Page 33 of Damsel to the Demon

17

MERCEDES

Blood splatters across my face as I swing the sword, decapitating another dark elf. The metallic scent fills my nostrils, intoxicating. My body hums with newfound power, every nerve ending alive and crackling with demonic energy.

"More," I growl, my eyes scanning the chaotic banquet hall for my next victim.

Azaruk materializes beside me, his demon form a terrifying sight to behold. Long talons drip with gore, red veins pulsing beneath his skin. His eyes meet mine, a predatory gleam matching my own.

"Having fun, my little reaper?" He grins, revealing sharp fangs.

"I've never felt so alive."

A scream pierces the air. I whirl around to see a dark elf noble scrambling towards the exit. With inhuman speed, I'm on him in seconds. My hand wraps around his throat, lifting him off the ground.

"Please," he chokes out. "Mercy."

I laugh, the sound cold and hollow. "Mercy? Did you show mercy to my family? To Thomas?"

His eyes widen in recognition.

Good. I want him to know who's ending his miserable existence.

My fingers tighten, crushing his windpipe. The light fades from his eyes as I watch, savoring every moment. When his body goes limp, I toss him aside like garbage.

Azaruk appears at my side, licking blood from his claws. "You're a natural. It's beautiful to watch."

I turn to face him, my heart racing with adrenaline and something else... desire? "This is just the beginning," I purr, running a blood-soaked hand down his chest.

He grabs my wrist, bringing my fingers to his mouth. His tongue darts out, lapping at the blood. A shiver runs through me.

"Later," he promises, his voice husky. "We have more pigs to slaughter."

I nod, refocusing on our grim task. All around us, dark elves scramble in terror. Some beg for their lives, others try to fight back. It doesn't matter.

They're all dead men walking.

We move through the hall like a well-oiled killing machine. His raw power and my newfound abilities make us unstoppable. For every elf he rips apart, I behead another. Their blood paints the walls, their screams a symphony of vengeance.

Through the chaos and carnage, I spot him. The captain. My tormentor. He stands woodenly at the edge of the room, awaiting orders like the puppet he's become.

A wicked smile curves my lips. "Captain," I purr, sauntering towards him. "It's time for a family reunion."

His blank eyes meet mine. No trace of the cruel bastard remains. Just an empty shell, ready to do my bidding.

"Kill them," I command. "Your family. All of them."

Without hesitation, he moves. His steps are quick, purposeful. I follow, eager to watch.

We enter a side chamber. His wife cowers in a corner, clutching their young son. The captain approaches, sword raised.

"Darling?" his wife whimpers. "What are you doing?"

The blade falls. Blood sprays. I drink in their screams, relishing every moment.

The captain turns to his son next. The boy's eyes are wide with terror and confusion.

"Papa, no!"

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