Two years later.
It had been two years since Emrys had started living with Dubs, and he never would have imagined that one day like this, sprinting through the woods after having just returned from the ruins of two giant villages, the only coherent thought that would cross his mind would be:
Damn, he seriously stinks way too much for something this slow.
Behind him, something massive had just flattened an entire oak tree as if it had been a blade of grass.
BOOM.
The ground shook from the impact, hard enough for Emrys to feel the vibration travel up his legs despite the distance. His Haki, active at all times within its passive two-hundred-meter range—the one that didn't cost him the slightest drop of mental energy as long as he didn't try to push it any further—was already sending him the image of an absolutely monstrous crimson mass long before he could see it with his own eyes.
Large.
Misshapen.
A bulging belly that looked as though it had swallowed half the forest by itself, and two extremely short black arms and two black wings, almost ridiculous compared to the rest of its body, which nevertheless continued tearing trees out of the ground with alarming ease as it advanced.
A Red Demon.
The lowest rank among demons, according to what Dubs had told him. Not exactly bright, incapable of stringing two coherent thoughts together, but massive and tough enough to erase an entire forest from the map if it seriously put its mind to it.
"Why are they always as stupid as they are big," Emrys muttered between breaths as he weaved between the trees.
He chained together several Blinks, about ten tiny jumps of only a few centimeters each instead of one large leap, his mental energy regenerating almost as quickly as he spent it as long as he kept the distances that short.
Just enough to move out of the path of the uprooted tree that spun through the air above where his head had been.
Fwoosh.
"Seriously, how do you even manage to aim," he said, more to himself than to the creature, which obviously couldn't understand a single word he was saying—or even the general concept of "talking."
The demon roared, a deep, slobbering sound that made the surrounding leaves tremble, then charged toward him again with all the agility of a falling boulder.
Its mouth suddenly opened much wider than necessary for a simple roar, and a dark glow began to appear deep inside its throat.
Oh, right. I'd almost forgotten about that charming little detail.
Emrys instinctively chained together another series of Blinks, only a few centimeters at a time, just enough to place himself behind a protruding boulder the instant a beam of black flames burst from the creature's gaping maw.
FZZZZZT.
The blazing beam passed through the spot where he had been standing only a second earlier before obliterating an entire section of rock farther behind in an explosion of dust and burning fragments.
"A little originality wouldn't hurt," Emrys muttered, breathing heavily as he glanced at what remained of the boulder he had just used as cover.
Its entire upper half had simply ceased to exist.
Emrys dodged a second tree trunk, then a third, the last one passing so close that he felt the bark scrape across his shoulder. He grimaced, more out of annoyance than actual pain.
Okay... seriously... sooner or later he's got to get tired of throwing trees.
Apparently not.
The creature seemed literally incapable of learning, drawing its arm back once again as though it were the very first time it had missed instead of the sixth.
Emrys sighed.
Alright.
Either I keep running until Dubs shows up and caves his face in...
Or I deal with this myself and keep him from flattening everything all the way to the forge.
He chose the second option.
Mostly because the first one would probably make Dubs lose his patience before the demon did.
"Trace On."
The flow spread out, this time guided with the precision he had spent two years perfecting.
Thick skin.
Almost leathery across the chest.
An absurdly dense network of fat that would probably absorb half the blows anyone could land on it.
And there...
Right around the right eye...
A noticeably thinner area.
Almost neglected.
As though nature—or whatever had created this thing—hadn't considered it worth reinforcing properly.
Thanks.
At this distance... that's perfect for what I have in mind.
He extended his hand in front of him, allowing the image to sharpen inside his mind.
"Trace On."
A bow materialized, far larger than anything Emrys could have carried under normal circumstances. In fact, it was even taller than Emrys himself, a massive weapon designed to fire entire blades as arrows rather than simple feathered shafts. He wrapped his fingers around the grip, already feeling the enormous weight pressing down on his still-outstretched arm.
As usual, this damn thing weighs a ton.
He concentrated part of his magical energy into his arm, letting Reinforcement spread through his muscles, his tendons, all the way to his fingertips. A dull warmth filled his forearm as every fiber of his body hardened and grew denser, ready to withstand a tension his body alone could never have endured.
"Trace On."
An arrow materialized between his fingers, already nocked before he had even finished drawing the string. He pulled back, feeling the bow protest against his reinforced arm, then released.
Fwip.
The arrow cut through the air in a fraction of a second, faster than any ordinary arrow could ever have flown, and buried itself directly into the demon's right eye.
It never even saw it coming.
The demon let out a high-pitched scream, comically shrill for something so enormous, before toppling heavily backward with a tremendous crash of breaking branches.
Emrys didn't slow down, and taking advantage of its temporary weakened state, he hurried to finish the creature off.
"Trace On."
Two straight swords appeared in Emrys's hands. They were completely unsuitable for use as projectiles, but that was without taking into account the reinforcement subcapacities
Grrkk.
The two swords began to deform violently, gradually losing their sword shape. They twisted and lengthened until they formed perfectly aerodynamic spirals, which Emrys quickly notched.
The demon was just about to get back up, but Emrys released the bowstring immediately, launching both spiral swords at the same time.
Fwip.
Both swords pierced deeply into the demon's abdomen, and the light in its eyes faded away.
Emrys released the tension in his arm, allowing Reinforcement to dissipate, and the bow suddenly became almost unbearable to hold before dispersing into particles of light as well.
"There we go. Once you aim for the hearts, it's not that difficult."
He stood still for a moment, his Haki still active, making sure the red mass wasn't getting back up.
Nothing.
Just one pathetic, almost pitiful groan before silence settled over the forest once more.
Emrys started walking back toward the forge, his legs trembling slightly—not so much because of the fight itself, but because of the sprint that had come before it, and everything he had seen earlier that morning.
---
"I RAN INTO ANOTHER ONE!" Emrys announced as he pushed open the large door of the workshop, still slightly out of breath.
"Another what?" Dubs replied without looking up from the piece of metal he was hammering, as though a kid bursting in shouting was the most ordinary thing in the world.
"A Red Demon. Third one this week."
The hammer stopped.
"Third," Dubs repeated, this time with an interest that could no longer be hidden behind the noise of his work. "You sure it wasn't just the same one wandering in circles because it couldn't find its way out of the forest anymore?"
"No. This one had a scar over its left eye. The one from the day before yesterday didn't."
"You took the time to notice that while running."
"Uh... excuse me? Structural Analysis ring any bells?" Emrys replied, slightly offended, as he dropped onto one of the wobbly stools near the entrance.
"And where is this one now?"
"Flat on its back. Took an arrow to the head and got a one-way ticket."
"And did you bother checking whether it was actually dead, or did you just leave it lying around like another piece of junk in my forest?"
"It wasn't breathing the last time I checked. Is that good enough for you?"
Dubs let out a grunt that might have passed for approval coming from anyone else before resting his hammer against the anvil.
"And the villages? Did you see them with your own eyes, or rather... you know what I mean."
"Destroyed. Completely," Emrys replied, his voice darker than it had been a moment before. "Especially the second one. Craters everywhere, as if someone had kept going long after the job was already done."
"Yeah. That's usually how demons are. They don't stop when there's no reason to anymore," Dubs commented without much emotion before adding, almost as an afterthought, "Shame about the ore. There were some good veins over there."
"Seriously? That's all it makes you think of?"
"I'm a blacksmith, kid, not a professional mourner. I can think it's sad and regret the ore at the same time. The two aren't mutually exclusive."
Emrys let out a tired chuckle and shook his head.
"Alright. So, how are things going on your end?" Dubs asked, turning back to his anvil while continuing to speak, a sign that he fully intended to keep the conversation going without interrupting his work. "It's been going on for more than a year now, this whole mess. You must have picked up a thing or two after hanging around roads and refugee camps for so long."
"A little, yeah," Emrys replied, straightening up slightly. "The alliance has a name now. They call themselves Stigma."
"Stigma," Dubs repeated without much enthusiasm. "Original."
"Apparently it's supposed to represent the mark they're going to leave on the demons. Some kind of symbol of their future victory, that sort of pompous thing," Emrys continued. "From what I've gathered, their main headquarters is in the Fairy King's Forest. But out in the field, every race still sticks to its own methods. The giants charge in headfirst, the fairies rely on ambushes and sabotage, humans are almost useless to the point that some people wonder whether they even belong to the alliance, and the goddesses mainly intervene whenever demons above the rank of Gray Demons appear. They leave the rest of the small fry to the other races."
"And how's that working out for them? Are they winning or losing?"
"Depends on who you ask," Emrys admitted. "The refugees I've met mostly talk about their own defeats—villages destroyed, loved ones killed. But according to the rumors going around, Stigma has managed to reclaim some territory over the last few months. Nothing decisive, but enough to boost morale almost everywhere I've been."
Dubs remained silent for a moment, the rhythm of his hammer slowing slightly, as though part of his attention had drifted away from the metal he was shaping.
"It's been a year," he finally said. "And there's still no sign it's going to end anytime soon."
"No," Emrys confirmed. "But I never planned on leaving right away anyway."
"That much, kid, I'd already figured out," Dubs replied, a faint trace of amusement breaking through his gruff voice. "You've been hanging around here for two years when you could've been running all over a continent at war looking for your mother."
"And get myself killed by the first demon I run into before I even find her? No thanks," Emrys replied, crossing his arms. "I'd rather show up strong enough than throw myself into a war zone with two fewer years of training and end up getting slaughtered within a week. Besides, my mother isn't in any danger where she is."
"You're really confident about that, kid," Dubs admitted. "Well... we'll see how much longer it takes before either Stigma or the demons decide to turn my forest into an official battlefield instead of just a fallback area for lost piles of red meat."
"Does that worry you?"
"It'd be a nuisance, let's put it that way. I've still got two orders to finish and a reputation to maintain," Dubs replied, fully returning to his work. "But if that does happen, I'm counting on you to get rid of the biggest headaches before they reach my door."
Emrys smiled, a mixture of pride and exhaustion on his face.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"That's not confidence. That's pure selfishness. I'm attached to my furnace."
Outside, somewhere in the distance, another deep rumble rolled through the forest.
Emrys stood up, a familiar determination settling once again deep within his chest.
"Another one?"
"Yeah," he confirmed after a moment, his Haki already picking up the massive reddish silhouette forcing its way through the trees. "This time, I'm not letting it get anywhere near the forge."
"And try not to bring half the forest back with you this time," Dubs called after him, already returning to his anvil as though the conversation had never happened.
"No promises!" Emrys replied as he stepped through the door, a smile on his face despite the seriousness of everything they had just discussed.