FALLEN ANGEL: MARRIED TO THE DEMON KING
Chapter 97: THE DEMON KING JOINS (3)

Chapter 97: THE DEMON KING JOINS (3)

It slithered around the woman’s ankles, so secretively that she did not notice. By the time she was throwing another attack, her feet had been firmly gripped, and she fell to the ground with a thud.

Something was odd, though, Varziel could not help but notice that these two attackers were not trying to overwhelm him.

No.

They were stalling.

But stalling for what?

He did not have the time to think as a hum behind him pulled him out of his thoughts. He turned to the first attacker, blocking his curved blade. His muscles burned as he pushed back against the strength behind the curved blade. The armored warrior leaned into the clash, pressing Varziel closer to the ice barrier.

It was then that he realized that the hum he’d heard wasn’t from the sword itself—it was coming from the air around them, like the buildup before a spell detonated.

Varziel’s instincts screamed at him to move and he pushed off the attacker with a grunt. He twisted his broadsword, sliding the curve of the enemy’s blade off to the side, and threw himself backward just as a sharp whistle cut through the air.

There was a low thud and Varziel looked back at where he had just been standing. A spear an unfamiliar spear, had embedded itself in the ice where his chest had been a moment before. The shaft was smooth and black, the tip humming with that same faint blue light, much like the warrior’s sword.

Varziel’s gaze snapped up, following the trajectory of the throw.

Perched on the roof’s edge, another attacker squatted, crouched low. This one was smaller and much more wiry compared to the other attackers and moved like a shadow. They wore the same segmented armor, though lighter, with cloth panels fluttering around their waist. A hood obscured their features, but Varziel caught the glint of another mask beneath it—white, smooth, expressionless except for a painted red slash across where the mouth should have been.

Varziel growled. _Another one?_

The woman on the ground, still tangled in his shadow bindings, reached for her belt. He saw the flicker of light too late.

A flash of cold exploded outward, shattering the shadows that held her. Ice splinters peppered Varziel’s exposed arms as he staggered back. The armored warrior pressed forward again, relentless with his attacks, while the new arrival nocked another spear in some sort of strange launcher strapped to their wrist.

The woman spoke sharply in that foreign tongue, her face snapping toward the rooftop figure. The response from the masked man was clipped, almost irritated. It sounded like an argument, but Varziel didn’t care for their coordination. He could see it now: they weren’t here to kill him.

Varziel continued to fight with the armored man, concentrating on him now that the other two were arguing over something.

That was the reason he did not notice the threat as the newcomer pointed the weapon at him once more, and pulled on something. A flash of light lit the balcony, and a force struck Varziel, it felt like he had been struck by a boulder. He barely twisted aside, the blast grazing his shoulder, and sending him sprawling backward.

Pain flared, sharp and hot, but the wound itself was shallow. He had been burned, not cut. The ice barrier behind him cracked, where the projectile had struck, with spiderweb fractures spreading outward.

There was more words exchanged between the female and the wiry man. More argument. Perhaps because he was destroying her ice barrier. Varziel could not tell.

At that moment, his mind was racing a mile a minute. This was not magic. It seemed more like technology, though nothing like the crude tools he had seen humans make. This was much more advanced.

But if they really used no magic, it did not explain the woman’s ability to use the icicles that she used.

The third invader finally turned to Varziel, and spoke. His voice was low, and he spoke in the demon tongue. Varziel’s breath hitched in his throat as he listened to the words. "Target identified. Demon Lord Varziel. Threat Level: High. Suppression, recommended."

Varziel’s eye twitched, and he ran the intruder’s words through his mind over and over again.

Suppression? Target?

His lips curled into a snarl. He was no beast to be tamed.

With a roar, Vhalgrith shifted once more, the broad sword dissolving into twin whips of dark shadowy energy. He lashed out, one whip snapping toward the armored brute, while the other coiled around the woman’s wrist, jerking her off balance. Ice bloomed beneath her feet, in an attempt to steady herself.

However, Varziel was done going easy.

He poured out his demonic energy into his weapon, and like thunder, it poured into their bodies like a stream, causing them to shudder and shake. Varziel moved, closing the distance between him and the third attacker, who was raising his weapon for another shot. This time, Varziel was ready.

He twisted, pulling the masked woman into the line of fire. The blast struck her square in the chest, sending her flying backward into the ice barrier. The jagged wall cracked under the impact.

Varziel did not give them a chance to breathe, as he slammed his foot down, sending a pulse of demonic energy through the ground. The cage of ice shattered, sending shards of ice flying in all directions.

The third attacker raised a hand to shield his eyes, and in that moment, Varziel closed the small gap between them, dragging the bulky intruder with his whip behind him. His other whip snapped forward, wrapping around the intruder’s neck.

He dragged the bulky man closer, and pressed down on his neck with the heel of his show.

"You made a mistake coming here, and attacking my castle, and putting my wife in danger."

The invader’s eyes flickered, as though processing his words. "Correction," he rasped, struggling against the chokehold, "Threat level... critical."

Varziel did not question who he was talking to, as Vhalgrith dissolved once more, reforming into a jagged glaive. He held the weapon in his left hand, as his right hand continued to hold on tightly onto the intruder’s throat.

With a twist of his arm, Varziel drove the glaive straight into the gap he had exposed at the large warrior’s waist. The blade bit deep, and this time, the flickering rectangles that erupted from the wound dimmed, slower to repair the wound. Those golden characters appeared once more, but this time, Varziel paid them no heed.

The crimson slit of the warrior’s visor flickered once, then he stopped struggling against Varziel’s foot. His entire body disintegrated into motes of light that scattered like embers of a dying fire.

Varziel did not stop to question it, as his gaze snapped back to the woman. She had healed from the wound, which angered Varziel. She had already gotten up, and she gripped onto her weapons, staring at Varziel who was holding onto the neck of the only one who had shown that he could speak the demon language.

She hesitated visibly, obviously weighing her odds now that their strongest ally had fallen. Her breath came fast and sharp.

Why was it so hard to kill them?

With a snarl of his lips, Varziel flung his glaive. It spun through the air, a streak of shadow. The woman tried to dodge, but the jagged tip grazed her shoulder. Varziel was already moving, closing the gap before she could recover. He ignored the attempts of the other attacker to escape from his grip as his other hand shot out, seizing her by the wrist and twisting it until her dagger clattered onto the icy floor.

The woman also struggled, but his grip was like iron. He poured out his demonic energy, and Vhalgrith flew from where it had fallen back to where Varziel held the woman’s hand. It molded into a sword mid air, and drove into her side, aiming for where her heart would be.

The same glitching blue and golden rectangles flickered across her body, but this time, the light sputtered, failed and she slumped in his grip. Varziel let her body fall to the ground with a thud, and it shimmered, then dissolved into the same scattered particles as her companion.

Varziel stood there for a moment, his chest heaving, before turning to the final intruder. His eyes, the only visible things, looked visibly terrified.

S/T:

Echo: Where is that damned demon king. Useless. I knew Arella should have married me instead of that useless demon king.

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