The Bloodrose Sword now pulsed with an ominous crimson light in Edward's hand, its reawakened power turning the tide of the desperate battle. Astrid and Panchenko, filled with renewed hope, scrambled down the last few feet of the mountain and plunged back into the fray.
"We got it!" Panchenko roared, already impaling a demon with his spear, fueled by adrenaline.
Astrid, her daggers a blur, moved like a deadly phantom, her movements fueled by grief and rage over Pao, Ylva, and Lee. She sliced through the ranks of demons, a furious dance of vengeance, joining Adam, Julian, and Jones. The combined might of the strengthened group began to thin the overwhelming numbers.
The duel between Edward and Ursa was a maelstrom of power. Edward, with the Bloodrose Sword, was no longer just strong; he was terrifying. His movements were impossibly fast, each strike of his blade leaving shimmering crimson trails in the darkness. Ursa, the Viscount-rank demon, met him with equally brutal force, his shadowy claws ripping at the air, but he was slowly, undeniably, being pushed back. Edward was regaining the advantage, the centuries of imprisonment fueling his relentless assault. The Bloodrose Sword hummed with ancient power, an extension of his wrath.
Adam, however, felt a growing frustration. His meta pistol, a marvel of alien technology, suddenly sputtered. The plasma blasts weakened, then ceased entirely. The power cell was dead. "Damn it!" he cursed. He pulled out his new sword from the temple, its finely crafted blade a cold comfort in his hand, and threw himself back into the melee, relying on steel and skill alone.
High above, nestled in the branches of a gnarled, ancient tree, Harry continued his vital role as a sniper. He had been unerringly accurate, his arrows providing critical cover for Astrid and Panchenko, and taking down numerous demons. He re-nocked another arrow, his concentration absolute. He didn't hear it, didn't sense the subtle shift in the air that indicated peril. His focus was entirely on the glowing targets below.
A chillingly silent figure, a demon of wiry build and long, predatory limbs, had been crawling stealthily behind him, using the dense canopy as cover. It had been tracking Harry for minutes, a silent hunter.
When Harry finally sensed it – a faint disturbance in the air behind him – it was already too late. The demon struck with impossible speed. A long, razor-sharp claw burst through Harry's chest, directly through his back.
Harry let out a guttural scream, a sound of pure agony and shock that ripped through the cacophony of battle.
Adam, Panchenko, Astrid, Julian, Jones, and even Edward and Ursa, briefly turned their heads toward the terrible sound. Their eyes, or what passed for them in the darkness, fixed on the horrifying sight. High in the tree, Harry was impaled, the demon's arm still inside his chest, a grotesque, living spear.
"NO!!!" Adam's roar of anguish mingled with Pachenko's horrified shout and Astrid's piercing scream.
Astrid, her eyes wide with unadulterated grief and rage, moved with a speed that defied the darkness. She blurred through the fighting, abandoning her current targets, her focus entirely on Harry. She reached the tree in a flash, scrambling up its rough bark with inhuman agility. With two swift, brutal slashes of her daggers, she sliced the head of the demon that had killed Harry. The creature crumpled, lifeless, its arm still lodged in Harry's chest.
Astrid scrambled to Harry's side, pulling him gently down into her arms. His breath was shallow, ragged, a bloody froth bubbling on his lips. His glasses were askew, his eyes wide and vacant.
Tears streamed down Astrid's face, mixing with the grime and blood. She clutched him to her, her voice a broken whisper. "We were close, Harry. We were so close to freedom." Her words, filled with crushing despair, echoed the harsh reality of their unending torment.
The death of Harry, a silent, terrible blow, momentarily stunned both sides of the battle. The cost of their struggle, the brutal, unyielding nature of Kazakhar, had been laid bare once more. The fight for Edward, for freedom, continued, but the price was climbing to an unbearable height.