The quarry was a desolate scar on the earth, its cliffs jagged and blackened, the ground littered with shattered stone and smoldering embers.
The air was thick with ash, the acrid tang of dark magic stinging the lungs, a grim reminder of the high demon's wrath.
The Lion Hearts Knight Order, once a proud hundred, was now a fractured band, their silver and gold armor battered, their lion crests caked with dust and blood.
Hours had bled away since the demon broke free from the chasm, its flames and claws a relentless tide that broke their formations and scattered them like leaves in a storm.
Elshua clung to Caelan's back, his small frame limp, his golden hair matted with sweat, clinging to his pale, sweat-soaked face.
His bare foot dangled, bruised and scraped raw, and his cloak, torn and singed, flapped like a tattered flag.
His golden eyes flickered, half-lidded, his divine energy was now a fading spark, drained to a mere quarter when Caelan found him, and now, after the battle's toll, barely a whisper.
His breaths were shallow, ragged against Caelan's neck, his body trembling with exhaustion.
Caelan ran, his boots pounding the uneven forest path, his armor clanking with each desperate stride.
His dark curls were matted with blood and dust, his sword sheathed to free his hands, one arm hooked under Elshua's knees, the other gripping the boy's wrist to keep him secure.
His muscles screamed, his breath came in gasps, but he pushed through the pines that loomed like silent watchers, their needles brushing his armor.
The demon's roars echoed behind, mingled with the cries of knights too slow to escape, and Caelan's heart pounded, his covenant—a sacred bond tying him to Elshua's emotions—pulsing with the boy's pain and fading strength.
"Hold on, Your Holiness," he panted, his voice raw but fierce. "I've got you. Just stay with me."
Elshua stirred, his voice a faint, slurred whisper against Caelan's ear.
"I'm… okay, Caelan. Don't worry."
The words were meant to reassure, but they rang hollow, and Caelan's chest tightened, the covenant revealing the truth: Elshua was slipping away.
Three years ago, before the monastery's fall, Elshua's divine energy had been a vast ocean, a radiant force that could light the continent of Philan.
When Caelan found him in the forest a week ago, that ocean had dwindled to a quarter, a fragile lake drained by some unknown force.
Now, after hours of casting Healing, Shield, and the new Courage skill, even that quarter was nearly gone, a flicker so faint it threatened to vanish.
Caelan felt it through the covenant, a void where Elshua's warmth should have been, and it chilled him more than the demon's flames.
"I know you're trying, Your Holiness," Caelan said, his voice soft but firm, dodging a skitterbeast's lunge, its claws raking the earth, sending a spray of dirt.
"But you're not fooling me. I can feel you fading. Just rest now. I'll keep you safe."
He tightened his grip, his heart aching as Elshua's head lolled against his shoulder, the boy's small hand clutching his armor weakly, fingers trembling with effort.
Two days ago, Caelan had sent a courier hawk to Lumora, a desperate plea to the Holy See for reinforcements.
The Lion Hearts were no match for the high demon, its power a tempest they couldn't withstand alone. But Lumora was far, and Caelan didn't know if the Inquisitors would arrive in time.
He prayed to Aeloria, his faith a fragile shield, as he led a ragged group—Laren, Mara, and a handful of wounded knights—deeper into the forest, seeking cover.
The demon's roars grew louder, its flames casting a red glow through the trees, and Caelan's hope flickered, his legs heavy with fatigue, his breath fogging in the cool forest air.
The path narrowed, hemmed by steep cliffs, their surfaces slick with moss and shadow. Caelan cursed under his breath as they stumbled into a dead end—a small clearing backed by a sheer wall of granite, its surface cold and unyielding.
The knights turned, their backs to the cliff, their swords raised, their faces etched with grim resolve.
Laren's shield was cracked, his freckled face pale but defiant, blood trickling from a cut on his brow. Mara nocked an arrow, her sharp eyes scanning the trees, her cropped hair damp with sweat.
"No way out," she muttered, her voice tight, her bowstring taut. "We stand here."
Caelan set Elshua down gently, propping him against the cliff, the boy's cloak cushioning the cold stone.
Elshua's eyes fluttered, his breathing uneven, and Caelan knelt, brushing a strand of golden hair from his face, his fingers lingering on the boy's feverish skin.
"Stay here, Your Holiness," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "We'll hold it off."
He stood, drawing his sword, its divine glow faint but steady, and joined the knights, their line a fragile barrier against the approaching terror, their boots scuffing the dirt.
The high demon emerged, a colossus of shadow and flame, its obsidian hide rippling with molten veins that pulsed like living fire. Its blinded eyes, pierced by Mara's arrows, oozed ichor, but its senses locked onto Elshua, drawn by his fading light.
Skitterbeasts flanked it, their mandibles clicking, a frenetic chorus, and the demon's maw curled into a triumphant snarl, its jagged teeth gleaming.
"Your light is mine, Spark!" it roared, its voice a landslide of malice that shook the pines.
"Your knights are dust, your hope is ash. Surrender, and I'll grant them a swift end!"
Its flames flared, scorching the trees, their needles curling in the heat, and the knights flinched, their shields raised against the blistering wave.
Caelan stepped forward, his sword glowing, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him.
"You'll have to kill us first, beast!" he shouted, his curls bouncing as he braced himself, his boots planted firmly.
"The Spark is Aeloria's light, and we'll die before you touch him!"
The knights roared, their voices ragged but defiant, their swords glinting in the firelight, and the demon laughed, a guttural sound that rattled the cliffs.
"Foolish paladin," it growled, its claws flexing, each one long as a scythe.
"Your blades are nothing. I will feast on the Spark's energy, and your corpses will pave my path!"
It lunged, its claws slashing, and the knights scattered, their shields buckling under the blow. Laren took a hit, his shield shattering, blood spraying from his arm, and he stumbled, his cry sharp.
Mara's arrows flew, sizzling against the demon's hide but doing little, her quiver nearly empty.
Caelan parried a claw, his sword screeching, and cast his healing light, mending Laren's wound enough for him to stand, though the young knight's face was ashen.
Elshua watched, his vision blurring, his heart heavy with guilt. He tried to stand, to cast a skill, but his body betrayed him, his divine energy a faint pulse that barely warmed his veins.
"Caelan…" he whispered, his voice lost in the chaos, his fingers clawing weakly at the stone.
The knights were dying for him, and he was helpless, his light fading like a star swallowed by dawn.
The demon's flames surged, a wall of fire that pinned the knights against the cliff, the heat searing their armor.
"Your light dims, Spark!" it taunted, its voice dripping with glee, its claws raised for a killing blow.
"I will drink it dry!"
It aimed for Caelan, and Elshua's heart stopped, his hand reaching out, trembling but useless.
A horn blared, sharp and resonant, cutting through the demon's roar like a blade. The ground shook as hooves thundered, and three figures in black and gold armor burst through the trees, their swords blazing with divine light that rivaled the sun.
Inquisitors—Cassian, Elara, and Gideon—led by Grand Inquisitor Valdor, their presence a tempest of righteous fury.
Their blades, massive and etched with Aeloria's runes, glowed like beacons, and their retinues of Holy Knights fanned out, cutting through skitterbeasts with brutal efficiency, their swords flashing in the firelight.
The demon snarled, its flames flaring, but the Inquisitors advanced, their movements a symphony of lethal precision.
Cassian, a broad-shouldered man with a scarred face, struck first, his sword a blur as he cleaved into the demon's arm, ichor spraying like black rain.
"For Aeloria!" he bellowed, his voice a war cry, his blade sinking deep, the wound steaming but not healing.
Elara, lithe and fierce, darted around the demon's flames, her twin swords slicing its flank, each cut sizzling with divine power.
"Keep it pinned, Cassian!" she shouted, her voice sharp, dodging a claw that gouged the earth.
"Its hide's weakening!"
Gideon, a towering figure with a greatsword, drove his blade into the demon's leg, the steel glowing as it bit through obsidian, pinning the creature momentarily.
"It's slowing!" he growled, his voice deep, yanking his sword free as the demon roared, thrashing.
Valdor, his black and gold armor gleaming, leapt onto a boulder, his massive blade raised, its hilt pulsing with light.
"Your darkness ends here, fiend!" he thundered, his voice a command that shook the air.
He brought his sword down, carving a gash across the demon's chest, the ichor hissing as it spilled, the wound too deep for regeneration.
The demon howled, its flames dimming, but it swiped at Valdor, who parried, his blade meeting claw with a shower of sparks.
"Cassian, Elara, flank it!" Valdor ordered, his helm's visor glinting. "Gideon, hold the legs!"
The Inquisitors moved as one, their divine power overwhelming the demon's dark magic.
Cassian hacked at its other arm, his sword a relentless storm, while Elara's blades danced, each cut precise, targeting the demon's wounds.
"It's faltering!" she called, her voice triumphant, ducking a flame burst.
Gideon's greatsword struck again, pinning the demon's leg, and the Holy Knights closed in, their blades finishing the skitterbeasts, their bodies piling in the dirt.
The demon's roars grew weaker, its movements sluggish, but it snarled, its blinded eyes fixed on Elshua.
"The Spark's light… is mine!" it gasped, lunging feebly.
Valdor's blade arced, severing the demon's head with a final, resounding strike, the ichor hissing as the body collapsed, dissolving into ash, its flames extinguished.
The forest fell silent, the skitterbeasts scattering, their clicks fading into the shadows. The Inquisitors stood, their swords still glowing, their breaths was ease but triumphant, the clearing lit by their divine light.
A golden window flared in Elshua's fading vision:
⟪System Notification: High Demon Defeated!⟫
༺═════════════════༻
Objective Completed: Defeat the High Demon with the Lion Hearts Knight Order.
༺═════════════════༻
⟪Note: Your light has endured, Saint Elshua, but your divine energy is critically low. Seek restoration to continue your path as the Spark of Aeloria.⟫
Elshua's eyes fluttered, the system's words blurring as his strength ebbed.
Valdor approached, his black and gold armor gleaming, his visored helm hiding his face, the runes on his blade still glowing faintly.
He knelt before Elshua, still on Caelan's back when he carried him again, his voice a deep rumble, reverent yet urgent.
"Your Holiness, I am Grand Inquisitor Valdor. May I have your permission to touch you, to ensure your safety?"
Elshua, half-conscious, nodded weakly, his voice a slurred whisper, barely audible.
"Yeah… okay…"
Caelan hesitated, his covenant pulsing with protectiveness, his blue eyes narrowing, but he nodded, helping Valdor lift Elshua.
The Grand Inquisitor cradled the boy in a bridal carry, his massive arms gentle despite their strength, and Elshua's face flushed, a flicker of embarrassment piercing his daze, though the dizziness masked it, his head lolling against Valdor's chestplate, the cold metal grounding him faintly.
As Elshua's consciousness slipped, Valdor spoke to Caelan, his voice low and grave, his helm tilted toward the paladin.
"The Spark's divine energy is nearly gone, Templar Commander. It's been drained, not just by battle, but as if someone—or something—extracted it deliberately."
He shifted Elshua, his own divine energy radiating, a soft glow that pulsed from his armor, and the boy's body reacted, absorbing it, like a starved beast gulping water after a lifetime of drought.
"See how he draws my light? His energy is so depleted, he takes it instinctively, like a man dying of thirst. This is no natural loss, something must have happened in those three years."
Caelan's face paled, his curls bouncing as he clenched his fists, his knuckles white.
"Extracted? Who could do that to His Holiness?"
His voice cracked, the covenant amplifying his fear and fury, the memory of Elshua's once-oceanic energy—three years ago, a radiant force—now a ghost haunting him, reduced to a quarter when he found him, and now nearly nothing.
Valdor's helm tilted, his voice steady but urgent, carrying the weight of certainty.
"I cannot say, but we must return to Lumora immediately. The Grand Basilica's healers can restore him, but time is short. His light must not fade."
He turned, carrying Elshua toward the Inquisitors' horses, their hooves stamping the earth, their breaths steaming in the cool air.
Caelan followed, his sword sheathed, his eyes never leaving Elshua's pale face, the boy's golden hair stark against Valdor's dark armor.
The knights gathered, Laren and Mara limping but alive, their faces etched with relief, though Laren's arm hung limp, and Mara's quiver was empty.
The forest was silent, the demon's shadow lifted, but Elshua's condition cast a new pall, a quiet dread that hung heavier than the battle's chaos.
As Valdor mounted his steed, Elshua secure in his arms, Caelan climbed onto another, his resolve hardening like steel.
The Spark of Aeloria had survived, but his light was flickering, and the mystery of his drained energy loomed like a new threat, its roots unknown but sinister.
The Holy Empire of Aeloria awaited, its spires a distant promise of healing—or a crucible of truths yet to be uncovered.