(TW: Blood, violence)
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Just previously, lines glowed along the circumference and across through the attendance chamber where the king and the rebels had initiated their battle. Where the king stood in front of Vrona, gripping her wrist, with the confidence of his victory through blackmail just moments prior.
The spell circle in the king's chamber had been so subtly engraved into the white marble floors, one could never have observed it if not intentionally on a search. Prepared in advance with a circle outline Vrona had sent to the rebels with a message, they had just been waiting for a rare opportunity for the king to spill blood.
And once spilled, the tables would inevitably turn.
Gripping Vrona's wrist harder, enough to bruise, the king brought her closer, eyes bright red. "What did you do?" hissed the king in a primal deep voice and widened eyes. Then, swerving his attention to his free hand, the king clawed his fingers, staring at his empty palms. Flicking his wrists with greater concentration, his palms still remained empty.
He was no longer able to use his magic.
Or simply, that's what it seemed. The spell circle essentially froze the flow of his magic from in and out of his body within the area, unable to conjure more from within. He was left with whatever magic he had expended out, still able to maneuver the magic around him.
Quick to recognize so, the king waved his free arm, noticing the shift of his own purple magic around him. Eyes set to the area beyond the doors where the spell circle did not extend, the king glared at the demoness briefly before shoving her away, a fast pace to the exit.
The rebels had started to move, their willpower forcing against all their instincts through the dominating magic of the king's, veins bulging on their necks and teeth bared. Slowly creaking their way to a stance, they prepared their weapons. Stopping their magic based attacks, a sudden shower of arrows rained towards the king's way.
With a wave of an arm upwards, he moved the magic around, creating a wall of defense from the arrows. The once free opening towards the chamber doors now crowded with other demons, swords and shields in hand. A few even carried parchments of spell circles, obtained and instructed by the demoness prior.
Uncaring of the limited magic, the king slid both his palms from right to left in the air, his foggy magic gathering in a condensed dark purple, striking against the rebels. The sheer force knocked down many while the ones still standing had armor shredded and skin burned with the magic.
When a guard from the rebellion came the king's way with a sword, the king ducked and slammed a heavy load of magic onto the guard's face, crushing him and smothering him with his magic. When that guard fell, the king's blazing gaze noticed the empty way to the entry, only a few steps to obtaining his magic again.
Creating a thick shield of magic behind him to block long range attacks with whatever magic was left around him, he stormed forward in long strides, almost in a jog. He would have actually jogged if not for the dignity he held, dictating his image. One step outside the circle, and the king could already feel the flowing magic through his leg, then his arm.
Suddenly, the chain on his left foot was yanked backward, the surprise causing him to stumble and lose focus, momentarily breaking the shield behind him. Yet, that break was all that was needed for the king's long hair to be grabbed and be thrusted back, hauling him once again back into the perimeter of the glowing circle.
Swerving in anger, the king's eyes met with the demoness's. Of course it was her; her lack of magic causing for an unnoticed presence around the king. "Vrona...," he grated, somewhat of a crazed look dawning on him. In the next moment, the king took the dispersed magic from what was once the shield and swung it towards her. Spinning, she dodged, but only for the king to immediately change the direction of his magic and shove the dense purple against her back.
Taking a lunge forward, she managed to stop her fall and pushed herself up, simultaneously grabbing an abandoned longsword. In her upward momentum, she swung the sword around, causing the king to jump back. Landing another foot forward, she charged the sword, the point towards the king's chest.
With the same magic from his attack before, the king quickly shoved the sword to the side. At the same time, Vrona dashed up and kicked the king on his stomach, impactful enough for the king to wince and slide back with the force.
The king noticed his movements start to slow and he was... panting? As his anger boiled, he realized in that moment why the demons had fought him with magic before despite their disadvantage. It expended energy to fight against and take over the control of another's magic. The king had thought none of it as he hadn't expected to need much energy or stamina as long as he had the extent of his magic.
Alas, he had been played. But even so, it wouldn't matter, right? He was the mighty demon king—
PUNCH!
He had only glanced up when he was met with a bruising fist from the demoness. Finally, the king's patience snapped. With what was left of his magic, he formed his magic into a spear and thrust forward with vigor, the speed making contact with Vrona's thigh before she could move away.
It took a moment for the pain to settle into Vrona, but before she could yell, another magic spear pierced through her right shoulder. Sweat now draped all over her as her vision started to haze. With the king walking forward, she was met with the same merciless eyes that took her wings. A hand came forward and curved around her throat, gripping tighter as the time passed.
"This could have been peaceful, Vrona. You should have listened. Now, look at you."
As the purple spears within her skin dispersed, a warm wetness melted down and soaked her clothes, soon puddling on the ground below her. Her swallow was tight against the king's grip on her throat, and her eyes stared unwavering at the cold, red eyes across.
"You still think too little of me. I'm not the same woman as I was then," she spat.
As soon as the words left her mouth, she shoved her left fist sideways, against the side of the king's arm that held her. A crushing sound came from the king's forearm, his grip finally letting go. Vrona's own knuckles cracked as well, but with adrenaline driving her, she punched his forearm once more.
When the king stepped back in pain, she stepped firm with her good leg and used momentum from a swing to crash the knee of her injured leg into the king's gut. Then, she swung her loose leg to the side against the king's wavering knees, making him fall.
"Now!" she called out and suddenly the quiet bystanders moved forward. During Vrona's fight with the king, the rebels all stood back, letting her take her own moment to face him properly. Now, with the signal, the demons left standing came forward, a few of them with chains in hand.
On the floor, the king tried to drag himself back up, but was stopped by the pain of Vrona's foot weighed on his broken arm.
"This is for my wings!" she exclaimed as a shackle she clutched from a rebel snapped on the wrist of the king's bad arm.
She kneeled down, putting her good knee's weight on the king's torso, holding him down. With her left arm, she took hold of the king's good arm and pulled it up and out, dislocating his shoulder as he hissed through his teeth. "This is for taking me away from Eial!" she shouted as she clasped another shackle on the king's other arm.
"This is for manipulating our children!" Forcing open the king's mouth, Vrona poured a bitter poison down the king's throat, pushing his jaw up to force a swallow before he tried to spit it out.
The demoness stood back and watched as the rebels clamped the last shackle on the king's leg, all his main magic output points now sealed with the magic neutralizing metal. Finally holding down the chains, they maneuvered the weakening king into a kneel.
As the poison quickly spread, all the king's muscles turned limp and dangled from the chains. His eyes started to drift open and close as he strained to keep his consciousness. Yet still, his eyes gleamed of icy wrath and the mightiness of a king. He would not dare look defeated—
"And this is for being a fucking prick who thinks that having magic is the only thing that makes a demon strong." At last, Vrona sharply and precisely kicked the side of the king's neck, and the king fell fast forward, the only thing holding him up being the chains that bound him.
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The Demon and the Elf (Book 1)
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