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Chapter 985: The Shadow of the Dragon

As more Mad Demons and Devilbeasts were put down, the chaos slowly gave way to something like order.

Agatha walked the perimeter of the artillery battalion. The ground was strewn with broken limbs — not human ones. She had to acknowledge it plainly: in close-quarters combat, nothing could match the God’s Punishment Witches. Their fighting capacity was staggering, and the new firearms His Majesty had provided made them more devastating still. Without their intervention, the Witch Union would have struggled to drive back thirty Devilbeasts, let alone manage the Mad Demons who had come in behind.

And yet the God’s Punishment Witches seemed to prefer the old ways.

More than once, Agatha had watched an ancient witch deliver the final blow with a sword — or a bare fist — after a demon was already floored by gunfire, as though the firearms were merely the means of bringing a target low enough to touch. As though only that last act, that physical contact with the dying enemy, could give them the release they needed.

Four hundred years of waiting had changed many things.

The surviving demons were confused — Agatha could see it even in the way they moved. Perhaps they could not comprehend how a group of apparent ordinary men possessed greater physical strength and speed than them. Whatever they had expected, it wasn’t this. The last two Mad Demons, caught off guard by Breeze, simply stopped resisting. While they were still processing it, Breeze drove a blade through another demon who had come to help them.

The substitute artillery battalion was already moving. Four cannons that the Devilbeasts had knocked over were being righted, their crews reassembling around them with brisk efficiency. The first Longsong Cannon that had been restored to service was firing continuously, its thunder rolling across the slope, and with each report Agatha could feel the soldiers’ confidence rebuilding.

“How many enemies remain?” she asked when the group had gathered.

“Sixteen, if they receive no reinforcements.” Zooey scanned the sky. “The Devilbeasts have lost approximately seventy percent of their numbers. Whatever their original intention was, it has failed. But they’re still holding position — which means they’re preparing something final.”

“A final attack?”

To stay out of machine-gun range, the remaining demons had climbed high — higher than their spears could reach the ground from. Approaching the fortifications a second time would be far more dangerous, and the army below was fully ready for them. Even another spearing wave would cost the demons dearly and produce little. Any rational commander would be thinking about how to extract what remained. The demons were not thinking that way.

“You’ve spent your career in the Quest Society,” Zooey said carefully, “and rarely fought in open combat. You may not be familiar with how their commanders think.” She paused, weighing the words. “A fully grown flying Devilbeast is precious. Only a commander-level demon commands so many at once. For such a demon, completing the mission is paramount. They would sooner die in battle than retreat in failure.”

“Then why didn’t this commander come down immediately?” Breeze asked.

A strange expression — almost amusement — crossed Zooey’s face. “Because he found no one here worthy of his attention. If there were an Extraordinary among us, he would have descended to challenge her long ago.”

“Why?”

“It’s probably in their nature.” Zooey’s gaze returned to the sky. “Ferocious and barbarous creatures who love slaughter. Though they have grown steadily more similar to mankind in appearance, they remain animals at their core.” She was quiet a moment. “It was precisely that violent nature that gave Lady Natalia and the Queen of Starfall City so many opportunities to fight senior Magic Slayers — and through those fights, finally elevate themselves to Transcendents.”

In other words: too proud to strike at an opportune moment, yet too proud to desert when the moment passed. Agatha was not certain Zooey’s reading was correct. She was, however, certain that Zooey was no ordinary witch — she had just quoted details of how two of the Three Chiefs had earned their rank, the kind of knowledge that came only from proximity.

“Who were you,” Agatha said, “in the Union Age?”

“Miss Pasha didn’t tell you?” Zooey’s smile was faint. “I was one of Lady Natalia’s personal guards. Among the Blessed Army I was called the Red Lotus.”

The title struck Agatha like cold water.

She remembered it immediately. If Agatha had been the youngest senior witch ever, the most widely recognized genius researcher in Taquila, then Red Lotus had been the most promising and powerful Extraordinary in the Union — the one most likely to succeed Natalia, if only time had allowed.

Time had not allowed it. The Union had fallen first.

They should have been the same age, Agatha realized. Approximately.

But the person standing next to her bore little resemblance to the young Extraordinary she dimly recalled. Whatever she had been then, the centuries had remade her into someone entirely different.

“They’re coming,” Zooey said, before Agatha finished the thought. “Go protect those fragile mortals. We’ll handle this.”

At that moment, Sylvie’s voice broke from the Sigil of Listening, urgent and stripped of its usual composure. “Heavens — what is that? Agatha, watch out! Multiple magic reactions among the enemies!”

The distinction Agatha knew by training: each witch carried a single Magic Cyclone, whereas demons used embedded Magic Stones to amplify their power, allowing them to possess more than one. Any demon with multiple cyclones was what the Union had called a Senior Demon — varied in form, varied in strength, but without exception formidable.

“Are we prepared for this?” Breeze’s voice was tight.

“No need to worry.” Zooey’s tone did not shift. “The Queen of Starfall City may have chosen the wrong path. But she was right about one thing. The God’s Punishment Witches were made to fight Senior Demons.”

Then something fell out of the clouds.

A shadow — massive, moving with terrifying speed — plunged from the overcast sky toward the artillery. Behind it, the remaining hovering Mad Demons all tipped forward and began their dive. The machine guns directly below could not track them at this angle, but the anti-aircraft emplacements around the perimeter had no such restriction. Fire opened immediately. Several demons were struck on the way down, twisting and dropping even as they fought to weave through the bullet rain.

This time, the spears were aimed at the anti-aircraft machine guns beside the Longsong Cannons.

The intent was clear. They were clearing a path.

While Agatha and the soldiers worked to intercept the incoming spears, she finally got a proper look at the thing that was falling.

It was a Devilbeast — but unlike anything she had seen before. Even larger than Maggie. Wings and abdomen armored entirely in black, the surface gleaming like dull crystal; its head elongated, its horns sharper and more pronounced than those of any normal creature. In shape and bearing it resembled nothing so much as the dragons of legend.

When it landed, the ground shook.

A column of ash and dust erupted from the impact and blew outward, speckling the faces of the soldiers who tried to see through it.

The Devilbeast opened its vast crimson mouth in a long, resonating sound — somewhere between a belch and a roar — and the sound carried through the smoke like a declaration.

From the creature’s wet throat, a figure emerged.

A demon, broad and massive, clad in black armor, stepped forward into the open air and regarded them all.

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