Deiora's cold gaze swept the clearing, taking in the scattered bodies of demon soldiers, the blood-soaked earth, and the wounds on Celine's back.
"Are they enemies?"
Celine's jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration passing through her eyes as she pressed her hand against the wound on her back. Her voice came out sharp, clipped.
"I can say yes. They're all enemies. I don't know who they are, but those women are protecting the humans. They're traitors to the demon race, Lord Deiora."
Deiora's head turned slowly, his gaze sweeping over the group.
"I see. But I didn't expect you to be this beaten, White Demon. Are they really opponents on a different level from you?"
Celine's lips pressed into a thin line. Her voice came out low, strained.
"Forgive me, Lord Deiora. I was already worn down from fighting the one-armed knight before I encountered them. I wasn't at full strength."
