“Time you tasted the Demon Flogger,” Jared murmured. He sheathed the sword and snapped the ebony whip into existence. Thunder cracked; Lunaria felt her very soul peel away from flesh. Terror flooded her chest. The palace is finished.
With a desperate cry she spun and sprinted toward the palace depths. “Father, help me!” Jared frowned and flew after her, gold aura streaking behind him. Flaxseed’s voice echoed after them, “Scream for every ancestor you have, girl—nothing will save you today!”
Kishor darted forward, slicing through the drifting ash like a thrown spear. Flaxseed, his patched robe flapping behind him, pounded after him without a moment’s hesitation.
Deep within Blackshade Demon Palace—where the torches burned with ghost-blue flame and every corridor echoed like a crypt—a cavernous hall sat shrouded in dank shadow. In the center, an elderly man in midnight robes opened his eyes with glacial deliberation.
He was Varek Underwood, lord of Blackshade Demon Palace and father to the demon princess Lunaria. His aura pulsed with the strength of a fifth-grade earthly immortal, the sort of power that made lesser warriors bow without being asked.
On level four, that rank stood among the very greatest. He had long been capable of ascending to level five, but Varek remained here, convinced Lunaria could not yet command the palace elders, so he secluded himself in endless cultivation.
“Who dares trespass in my palace?” The question boomed like cathedral bells, each word pressed down with suffocating force.
Lunaria stumbled into the grand hall, tears streaking her moon-pale cheeks. “Father, you must take charge! Jared and his people have forced their way inside, and our followers are dying by the dozen.”
Varek Underwood’s expression iced over. “Jared? Such brazen courage. What master shelters you, boy?” He could not believe anyone below an elder would storm Blackshade Demon Palace without powerful backing.
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