Chapter 139: The First Demon General
The battlefield was a graveyard of dying screams and burning corpses.
And yet—
The fight wasn't over.
A new presence slithered into the air.
Cold. Suffocating. Pure malice.
The demons that had been attacking froze.
Then—they retreated.
Not because they were losing.
But because something stronger had arrived.
Kael felt it before he saw it.
A dark figure materialized from the shadows, stepping through the carnage as if it were nothing.
Tall. Cloaked in obsidian armor, pulsating with violet sigils.
His four curved horns gleamed under the broken moonlight.
And his golden eyes burned with a hunger unlike the lesser demons.
A Demon General.
The air thickened with his presence.
The weaker demons knelt, baring their throats in submission.
And then—he smiled.
"A fine hunt," the Demon General mused, voice smooth as silk. "I must thank you for entertaining my pets."
Kael's fingers tightened around his sword.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
The demon tilted his head.
"I have many names. But for now, you may call me Zerathis."
His gaze flickered across the group, assessing them.
"A vampire royal. A high elven prince. A pair of dark elven assassins. And you—" His golden eyes landed on Kael.
He grinned.
"Ah. The human who defied death itself."
Kael's blood ran cold.
Zerathis chuckled. "Tell me, little warrior… what will you do when your time finally runs out?"
Kael's jaw clenched.
Because something about that felt like a threat.
The moment Zerathis arrived, Ilyra moved.
She had remained in the shadows, waiting for the right moment.
Now—she struck.
Twin enchanted daggers flashed, her speed a blur.
Zerathis barely had time to react before she was on him.
Her first dagger slashed for his throat.
Blocked.
The second went for his ribs.
Blocked again.
Zerathis smirked. "Fast."
Then—he countered.
A pulse of raw demonic energy erupted from his body.
Ilyra twisted mid-air, barely dodging as she landed gracefully beside Kael.
She clicked her tongue. "Tch. I hate fighting cocky ones."
Kael exhaled. "Get in line."
The fight exploded.
Zerathis was unlike anything they had faced before.
Raithon unleashed a storm of golden fire, his magic roaring across the battlefield.
Zerathis walked through it.
Saria and Thalric struck from the shadows, their twin glaives moving as one.
Zerathis parried both.
Ilyra and Vasaria flanked him, their daggers slicing at his weak points.
Zerathis sidestepped effortlessly.
No matter how fast, how strong, how precise their attacks were—
Nothing landed.
Zerathis was playing with them.
And then—
He moved.
Kael saw it.
Too fast.
Zerathis appeared before him in an instant.
A single strike.
Kael barely blocked in time.
The force sent him skidding back, his boots tearing through the dirt.
Zerathis smirked. "Oh? You didn't die. Impressive."
Kael exhaled, feeling the sting in his arms. That attack… had the force of a mountain behind it.
Vasaria landed beside him, breathing heavily.
"Please tell me you have a plan."
Kael rolled his shoulders. "Yeah."
Vasaria raised a brow. "Oh?"
Kael's eyes darkened.
"I kill him."
Vasaria grinned. "I like that plan."
Kael's entire body burned.
The sigil that Death had gifted him—**the Final Gift—began to awaken.
For the first time—Kael felt its true weight.
A power that didn't just kill.
But ended.
His runes flared, his Crimson Sigil merging with Death's Mark.
Zerathis paused.
Something shifted.
The Demon General's golden eyes narrowed. "What are you doing, human?"
Kael exhaled.
Then—he vanished.
Kael appeared behind him.
Faster than light.
Faster than thought.
And he whispered.
"Tell the abyss I'm coming."
He drove his blade through Zerathis' back.
For a moment—nothing happened.
Then—
Zerathis' entire body convulsed.
The death sigil activated.
Not just cutting flesh.
Not just cutting soul.
But severing existence.
Zerathis' eyes widened.
He tried to scream.
But there was no sound.
Because in that moment—Zerathis was erased.
Not killed.
Erased.
His body vanished into nothingness.
And the battlefield fell silent.
Kael staggered, exhaustion washing over him.
His squad stared.
Not just at the victory.
But at how it happened.
Raithon clenched his fists. "What the hell was that?"
Vasaria licked her lips. "That… was beautiful."
Kael exhaled.
One use down.
Two remaining.
And for the first time—he felt the weight of what Death had given him.
Because this wasn't power.
This was something far worse.