The Demon of War was still trying to wiggle out of her stone shackles, hissing and twitching like a viper with its tail caught in a trap. Apparently, the concept of "defeat" just wasn't clicking in her head.

  "Can you speak like a normal person?" Mira asked, looming over her.

  The only response was a vicious hiss and an attempt to spit blood. Mira sighed and looked at me.

  "Alright, Zen. Let’s go with your more... 'sophisticated' methods."

  She hoisted the demoness’s stump and essentially plastered her against the nearest tree. I lazily pressed my palm to the trunk, forcing the bark and wood to slowly, layer by layer, absorb her flesh, growing right into her.

  "A-A-A-A-ARGHY!" she screamed in unfeigned agony. "STOP! STOP!"

  I halted the tree's growth. It had already swallowed her up to her waist, turning her into a living burl on the trunk.

  "So, you can talk?" Mira leaned in close to her face. "What are you?"

  "The Demon... of War..." she wheezed, baring her teeth. "You... you’re weaklings! How did you beat me?! Especially this little one?!"

  "EXCUSE ME?!" I straightened up, offended. "Who are you calling little? I'm just big-boned!"

  "Ha... ha... so stupid..." she tried to laugh but dissolved into a coughing fit.

  Mira didn't waste time with insults. She simply pressed her thumb to the demon’s forehead. Pure psycho-magic. I didn't know exactly what my sister was showing her—what abysses or nightmares—but for the next ten minutes, the Demon of War just screamed. Loudly. Hoarsely. So loudly that even the birds in the forest decided to migrate to another region.

  When Mira pulled her hand away, the demoness looked... empty.

  "What are you?" Mira repeated. "The Demon of War." "Why did you come to this world?"

  She gave a weak, almost pathetic smile. "Nothing brings as much pleasure as watching you fear... watching you beg for mercy... and then watching you die. I slaughtered that beastman clan so everyone would blame the opposing side. War will break out between your alliances. And I’ll sit in the front row and watch you slit each other's throats."

  "How long have you been here?" I asked. "Four days." "What is your ultimate goal? Do you have a plan?"

  "There is no plan!" she giggled again. "It just got... a bit too crowded in Hell. Too many people, no room to breathe. So I decided to step out for some fresh air and have some fun. Strange... usually, you humans die like flies. But you... you’re 'incorrectly' strong. Especially the kid."

  I decided to ask the big question: "Listen, how strong are the Primal Fears?"

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  The demoness went silent. Her eyes turned pitch black for a moment. "Death is the strongest," she whispered. "If he comes to your world, you will be plunged into a darkness you’ve never seen. Your sun will simply go out before him."

  She bared her teeth at us. "I can already see your faces when he looks at you."

  "Right," Mira turned away, clearly losing interest. "We’ve heard enough. Poverty, you’re on luggage duty. You’re carrying her."

  "WHAT?!" Poverty nearly jumped out of his skin. "Just kill her already! Why do I have to have this piece of wood on my back?!"

  The Demon of War, despite her lack of limbs, immediately joined the argument: "You scum! You’ve turned into a servant for humans? What a weakling! A disgrace to our kind!"

  "Look who’s talking, you stump," Poverty snapped back, beginning to pry her flesh off the tree bark. "Regrow your own legs first, 'Your Majesty'."

  She writhed and screamed in pain as he slung her over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. It was a peak ridiculous sight: one demon lugging another while my sister and I walked ahead, discussing where to find spices for our next dinner.

  We walked and walked. At some point, my legs started hinting that it was time to go on strike.

  "Mira, seriously, where are we trekking to?" I asked, vaulting over yet another gnarled root.

  She turned around and shrugged. "I don't know. Technically, we found the root of the problem, but so what? Even if we kill her, she’ll just respawn in Hell and come back. An endless cycle."

  Mira declared a rest stop. "Why are we staying the night?" I wondered. "We could just—"

  I didn't get to finish. I turned around and saw the Demon of Poverty. The poor guy wasn't walking anymore—he was drifting toward the ground, swaying under the weight of his "luggage." His eyes were rolling back; his knees were buckling. It looked like the vessel was on the verge of self-destructing from exhaustion.

  We sat down. I quickly organized a fire, caught a couple of careless rabbits and one very overconfident wolf. Skinned them, roasted them over magical flames... The smell was so good even the trees seemed to be salivating.

  "Haven't had your cooking in a while," Mira said, happily tearing into the meat. "You haven't lost your touch."

  I handed a cup of broth to the Demon of Poverty. He latched onto it with his teeth and started lapping it up like a stray dog. Apparently, he didn't know how to use a spoon.

  Then there was the problem of the Demon of War. She couldn't eat by herself—no arms, after all.

  "Mira, are we feeding her? Or should she just live on sunbeams?"

  My sister silently walked over to the demoness-stump, grabbed her by the hair, and... simply shoved her head-down directly into the cauldron of leftover stew.

  "If she’s hungry, she’ll eat," Mira stated. Cruel? Maybe.

  By nightfall, I noticed something strange: the Demon of Poverty was the first to pass out, his head barely hitting the ground. It seems that by inhabiting a human body, these creatures gain not only its strength but all its weaknesses too. Hunger, thirst, the need for sleep... What an ironic trap.

  Mira sat down next to me by the dying fire. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

  "Just thinking..." I watched the embers. "Listen, why are we even solving this? It's not our problem. Humans have plenty of their own defenders, armies, kings... We could be lying on a beach on the New Continent right now."

  Mira didn't answer. She just reached out and placed her palm on the top of my head. She gave it a few soft strokes.

  That was it. Моё body betrayed me instantly.

  I woke up in the middle of the night to a strange rustling sound. I cracked an eye open and saw the Demon of War. She was crawling toward me like a giant legless caterpillar. Her mouth was wide open—she was clearly planning to see what my leg tasted like.

  I didn't even bother jumping up. Just on reflex, I delivered a short kick with the sole of my boot straight to her face.

  CRUNCH.

  There was a juicy sound of shattering teeth. The demoness choked on her own blood and flew back a yard.

  "Settle down," I said.

  To seal the result, I used mana to create heavy iron chains and wound them tightly around her torso, pinning her to the trunk of an old oak. Now she can chew on the bark if she’s that hungry.

  I lay back down on my back and stared at the stars. Silence.