Chapter 613: Ashes of Grigor
Duke Qwass POV
***
Steel rattled.
The courtyard protecting the throne stank of blood and burned flesh.
Duke Qwass staggered back, his armour split and one arm hanging limp, yet still he swung his battered sword against another of the smiling husks that had once been a knight of his house.
“Stand firm!” he roared, though his throat cracked. “Don’t let these puppets reach the inner keep!”
His n were tired, exhausted shadows of themselves, barely two hundred left of the thousands who swore to defend the capital. The rest either fell or followed the monster and submitted themselves to his mind control.
Alan…
The brother of my king, a knight and a man whom I admired and hated at the sa…
He carried sothing I envied, sothing I never had.
However, never did I wish for him to be possessed by such a disgusting fiend!
Qwass had seen it with his own eyes.
The flicker of green in the man’s gaze, the way he moved like sothing not human. Avandar hadn’t wanted to believe it. And now the king lay half-dead in his own hall while Grigor burned.
“phisto… hrrrk!”
The possessed knights pressed in, eyes empty, lips curled in eerie smiles as they fought without fear of pain. Each swing of Qwass’s blade left him slower; even so, he fought.
Because if he fell, Avandar would die. And if Avandar died, Grigor had no chance at all.
A horn wailed from the wall. His heart sank. More of them?
And then the sky darkened.
He looked up—and for the first ti in days, hope twisted in his chest.
A shadow cut across the burning sky, vast wings beating against the cold winds. Behind it, five more shapes streaked through the clouds like falling stars.
The horn changed to cheers, exhausted cheers.
Why have you co…
After what we did to you, you still help us?
Asmodeus…
Hero from another world!
You have my thanks… my eternal thanks…
“Form up…” Qwass rasped, barely able to move as he pointed his shaking sword forward. “The Demon King has co to Grigor’s Aid!”
With one last shout, one last stand, Duke Qwass, bleeding from his abdon, stood tall one last ti against the enemy.
***
Asmodeus POV
***
The scent of burning stone and corrupted blood rolled across the air, foul enough to sting even his lungs.
Grigor.
A place with special aning to Asmodeus.
Even from this distance, he could feel it and almost taste it, in fact. phisto’s taint lingered like oil on water. But the main current was faint, already pulling north.
So he’s gone…
I guess he slipped ahead with the bulk of his army like the snake he is.
Asmodeus spread his wings wide; the crack of air shook the battlents below. His won ford tightly around him, the diamond formation collapsing into a spearhead as they prepared to dive.
“Stay close,” he commanded, his aura binding their pulses tighter, sharpening their rhythm until they moved like one body. “We cut straight for the keep.”
“Yes, my lord!” Leviathan answered first, her shield raised as black fire crackled across its surface. “he’s so sexy when he does that!” She squealed as his body shot forward.
“…”
“Pervert.”
Sariel and Riel peeled forward, using their claws to steal weapons from the possessed, then knocking the n out with their knees. Their laughter was sharp and bright even as they dove towards the centre of battle.
Velvet and Vinea matched each other on his flanks—Velvet already crackling with purple fla, Vinea’s spear glowing faintly with condensed aura.
The courtyard opened beneath them.
“Go.”
They struck like thunder.
Asmodeus landed first, his blood reaver sweeping in a single arc that sent a dozen enthralled knights crashing across the flagstones. The black ichor tainting them sprayed from their mouths, but he held back his strength, just enough force to disable them, not kill.
“Knock them down! Don’t slaughter them!” His voice carried like a war drum. “If they lose consciousness we can save them all!”
His shout brought a sense of hope and light to the eyes of the tired knights, each of them drowning in guilt for killing their allies.
“Fight on!”
Velvet dropped beside him, a burst of fire exploding from her hands to scatter a knot of possessed soldiers. “Tch. You’re lucky he spares you,” she hissed, heel grinding into the face of one writhing on the ground. She trained thousands of knights in her long life, but seeing them controlled so easily annoyed her.
“Don’t say what you don’t an, Velvet… I know you’re hurting at the sight of Grigor’s blood flowing.” Asmodeus cupped her cheek with a smile. And her eyes fluttered before snapping away.
Vinea answered by skewering the shoulder of three more through the shoulders, pinning them into the wall before sweeping her spear in a wide arc to clear space for Qwass’s battered n. “Move, damn it! Rally behind us!”
Leviathan slamd into the courtyard shield-first, the impact cracking stone. A dozen enthralled soldiers bounced off her in broken heaps, their blades shattering against her black armour. She planted her feet, lifted her shield high, and roared, “Form on !”
Above, Sariel and Riel tore through the skies like hawks, dropping knights left and right. Their claws ripped armour, their wings smashed n aside. Each ti they passed, another gap opened in the enemy’s encirclent.
The tide shifted in an instant.
Qwass stared, chest heaving, unable to believe the sight.
Asmodeus strode across the courtyard, every step a hamr blow against the hearts of the possessed. His aura unfurled like a storm, crimson threads spilling into the air, shaking the green runes that pulsed faintly across their enemies’ skin.
It seems my divine force can dispel their possession…
It’s just… a little tricky.
He focused his attention on the runes used to possess the knights of Grigor; so he recognised from when he first transferred to this world. So lived, and others died.
The death of people he knew made him angry.
“Rise,” he growled, his voice laced with divine power. “Fight for your king, not this false god.”
A handful of the possessed collapsed outright, the corruption writhing beneath their skin as his blood pulsed against it. Not enough to free them all, but enough to break the rhythm of their charge.
Qwass found his voice again. “You heard him! Strike now!”
His n rallied, pushing into the gaps Asmodeus’s won had carved open. For the first ti in days, the loyalists advanced.
Asmodeus lifted Blood Reaver, his eyes narrowing on the faint black smoke rising from the keep. phisto’s aura lingered there—but it was stale, hours old.
The coward fled…
***
The courtyard beca silent.
The last of the enthralled fell with a dull crack against the stone, his body twitching before Asmodeus’s aura forced the corruption to slough out like smoke. The green light seeped into the cracks of the earth and faded, leaving only blood and groans.
Qwass leaned on his sword, armour dented and chest heaving.
He stared across the battlefield as if waking from a nightmare, then staggered toward Asmodeus, his wound deep and the blood dripping from his steel armour fatal. The old Duke knew he didn’t have long.
“Y….you…ca…” His voice raw and weak as he dropped to one knee, ignoring the blood pooling beneath him. “My Lord, you ca.”
After becoming the potential groom for both Princess Liana and Anne, most of the higher nobles were taught who Asmodeus was and began to accept him.
Duke Qwass led this acceptance after what happened in the elven forest.
Asmodeus frowned because to him Qwass was a complicated human, both his enemy and the cause of many of Grigor’s issues in the past. The Duke was a stubborn man who seed to hate him, too proud to kneel before even the king… To see him bow now spoke more of the situation than words could.
“Get up, Qwass. Save your breath for fighting.” He extended a hand, hauling the battered man upright. His palm tingled faintly—Qwass’s pulse was erratic, his body half-broken from days without rest. Yet his will hadn’t shattered.
What… how is he still alive!?
Leviathan stood guard near the gate, shield planted like a wall. Velvet and Vinea cleared the remnants, binding the injured. Sariel and Riel perched above on the ruined wall, eyes scanning the skies for stragglers.
Asmodeus lowered his voice. “Where is Avandar?”
Qwass’s jaw clenched. For the first ti, the iron mask of the duke cracked. “The throne room. He lives… barely. That thing wearing Alan struck him down before marching north. If not for my n, he’d already be in the ground.”
Avandar is alive… good, but then… that ans phisto left before he got what he wanted?
Or was his goal sothing else?
The blood aura around Asmodeus pulsed, scattering loose ash and making the nearby knights flinch. “How long ago?”
“Three days.” Qwass’s answer was imdiate, grim. “He took half the court with him. Nobles, knights, even priests. All smiling as if… as if they’d been waiting their whole lives to betray us.”
Asmodeus didn’t reply right away.
Instead, he cut his palm and let a small droplet of blood sink into the wound of Duke Qwass.
Despite his grudge, this man fought to protect his father-in-law… and that couldn’t be forgotten, and so Asmodeus saved his life.
“Take to Avandar,” he said at last.
Qwass nodded, grim but resolute. “This way.”
Asmodeus followed, his won fanning close, their armour streaked with blood but their eyes fixed with the sa resolve.
Behind them, the loyalists began clearing the courtyard, stacking corpses and binding the unconscious. For the first ti since phisto revealed himself, the capital of Grigor felt that the light brought by Asmodeus washed away the despair with hope.
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