***
Berg
Hanseln wasn't really any weaker than Berg himself.
It would be awkward for him to admit, as he remembered the boy back when he was just a wee lad, but that was one scary thing about humans. They lived and died quicker.
A piercing strike of a sword engulfed in a blueish glow of a spell whistled. Berg moved his head aside for it to miss his helmet by mere centimeters. With one hand, he batted his sword aside, and took a large step forward into the boy's guard…
"...help me!"
…and with the other, he punched the kid in the stomach with enough power to shoot him into a nearby building.
A second later, he leaped after him.
Inside the building, Hanseln had already recovered, standing straight, his sword positioned to guard him.
Berg had the time to absent-mindedly note it, as he struck the blade aside, before he shoulder-checked the kid into the wall again, breaking through a few more rooms with his body, until they, once again, were outside.
They landed, and Berg swung his axe, attempting to bash the kid's sword out of his hand for good, but Hanseln instead punched the dwarf with enough power to daze him, and that single moment of hesitation was enough for the dwarf to suddenly find himself on the back foot, deflecting the strike and almost falling for a feint, hopping back in the last second.
"Berg, it hurts!" the lad said, even as he lashed out with almost flawless combinations of strikes and feints, as he advanced. "I… don't understand… what is happening? Stop!"
The dwarf's scowl under his helm was not pretty. Albert wanted him, and he himself wasn't stupid; he could imagine what to expect from a demon capable of issuing absolute orders!
And yet, Hanseln fought like a man possessed. He had all his usual power, all his usual skill… and yet, fought completely unafraid of mutual hits.
It pissed Berg off something fierce.
Double strike is par for the course in a proper warrior scrap; Berg himself had trouble counting how many times he took one monster's claws or another to the shoulder or gut to guarantee a killing blow.
This was normal, fine even… if only Hanseln finally started to fight like that of his own accord, rather than because a demon messed with his head.
"Just hold on, lad," Berg replied quietly, batting Hanseln's attempt at a zwerchhau and retaliating with a simple slash that the boy blocked, "We keep at it."
Hanseln was a Knight; inevitably, he was much better on top of his steed than on his own two feet.
If this were a proper battle to the death, it would have been no contest.
But the old dwarf didn't expect to get this opportunity, stumbling on this boy of all people, having a chance to keep him alive until Albert kills the demon and the control is lifted…
…this felt like a genuine miracle, a gift from the Goddess, a chance to make things right for once.
Berg would never forgive himself if he didn't at least try to keep the lad alive.
The only issue was that he wasn't sure if he could.
"...feel sick…" Hanseln muttered, doing an incredibly foolish thing - lashing out at Berg with his fist.
If it were a real battle, he would lose his hand for that. And yet, it wasn't, not to Berg, and without this maneuver leading to Hanseln being properly hurt - it was, instead, a great way to make an opening.
The dwarf, a veteran warrior in his own right, realized this instantly, backhanding the strike with the blunt side of his axe, barely in time to intercept the glowing sword…
And yet, he was on the back foot now. Hanseln struck again and again, and Berg barely had the time to deflect and block; he was thrown off-balance in a literal sense, and the boy exploited it well.
"Fuck…" Berg muttered, gritting his teeth, as he allowed the sword to dig into his shoulder pad and the flesh beneath, and punched the young knight in the face with enough strength to throw him back.
Instantly, Berg checked the range of motion; hurt and felt stiffer, but was fine for now. The blood loss was inconsequential; most warriors worth their salt could work around that to a large extent.
"It's as he said," Berg muttered, glancing at the knight who, once again, rose from the dent in the wall Berg punched him into. "The boy felt me hold back…"
Albert said that the demon's slaves seemed designed to invoke hesitation and pity… it seemed only natural that they would fight more recklessly if the opponent would actually dare to pity them and try to hold back. The mage explained that he strongly suspected that the behavior of someone who would believe they are getting spared would change to forsake all defense, to make use of an opening, and kill more effectively. He said giving such an order for this Aura would have been obvious.
It was a pretty messed-up idea in Berg's own eyes; the fact that Albert even thought of it said enough about the elf being a pretty messed-up person himself.
"Should've been less obvious… nay, wouldn't have mattered," the dwarf muttered to himself, before setting into a heavy defensive stance.
Berg truly believed there was nothing he could have done differently; Hanseln knew him way too well; he probably would've figured out what he was trying to do, no matter how sly the dwarf might have tried to be.
He forced any regret and hesitation out; his job wasn't to subdue Hanseln himself anymore, that was an option when the lad fought normally… but now, when he had forsaken all defence? Berg would have to focus fully on defending himself to last.
No, his job was to keep the boy here, confined to himself, and hope that others would handle this.
Berg didn't see, nor care about, the fire tornado outside the city. His eyes were on the boy.
***
Hexe,
The demon was the first one to strike; he did so when Hexe first stared in shock towards the flaming tornado that bloomed far outside the city.
A pair of swords flashed in the air… and with a thunderous ring, impacted one of the rings of liquids, which turned into metallic crystal in the blink of an eye.
"Ridiculous," the demon muttered, and the pair of swords ignited, one with flames, the second with electricity; they seemed to have pressed into the metallic shield with greater force. "Those swords can cut through human enchantments effortlessly." Hexe felt the demon's mana pulse, and the swords groaned against the metals…
Yet this did nothing.
"Aren't you rude?" Hexe responded, her eyes narrowing, and the two separate streams of liquids flew into each other with force, both directed towards the demon.
The alchemist erected Saphir Grenze just before the reaction spread, and the green and dirty brown liquids mixed into a glowing purple one that detonated a moment later.
Hexe used the opportunity to take a step back and lash out with one of the liquid tendrils orbiting her towards the nearby wall of the church, dissolving the stone in moments, before hurriedly running there.
She could see the demon who was thrown across the street, yet the pair of blades he kept to his side were now crossed in front of him, producing a luminescent purple shield.
"Running already?" the demon questioned Hexe calmly, even as the woman ran inside, leaving behind the solidified Mobius-shaped concoction.
Hexe spread her awareness and felt exactly where the bottles were hidden around the cathedral. She extended her will towards one of them, and a second later, another metallic-coloured concoction, similar to the one she had left outside, solidified and flew into her hand. She hurriedly hid it in her sleeve.
She barely managed to react when three swords flew in from the outside. Luckily, she was sharp enough to dodge one and erect a shield in front of the other two. She once again lashed out at the pair of swords with a dissolving solution, the same one that had turned the wall to molten sludge, yet a magical gleam ignited around them as the swords flew back, outside, towards where the demon still stood.
Seconds later, Hexe heard a sound of a shattered crystal.
She had just enough time to dust off her winter clothing before the demon stepped inside, covered in white, flaky dust.
"I must apologize," the demon spoke up, studying a small piece of crystal in his hand, on which he seemed to be focused, "Your magic truly is something I lack the proper perspective to appreciate. This solution you've used to shield yourself, it's only durable briefly, until it turns into this, does it not?" he asked, holding up a piece of the crystal to Hexe.
The alchemist chuckled.
"The common name for that reaction is absolute metal," she explained simply, "It's the alchemical material that can only exist briefly, when the liquid silver starts reacting with mana, for some time the metal it produces is indestructible until it turns into fool's snow," she explained, nodding towards what the demon was holding.
Versklaver studied the crystal for a moment before clenching his fist and shattering the crystal into myriad pieces.
"It's kind of you to explain even that much," he commented, tilting his head, the swords behind him shifting, "In truth, this is fascinating to me. Many amongst my brethren scoff at human magic, but I find it beautiful. There is order to it that is calming, and often enough incredibly clever." One of the blades floats a little in front of the demon and is tilted, revealing its blunt side towards Hexe as some… odd symbols ignite across its surface, shining purple. "My magic is called Sigils of Destruction." The demon's lips curved, once again showing off his monstrous, ugly teeth, yet the smile itself was almost polite. "Despite its name, it's a magic that can do a great many things. I've been studying enchantments of all kinds and varieties, and managed to replicate a lot of the utilities your spells provide." He chuckled, "Essentially, it's a written language that allows me to layer enchantments without specifically composing spells for them."
What the demon had just said was completely ridiculous, outrageous, and this simply couldn't be possible.
Enchantment was a school of magic that, essentially, boiled down to spells with prolonged effect; it was magic with a great staying power. Enchantment spells were usually much more complicated compared to your average combat magic, and so required long rituals, special isolated environments, instruments, and such.
Reducing all of those requirements to a 'script' was outrageous, even if the demon wasn't mentioning some important steps in the process.
Yet, this was exactly the sort of thing expected from demons.
"What a terrifying thing for demonking to acquire," Hexe said quietly, liquids around her shifting, and she shifted slightly, "I suppose it's good that at least the creator of the craft will die, even if not the discipline itself."
The demon merely stared at Hexe before tilting its head.
"You are speaking as if you think someone other than me knows my magic," the demon spoke, his voice growing a touch annoyed.
"...you mean to say they don't?" Hexe clarified, feeling that she almost caught her breath, "But the utility of your Sigils must be enormous, surely, any Greater Demon would benefit from having access to them?"
The demon merely tilted its head.
"How is it any of my concern? It's my magic, there is no one craven enough to steal it," he explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Hexe couldn't help it; she laughed. Much to the demon's clear confusion and displeasure.
She truly picked up the worst habit from him, didn't she? For her to assume that the development of knowledge and skill is the norm that every mage strives towards, for her to try and see even a reflection of Albert in those creatures…
…she truly was naive, trying to find any humanity in them, was she not?
"Ha," she breathed out, shaking her head, "Please do excuse me, but you've just been telling me how much you appreciate enchantments, and now say something outrageous like this? Don't you understand that your magic would advance faster with more people pushing it forward?"
The demon stared at her.
"You are not making sense. Why would I care about that?" The demon shook its head, and the swords, once more, shot forth, "My magic is mine only as long as it's I who develop it."
Hexe too started to act.
Four bottles around the room exploded, each concoction a different one, and all rushed towards the demon from unexpected angles.
The swords around it once again crossed.
Hexe, meanwhile, had an aquamarine colored potion rush forth… and, as her mana touched it, it turned into rolling sea waves that swept across the Cathedral, and a surprised demon.
The water in contact with one of the swords boiled, while with the other froze. The shield around the demon took care of the remaining water, but…
It also obscured his vision.
Hexe broke the bottle in her sleeve and released the liquid silver, forming an even sphere around her. Then, she solidified it, for four seconds, she might as well be isolated from the outside world.
She forced the four liquids she broke out across the building to fall into the salt water.
The 'almost' indestructible absolute metal shook briefly, but Hexe knew that outside, the entire cathedral must have disappeared, hopefully taking the demon with it.
Still, for three more seconds, she stood there, seeing the metallic sphere around her, which reflected the dim shine of some of the potions circling her, slowly start to turn stark white.
She couldn't have possibly reacted to a sword that pierced her cocoon and her stomach.
Her eyes widened in shock and fear, the pain was yet to register, when the sword also dimly pulsed with mana.
Hexe struck it with the stone potion, the liquid immediately solidifying into marble, as she forced herself back, and through the thin white sphere that was already collapsing, smoke and hot air were all she felt.
Outside, it was a crater; the explosion was only somewhat blocked by the sphere in which she rested, and the rest of the grand cathedral was damaged beyond repair.
The demon stood holding one sword; two others, the ice and fire, floated around him, and the two swords that created the shield were gone. His armour was cracked. He was also missing his left arm, and his leg along with part of his crotch, the whole of him floating over the ground.
"Ridiculous," Hexe complained, breathing shallowly and with difficulty, as she collapsed on the ground. The pain was too much; she could barely force the spell to keep the concoctions floating around her. "You couldn't have lived!"
She knew this much full well. As an alchemist, she understood yields perfectly. This amount of salt water, yellow brimstone, dark crystalline liquid, liquified marrow, and false bronze should have created the most powerful, brief explosion of pure force and temperature she knew.
"I told you I've been inspired by enchantment magic, but naturally, my sigils are superior in the power of the effect," the demon said, its voice faltering, "You are dangerous. Die."
It gestured at Hexe, and, gritting her teeth, the woman had to once again force one of the concoctions around her to mix with the other, producing a pink, fluffy, expanding substance that crashed against her, but also swallowed the upcoming swords.
The agony of being moved by the fluffy, pink, cloud-like substance when she had a hole in her gut was difficult to properly describe, yet, soon enough, she knew the solid foam would rise into a tower, that at least briefly, would separate her and the demon.
"I am such an idiot," she whispered, with trembling hands reaching into her robe, and extracting a water skin, from which she started to pour the liquid on top of her gut without looking, knowing this should at least make it so she won't bleed out, "Relaxing like this, being so cocky that this exploding will do… I could've died," she whispered to herself as she shoved her own glove into her mouth and screamed when the potion started to react with her wound.
In truth, Hexe had trouble believing she didn't die; it must have been a blessing that the sword didn't damage her spine. She hadn't been run clean through, but it still was close; her intestines are probably damaged, and without Goddess Magic, she will die in a very ugly fashion.
Yet, the concoction she used already started to numb the pain and made her feel more aware and awake. She will pay for this dearly later, but for now, she could fight.
And still, the demon was out for her, she knew, and the Spreading Cloud isn't the type of compound that lasts long. Those two swords are buried in it, but the cloud will start dissolving into the air within around two minutes.
If she doesn't kill the demon by then, she will definitely have no chance to.
The first issue occurred before she could even stumble her way to the nearest wall.
It was that the demon did not give her the two minutes.
His mana came over the tower before he did, that crushing weight of it sliding up and across the pink foam, and Versklaver drifted around its springy edge a hand's span above the flagstones.
She could see it now with the nightvision potion in full effect; he truly was a ruin to match her. The left arm was gone at the shoulder, the armour was split clean across the chest, and below the waist, a torn gap where one leg used to be. And down the whole of him, banked across the cracked plate and the grey hair and the one good arm, lay a dirty fall of pale powder, the dust from the shield outside the Cathedral he was inclined to fiddle with.
Fool's snow. She was dusted with the same, shoulders and hair, from tearing her own way out of that sphere, and seeing this powder on him… meant that she just might still have a chance.
"You are still standing," the demon said, and the surprise in his voice seemed genuine, if detached. "Curious, in my experience, humans with such wounds would be on the floor by now, wailing and begging... aside from warriors, perhaps."
"You wouldn't be the first demon to compliment me so," the woman managed, and spat blood onto the stone, as she straightened her back, feeling herself able to do so. "But forgive me if I find you inferior to your predecessor in just about every way."
The blades answered before he did. One ran with the steady, hateful purple of the sigil that had already opened her. It was the blade that Berg warned her about, and the one that breached already failing absolute metal.
The other crackled down its length and spat, the air around it gone sharp with the smell of a storm about to break, and that one, she was willing to bet, would kill her instantly if it hit.
He led with the piercing blade, a clean thrust for her throat, fast as a thought, and she threw up a Saphir Grenze on instinct, the two rings blooming and turning against one another.
The sigil-edge bit into the outer ring, hung there for an instant while the spell screamed, and was flung a hand's width wide as the whole thing burst into fading motes.
She was already gone, dragging a rope of the dissolving solution off her orbit and lashing out with it as if it were a whip.
The demon brought up his sword, and it discharged a dim red light into the liquid as it clashed with it, the metal starting to hiss, and successfully disrupting her control over the liquid just enough for it to splash on the ground.
"It's as I thought," Versklaver said, "Disrupting mana disrupts your control over the liquid for a breath. That's plenty for them to fall to the ground and waste themselves."
Hexe lashed out again, with another tendril.
"This discovery only cost you an arm and a leg," she taunted. The demon barely reacted.
The lightning sword shot at her.
She gestured, and a wall of marble rose from another concoction that hugged the sword from all sides before solidifying. The demon pulled the sword back with all his might when the liquid started to engulf it and solidify, and managed to yank it out.
The blade rang off the marble but did not kill her.
She would take it.
The piercing blade, meanwhile, once again flew towards her, slower, and diagonally, as if it were a slow, sweeping strike from an invisible flying warrior intending to bisect her. It attacked almost simultaneously with the lightning one.
Once again, she erected the Saphir Grenze; once again, the sword was catapulted away.
"Ridiculous," the demon commended, "I thought this spell brittle, as it cracked and broke from any attack but… it can deflect even this?"
Hexe didn't answer, merely breathed, and felt herself being lightheaded and out of breath.
Not good signs. She knew that the extreme stimulant she poured on herself kept her feeling alert and good, so sensations like that meant something in her body was failing through the magical effect. It was probably the blood loss, maybe, if her stomach was damaged, the stomach acids were dissolving something important. She preferred not to guess.
At this point, she really had no choice but to bet it all, didn't she?
Hexe took a long breath, directing the three remaining spheres of liquids close by; the demon immediately grew cautious, she could tell. Nothing in its body language, but its mana wavered, preparing to respond.
She found it amusing, somewhat.
"Demon, do you know what the difference is between a meddling alchemist and a great one?" Hexe asked rhetorically.
"I believed I've shared my name," the creature says instead.
"It's not the recipes," Hexe continues, ignoring him, "Not even the making of the potions or concoctions, as long as you have a recipe, steps to follow, even an idiot can eventually get it right. The true mastery is this:" Hexe brought her hand into the liquid, and… it did nothing. "Alchemy is transformation. Of matter into mana, and mana into matter, and of everything in between. It deals in permanence, its states, as well as what Albert called states of matter." She chuckled to herself, shaking her head, "A trained alchemist is someone who will experiment and find a concoction that turns any pure water it comes in contact with into mercury," she said, tilting her head, "A great alchemist is someone who can change the recipe of this concoction to produce mercury merely when supplied with mana. Or when it comes in contact with blood. Or when the bottle is shaken hard enough."
There were three spheres of liquids. One, she just put her hand in, and two, the demon was yet to be encountered.
Those two floated into one another…
"In other words, an alchemist worth being called such is someone who decides when, how, and why her magic happens!"
…and suddenly, it turned into an explosion of pure, kinetic force, which from Hexe's side was only stopped by a blue shield.
On the other side, it impacted the liquid… and splashed it.
The liquid wasn't particularly colourful. At night, it could have been mistaken for water.
The demon tried to shield himself with his hands… and that's when the liquid came in contact with the fool's snow.
The demon stared at his hands and armour, as suddenly those grew white and cobwebs of frost spread, the creature studied its own limbs almost curiously.
"I see. So this whole time you were baiting me into open skies where I can't dodge this," he mused, even as his flesh flash-froze, the demon didn't sound in pain or concerned, "You truly are scary. Others should be grateful it's me you faced."
Hexe didn't understand the words immediately.
"Hexe-!" But she did hear Berg' alarmed shouts, and, even if she was barely clinging onto her mana sensitivity and couldn't distinguish it properly, she did feel the danger.
On instinct alone, she threw her arm to the side, and the last remaining concoction of hers exploded into azure flame. She saw it melt the pair of enchanted longswords the demon threw at her.
Yet…
She turned around just in time to see a knight falling on her with his sword bared.
And for the back of a dwarf to shield her.
She didn't realize it at first. What she was staring at. It was only when the drop of blood fell on her lips and she tasted the blood that she realized that the dwarf had been pierced through.
"Berg…" Hexe realized she was lying on her butt.
"Feels… cold…" the knight muttered.
The dwarf only grunted, to her shock, still somehow alive, and then she saw him punch the sword in his gut, breaking it at the pommel, before he took Hanseln by the helm, bringing him close and…
"Shut up and wake up already, will ye?!"
…he headbutted him with enough strength that the wind cracked and boomed.
Hexe missed when the demon, who froze to the bone, fell to the ground as an ice statue and shattered into pieces.
-------------
Author Notes: So, I was planning to round up this whole arc in this chapter. This is roughly about half of what I planned, and to this date, it's the biggest chapter of the human bean.
Aside from the next chapter. That is twice as big, and may be split in pieces before being posted. It's 25k words long.
I am quite curious what you think of this, I tried being very creative with the fights and the overal details to it. I hope it was pleasant to read.
Anyway, on a personal note, I may be taking a small break due to the amount of stuff written.
One more chapter, as always, on Patreon (link in the fic's header). This time though it's more like 8 chapters for normal people but you know.