The forest did not interfere in what was happening.
It never did.
Not when blood soaked its roots. Not when screams echoed through its ancient trees.
Damien stood over the restrained intelligent demon, his face calm, eyes steady, as Luton tightened its gelatinous hold around the creature's limbs.
The demon had already tried self-destruction twice.
Both times suppressed.
Both times denied.
"You should have died earlier," the demon rasped, black blood trickling from the corner of its mouth.
Damien crouched slowly.
"I disagree."
Without warning, he grabbed one of the thick scales lining the demon's forearm and dug his fingers beneath it.
The demon's eye widened.
Then Damien pulled.
The scale tore free with a wet ripping sound, dark blood spraying across the forest floor.
The demon screamed.
Not a battle cry.
Not rage.
Pain.
Raw and unfiltered.
Damien examined the scale briefly before tossing it aside.
"Continue," he said calmly.
Luton responded instantly.
