Night had fallen over an old, run-down manor.
A figure moved through it with practiced ease. In the dim light you could see he was tall, but his gaze was cold. Though his appearance was almost human, his bearing carried a nonhuman chill — not the kind shaped by experience but something innate, almost bestial. His whole temperament was a weave of man and beast: part human, part animal.
He wasn't a normal person at all but a laboratory miracle — a man-made being. The synthetic person found a patch of ground in the estate and raised a hoe to dig.
Suddenly he lifted his head; the animalistic light in his eyes flared. He had sensed danger.
"Crunch, crunch…"
Sounds of things being trampled came from the darkness, then the clear tread of footsteps. One, two, three… unfamiliar shapes surrounded him. In moments those figures changed — a sulfurous stench filled the air, flames flickered, and one by one their human faces shifted into monstrous visages. The sight would have frozen ordinary people with terror; the Adam only grew more alert. Fear did not seem part of his program.
Then the demons surged forward. The fight wasn't grand, but the synthetic man — not a top-tier fighter — was quickly overwhelmed and on the brink of defeat.
Suddenly a gust sounded overhead. A demon's body burst apart in an instant, turning into hellfire that sank into the earth and returned to the underworld.
Now it was clear what had arrived: a hulking, winged creature whose skin looked like stone. At first glance it was uglier than the demons — a brutish, cavernous thing. It fluttered its wings and changed into human form. Another monstrous figure fell and transformed into a beautiful woman.
The male onlookers bowed his head to inspect the Adam in the pit, then his eyes fell on a book at the creature's side. He picked it up and read — it was some kind of experimental log. As he flipped through it his expression hardened; he looked at the synthetic with an almost imperceptible disdain. A human experiment — an abomination in the eyes of the Night-Wing Dragon clan, who worshipped a god. This was an alien thing to them.
Out of loyalty to their queen, he would not execute the creature on the spot. Instead he took it to present to the queen for judgment.
From the darkness came a cool, indifferent voice.
"Who allowed you to take my guest?"
The night grew colder with those words. The male and female Night-Wing Dragon members stiffened and peered into shadow, tense. Footsteps — slow, unhurried — returned from the dark. Soon a shape stepped out.
He looked old but carried an aristocratic air, like an ancient noble from a past century. The moment he appeared, every Night-Wing Dragon — male and female alike — froze. The Night-Wing clan were natural enemies of demons and had fought them for centuries; normally there would be no hesitation, they would attack. But this was different.
This was the Demon Prince — Naberius.
The man in front of them stood motionless, exuding calm aristocracy. The male Night-Wing Dragon shoved a book into the female's arms. "I'll block him. You take the book and go!" he urged, and then changed back into his dragon form, charging Naberius.
When the male drove his weapon down, Naberius barely moved. He lifted one hand lazily, caught the weapon, and with a small twist crushed it into fragments — a casual motion that sent the attacker flying like a train into a wall, shattering masonry and leaving wreckage. In the blink of an eye, other demons hauled the stricken male away; the female still hadn't fled.
Seeing their comrade captured, the female roused herself and prepared to fly — but a hand rested on her shoulder. The hand did not look powerful, yet it felt like a mountain and she could not resist. Resistance fell away; even the will to struggle vanished into despair.
"I remember you — the queen's only bodyguard," the newcomer said. "Interesting. I sense the scent of the opposite sex on you."
"This does not suit your order's vows." He let his hand slide slowly down her shoulder toward her chest. The motion was deliberate, slow.
From the pit, the injured male watched helplessly as if mad, thrashing and screaming, "You dare touch her! I will kill you! I will kill you!" His hysterical roar broke any semblance of Night-Wing composure.
The newcomer smiled.
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