She just wouldn't quit. Apparently, the Demon of War decided that a dose of alchemist blood had made her immortal, because she lunged at me again.

  I didn’t even bother drawing my sword. I simply caught her arm and, with one sharp movement, snapped her claws off. Right at the root.

  "Hey!" was all she managed to squeak.

  I tossed the fragments at her feet and snapped my fingers.

  KABOOM.

  Small mana detonations tossed her into the air, and before she could even think about landing, I delivered a spinning kick with the sole of my boot straight to her jaw.

  The sound was... juicy. The demoness’s lower jaw simply detached from her skull and flew into the bushes. I was already raising my hand to grab her head and end this pointless sparring once and for all when she started waving her hands frantically, covering herself and putting on a display of extreme repentance.

  She crawled over to her jaw lying in the grass, picked it up, and—with a revolting squelch—slotted it back into place. She snapped her teeth a couple of times, checking her bite.

  "Alright, alright!" she wheezed, wiping blood from her chin. "I admit it. You're stronger. I'll be a good girl. I swear... by whatever it is you people swear by!"

  The Demon of Poverty, watching from a safe distance, squinted suspiciously.

  "And you’re going to believe her? Just finish her off. Before she grows another pair of arms tonight and slits all our throats. She’s War—betrayal is in her blood."

  The demoness glared at him. Both fell into combat stances, ready to tear into each other, but then Mira spoke up.

  "Let’s go, Zen. We don’t have time for this circus."

  She walked ahead. The demons, instantly losing their fighting spirit, trudged after us like a pair of beaten dogs. The Demon of War pulled up beside me.

  "So... your name is Zenhald?" she began, trying to start a conversation.

  "Mm-hmm."

  "You’re strange. Nothing like your kin. Your eyes..." She peered into my face. "You’re an eyesore, aren't you? Well, by human standards. And also... you’re kind of small. Shorter than the others. A pipsqueak."

  Something inside me gave an unpleasant twinge.

  "EXCUSE ME?!" I stopped dead. "I AM STILL A TEENAGER! My development isn't finished yet! Got it?!"

  She huffed, looking at my hands.

  "And the eyes? So... are you actually a child? With this much power?"

  I looked at this seven-foot-tall beast who, a minute ago, was looking for her jaw in the bushes.

  "You’re the child," I said, quickening my pace.

  The world has definitely gone mad.

  For two days, we trudged through the sand. The desert is, without a doubt, the most boring place in existence. Monotonous, hot, and sand gets into places you didn't even know existed.

  Behind us, barely putting one foot in front of the other, trailed our demonic "friends."

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  "You're humans..." Poverty wheezed, wiping sweat from his skin. "Why don't you want to drink? We need... blood... just a drop..."

  I stopped and looked at him thoughtfully. "Blood?"

  I simply snapped my fingers, and right out of the dry air in front of my face, a perfect, transparent sphere of ice-cold water condensed. I drank it in three gulps, feeling the blessed chill spread through my body.

  The demons froze, eyes bulging.

  "YOU... YOU HAD WATER?!" War shrieked. "GIVE US WATER! NOW!"

  I created another sphere and lazily tossed it to them. They lunged at the water with their teeth, nearly fighting over every drop.

  "Strange," I remarked as we continued. "You have such loud names, such titles... Why are you so weak?"

  "I! AM! NOT! WEAK!" the demoness roared, but then she immediately tripped over a dune and nearly face-planted into the sand.

  Finally, we set up camp for the night. Mira immediately went into deep meditation, while I stretched out on the sand, looking at the stars.

  I’m a light sleeper. I felt someone standing over me before they even had a chance to take a breath. I opened my eyes. Two figures loomed over me: War and Poverty. They were looking at me as if I were a rare dessert.

  "What are you looking at?" I asked, not changing my posture. "No autographs."

  "Oh, you were just sleeping so soundly," War gave a predatory smirk, "that you didn't even feel us take the boot off your left foot."

  I looked down. Sure enough, one foot was in a sock.

  "Small-time," I said. "You should have taken my pants; at least I could have aired things out."

  War leaned closer. There were only a couple of centimeters between our faces. She smelled of old copper and hatred.

  "Tell me, kid... if I took a sudden swing while you were sleeping and severed your head from your shoulders... would you even realize you were dead?"

  "Then why didn't you kill me?" I looked her straight in the eyes.

  She didn't answer. Her gaze slid across my face.

  "How I want to pluck out your eyes..." she whispered.

  "Thanks for the compliment."

  "How I want to bite you..."

  That was the line.

  I lunged forward and sank my teeth into her throat. A sharp jerk of my head—and hot demon blood flooded my mouth. I ripped out a decent chunk of meat and shoved her away.

  The demoness collapsed onto the sand, clutching her torn throat as blood pulsed through her fingers. Poverty recoiled into the shadows.

  I chewed the "snack" and spat out the remnants of skin.

  "If you're going to do it, do it," I said, wiping my mouth with my sleeve. "But if you just came to talk—don't ruin my sleep. Next time, I won't stop at an appetizer."

  I rolled over onto my other side and closed my eyes. Nearby, War was wheezing, trying to regenerate her neck.

  The desert, much to my immense relief, came to an end. It was replaced by green fields and forests. Finally, some eye candy. But my footwear situation was a disaster. It turns out my demonic travel companions decided to "hide" my boot in the sand. By the time we dug it up... only the laces and a couple of scraps of the sole were left. Apparently, the desert worms appreciated the quality.

  I stood on one leg, looking at the mess.

  "What am I supposed to do with you two?" I asked the demons. "Beat you to death, or just make you lick my heels all the way to the border?"

  They stayed silent, intently studying the horizon.

  In the forest, we started running into strange creatures. They were also Fear Demons, but they were... wrong. Mutants with not a drop of intellect. One resembled a horse with extra knees; another was just a formless lump of flesh and claws. They didn't try to speak—they just threw themselves at us. I didn't have to get my hands dirty, though. War and Poverty, sensing the competition, tore them to shreds themselves.

  I noticed my companions were starting to change.

  "War, look at that—are you growing a tail?" I pointed at a thin protrusion. "And you, Poverty? What’s that third arm sticking out? It’s tiny, just twitching its fingers. Did you overeat on mutants?"

  The Demon of Poverty just snapped back:

  "Why aren't you growing, pipsqueak? Since you claim you're still a teenager and your 'development isn't finished'? Look at us mutating, and you—not a single millimeter. Still as scrawny as ever."

  "WHY YOU—" I raised my fist, but Mira suddenly stopped me.

  "Quiet," she whispered, looking ahead. "Something is wrong with this village."

  We stepped out to the edge of a settlement. At first glance—an ordinary village. Residents walking the streets, going about their business. But once you looked closer...

  They were... lifeless. Their movements were jerky, mechanical. When they turned their heads toward us, their faces began to contort unnaturally, eyes rolling back, and their jaws popped out of their sockets like broken dolls.

  Suddenly, every resident, as if on command, collapsed to the ground.

  A second of silence—and they jumped up again, starting to wave merrily at us with wide, terrifying smiles. And then... they fell again. And went still.

  In the middle of this heap of bodies, as if woven from the air itself, a figure materialized. It was thin, almost transparent, and it radiated such a chill that even the grass beneath its feet froze instantly.

  "The Demon of Loneliness..." the Demon of War whispered.