By reflex, he leapt back, just in time to escape the spell. Without even a second passing, he sprang to the side as a cold steel blade grazed his cheek. Hitting the old stone floor, he rolled behind a pillar, trying to recuperate from the sudden attack.
"Impressive. That was meant to kill you, but alas, it's been a while since I've had some fun."
The brief respite from the onslaught gave Zeniph the time to spread a thin mist of mana, locating what seemed to be a curse.
But before he could do anything more than that, another barrage came. Streaks of flame lit up the plaza, heading straight for him.
Gritting his teeth, he forced mana around him to change, separating the air in front of him and forming a vacuum just for an instant—but an instant was enough. With no air, the flames died just before reaching him.
Pain shot through his entire body, his nerves feeling as if they had just been burned then frozen. Spells took time to cast using a person's own reserve of mana. But he hadn't accumulated enough, nor did he have the time to cast properly.
Just as the dust cleared, the sharp whiz of flying stone screeched through the air. He dodged again, twisting his body as he practically fell to the side. The lime pillar dissolved as soon as it was hit.
Glad I didn't hide behind that for long.
Blood covered his cheek. Too much blood. For such a small wound to cause that, the blade must have been poisoned, but he didn't have the opportunity to check for sure as the demon leapt forward, its long, curved blade arcing straight for his neck.
Capillaries burst as he froze the air into a shield around him. The blade hit momentarily, its shockwave raining debris and dust from the ceiling. He tanked the pain as he moved back, giving ground while he started channeling again.
Concentrating, he electrified the air in front of him, forming a lance of lightning. Just as he completed it, the curse broke through the shield, its red irises glaring at him with malice, black teeth showing as it grinned from ear to ear.
He launched it, but the curse simply waved its hand upward, forming a wall of stone just thick enough to stop it. As the wall shattered, it formed its debris into lances, gathering them around itself.
"You're no normal mage, are you? But it doesn't matter. Your body can't handle it, not for long. Give up now, end your suffering. I'll make the end quick."
As it stepped forward, the ground flashed for a moment before an explosion rocked the now-crumbling plaza.
Before the dust could clear, Zeniph lunged forward, ears still ringing from the tinnitus. A blade swung wildly over his head, just missing him as he ducked.
Just inches in front of him stood the crude formation of a demon, a semi-sentient spell of inhuman making. He slammed his fist into it, sending it flying against a pillar, collapsing it.
He could hear his bones break from the recoil of the mana, unable to handle the strength. His vision darkened slightly as he stepped back again, dodging the stone lances.
"Well, you don't seem to be doing too well yourself," he replied, as the curse stood back up, a gaping hole in its torso. "Your caster clearly didn't do a good job making you."
It sprang at him again, its smile gone, replaced with a shriek and murderous intent.
He clasped his hands together, finishing his cast. For a moment, everything stood still. Then the curse slammed into the ground as the plaza finally started giving out.
Zeniph coughed up blood as his lungs started to give out, his knees buckling in an effort to stand in the increased gravity. Each passing second further darkened his eyesight, straining the blood from his head.
As he released the spell, he ran, the curse poised to strike again.
"I'm not falling for the same thing twice!"
It screamed as his blade shattered, swirling around it before raining on Zeniph like rain.
Zeniph slammed the ground, sending a wave just strong enough to cancel the momentum of the shards.
"And just who gave you such a weapon, huh? What cursed fallen—"
Before he could finish, the curse shoulder-charged him, slamming him against the wall and sending boulders falling from the roof. His ribs cracked, and his lungs collapsed. Breath came in desperate gasps as he fought for air.
Holding him up by his neck, the creation smiled again in a sense of victory.
"Who, you ask? Well, since you shall die anyway, I'll indulge your curiosity. Manoth made me."
With another wide swing, it threw him against the wall, laughter echoing throughout the crumbling chamber.
Ah, I see. I thought it was that traitor.
With a click of its fingers, an inferno broke loose, consuming the area in flames in an instant. He ran for the exit, his body bleeding with every step. Behind him, he could almost feel the breath of the curse as it chased him.
Crossing the threshold, he turned, scrambling through the tunnels. With each second, the demon gained on him. He could no longer feel his arms nor his chest, his nerves dead from casting.
Still, he needed one more chance. Just one. His mind blanked, his heart missing beats, as he let out a chuckle. Just half a step behind him, the curse lunged.
"Checkmate."
The quiet clink of a falling stone was followed by what felt like an earthquake. The inferno ceased. Zeniph lay on his back, barely alive.
The tunnel entrance had collapsed, and considering how much he had spent enchanting the stone into the explosive, there was no chance the curse was still alive under the rubble.
Ashes from the inferno swirled around him as he gazed at the night sky, the faint blue glow of the timed teleportation stone fading.
"Manoth, huh?"
Slowly, he tried circulating his mana, repairing his lungs just enough to breathe freely again. His heart slowed, unable to handle the strain, stopping him from doing any more than that.
Moonlight illuminated the ruined walls, their jagged edges softened by shadow. For the first time in hours, Zeniph allowed himself to sink fully into the calm of the night, letting exhaustion claim him. His breaths came shallow but steady, and a fragile sense of relief settled over him.
He closed his eyes, the sounds of the forest beyond the ruins whispering promises of recovery. Sleep came slowly, but it came at last.