CHAPTER 9: AZRAKAN, THE TONGUE OF A THOUSAND VICES

Silence fell again. Only our breaths. Black blood still dripping onto the tiles. And the smell of burnt flesh clinging to our throats.

Miyu, her forehead drenched in sweat.

— "Hahaha... fuck... we got him..." Her voice trembled, despite her laugh. "...I thought he was going to cut us all down in a single blow."

Reina, meanwhile, stood tall, but her fingers gripping her staff were white with tension.

— "He was too strong... one moment longer, and we could all have died."

— "Stop..." cut in Hikari, gasping, her cheeks still shining with tears. "If Mom hadn’t had a revelation, we... we really could all have died. I... I was so scared..."

Her hands were still shaking on her staff.

Ayame, lying against a wall, straightened slightly. Her blood-soaked kimono slid from her shoulder, revealing the pallor of her bruised skin. She tried to smile, but her voice was hoarse, broken.

— "You all... fought well."

She placed a hand on my sleeve, her brown eyes locked on mine. "But if we go on like this... we’ll never get out of this dungeon alive."

I gripped Aurelia, my fingers still drenched in black blood. I said nothing, but I knew it: I had to do more, think more, in this world that never forgave weakness.

Silence fell. Miyu’s flames had gone out, Reina’s ice was melting drop by drop, and Hikari’s light had dwindled to a faint golden halo around her. We had nothing left. No magic. No breath. No strength.

And then it happened.

A shadow burst from the corridor. A man, black mask, short blades. One of the assassins sent by the king.

He was trembling. His crazed eyes swept the walls as if something invisible was already following us.

— "Quick... follow me. We have to run."

Miyu frowned, her katana drawn.

— "Run? Why? We just won!"

He shook his head, almost enraged.

— "No time to explain. Run! NOW! I’ll tell you on the way."

His voice cracked, broken by fear. His tone, his urgency, the raw panic in his eyes... it was enough. We needed nothing more.

I bent immediately to lift Ayame. Her burning body weighed heavily against my side. Reina took the other side. Hikari stumbled after us, her eyes still drowned in tears. Miyu growled but obeyed at last, gritting her teeth.

We ran. The torches fixed to the walls shook as we passed, throwing warped shadows across the damp stone. My breath echoed too loudly, my heart pounded too fast.

— "Well?!" spat Miyu, panting, at his back. "Are you gonna tell us what we’re running from, or what?!"

He half turned, terror gleaming in his eyes beneath his mask.

— "...A lieutenant of the Demon King."

The word froze our steps for an instant.

— "He’s here," the assassin went on, breathless. "In this dungeon. If you value your lives, you—"

And then... the corridor shook.

No footsteps. No sound. Just a dull wave, as if the stones themselves were breathing. A chilling whisper, insidious. Not in our ears. In our bones.

— "Kill yourself."

The assassin stopped dead. His body froze as if his muscles had just shattered from within.

— "...What?" he choked out, strangled.

His fingers trembled. His sword whipped free with a sharp hiss. Not toward us. Toward himself.

— "NO!!" I screamed.

Too late.

The blade sliced his throat with a wet sound. A jet of blood spattered the stones, hot and sticky. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to his knees, fingers clawing at the gaping wound that was already gurgling.

Then the laughter. Not human. Not from anywhere. A muffled laugh that vibrated through the walls, as if the dungeon itself was amused.

I froze, my guts turned to ice, my breath caught.

Ayame, pressed against my side, gripped my sleeve so hard her nails dug into my skin.

A sharp noise.

Then another.

Footsteps.

The entire corridor began to echo. A slow, heavy rhythm, like a funeral drum beaten by invisible boots.

I drove Aurelia into the ground, my fingers clenched tight. Reina raised her staff, cold and steady. Miyu gave a nervous laugh, blade held out. Hikari trembled, tears already welling again, but she clutched her staff as if it were the only thing keeping her upright.

And Ayame... I felt her burning breath against me, her body weak, but her eyes shone with an icy glint.

The footsteps drew closer. Slow. Inexorable.

Then he appeared.

A silhouette emerged from the darkness. Tall. Too tall. His lanky body looked built for some grotesque parade: endless legs clad in black armor etched with runes, a bare torso crisscrossed with open scars like smiling mouths, shoulders topped with golden pauldrons more fit for an actor than a warrior.

His face... fuck, his face. White as ash, lips black and stretched into a too-wide grin. Twisted horns adorned with chains and little bells that jingled with every step. And his eyes... two blazing red holes, glowing like living embers.

Terrifying. Absurd. Like a nightmare dressed as an emperor.

I wanted to spit a provocation. But I didn’t get the chance.

Ayame.

Her expression collapsed. Literally. Her face, usually so gentle, so steady... twisted into a grimace of pure terror. Her lips trembled. Her eyes widened. Then she doubled over and vomited, violently, her body wracked with spasms.

— "M-Mom!?" Hikari cried, panicked.

I froze. Never had I seen her like that. Not even against the dungeon boss.

Then I understood.

This wasn’t weakness. It was her skill. Her sixth sense. Ayame glimpsed the future. Divine instinct. And that instinct was screaming that we were already dead.

Bile dripped from her mouth, her hands shook, her eyes avoided the demon’s silhouette as if looking at him would kill her.

A shiver ran through me. If even she broke... then we had no chance.

The creature stopped, right in front of us. Its horns clicked, its eyes blazed brighter. And it bowed slightly, like an actor at the opening of a play.

Its voice rang out, theatrical, mocking, each syllable drawn out like the caress of a blade:

— "Charmed... young heroes."

He spread his arms wide, theatrical, his chains jingling in the silence.

— "I am here on the orders of His Majesty, the Demon King."

He tilted his head, his black smile stretching to the edge of the inhuman.

— "My name is... Azrakan, the Tongue of a Thousand Vices."

His voice vibrated in our bones, heavy and venomous.

He slowly turned his head. His pale finger, long as a claw, pointed at the still-smoking corpse of the assassin, lying in a pool of blood.

An even wider smile split his ghostly face.

— "As he told you before he died..." His tone turned silky, mocking. "I am a lieutenant of the Demon King’s army."

Silence. A silence heavier than death.

Then the demon snapped his fingers. The sound rang like a death knell.

His voice resumed, theatrical, but icy:

— "Do not worry... I am in no hurry. I am here to speak with you, first. Perhaps I will kill you. Perhaps... not."

His smile deepened, distorting his pale face even further.

— "So... follow me."

His voice grew heavy, irresistible. Not a request. An order.

My breath caught. My legs moved on their own. Behind me, the girls too. Even Reina, usually so cold, clenched her teeth as she stepped forward against her will.

A power. A grip. As if the mere sound of his voice nailed us to his will.

We followed him, slowly, the dungeon’s silence broken only by our footsteps and the jingle of chains on his horns.

Then... I saw them.

The first corpse. An assassin. Throat slit, eyes still rolled back, his mask split in two.

— "No..." Hikari whispered, her voice trembling.

A little farther, another. Neck broken. Then another, guts spilled across the stones, as if an invisible hand had gutted him from within.

Every turn of the corridor revealed a new body. A silent massacre.

Seven.

Seven corpses. All our "guardians." Scattered in blood and shadow.

My guts twisted. Fuck... we’re really going to die here.

My breath grew ragged. My fingers trembled on Aurelia.

I glanced at Ayame. Her face was still ashen, her lips tight. She knew. Her instinct, her skill, screamed the truth.

I had to find some ground to stand on. A flaw. Something. Otherwise...

The demon strode on, implacable, his boots hammering the stones like a funeral march.

Then, suddenly, the bluish light shifted. The ground stopped vibrating.

The air changed at once. The suffocation of the corridors was gone. The icy wind of the night lashed us, carrying scents... too heavy. Blood. Far too much blood.

We finally emerged from the dungeon. And there...

The camp. Or what was left of it.

The tents were nothing but charred rags. The fires were out, drowned in a reddish mud. And the bodies... everywhere. Soldiers gutted. Priests impaled on their own staffs. Assassins smashed against the rocks.

My stomach turned.

And then, among the corpses, I saw her. The woman. The one who had seduced me in my tent, that first night. Her empty eyes stared at the stars, her throat torn out, her naked body tossed like a soiled rag into the mud.

— "...No..." I breathed, my throat tight.

Hikari whimpered. Her face went pale. Then suddenly, she doubled over and vomited, her stomach emptying in an acidic flood that splattered the ground.

The sound rang in the night like a thunderclap.

I clenched my teeth, ready to catch her, to shield her.

The demon stopped. Slowly. As if savoring our silence. Then, in a calm, syrupy voice:

— "Sit."

My body tensed. But my legs... folded on their own.

I collapsed heavily onto the cold earth, Aurelia still clenched in my trembling hands. Reina, Hikari, Miyu, Ayame... all of them obeyed, forced, eyes wide with terror.

I thought my heart would burst. Every word from that bastard... was a weapon. A sentence.

A single word, and he could make us kill ourselves.

I had never felt this. A fear that didn’t come from a monster or a claw strike. A fear born... of a voice.

The silence was so heavy we could hear only our ragged breathing. Hikari still sobbed, sitting before her own vomit, her eyes red, unable to lift her head. Reina, cold as she usually was, trembled faintly. Miyu bit her lip until it bled, to stop herself from screaming. And Ayame... Ayame stared at the ground, white as death.

Then, Azrakan spoke again. His voice stretched, syrupy, vibrating, a slow venom seeping into our veins:

— "There... perfect. You are obedient now."

He snapped his fingers. The sound cracked like a slap. My guts clenched at once.

His scarlet eyes slid over us one by one, his grotesque smile stretching further, nearly splitting his blackened cheeks.

— "Good... let’s talk a little."