Page 120 of The Demon Crown

And that was the thought that spurred him forward. The thought had consumed him as they raced into a blood red sky, toward a town that might very well be destroyed by the time they got there.

They made it in time. Or at least in the midst of what the Horde had planned to do.

The buildings in her hometown were made of stone, which was good. The fires that consumed the town only raged through the thatch roofs and the wooden pillars holding up the stalls in the center of the street. But the Horde had brought a new weapon with them, one that he had not seen in ages.

The gauntlet used to be used by the miners deep in the ground. They had carved out entire kingdoms beneath the sands with that powerful metal, but then it had been used much in the same way the Horde was using it. The man who wore it was not the leader of the Horde, but an equally large beast who pounded through the stone of a home until he could stand aside for other members to rush in. Women and children screamed. Men fought back, their wives brandished pans behind them as they tried to remove the Horde from their homes.

Fires burned hotter, the screams rose to a crescendo, and Greed knew what they had to do.

He leapt from the back of his horse and landed on the ground, his hands already curving in massive claws. They were hunting, and now he got to track his prey.

Though he only had his scouts, he already knew there were a few who had headed back to his oasis. The rest of his army would arrive soon enough, but they would likely find the battle already complete.

Varya strode up beside him, both of them standing on the top of a dune that looked over what had once been her home. “Don’t underestimate them. They were looking for that map so they could gather more magical artifacts, but that means they have at least a few of them in their grasp. Almost no one even knew that map existed.”

“Magic won’t stop me.”

“But that gas will.” She cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at her when he would have just run off into the fray.

And he paused. Allowing her to touch him, to stroke her fingers over his cheekbones as though she were memorizing every angle of his face. She took her time, though perhaps they should have been rushing.

Greed smiled. “I will see you again, Varya. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Though she must know it was the truth, Varya still sighed and shook her head. “This isn’t about me, Greed. You aren’t going to fight against the Horde for me. Do you understand? If you go into that town, it’s to save the people there.”

He did not understand, nor was that the truth. He wanted to rush into that madness because he loved the sound of flesh squelching beneath his claws. The screams of his dying enemies lulled him to sleep at night. Nothing inside him wanted to save, he just wanted to punish because that was what he was good at.

Except...

He turned his gaze to the town, and he saw all the people there. People who had accepted him during the Festival of Lights. Who had seemed surprised he was there at all, but still wanted to make sure he knew how to put a lantern together and showed him the right steps for the dance.

These were the people he was supposed to protect. Varya had reminded him of that, and it hurt to know that he had forgotten it after so many years of serving them.

They were the reason he’d taken this throne. He’d remembered that at some point, and he’d been greedy for their love and devotion at the time. Now? He just wanted them to be happy. He didn’t need them to worship him like a god, only that they live their lives in a better way than before. And perhaps that he was the reason they were living better lives.

He would save them now. All it would take was a bitter battle, and that was really no cost at all. They had been kind to him. They deserved this.

With a curt nod, he pressed a firm kiss to her lips before saying, “So be it.”

“You’ll do whatever it takes to save them?”

“I promise, treasure. And I don’t make promises I won’t keep.”

He stalked toward the city, shaking out his arms and feeling the battle form rolling over him. He could sense how dangerous he was becoming. The claws, the hardening of his skin, the way his muscles and body swelled in preparation for a fight that would live throughout the ages as the most terrifying battle his kingdom had endured.

Because he was going to bathe in their blood. He would coat his skin with it, dousing his entire body in every bit of their life force until no one could tell who or what he was.

The Horde wanted a demon king? They would have one.

He waded into the madness, all claws and gleaming blades. And then his thoughts faded out of his head. Gone. All he thought about was the bloodbath and the death that came at the ends of his claws. He saw their faces blinking in and out. Men and women wearing the skulls of animals, each of them believing they could fight the famed demon king and all of them failing.

He barely registered the pain of blades slashing across his flesh. That was the beauty of this form. He did not feel pain. He did not feel fear. All that remained was the brief intelligence to let him know when there was a person in front of him who did not need to die.

He came close, once. A little boy stood in front of him, skidding to a halt as Greed’s claws slashed down. But he froze before he ever touched the young man. Only a drop of blood splattered from his claws and touched the boy’s cheek.

He let the young one run. He had no intention of killing any of the villagers and even in this form, he knew that. He was their protector. They would run and hide from him later, but right now they used his massive body as a shield and begged him to help.

So help he did. Over and over, death came from his hands. So many of the Horde fell, screaming and crying out for a mercy he did not know how to give them.

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