The demon crouched. It was not as tall as a man, but its body was packed with muscle. Its red eyes blazed through the mist, and steam rolled off its back.
It had already flung Kael once. Kael's arm was bleeding profusely. Kael's head was spinning. The broken spear in his hand was increasing in weight every passing moment.
The demon struck again—swift and silent.
Kael gritted his teeth and shoved with every ounce of strength he had left, driving the blade straight into its right shoulder.
A shriek ripped from the monster's throat. It reeled back, left clawed hands grasping at its right crimson-stained hand. Black blood poured from his shoulder.
Kael dropped to one knee. It all hurt.
Then it came.
The sigil on his ribs pulsed—once, twice—before it burst into soft, purple light. It crawled up his chest, lines twisting like sluggish lightning.
And then—
"Stand still."
The voice came from inside him. Not loudly. Not softly. Just existing.
Kael's body stiffened.
He wasn't moving anymore. Someone else was.
"Your body is weak," the voice said. "But it will do."
Kael's fingers eased. His hand gripped the spear more firmly. His knees straightened. His back cracked as he stood
Kael was still inside—but no longer in control.
The sigil continued to shine, now with greater intensity. Its light filled the air.
The demon growled and struck again.
Kael's hand rose on its own. Leg movement, balance, timing.
"Let me show you the proper way."
When the demon sprinted across the mist—
Kael's body moved.
Smooth. Fast. Perfect.
He whirled on the beast's claws and plunged the broken spear under its jaw.
The weapon penetrated deeply.
The demon's body twitched.
Then froze
—just as Kael's eyes gleamed once again, more brightly than ever—