On a dusty road that had clearly seen years of constant travel, an Aeruna checkpoint stood as a fortified outpost meant to keep the route safe and free of bandits. Right now, however, it was facing a threat it had only recently been armed to deal with: demons.
A man in adorned armor drove his curved sword into the chest of a reylf. He grunted as the blade sank in, then twisted his body and ripped the weapon sideways, cutting through the creature's chest before wrenching the sword free. He staggered back a step, panting heavily as he looked around.
The battle was going badly.
Men and women in armor struggled to hold the demons back while people armed with crossbows and magic attacked from behind them. Bolts flew through the air. Spells struck the mass of demons. Blades hacked and stabbed at anything that managed to reach the defensive line.
None of it seemed to matter.
"They just keep coming," the man muttered.
He was a captain, though exhaustion had nearly brought him to his knees. His legs ached so badly that he could barely walk properly, and every breath scraped against his dry throat. Still, when a couple of imps managed to break through the line and rushed toward him, he forced his body to move.
One leaped at him.
The captain stepped sharply to the side, allowing the imp to sail past him, then swung his curved sword upward. The blade cut through the creature's body, splitting it in half.
Another imp reached him immediately afterward, clawing at his leg and trying to tear through his armor. Its claws scraped uselessly against the metal before the captain raised his sword and brought it down with both hands.
The blade cut halfway through the imp's head.
"Do not let them through!" the captain yelled, forcing his voice to carry across the chaotic battlefield. "Make it known that we will die before we let them past us!"
The attempted rallying cry ended with him coughing harshly. His throat felt like sandpaper, and he had to force himself to swallow before he could breathe properly again.
A spearman hurried toward him.
"Captain, the people on the roof have fallen!" the soldier reported, panic edging his voice. "We blocked the doors, but those flyers can land up there now with no one left to stop them!"
The captain let out a tired sigh.
For a moment, he looked toward the building, then shook his head.
"Gather a few spearmen and head upstairs," he ordered. "Tear apart whatever you have to and create a barricade. Leave gaps just wide enough to thrust your spears through and hold the chokepoint. Do not let them flank us from above."
The spearman nodded immediately before turning away. He hurried past the captain and stepped over the bodies of both people and demons scattered across the ground as he made his way toward the stairs.
The captain remained where he was.
Left alone amidst the deafening carnage, the captain watched his men fighting a desperate, bloody battle that they were slowly losing. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword as a grim thought crossed his mind.
*Is this the end of us?*
Just then, the atmosphere on the battlefield violently shifted. Through the narrow, barred windows of the garrison, the captain noticed something impossible. The demons outside were... retreating?
No, they weren't just falling back. They were running away, their monstrous faces contorted in raw, undisguised terror.
"What in the Emperor's name?" the captain muttered.
The panic was contagious. As the demons still fighting at the front line noticed their kin fleeing, they turned to look at whatever was approaching from down the road. The moment they did, their bloodlust completely vanished. They shrieked to one another in harsh, guttural demonic—a language the captain didn't speak, but he didn't need a translation to recognize the absolute dread in their voices. Within seconds, the entire horde broke, scrambling and flying away as fast as they could.
The surviving soldiers slowly lowered their blood-stained weapons. Their chests heaved with exhausted pants as confusion washed over the garrison, none of them understanding why the monsters had suddenly chosen to flee.
"Captain!" a female soldier called out, breaking the stunned silence. "There are two people on horseback approaching!"
The captain forced his aching legs to move, making his way over to her position. He peered out through the settling dust and saw exactly what she had reported: two figures riding leisurely toward the blood-soaked checkpoint.
"Are we safe?" another soldier asked hesitantly.
The captain narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening on the hilt of his curved sword.
"Do not let your guards drop," he ordered grimly. "Whoever they are, they just scared an entire horde of demons into fleeing. They are dangerous."
The soldiers exchanged nervous glances. A few gulped audibly, but they gave sharp nods and forced their exhausted bodies back into defensive stances, raising their weapons toward the road.
As the riders drew closer, their features finally became visible through the dust. It was a man and a woman.
"Who are you?" the captain called out, projecting as much authority into his hoarse voice as he could manage.
The riders slowed their horses to a halt. The woman spoke up first, her gaze casually sweeping over the carnage of the checkpoint before settling back onto the weary commander.
"Who I am doesn't really matter," she answered dismissively. She leaned forward slightly in her saddle. "Just answer my question. Have you seen a girl with blue hair and blue eyes?"