"Oh, so that's a weapon that can actually kill a demon?" Yurrelian asked, his voice laced with a mild, almost detached curiosity. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the sleek, black scythe Serenya held with such effortless grace. It was more than just a weapon; it hummed with a quiet, otherworldly energy that he could feel even from a distance.
Serenya nodded confidently, the tip of her scythe resting on the ground with a soft thud. "Yep. That's why it's called a cursed weapon, or a soul-scythe in this case. I'm part of the Demon Extermination Unit, which is how I have one." She saw his lack of excitement and added, "It's a big deal. Most people can only dream of having a contract with a demon to wield one of these."
"Ah, that's good, I guess," Yurrelian said, shrugging his shoulders as if she'd just told him the weather. He looked from the scythe to her face, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "But… how is that my concern?"
Serenya's confident demeanor faltered for a moment, and she raised a single, perfectly sculpted brow. "Huh?"
Without waiting for a response, Yurrelian turned on his heel and started to walk away, his hands still in his pockets. The back of his coat swished slightly with each step.
"Wait!" Serenya shouted, her voice echoing down the empty rooftop. He stopped, his head turning back slowly, his expression still one of complete indifference. "Don't you want one too? A cursed weapon, I mean?"
Yurrelian stopped, turning back fully, his hands finally leaving his pockets. "Well… having one's not a bad idea, I guess. It's a tool that would make life easier. But as you can see, I don't have one. And I don't seem to be on the verge of getting one either."
She gave him a knowing look, her smirk returning. "Exactly. You can't be a true member of the unit without a cursed weapon. You need a contract with a demon. And more importantly, you need to start learning teamwork. You can't fight all these battles on your own."
Yurrelian scoffed, a genuine laugh escaping his lips. "Teamwork? Please, Serenya, I don't need teamwork to kill a demon. It's a waste of my time. Honestly, I'm not as strong as Lieutenant Colonel Gwysera yet, but it's only a matter of time before I surpass her." He said it with such absolute conviction that it wasn't a boast it was a simple statement of fact, at least in his mind.
Serenya's smile widened, a glint of genuine challenge in her eyes. "Is that a challenge, Yurrelian Blackwood?"
"Then test me," Yurrelian said, his demeanor changing in an instant. The casual indifference was gone, replaced by a fierce intensity. He drew his normal blade, a simple but well-kept steel sword, and stepped into a low, aggressive battle stance. Serenya immediately readied her soul-scythe, her own body shifting into a relaxed but dangerous posture.
Character Details
Yurrelian Blackwood
Contracted Demon: None
Weapon Form: Normal Blade
Combat Grade: C+
Serenya Hartwell
Contracted Demon: Suzuryu
Weapon Form: Soul-Scythe
Combat Grade: B-
Yurrelian charged first, a blur of motion. He swung his sword in a wide, powerful arc, a move meant to force her onto the defensive. But Serenya's scythe moved with a speed that seemed to defy physics, effortlessly blocking the strike. Yurrelian felt the force of the parry push him back, but he kept his footing, his muscles tensing to absorb the impact. The sound of steel on enchanted metal rang out like a bell across the rooftop.
Yurrelian's POV: I know I won't win this fight. She's a B- grade, and I'm only C+. But I don't care about winning. I want to see how far my slot skills have come. I need to know the limit of my normal blade against a cursed weapon. This isn't a test of my strength, but a test of my limits.
The fight intensified. Each time Yurrelian attacked, Serenya parried with expert precision, her movements fluid and efficient. The scythe was a natural extension of her arm, and she used its unique shape to both block and attack. Yurrelian was forced to constantly dodge and reposition, his feet a dance of rapid, calculated steps. He barely avoided her counterattacks, the wind from her scythe whipping past his face as beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
Serenya's POV: This is impossible. There's no way someone without a cursed demon weapon should be able to keep up with me. My contract with Suzuryu amplifies my abilities my speed, my strength, my senses. He's just a C+ rank with a normal blade. A normal, un-cursed blade! So why can't I land a hit? Why does he seem to know exactly where my attacks are going? It's like he's reading my movements before I even make them.
She smirked despite the struggle, a thrill running through her veins. "Not bad," she admitted, her voice a low murmur. "You're surprisingly good at this."
The exchange continued, sword clashing with scythe in a series of metallic screeches and sparks. They were both a whirlwind of motion, dodging and striking in rapid succession. Yurrelian was fast, but Serenya was faster. He was strong, but she had the amplified power of her demon. It was a fight of skill versus sheer, supernatural force.
But fighting a cursed weapon user with a normal blade wasn't going to get Yurrelian anywhere. He was burning through his stamina at an alarming rate, and he knew he couldn't keep this up forever.
Suddenly, Serenya's demeanor changed. Her casual smile vanished, replaced by a grim determination. "Suz!" she called out, her voice a low command. A thick, inky-black smoke curled around her scythe, the weapon glowing with a sinister, green light. She swung the blade, not with a physical slash, but with a shadowy wave of pure demonic energy that covered a wide area. It was a ranged attack, a signature move of her demon contract. The black smoke enveloped Yurrelian, sending him crashing into a nearby wall with a grunt.
He slid down the wall, a cloud of dust puffing up around him, but a wide grin split his face. "Ha! That was freaking awesome! That's the power of a cursed weapon, huh? I could feel the energy from that." He caught his breath, his eyes shining with exhilaration.
"Like I told you," Serenya said with a smile as she walked over and offered him a hand. "It's a different kind of power. You can't beat that with a regular sword." But as they both rose, their footing on the dusty rooftop was precarious. They both lost balance, and in a moment of clumsy physics, Yurrelian accidentally fell on top of her.
"Oh, sorry!" he said sheepishly, his face a mask of embarrassment as they both scrambled to their feet, brushing off the dust.
"Well, let's head back down," Yurrelian said, trying to act as if nothing had happened, though a faint blush was on his cheeks.
"Sure," Serenya agreed, a small smile still on her face as she followed him off the rooftop.
As they descended the stairwell, the silence was filled with the lingering tension of their fight.
"Dealing with a demon wielding a cursed weapon is definitely easier than fighting one with a normal blade," Serenya said thoughtfully, breaking the silence. "A regular blade just can't cut through the defenses of a demon."
"Hmm," Yurrelian responded. "It felt like I was hitting a brick wall. On the battlefield, demons have their own types of weapons, right? They don't just fight with their claws and fangs."
"Exactly," Serenya said. "The demon you fought wasn't even using a weapon in its demon form, so that's why you got away without serious injury. Most demons have a unique weapon that they can manifest. That's what makes them so dangerous."
"They're armed, really?" Yurrelian's interest peaked. He had only ever fought lesser demons, the kind that were all instinct and savagery. The idea of an intelligent demon with a weapon was a new, frightening thought.
"That's why Lieutenant Colonel Gwysera emphasizes teamwork and discourages going solo," Serenya added seriously. "Operating as a unit reduces risks and increases chances of survival. It's not just about overpowering the demon; it's about tactical superiority. You can't be everywhere at once."
Suddenly, a frantic voice interrupted them, echoing up the stairwell. "Help me, Yu!"
Yoran came running up the stairs, breathless and wide-eyed. He looked terrified, his hair a mess and his clothes disheveled.
"What now, Yoran? Getting bullied again?" Yurrelian teased, but his voice lacked its usual bite. He could see the genuine fear in Yoran's eyes.
Before Yoran could answer, two boys then same two bullies who often tormented him ran up behind him, gasping for breath. Their faces were red, not just from running, but from shame.
"Just listen to us, Yoran," one pleaded, his voice cracking. "We're really sorry for bullying you all this time. We messed up big time."
Yurrelian crossed his arms, eyeing them skeptically. "You're sorry now? What, did you finally get a taste of your own medicine?"
The other boy nodded eagerly, his head bobbing up and down. "Yeah! And we want to make it up to you. We want to be your friends. Or, well… your henchmen. We'll do whatever you say."
"Henchmen?" Yurrelian repeated with a smirk, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. "That's a new one. I'm not a crime boss, you know."
Yoran, hiding behind Yurrelian, stammered, "Wait… I'm really not cut out for that kind of thing. I just can't. I don't want henchmen."
"Oh, Boss Yurrelian!" one of the boys, with a wide, sheepish grin, called out.
"Who?" Yurrelian looked at him, genuinely confused.
"It's me, Yaman! I'm the guy you saved from the demonic human the other day. I saw what you did, and I was so impressed." Yaman's eyes were wide with a mix of hero worship and fear. "You took on that thing without a cursed weapon. It was amazing."
Yaman grinned and then, with a flash of reckless bravery, turned to Serenya. "And you, aren't you boss's girlfri--"
He didn't finish his sentence. Serenya's hand moved in a swift, practiced motion. A sharp thwack echoed in the stairwell as she swiftly punched him in the stomach. He doubled over, gasping for air.
"Pervert," she muttered with a sigh, her expression one of resigned annoyance.
Yurrelian looked on, surprised, then turned to Serenya. "How is that my fault? I didn't even say anything."
Serenya rolled her eyes. "It's not, but it seems like your name's been going around. You're getting a reputation, whether you want one or not."
She then turned her sharp gaze on the two bullies. "Whatever you've been putting Yoran through," she said, her voice turning cold, "it has to stop. Just the other day, you gave him a hard time, and he had to rely on Yurrelian to save him. That's not a good sign for you, is it?"
The boys hung their heads in shame. "We know. We deserve it. We were cowards."
Yurrelian smirked. "Sounds like you all need a beating, but I don't have time for that."
Yaman, still clutching his stomach, managed to speak. "But we need help. Real help. We messed up, but our friend, Young, is still out there. We need to save him."
"So you're willing to throw away your pride and ask the guy you mocked for help?" Serenya said with a raised eyebrow, a small test in her voice.
"Bullies these days… no pride at all," Yurrelian commented, a hint of disdain in his tone.
"You sound like you're better than that," Yaman said, looking at Serenya with a skeptical eye.
"We're not," she said with a smirk. "We're just honest about what we are."
Yurrelian nodded slowly. "We have no right to ask you for anything, but..." he glanced at the boys, a flicker of genuine concern crossing his face. "Our friend Young went into the Forbidden Zone and hasn't come back. We tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen."
"The Forbidden Zone?" Serenya's voice dropped, the smile fading from her face completely. "That place is off limits for a reason. And a kid like Young wouldn't last five minutes in there."