hands trembled—not from exhaustion, but from the sheer intensity of the borrowed might.
Romelo staggered back, his face twisted in shock and fury. "Y-You… What did you—?!"
Jareth steadied himself, smirking through the pain. "You were so busy toying with me, you forgot to ask the real question—who's really in control of this fight?"
Romelo's rage boiled over, his entire body trembling with fury. His remaining hand clutched his stump, black energy beginning to pulse around him.
But Jareth wasn't done yet.
With Romelo's accuracy compromised and his pride shattered, the tides of battle had finally turned.
The real fight was about to begin.
Meanwhile in Elaria
The city trembled with every impact. The barrier Jareth had erected held firm, but the sheer force of the demon army's relentless barrage made it feel as though the sky itself was collapsing. Thunderous blasts echoed across Elaria, like cannons pounding against a fortress wall.
People huddled together in the streets, their faces pale with terror. Mothers clutched their children tightly, whispering prayers to gods who had long since abandoned them. Small children sobbed in their arms, their cries lost beneath the deafening onslaught.
At the city's entrance, the Captain of the guard stood firm, his armor dented, his blade chipped, but his will unbroken. His two thousand men fought like lions, cutting down every demon that breached the barrier's edges. Their formation wavered, their strength dwindling, but they refused to break. They would protect their home to the last breath.
In a secluded chamber, Nerina knelt beside Lyra, sweat dripping down her brow. Her hands glowed with a soft, pulsing light as she poured the last remnants of her magic into healing her fallen sister. Lyra's body was pale, her breathing shallow.
"Come on… just a little more…" Nerina whispered, her vision blurring from exhaustion.
She could feel it—her strength was almost gone. If Jareth didn't return soon…
If the barrier failed…
Then Elaria would fall.