Ang stood beside the Four-armed Foul Spirit, his massive figure casting a deep shadow.
He swept his gaze around, taking in the elves' anxious yet curious eyes. His voice was low. "What do you feel when you see a Demon?"
The elves looked at one another, as though their emotions passed silently between them.
At last, one elf spoke first. "Disgusting."
"Terrifying."
"Revulsion."
"Anger."
Answers came one after another, some firm and some hesitant, but every one of them carried an instinctive reaction rising from the depths of their souls.
Ang nodded, his voice turning cold. "That's right. The creatures of the Abyssal Prison are the enemies of all planar worlds."
"The moment they see you, they have only one thought—tear apart your bodies, devour your souls, and ultimately destroy the world you depend on for survival."
As his words fell, the entire group went silent.
The Demon continued to growl, as if confirming Ang's words, making everyone's hearts feel even heavier.
Ang raised a hand and pointed at the Demon. "Since you must face them, you need to understand their weaknesses. Remember—under their four arms, their joints, and their eyes are relatively vulnerable spots."
His words rang with force, and the elves listened intently.
Someone muttered softly, "But they hardly seem to have any weak points..."
Ang smiled when he heard that, though his eyes remained icy. "They do have one. Holy light."
The moment he finished speaking, a ball of holy light flared in his hand.
The white, blazing radiance was like dawn tearing through the shadows.
Ang pressed his palm against the Demon's bone armor.
In an instant, the incomparably hard gray-black bone armor let out a piercing sizzle. Its color rapidly turned white, and a layer of cracks was scorched across its surface.
The Demon howled