The demon brushed its shoulders, turning to the individuals locked with fear behind it.
"Well, then, who shall be the first to partake in the massacre." Black seeped from its mouth, aether flaring once more to exemplify its unbridled malice.
Shlink!
Blood sprayed through the air, its metal scent garnering the demon's attention.
It was Corien's leg, severed from the tendons in his knee. He'd held Excalibur in his hand, swiftly disconnecting the flame-covered appendage without so much as a single second of doubt.
"Seriously?" The demon turned to ask him, watching as the leg thumped onto the floor and sizzled away even faster than before from the dissipation of its protective layer of aether.
Corien grit, urging a spell within his grimoire to accumulate a blotch of dark purple that shot from his missing limb, slowly morphing to take shape as a functional replacement.
