TO BEWITCH A DEVIL - Chapter 298 Any last words

Chapter 298  Any last words

n)𝓞.𝒱𝞮𝑙-𝚞(𝗌/𝔟)-(𝓬(𝕠)𝑚

Aloysius bared his fangs. “Then I would like to quickly go and enjoy all my finery.”

Zavian came rushing to him at the same time Aloysius did. Dagger clashed against claws, and the two demons locked their weapons, faces close, eyes seething with bloodlust and revenge.

Zavian pushed Aloysius and swung his blade at his chest, but Aloysius was quick, stepping away with the nimble of a cat. Zavian ducked when his claws came at him, but Aloysius slashed so fast at his wounded thighs, buckling him to the ground.

“You know, between you and Uriel,” Aloysius looked down at Zavian, and he took in a breath of air, smiling as if the smell of fighting and gore and death and fire was a perfume he wanted to bottle. “I always thought you were the one who would be fighting alongside me, but I was wrong.”

Zavian rose to his feet, his legs bleeding, the wounds screaming with pain.

“You do remember you killed your twin in your mother’s womb?” Aloysius continued. As he spoke, Zavian watched the strange swirl of darkness curl around Aloysius’s arms like a serpent; a dark magic he hadn’t seen before.

“I was so sure,” Aloysius said. “But now, I wonder where that demon has gone.” The darkness continued up his arms. “And I don’t know who this one standing before me is. But one thing I know for sure is, that I want this demon permanently gone.”

The darkness enveloped Aloysius’s hands like vambraces, and just as he tilted his head back, his muscles contracting and surging with new power, someone yelled out Zavian’s name.

Zavian whipped his head to a bloodied Freya.

“Catch!” She yelled, throwing the plaque sword at him. The sword flew in the air, and when Aloysius’ head came back down, eyes darker than night itself, Zavian caught the sword in one hand.

And then, he made straight for Aloysius’s heart.

….

“I know you,” the soldier sneered with hate as Neera backed away on her elbows. “You are the silver-haired demon everyone talked about.” His mouth tilted with scorn. “Forgive me, your Majesty, but it would be an honor to bless this battlefield with your blood.”

The soldier drew out his sword, and Neera patted the ground for her dagger, but it was nowhere in sight. Quickly, as the sword came down, she rolled over, and it narrowly missed her by a fraction, and her hand rested over a huge rock.

The soldier was not having the patience for her dodging games. “If you want to play, you would make this harder for yourself.”

He lunged at Neera again, but she was quick, hitting the sword first with the rock, then reaching for his face next. The soldier screamed, and Neera acted fast. She dragged the sword by its blade from him before he recovered, ignoring the pain that sliced on her palms.

“What the…,” before the soldier could complete the sentence, Neera made a neat cut on the jugular of his neck. The soldier’s eyes grew wide, and his hands reached to put pressure on the cut, but it wasn’t enough to stifle the blood gushing from his neck.

“You bitch!” He roared and charged at Neera. She backed away in fright, and he staggered, falling on the exposed root of a tree, death pulling out the last of life from him.

Neera did not look at the body, she could not bear to see the result of her actions. Whether the person was good or bad, murder left a permanent stain on her palms.

When she looked back at the battlefield, she could see clearly Aloysius and Zavian locked in a fight, and it was so intense it had her entire body in fright. Aloysius looked even more dangerous, and Zavian had a power in his eyes she hadn’t seen there before.

Neera made herself look at the dead body of the demon, at his bugled eyes and cold face. For Zavian, she told herself, for Zavian, she said again as she ran into the battlefield.

….

Aloysius deflected every hit of Zavian’s sword, and every time the sword came in contact with the vambraces of solid shadows on Aloysius’s forearms, Zavian could feel his own energy sap away, sucked out by a force that was otherworldly.

He kept fighting, and Aloysius kept deflecting until fatigue wrecked Zavian’s bones. Aloysius slashed at Zavian’s legs, this time sending him crumpling to the ground, his sword clattering next to him.

Aloysius’s face appeared above him. “What a pity,” he sighed. “What a waste.”

Zavian reached out for the sword, but Aloysius kicked it far before he did. A foot met Zavian’s face, and his entire body kicked back, leaving him exposed skyward.

“This would be recorded as one of the best days of my life,” Aloysius grinned down at him. “After I kill you, do you know what I am going to do to everyone else who sided with you?”

Zavian coughed, and he could taste the acridity of his blood in his mouth.

“I am going to skin each and every one of them alive,” there was a heavy promise in Aloysius’s voice. “I am going to skin alive every woman, man, demon, children that you have hidden, and they will curse you even in your death. You see, I would make sure you are remembered.”

Far off, over the blood pounding in Zavian’s ears, he could hear someone call out his name. Azriel, Freya, one of the soldiers, he didn’t know.

Aloysius drew out a clean knife from his scabbard. “I saved this for you, and I will hang it in the throne room with your blood on it as an achievement,” he raised it above Zavian. “Any last words?”

He had failed everyone, was all Zavian could think about. He had failed them all.

So Aloysius’s knife raised high up over his chest, and Zavian tried to channel the last of his strength to fight back.

….

No, no, no!