Page 65 of The Misfit Mage and His Darling Demon

“Well, no essence inside you yet.” She sneered. “I’m going to have too much fun rummaging through your organs, picking the prettiest one to remember you by, and eating all the others.”

I wriggled, attempting to knock her grip off, but she didn’t budge. Every breath became a chore of survival, impossible and useless against such a tremendous Diabolic force.

“Don’t worry. It’s been so long since I’ve carved up a little magey treat, I’ll probably end up killing you by the second incision. Hope you don’t mind if I practice on your corpse.”

She punched her clawed hand down, ready to impale my chest. Something cracked, and white light burst between us.

“Well, well, well,” the demon cooed. “When did you muster that barrier?”

I’d pulled off the incantation? When? Instinct? Maybe I could do this.

The light shimmering between her blade-formed essence and my shirt popped, transforming into lightning that coiled up her arm, spreading across her body like the lights of a city illuminating all darkness, and pulsed. She leapt off me, zipping back and forth in an effort to shake loose from the magic, but the electricity clamped down onto her and sent continuous jolts that seared her flesh.

I gasped, sucking in all the air my lungs would hold again and again until the fuzzy dots lining my vision faded.

The demon grabbed the lightning with her bare hands, wrapping it round and round until tendrils writhed from the gaping holes she’d made by biting off chunks of her host body. Black essence with crimson hues whipped at the elementalstrike, fizzling out the electrical attack. “Nasty, hateful witch bitch.”

“Witch?” I asked, slack-jawed.

“Eh. I’ve been called worse,” Kell said, static crackling at her fingertips.

Kell. Kell was here. Alive. It wasn’t my attempt at incantations but her successful magic that stopped the demon from killing me.

The lanterns lit with each confident step she took, but her stance was shaky, and her breathing wheezed along the stone walls. She wore her witch’s hat and a flared-cut black dress with white stitching. It hung off her shoulders. I winced, pained to see the discolored, twisted skin revealing a fresh burn across her left shoulder. The long sleeves of the dress covered what must’ve been many other burns along her arms. But veins across Kell’s face and thighs glowed green, and essence circulated beneath her skin, moving like tranquil waves and adding an emerald hue to her brown complexion while subtly shrinking and healing the scars all over her body. Did that mean Mora had given her more essence? Were they both okay? Would they be okay?

“Stop daydreaming, Wally.” Kell moved her leg back, shifting her weight as she summoned an array of protective sigils. “I can’t do this on my own.”

“Right.” I dragged myself up, saturating the corridor, adding my mana to Kell’s magic.

With a wave of her hand, Kell sent a half dozen sigils at the demon. What I considered protective were laced with explosive elements: fire, ice, and lightning. It didn’t matter; the demon darted about this confined space, leaping from the floor to the ceiling, dodging the first two bursts. Kell flicked her wrist, changing the trajectory of the remaining sigils. But the demon scaled the wall, moving along the sides and racing in circles closer to Kell.

In a blur, the demon collided with a barrier of light cast by sorcery. Despite the witch’s proficiency, a single strike shattered half the sigils keeping Kell shielded.

I slammed my hands onto the floor, rattling the ground like ruffling a carpet. It sent ripples similar to the tide of a lake, raising the stones one by one before they lowered back in place. Each disruption increased the momentum and added to my already strong saturation in play. This wasn’t like a lake, more like an ocean of continuously stacked force surging closer. When it finally reached the demon, I threw all my mana into the strike, propelling the floor upward, twisting elemental control over the stonework to smash the demon between the floor and ceiling.

The lack of mobility in this space worked at a disadvantage against her too. Rocks burst, and dust swept through the corridor.

“Rude,” the demon said.

Her voice sent a shiver down my spine, a spine fully in her grasp as she stood behind me. Again.

I spun away, adding wind to my escape, hoping the extra speed would allow me to distance myself. It didn’t. She lunged forward, swiping her claws. Her strikes were deflected, met with resistance from Kell’s sigils working faster to keep up with the demon’s attacks. Each blow she attempted was aimed at my tendons, arteries, my most vulnerable points—somehow, Kell kept up with it, magic at the ready.

Grabbing the Demon’s Demise, I planned to slice her clawed hand off the next time she attempted to gut me. Instead, the demon skirted around, now ahead of me again. Despite the slow shift in my direction, I managed to turn aside, stopping right as my back collided with the wall.

“You’re becoming tiresome,” she said, facing Kell.

“Back at you.”

The demon didn’t bother acknowledging me. Why would she? I couldn’t do a damn thing against her. Even when I had Diabolic essence, I choked. Now, I had almost no magic at my disposal, no ability to keep up, and posed no threat whatsoever.

“You smell delectable. Perhaps a bit undercooked for my tastes. Witches are best when well done, I always say. No worries, though. I can fix that.” Black flames formed in the demon’s palm, swirling and burning brighter. She hurled the fire at Kell, who cast a barrier to block the swelling fire. Not a barrier, telekinesis. I could see the glowing green veins meant to heal her body receding the longer she stopped the Diabolic flames from engulfing her.

“Stop it!” I shouted, springing off the wall with all the rage in the world, stabbing the dagger into the demon’s back.

She wailed and whirled around. Too fast. Her clawed swipe slashed my shoulder. I flinched, stifling a scream. It was only a flesh wound. A graze compared to what she intended to do to me, to Kell, if I let up for a second. I pressed forward, casting a glamour as I moved in to stab her a second time. She blocked my left hand holding the blade.

“Wrong hand.” I stabbed her thigh with my right. “Can’t believe that glamour worked on you. Guess you weren’t kidding about being rusty.”

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