The Demon and the Elf (Book 1)

Chapter Twenty Five pt 1

Chapter Twenty Five

The thumping sounds of footsteps on the hard floor muffled by the embellished red rug, the shifting shadows grazing the walls with each passing window. If it weren't for the shuffling of his clothes, Drokn's heartbeat would have been heard through the corridors.

Echoing, ruminating thoughts rumbled in the demon's mind. He doesn't need the elf. He doesn't need the other demons. He will defeat the king and show them all.

Oddly, the corridors up to the king's royal chamber did not share other footsteps. However, that didn't falter the fiery ambition that clouded the demon's thoughts. As the view of the grand, golden plated door came into view, his mind drifted to the memories of the last time he had made his entrance here. The mocking gaze, the spiteful words, how he'd laid powerless against the overwhelming magic of his merciless father, if father only by name.

His blood curdled and any contemplation to reconsider his actions were wiped clean. Only driven by emotion, he swung the doors open with a grand gesture. Immediately as the king came into vision, sitting ever the same with a dominating presence, Drokn's veins bulged on his temples and his eyes switched red.

At the sight of Drokn, an eyebrow twitched. The king glanced behind and to the sides of Drokn before sighing in frustration. "Useless guards," he mumbled. Unlike Drokn's last visit, the king's composure seemed a bit more neglected.

With the mention of the guards, Drokn briefly questioned the lack of them outside the door, or how there was not a single servant in sight on his quest over. A chill crept at the back of his neck, but he disregarded it. He didn't have time to contemplate the smaller details. For by the time Drokn finished a blink, a spear of dark magic, shaded in a deep black with lightning-like shapes of bright purple surrounded, came right into his line of sight.

Training with the demoness, as frustrating as it was for Drokn, did have its advantages. The spear of magic was quick, but the demoness's swift punches were quicker. Reflexively, Drokn dodged to the side and the spear of magic landed with a blow to the ground. First, Drokn's lips widened slightly, excited and proud of his dodge. Then, reality flashed as quick as the brightness of lightning.

The king had, without a second thought or warning, tried to kill him.

Perhaps somewhere inside the demon, he still longed for the king's approval, the king's mercy, a father's love. Yet instantly, the fantasy and hope shattered. How easily worthless he, the king's own blood, was to the cold stare across from him.

"Pest," the king grated in a deep, resounding voice. "You had a chance to live. A waste of life for you and a waste of time for me." The king did not bother to stand as he drew more magic at the tips of his sharp nails. With a swipe of his hand, five thin shards of magic, one from each finger, shot towards Drokn like arrows.

Quick on his feet, Drokn side stepped to dodge them, narrowly missing the last one to land. Darkness grew in his chest as he recognized the king did not even care to know why he was present or even saw him as a threat. To the king, he was nothing more than a bothersome mosquito upsetting his day.

Drokn would not have it.

If he were to be seen as a mosquito, he would at least rather be an intimidating swarm.

A few more menial attacks of dark magic that Drokn successfully dodged, the king was losing patience. Meanwhile, Drokn, trying to hide his quickening breath, grew irritated with the lack of opportunity to be on the offensive, himself. At this point, he was just a rat scurrying from a cat's chase.

Finally standing up, the king clawed his fingers, large amounts of magic quickly forming by his sides. Although, not as quick as the demoness had thrown her miniature dust bombs during their training. Drokn took the ever brief pause in attacks to quickly shoot an orb of his own magic.

Truthfully, as Drokn had been dodging prior, he had also discreetly drawn his own magic in his palms, small and condensed, waiting for the opportunity. With the small opening, he quickly took to the offense, and the small orb that darted the king's way resulted in a large boom.

However, a large boom in noise only. The king was not a powerful ruler without reason. He had easily taken one palm of prepared magic and flung it directly at Drokn's magic, exploding on impact. As the king took a step of balance to attack with his other palm of magic, he noticed his feet were lightly stuck to the floor and he had almost lost his balance while trying to shift them. In this moment, another orb of magic, weaker than the first, grazed the king's cheek. Grazed the king's cheek.

Drokn had successfully landed an attack on the all powerful king.

The demon, while acting to not pay attention to Vrona in the past, actually soaked in every ounce of information. He had remembered when the demoness had bested him in the past, taking advantage of the fact he had not protected himself from attacks from the bottom.

With that knowledge, distracting the king with his initial attack, Drokn's main plan was to reach the king from below, an unguarded weak point. Just a little magic, not enough for the king to concern himself with the presence of, Drokn had created a thin strip of dark magic that buckled the king's boots to the ground. Not at all much force or magic, but still enough to catch a being off guard if not planned.

As for the king, this tactic of the demon's ever so slightly surprised him. If the word, "surprise," could ever be applied to the king. For the king and everyone in the castle knew the height of Drokn's relentless pride and knew of him to only attack mindlessly on the offensive. Not tactfully create a defensive attack unlead by strength and brute force.

"Hmm," the king remarked before clawing out full blades of magic once again. "Still weak."

As if all the prior had been child's play, with unabaiting attacks, the king drew larger quantities of magic, spear after spear, quicker than before. Drokn's breath ran thin avoiding them, dodging them with magic of his own. Sparse attacks were targeted the king's way, only to be whisked away as if dust.

How? With all the training Drokn had, how? Why was he not making a dent? Why was he left panting when the king had hardly broken a sweat? He was reminded of their last battle, how obviously overpowered he was then. And the brutal reality of how overpowered he still was now.

Among the fierce attacks directed at him, suddenly, a high pitched ringing stung through Drokn's ears and all else became silent. It felt as if time had slowed down, everything moved an inch per second. His pulse rushed to his ears, strong. One beat, two beats.

The bond's connection was warning the demon. Something was wrong with Eial.

Three beats.

Time returned to speed again like the rush of a wave, but in the momentary distraction, Drokn had lost his steady pace. The next thing he knew, he was back to a familiar situation, with himself on the floor and the king's domineering figure above him, a spear of magic straight to the demon's heart.

Except this time, there was no elf to save him.