"Baal Yon Cernunnos!" The voice rang out across the harbor.
"Your hold on this city ends today!"
Baal exhaled slowly.
The harbor burned below the ramparts—ships aflame, warehouses collapsing into the sea, the air thick with salt and smoke.
Fontaine had always smelled of foreign spices and smoked foods.
Now it reeked of ash and blood.
This was their answer?
Heat rolled over her as she loomed above the city.
Angel of Ruin…
That's what they called me.
As if I ever wanted the title.
Her gaze found the source of the voice.
It was one human, standing far too confidently amid the chaos, blade raised as if his courage alone could bridge the gap between them.
"…Fine," she murmured.
She dropped.
The impact split stone and sent a shockwave through the harbor.
As she raised her head, a blade was already inches from her face.
Ah, so he's—
Somewhat trained.
She sidestepped enough so the blade could pass by her.
She caught the blade with two fingers.
Weak.
The impact sent a ripple through her arm as she felt the consecration attempt to burn through her fingers.
She flicked her wrist, sending the hero backward across the harbor stones.
He stayed upright.
Barely.
She tilted her head.
"You planned this well. Cut the supply lines so I'm forced to answer."
Magic gathered in her raised hand.
"But if this is all you brought…"
She stepped forward once.
"…you miscalculated."
The human didn't answer.
This feeling…
She looked beside her.
Spell circles flared up along the walls of the houses.
These spells don't belong there.
She heard whistling along the wind, growing louder by the second.
A hail of arrows?
She looked forward.
So he brought a party…
"New orders."
"Return to the Demon King and inform him the Angel of Ruin will handle Fontaine."
Light, arrows, and consecrated energy crashed into her position, swallowing the area in fire and smoke.
The shockwave tore through the harbor wall and hurled demons off their feet.
"Lady Baal!"
Smoke rolled outward, thick and blinding.
For a heartbeat, there was nothing.
Then the smoke parted.
Baal rose from the crater, scorched and bleeding.
The ground shifted as she straightened, brushing dust and blood off her arms.
She turned her head slightly, not looking at the humans.
"All units. Withdraw immediately."
"Lady Baal, wouldn't it be better if—"
She glared at the demon mid-sentence.
Imbecile.
"Return to Ignis."
"Now."
The demons scattered, retreating down the crumbling streets.
The hero didn't hesitate. Neither did his party.
They moved as one, each member covering the other, forcing her to react not to a single target, but to the battlefield itself.
Interesting.
Arrows pierced the air, grazing her armor. Spells slammed against her magic barrier, sparking off it. Her feet shifted to deflect sword blows; otherwise, she barely moved.
Her antlers absorbed and deflected a blade beam, redirecting it into the empty harbor.
And then, when the party was fully committed, stepping forward as one, she smiled faintly.
A sudden chill ripped across the harbor. Waves froze mid-splash as the steam coming off her curled into jagged spears of ice.
The wind stiffened, coating arrows mid-flight with frost, altering their flight. Magic radiated from her slowly, rooting the human party to the ground.
Baal stepped forward, the frozen ground cracking beneath her boots. "This is what happens when you push too far."
Her breath misted in the sudden cold.
"Do not think I will hold back again."
The harbor was a frozen wasteland, jagged spears of ice jutting from every surface, and the human party still pressed forward.
Their attacks had slowed, staggered, and faltered, but they hadn't stopped. Each spell, each swing of a sword, chipped away at her defenses.
For the first time, Baal felt the weight of numbers and strategy against her.
What is this… nagging feeling?
Something has been sapping my magic ever since the fight started.
Her breathing came in shallow bursts. Spells collided with her faltering magic barrier. Her boots dug into the frozen ground, trying to hold balance as the shockwaves rattled her bones.
She raised her head, antlers catching the dim sunlight, and realized—the humans weren't just fighting.
They were winning.
"…Enough," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
She had fought like a lord protecting her lands, like an angel of ruin driven by vengeance.
Now, she might lose.
The next strike hit her square in the chest.
The barrier shattered.
Baal staggered, her boots carving deep grooves into the ice as she caught herself on one knee.
Her vision swam.
A sword was embedded in her chest, frost slowly creeping up the blade.
So, this is where it ends…
She drew in a breath—and let it out.
That's when she noticed the hero jump back.
"What is this mana signature?" he asked aloud. His party frantically searched for the caster.
Baal looked down.
A spell circle formed beneath her feet.
I knew it…
THEY had planned this all along.
"This is what you want… KHIMERA?!" She screamed out as the circle activated.
A black gate had formed behind her and began to pull her in.
The harbor vanished in a violent snap—the last thing she saw was the hero's face, frozen in shock.