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Back at the center of the camp, Sera’s patience wore thin. The air around her shimmered faintly, distorting like heat waves rising from the ground. Her aura began to leak—a warning of the predator beneath her calm exterior.

The faint distortion around her form pulsed like a living thing, warping the space ever so slightly, and the demons closest to her instinctively shifted backward, even if they were careful to hide their unease.

"Enough talk," she said. "Let’s see if you live up to the stories."

Oliver didn’t wait for her to make the first move. In one fluid motion, he unsheathed his blade, the silver edge catching the faint moonlight as it glimmered with an otherworldly sheen.

The sound of the blade being drawn was sharp and clean, slicing through the night like a whispered threat.

The weapon trembled slightly in his grip—not from fear, but from the barely contained energy he had channeled into the blade. He couldn’t afford hesitation.

The demons tensed, their collective focus shifting entirely to him. Sera’s smile grew, her claws extending once more.

The soft glow of her claws caught the light, the dark energy coating them writhing like smoke curling into the night.

"Good," she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Let’s begin."

The first exchange was instinctive, feral—claws met blade with a sharp clang that reverberated through the clearing. Sparks flew as steel scraped against her unnatural, hardened talons, and Oliver’s feet skidded slightly on the loose dirt.

The demons were already well aware of his strength, and Sera, as an inquisitor, was leading them.

Now, as their captain, she had the responsibility to demonstrate her dominance over the human prey who had troubled them before. It was about fulfilling the hierarchy—the stronger demons establishing superiority over the weaker ones.

Oliver wielded a longsword, trying to parry as much as he could, but he left himself open multiple times, which Sera exploited with ease.

Her strikes were impossibly fast, her claws blurring with every swing. Though Oliver dodged, he could feel the faint whoosh of air against his skin, a reminder of just how close each blow came.

"You’re full of openings for a veteran who’s gone undetected so far," she commented. "Is it because of your artifact?"

Sera felt Oliver was falling below her expectations. The way he handled the weapon and his disoriented posture revealed he wasn’t acutely familiar with swordsmanship.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him mid-fight, each exchange giving her more insight into his weaknesses. His form was inconsistent, his grip on the hilt occasionally faltering under pressure, as though the blade itself wasn’t his weapon of choice.

He seemed only slightly versed in weaponry, leaving himself open repeatedly. Explore stories at

But she knew this was just the tip of the iceberg. She needed to scratch the surface and peer deeper to uncover the secrets he was hiding.

’No… this isn’t incompetence,’ she thought, her sharp gaze following his movements. ’You’re stalling. Trying to read me.’ Her lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Clever. But it won’t save you."

"It’s bothering me," she murmured, swinging her sharp claw toward his neck. Oliver swiftly dodged to her right, remaining focused but still hearing her.

Sera stood before him, her fingers gently tracing over her sharp claw. Her nails gleamed faintly, still humming with the residual energy from their clash. It would have been mesmerizing, almost elegant, if not for the bloodlust simmering just beneath the surface. She appeared engrossed in her own beauty, yet Oliver knew this was far from the truth, especially at that moment.

"Hiding your face behind a messy cloak—it’s like I’m fighting a beggar. Let’s reveal your face first."

The words were taunting, meant to provoke, and Oliver’s jaw tightened under the fabric of his hood.

No sooner had she spoken than, before Oliver could even blink, she appeared right in front of him. Oliver’s heart jumped at her speed as he hastily reacted, doing whatever came to mind.

Her movement was instantaneous, like a ripple of shadow cutting across the space between them.

He swung his sword, but it was effortlessly knocked aside with a flick of her claw.

The impact rattled through his arms, and the sword jerked sideways, nearly slipping from his grip.

Zip!

The sound of tearing fabric rang out as her claws shredded the hood of his cloak.

Cold night air kissed his exposed face, and he suppressed the instinct to recoil, knowing that showing discomfort would only feed her amusement.

The demons held their breath, intently studying his features, as though etching them into memory.

Eyes as blue as the clear sky and hair as black as the darkest night—his face was finally revealed.

A low murmur rippled through the gathered demons, their glowing eyes narrowing in intrigue. They didn’t recognize him, but something about his presence—the piercing intensity of his gaze, the strange calm that emanated from him—made their unease deepen.

"Hmm…" Sera examined his face for a second before shaking her head.

"Your face doesn’t remind me of anyone worth noting. And here I thought you might be someone I’d heard of," she said with a smirk, her gaze locking on his fierce eyes.

For a moment, her claws twitched, as though tempted to strike, but instead, she let her smile linger, her expression one of detached amusement.

She could have easily wounded him but held back, enjoying the thrill of toying with an enemy who had caused so much trouble.

"Well—"

She was about to say more when her instincts flared. Her hand shot to her abdomen as a terrifying force descended upon her.

It was like being struck by a sudden gust of wind, but far heavier—an invisible, crushing force that sank deep into her core.

"Kuh…!" She gritted her teeth, enduring the impact, but was pushed back a significant distance. Her heels dug into the ground, leaving solid marks.

Dust exploded around her as she skidded, the sharp screech of her claws cutting into the earth breaking the stunned silence.

Looking up, she saw Oliver standing still, his palm extended toward her, his expression calm and collected.

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