Page 55 of The Misfit Mage and His Darling Demon

Blood gushed.

Mora panted, barely holding a sword already embedded in her chest.

She stood in front of Kell on the opposite side of the room, saving her witch.

When had Eligos thrown it? How? Telekinesis? A tendril? Some other Diabolic ability?

He’d zipped forward in the few seconds when Mora’s hold waned, speeding toward her in a haze. My eyes barely registered the movement, even with essence coursing through my body and months of studying Bez’s playful darting about.

“You’re as vulnerable as Beelzebub, it seems.” Eligos grabbed the hilt of his weapon, twisting it. “But I have no need of a petty, vile demon such as yourself.”

Diabolic energy raged between the two of them. Tendrils laced in gold and emerald clashed, destroying everything in the helm. A large gust of black wind carried Kell away, hurling her at the exit.

Exit. I needed to escape. With Bez. With Kell. Mora knew that. I struggled to breathe between the realization that I was facing a demon, Bez was lying decapitated, and the oxygen was being siphoned by the whirlwind Eligos and Mora eachsummoned, dragging one another into close combat my eyes couldn’t analyze.

“Even before visiting Bael’s realm with that arrogant clown, Novus”—Eligos continued slowly driving his blade further into Mora’s chest—“who traipsed about believing he could master our essence, I’d seen the lackluster conviction of your world.”

“So trite, right?” Mora jested, brow furrowed, heels broken, and feet dug into the floor to keep her stance. “I’ve heard of you, too. The tragic demon knight who deluded himself into thinking his foolhardy valor meant a damn thing. How quickly the world forgot you.”

The world, maybe… But this demon Eligos meant something to Bez. I felt it in his memory and the helm, the anxiety in his body’s tremble, the patter of his quickening heartbeat, the shocked expression unable to mask mixed emotions.

“The problem with you, Morax, is even the best warriors in Bael’s realm couldn’t hold their own against the lowliest of Beelzebub’s.” Eligos whipped behind Mora, attempting to impale her through the back.

“You talk too much.” Mora caught the tip of the sword with her palm, slicing her own hand to hold the weapon at bay. Black lightning surged from each of them, clinking against the metal but deflecting from the natural conductor. Eligos protected his weapon. His armor. He had a weakness, too.

“The Morax I know is all talk, a con artist with an aristocratic flair and a heart only for herself. It’s nice to see there is some fight in you.” Eligos’ golden eyes shimmered behind his visor, squinting with rage, the kind of disgusted hate I’d seen at far too many family dinners. “Still, as one affiliated with such a corrupt devil, you’re unworthy of the universe I’m creating.”

Mora clenched her hand, cracking the blade.

Symbols of high-tier incantations formed from the gaps in Eligos’ armor, latching onto the wind that whirled around thepair. Explosions of fire and smog and barriers burst throughout the helm, a cacophony that forced me to press my hands to my ears and squeeze my eyes shut.

One. Two. Three.

The entire villa rumbled. Exploded. I opened my eyes, wheezing and barely able to see through the thick smoke.

Mora stood, feet barely touching the floor as she appeared unconscious, pinned against a wall with blades pressed through her chest, neck, stomach, thigh, and right hand. Eligos had more weapons. Where? How? Must’ve been the incantations he used to summon them.

Mora roared, tendrils whipping about erratically as Diabolic essence flourished. Her brown eyes burned a bright emerald and fully bloodshot, the whites replaced by a faded lime green.

Eligos revealed a small dagger summoned by an incantation. Upon closer inspection, those sigils were Fae, which meant even without possessing a Fae, he must’ve fed on a lot of Mythic residue belonging to them. In one fluid motion, Eligos drove the dagger upward, stabbing Mora through her throat and into her skull. She gurgled, body convulsing, and tendrils slowly retreating inside her host body. Her eyes rolled back, and her essence stopped stirring.

All the smoke drifted to the opposite side of the room, funneling into a tiny, condensed ball of gray mist floating above Kell’s palm. Her sorcery was skillful, but she didn’t seriously believe she could fight a demon, did she? One that defeated Bez and Mora? My chest tightened as each inhale became harder. I needed a plan, needed to help, needed to run. I scanned the helm, searching for anything of use, and my gaze rested on the control panel littered with Kell’s projects and a box Bez had gifted me.

“You put your hands on my wife.” Kell hurled the ball of smoke, which burst wide when Eligos attempted flitting past it.The smog transformed from a gas to a sticky liquid that held the demon knight in place. As he struggled to get loose, the substance clung to every piece of his armor and hardened to stone. “Now, you die.”

Incantations from sorcery floated around Kell; flames conjured by nature’s blessing circled her feet; she muttered something that summoned silhouettes of apparitions behind her—the power of evocation, allowing her to commune with the spiritual guidance of deceased witches.

“Get your damn demon-killing blade to stab this bastard.” Kell glared at me, her words echoing in my head through a telepathic link that came from psychic perception. “Once I rip every single piece of scrap metal off him, gut whatever foul thing reveals itself, and I’ll burn him with flames guided by a hundred generations of witches.”

Kell harnessed the Four Corners of witchcraft masterfully and simultaneously: sorcery, nature’s blessing, evocation, and psychic perception, all while maintaining a strong unflinching stance. I couldn’t even stop the quake in my legs or the panic in my chest.

“Now,” she snapped, throwing fiery sigils at Eligos.

I leapt to my feet and darted to the control panel. Something cracked, and rocks were flung in my direction. I spun around, dodging them, and grabbed the box holding Demon’s Demise before crashing onto the floor.

“I always found witches tiresome.” Eligos stood behind Kell. “I see why the mortals preferred burning you lot from their realm.”

He balled a fist, and the protective flames surrounding Kell turned black and burned bright. She screamed, engulfed by a tornado of fire.

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