Jareth exhaled sharply, his patience running thin. His golden eyes flickered as he clenched his fists, the air around him distorting with raw magic. He had wasted too much time already.
"I have no more time to play around," he muttered, his voice cold as steel.
The moment his words left his lips, his body surged with an electric burst of mana. His feet barely touched the ground as he shot forward, his speed doubling. In the blink of an eye, his sword's hilt slammed into the gut of an unsuspecting vampire, sending her crumpling to the floor. A second later, his free hand flicked outward, releasing a wave of magical bindings that wrapped around a cluster of succubi and dark elves, pinning them in place.
"I will make you all fall for me," he declared, pouring magic into his voice like he had done before on the lower floor.
To his shock, the harem members actually blushed, their eyes widening with admiration. Some bit their lips, others fidgeted, and a few even swooned as if his words had sent their hearts racing.
"What the hell is going on?!" Jareth screamed internally, a cold sweat running down his back.
Bahamut's booming laughter echoed in his mind. "I think you've activated something far more dangerous than their magic, boy!"
His moment of confusion cost him. One of the harem warriors, a succubus with deep violet eyes, suddenly lunged forward. Before he could react, her soft lips pressed against his. A jolt of energy shot through his body as he felt his very essence being drained.
"Shit!" Jareth roared, breaking free with a forceful shove. He wiped his mouth, glaring at the succubus who licked her lips with a satisfied smirk.
"That was a close call," Bahamut warned. "Don't let your guard down."
Jareth gritted his teeth. He had to finish this. Fast. One by one, he eliminated the weaker combatants, using precise, controlled strikes. Soon, only three opponents remained—the three-eyed dark elf, the vampire girl, and the succubus who had stolen a kiss.
They stood their ground, determination burning in their eyes. Jareth sighed. "Fine, let's end this."
The three charged at him with everything they had. Magic exploded through the air, blades clashed, and the floor cracked beneath their feet. The room trembled from the sheer force of their battle. But Jareth was faster. Stronger. In a single flash step, he appeared behind them, his sword humming with energy. The three women gasped in unison, their eyes widening.
A second later, the fabric of their clothes shredded, falling apart as if cut by an invisible blade. They collapsed to the ground, unconscious, their bodies trembling from the aftershock of his attack.
"That was on purpose, wasn't it?" Bahamut snickered.
Jareth didn't even glance back. Without a word, he sheathed his sword and rushed to the top floor. He had no time to waste.
Meanwhile, in Elaria, the battle raged on.
Nerina panted, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her arms trembled as she gripped her lance, her once-fluid movements now sluggish from exhaustion. Even with Goddess Astoria's divine blessing, her limbs felt heavy, her strength wavering. The two Demon Lords before her—towering monstrosities of pure malice—grinned with sadistic pleasure, their dark auras pressing down on her like an unrelenting storm.
"What's wrong, little girl? Tired already?" one of them sneered, his crimson eyes gleaming with cruelty.
Nerina ignored him, planting her feet firmly on the ground. She couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop. Lyra still lay behind her, unmoving, her body battered and bloodied. She had to protect her. She had to—
The second Demon Lord suddenly grinned, a dark idea forming in his twisted mind.
"I have an idea, my Demon God Zebos," he laughed, turning his gaze toward Lyra's unconscious form.
Nerina's breath hitched.
Before she could react, the Demon Lord dashed past her and grabbed Lyra by the hair, lifting her into the air like a lifeless rag doll.
"NO!" Nerina screamed, her heart twisting with rage and terror.
Her vision blurred as hot tears welled in her eyes. A storm of emotions crashed into her—anger, helplessness, despair. Her fingers tightened around her lance until her knuckles turned white.
"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH MY SISTER!" she roared, her voice shaking the battlefield.
Something inside her snapped. Her once-deep blue eyes burned crimson, her mana flaring like a raging tempest. The air crackled around her, the very water magic she commanded boiling with her fury.
The Demon Lords only laughed. "How pathetic. You're nothing more than a weak little girl playing at being a warrior."
"I WILL KILL YOU!" Nerina howled, charging forward with reckless abandon. Her lance became a blur, thrusting and slashing with unrelenting fury. But her exhaustion betrayed her. She was slower now, her attacks lacking their previous precision. The Demon Lords dodged effortlessly, sneering at her struggle.
"Is this all?" one of them taunted, tightening his grip on Lyra's limp form. "Maybe I should crush her skull. Would that finally break you?"
Nerina let out a choked sob, her rage mixing with despair. Her body screamed at her to stop, but she forced herself to move. She had to save Lyra. She had to—
A sudden gust of wind howled through the battlefield.
The Demon Lord's eyes widened in shock as a piercing beam of wind energy tore through the air, slamming directly into his chest. A gaping hole burst open where his heart should have been.
His grip on Lyra loosened. His monstrous body trembled. Then, with a pained gasp, he crumbled into nothingness.
The battlefield fell silent.
Nerina's breath hitched as she turned her gaze toward the source of the attack.
Lyra's eyes were open.
They burned with fury, her emerald irises glowing like the heart of a storm. She slowly lifted her sword, a deadly aura swirling around her. Blood dripped from her wounds, but her expression was nothing but pure, unshakable wrath.
"Don't you dare toy with me, you cheap Demon God lapdogs," she growled, her voice dripping with venom.
And with that, the battle began anew.