In the heart of the scorching desert, Agneyastra found herself in a desperate battle for survival. Her quiver emptied of arrows, she leapt off her horse, drawing her gleaming sword from its scabbard. With fierce determination, she engaged in combat, slashing through the ranks of demon-possessed vessels and Water Kingdom soldiers.

  Her eyes searched the chaos, seeking out the source of this malevolent darkness. And there it was, a red demon host looming before her. Without hesitation, Agneyastra raised her sword high, swinging it down with all her might. The severed head of the demon host tumbled to the dusty ground, a victorious sign of her relentless courage.

  However, what she did not anticipate was the sudden transformation of the surrounding vessels. Like marionettes being released from their puppeteer's strings, they turned away from their dark possession and faced Agneyastra. It was then that the battlefield witnessed a most extraordinary occurrence, as a being split in two before her eyes.

  One form stood before her, exhibiting the familiar face of Brucie, a trusted ally. The other, however, emanated an otherworldly aura, an entity from a realm uncharted and enigmatic. Agneyastra quickly recognized the need for answers, realizing the importance of unraveling the truth behind this unexpected presence.

  Summoning her leadership and wisdom, Agneyastra spoke with authority. “Escort them off the battlefield and to the Earth Kingdom,” she commanded, her voice carrying both resolution and urgency. “Moriko, will possess the knowledge to ascertain the realm from which they originate.”

  As the sun began its descent, Agneyastra and her band of dweller Warriors reached the scorching desert. The golden sand stretched for miles, resembling a vast, unforgiving ocean. The group rode their horses with determination, their armor glistening in the intense heat.

  Embracing the role of protector, Agneyastra took charge, guiding the confused Brucies and other beings towards the Earth Kingdom's Green Forest. They were disoriented and bewildered, their eyes reflecting the terror they had witnessed in the clutches of the demons.

  Finally, they arrived at their destination, where Moriko, a wise and enigmatic figure, awaited their arrival. As Agneyastra dismounted her horse, her fiery mane of red hair catching the fading sunlight, she turned to Moriko and pleaded, “Can you help them return to their realms?”

  Moriko, with his calm demeanor, met her gaze and replied, “Of course, I sense that today's battle was a resounding success.”

  Agneyastra nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of pride and concern. “Indeed, but we still have countless Demon hosts to vanquish. They grow stronger with each passing day.”

  Moriko's aged eyes sparkled with a knowing glint. “You are fortunate to know one of the greatest demon hunters,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “Perhaps you should seek his counsel, for he may have valuable insights on how to strategize against their increasing power.”

  Agneyastra's face tensed, a hint of hesitation clouding her features. “My father Rufus has a great deal of responsibilities, always occupied. I don't wish to burden him further. I reach out to him only once a week now. But tell me, why did you banish Emathion from the Earth Kingdom?”

  Moriko's expression softened, and a hint of sorrow passed across his face. Pulling Agneyastra into a warm and comforting embrace, he whispered, “It was a decision made out of necessity, my dear friend. It pains me to see you carry the weight of this war, but I know you possess the strength to liberate more innocent souls from the clutches of these demons.”

  Agneyastra leaped onto her loyal steed, ready to ride forth from the depths of the mystical Green Forest. The air crackled with a sense of urgency as she gripped her sword tight, prepared to defend her fellow Dweller Warriors and the valiant Fire Kingdom Soldier that stood beside her. No time could be wasted, for danger lurked close behind.

  One of her fellow warriors, their face etched with concern, rose to her side. His voice trembled with the weight of the news he bore. “I saw Warrior follow a Water Kingdom soldier towards Abiectio Town,” he revealed, a hint of fear evident in his eyes.

  Agneyastra's brows furrowed, her mind racing with the possibilities. Determination coursed through her veins as she made up her mind. “I will check it out. Go and find Aurgelmir,” she commanded.

  With a swift movement, Agneyastra tugged at the reins of her steed, urging it forward. The elegant beast responded eagerly, racing across the arid desert, its hooves kicking up swirls of sand in its wake. The once lush greenery of the forest quickly gave way to the bustling streets of Abiectio Town.

  As she rode through the town, Agneyastra's sharp eyes scanned every corner, every alleyway. The scent of burning incense mingled with the sounds of merchants hawking their wares, creating a vibrant kaleidoscope of sights and sounds. She listened intently, seeking any clue that could guide her along this path.

  Finally, her attention was drawn to a smaller house nestled within the residential area. Pile of ashes wafted by the gentle breeze. Agneyastra approached the small house, sword in hand, dismounting her horse with a determined leap. As she cautiously drew closer, she noticed an open window and was about to turn back. However, a soft moaning reached her ears, echoing through the stillness of the night. The curtains billowed in the breeze outside

  Agneyastra freezes, her heart pounding in her chest, as she watches Ramil passionately kiss Evain. She wants to turn away, to pretend she didn't see, but the sight holds her captive, her body immobile, her thoughts spinning.

  Evain and Ramil found themselves on the bed in the middle of the room, a startled huff to escape Evain's lips. Ramil struck with lightning speed with his head between her thighs, as he sinking his tongue further into, her legs start trembling.

  Evain's fingers clung desperately to Ramil's hair and shoulders as she arched her back unsteadily. Ramil continues sliding his mouth on her pink terrain, by her loud moans she is enjoying the moment. Blood mingled with the sweat on Ramil's arms and back. As his get stiff, his voice remained steady, laced with a hint of accusation. “Thought you could handle it,” Ramil murmured

  Evain's hand collided with Ramil's cheek, a resounding crack that filled the air. The force of the slap swept across his face, leaving a crimson mark that tingled with a mix of fury and disdain. In that fleeting moment, the tension between them hung palpable, crackling and static.

  But then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Evain's anger transformed into a fierce passion. In an unexpected twist, she yanked Ramil closer, their bodies colliding with an intensity that seemed to ignite the very air around them. Their lips, locked in an urgent, as she slide him into her. Evain tightened her grip on Ramil’s back, urging him to pick up the pace. “Faster,” she commanded, a hint of urgency in her voice.

  Agneyastra watched Evain and Ramil share an intimate embrace. As she stood by the window for a moment, then she turned away, her gaze filled with determination as she headed back to the battlefield. “Damn you, Ramil,” he seethed through gritted teeth.

  ***

  In the quiet confines of a small house in Abiectio Town, Ramil lay upon the bed, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Evain rested her head upon his chest, seeking solace in his presence. Her voice trembled as she spoke, “I hate my father for consorting with these demons.”

  Ramil turned his gaze towards the ceiling, his eyes filled with a fathomless wisdom. “It will only lead to destruction for your father,” he replied, his voice tinged with a somber certainty. “Once the demon has drained him of his usefulness, it will vanish into the depths of darkness, leaving naught but ruins in its wake.”

  Lifting her head, Evain met Ramil's unwavering gaze. “What would you have me do?” she asked.

  Ramil's lips curled into a wry smile, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Perhaps, my dear, it is time to abandon the shackles of loyalty,” he answered, his tone veering towards humor. “Your father and brothers fail to perceive the true threat that looms. If you were to eliminate them and seize the power for yourself, imagine the world you could shape in your own image.”

  Evain, her gaze locked with Ramil's, remained silent, her anger palpable. Without a word, she swiftly donned her clothes and with a mix of determination and fury, she flung Ramil's garments at him, their fabric sailing through the air like a manifestation of her disdain. And then, with a resounding slam of the door that reverberated through the night, she was gone, her horses galloping into the distance.

  Ramil, left standing alone amidst the fading echoes, wasted no time. He hurriedly dressed himself, eager to head home. As he emerged onto the deserted streets, the cool night air kissed his face. The darkness swallowed the path ahead as Ramil ventured towards his small house in Dweller City. A sense of anticipation mingled with trepidation filled him as he neared his shrouded abode. Pushing open the creaking door, he caught sight of Agneyastra, her figure pacing restlessly in the dimly lit room. A flicker of relief illumined his face as he stepped inside, the weight of the recent encounter still fresh upon him.

  A wry smile danced upon Ramil's lips as he approached Agneyastra, his presence going unnoticed until he had silently come up behind her. She turned, startled, her eyes widening at the unexpected encounter. Ramil gazed at her, a glint of both mischief and certainty. “I knew you would accept my offer,” Ramil intoned softly, his voice carrying a tinge of satisfaction as he held out his hand to her.

  Agneyastra took a step back, her expression a mix of intrigue and uncertainty. Her voice trembled as she posed her question, a blend of curiosity and caution lacing her words. “How...?” she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Ramil's hand remained outstretched, an invitation to a world yet unknown. “Come,” he beckoned, his voice rich with a promise. “I will show you.”

  Agneyastra couldn't help but voice her concern, her eyes searching his face for answers. “How could you abandon your fellow Warriors?” she uttered.

  Ramil's gaze held hers, steady and unwavering. “I don't think you truly know what you're talking about,” he replied.

  Agneyastra, unable to contain the weight of her observations, confessed, “I saw you with the enemy.” Her voice trailed off, her accusation swirling in the air between them.

  Ramil's brows furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he sought to understand the extent of her knowledge. “How much did you see?” he questioned

  Agneyastra averted her gaze from Ramil, her eyes filled with a mixture of disappointment and sorrow. Her voice laced with bitterness, she uttered words that cut through the silence, “Too much of what I never wanted to see from you. Warriors died today, their lives snuffed out while you were indulging in the shallow pleasures of Princess Evain.”

  Ramil, startled by her accusation, attempted to deflect her anger. “Tell me the real reason why you're so mad,” he retorted, his voice tinged with frustration. “Is it because I wasn't between your legs?”

  Agneyastra, fueled by a sudden surge of righteous anger, leaned forward swiftly, her hand connecting sharply with Ramil's face. The sound of the slap echoed through the room, leaving both parties momentarily stunned. Agneyastra's voice trembled with a mix of disgust and disappointment as she uttered her next words, “You are nothing but a vile and disgraceful creature.”

  Bringing his hand to his reddened cheek, Ramil winced in both physical and emotional pain. Stepping closer to Agneyastra, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and desperation, he questioned, “But why won't you look at me?”

  Agneyastra remained steadfast in her refusal to meet Ramil's gaze. Her voice, filled with sorrow and disillusionment, carried immense weight as she spoke. “I can't. Coming here was a mistake. I had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that you would show some semblance of remorse for your actions. But as always, you only think of yourself.”

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  Ramil's voice echoed, filled with both accusation and curiosity, “Is that the reason why you can't? Is it because you enjoyed what you saw today?”

  Agneyastra, her tears glistening in the soft glow of the room, looked at him with a mix of disbelief and anguish. “You are ridiculous,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I shouldn't care as I do.”

  As Agneyastra's tears cascaded down her cheeks, Ramil couldn't bear to witness her pain. He took a step closer, his voice filled with a mix of concern and regret. “Please,” he pleaded, his words a gentle plea. “Stop crying, I can't bear to see you like this.”

  Agneyastra buried her face in her trembling hands, her body crumpled on the plush couch. Ramil sat beside her, and his touch was delicate, like a whisper on her skin. With the tenderness of a healer, he pulled her closer to his chest, cradling her fragile form in his strong embrace. His fingers wove through her silky hair, soothing her gently.

  Through her sobs, Agneyastra's voice quivered as she tried to make sense of the storm of emotions swirling within her. “How can you be so disrespectful one moment,” she murmured, her voice barely audible amidst her tears, “and yet so wonderfully caring in the next?”

  Ramil cradles Agneyastra in his arms, her head resting gently against his chest. The soft strands of her hair fall like delicate silk between his fingers, and he strokes them tenderly. “You know,” Ramil murmurs, his voice filled with both affection and concern, “your tears always have the power to turn me into a blundering, concerned fool.”

  Agneyastra lifts her head, her eyes still shimmering with unshed tears. A small, sad smile graces her lips as she whispers, “I have to go. I don't want to miss dinner at home.”

  Ramil watches with a heavy heart as Agneyastra moves closer to the front door, her footsteps hesitant yet determined. His voice trembles slightly as he asks, his anxiety growing, “Are you going to tell my father?”

  A flash of anger ignites in Agneyastra's eyes, replacing the vulnerability that had been present just moments before. With a piercing gaze, she challenges Ramil's lack of trust, her words carrying both hurt and defiance, “Can you recall a single instance where I have betrayed you? I have always protected you, stood by your side.”

  Ramil's heart sinks even further, the weight of doubt casting a deep shadow over his features. “But will you tell him this time?” he asks.

  The pain etched on Agneyastra's face is undeniable as she retorts, her voice tinged with a mix of hurt and disappointment, “I can't believe you think so little of me.” And with those words, she turns away from him, her figure silhouetted against the fading light, before exiting his home with a resounding slam of the door.

  ***

  In the lush, verdant expanse of the Green Forest, Moriko, takes it upon herself to assist the lost and wayward beings who have fallen under the control of a malevolent Demons. Amongst the chaos and confusion, Moriko's keen eyes catch sight of a woman, weary and disoriented, stumbling through the dense undergrowth. Feeling a surge of empathy, she quickly approaches the lost soul, her voice etched with warmth and reassurance. “Fear not, dear stranger,” Moriko says, her voice resonating with a soothing melody, “I will guide you safely back to where you belong.”

  With an agile movement, Moriko's outstretched hand gently touches the gnarled bark of a mighty tree, adorned with a shimmering green bracelet. As if responding to her touch, a vibrant emerald portal materializes before them, offering a passage to the realm from which these beings have been forcefully taken.

  Like a shimmering emerald passage through time and space, the green portal glows with an otherworldly luminescence. And from within its depths emerges Jeremy, a young man of twenty-two, adorned with a matching green bracelet that gleams brightly against his skin. Delighted, Moriko rushes forward, enveloping him in an embrace filled with fondness and relief. “You're just in time, Jeremy,” she exclaims, her voice tinged with a hint of urgency, “Agneyastra has just departed, but I can call her back if needed.”

  “No need to bother her, Moriko,” he assures her, his voice carrying the weight of truth. “Agneyastra is surely living a contented life, as her uncle always desired.” His finger extends towards The old lady. “It may seem unfathomable that a demon had taken possession of this elderly soul, but fear not, for I will make sure she is guided back to the warmth and safety of her home,” Jeremy declares, his determination visibly burning within him.

  Moriko's brow furrows in worry as she gazes upon her old friend. “Tell Lee that I send my greetings,” she implores, her voice laced with concern. “Jeremy, are you truly alright?”

  With a soft, heartfelt smile, Jeremy cradles Moriko's worry in his reassuring gaze. “Yes, my friend,” he replies, his voice a soothing melody amidst the forest's symphony. “It warms me to see you once again. I promise to convey your message to Lee, if you shall relay to Emathion. Let him know that I send my sincerest greetings.”

  With a graceful gesture, Jeremy gently guides the old lady towards a hidden portal. The portal, a wondrous creation of green light, beckons them to step through and venture into the unknown. With a final glance back at Moriko, Jeremy fades into the ethereal glow.

  Later as the sun sank lower in the evening sky, casting an ethereal golden light through the dense canopy of the Green Forest, Moriko's steps echoed with an air of sorrow. Each footfall seemed to carry the weight of her troubled thoughts, resonating through the ancient trees.

  Unbeknownst to her, a hooded figure slipped silently behind her, shadowing her every move. It was only when she abruptly halted, sensing a presence nearby, that she turned to face the figure, her eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and recognition. “Emathion,” she whispered, her voice barely audible amidst the rustling leaves. “I know it's you.”

  Slowly, Emathion lowered his hood, revealing features reminiscent of his fellow Dwellers. His skin bore intricate patterns, like the scales of a serpent, a trait inherited from his ancestors. Strands of gray hair cascaded over his forehead, mirroring the imposing mane of his father. His eyes, though tinged with a glimmer of vulnerability, burned with a determination that matched the smoldering intensity of the forest around them.

  “I want to ask you,” Emathion finally spoke, his voice filled with a yearning that contrasted with the unforgettable character tensions. He took a tentative step forward, the dappled sunlight dancing upon his form.

  But Moriko, her heart aching with memories and pain, turned away from him, her gaze fixed on a distant horizon. “No,” she declared, her voice carrying a regal authority despite the plaintive undertones. “I banished you.”

  Emathion bravely reached out and gently took Moriko's hand. The touch of his fingers sent a tingling sensation through her body, igniting a spark of hope within her. Moriko turned to face Emathion, her eyes searching his face, and noticed that he was still holding her hand. A small smile played on her lips as she whispered, “You have made progress.”

  Emathion, overcome by the depth of his feelings, pulled Moriko into a tight embrace. In that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them entwined in each other's arms. His voice, laced with vulnerability, trembled as he admitted, “I have been miserable not being near you.”

  Touched by his honesty, Moriko gently reached up and cupped Emathion's cheek, her touch soft and reassuring. “I know,” she said softly, her voice carrying a mixture of empathy and understanding. “Why are you here?”

  Emathion took a deep breath, his eyes filled with determination. “I need to find more information on Keeners,” he replied.

  Without hesitation, Moriko suggested, “Ask Agneyastra. She might hold some answers.”

  Emathion's face fell. “She knows nothing about her mother,” he revealed, his disappointment evident.

  A sense of helplessness washed over Moriko as she admitted, “I have no idea about them either.”

  A glimmer of hope flickered in Emathion's eyes as he suggested, “We can go to Loftyworld, perhaps there we can find the answers we seek.”

  Moriko nodded, “it will take me a few days to find the Tree,” she said, her voice tinged with determination.

  Emathion's gratitude shone through his eyes as he said, “Thank you. I know this is important to ending the war with the demons. I will leave now, so do not to disturb you.”

  Emathion, his face shrouded by the hood of his cloak, stood amidst the tranquil beauty of the surroundings. A hint of anticipation swirled in the air, as if a hidden secret was about to unfold.

  With fervor in her eyes, Moriko emerged from the shadows, her footsteps quick and purposeful. She closed the distance between them in a flash, her arms enveloping Emathion in a tight embrace. Her touch brought a flicker of warmth to his cold and troubled heart. As the words escaped her lips, Moriko's voice carried an unspoken plea, as if beseeching him to understand the depths of her intentions. “Emathion, I hope in time you'll see my reason,” she whispered.

  Emathion's gaze met hers, as for a moment, time seemed suspended, the world fading into the background, leaving only the two figures intertwined in an exchange of unspoken understanding.

  Finally, breaking the intimate silence that hung between them, Emathion spoke, his voice carrying both wisdom and a touch of sadness. “I prefer not to know,” he confessed, his words tinged with a bittersweet longing. “Please contact me as soon as you know about the portal.” With those last words, Emathion turned away, his steps purposeful yet heavy with the weight of uncertainty. As he disappeared into the shadows of the Green Forest.

  ***

  As the sun descended below the horizon, casting a golden glow across the Water Kingdom castle, the Golden Demon made his way through the opulent hallways. Unbeknownst to him, a figure shadowed his every step. In the distance, King Arroyo held a meeting with his trusted advisors, discussing matters of great importance.

  Sensing an urgency in the air, the Golden Demon approached the king with a solemn expression. “Arroyo, we must speak,” he uttered, his voice carrying a tinge of concern.

  Acknowledging his important visitor, King Arroyo nodded to his advisors, excusing himself from their presence. Turning towards the Golden Demon, he invited him to express his worries.

  Sighing heavily, the Golden Demon began, “Our battle against the Dwellers has not been as successful as we had hoped. Their forces are strengthened by a being known as a Keener, possessing formidable fire powers. Their presence has shifted the tide of our encounters.”

  Pain and frustration etched themselves onto King Arroyo's face as he absorbed the news. “You speak of my daughter's disappearance,” the king stated with a mix of worry and confusion. “What do you mean?”

  The Golden Demon averted his gaze, reluctant to reveal the truth. “Every time we enter into the chaos of battle, Evain vanishes without a trace. And only when darkness blankets the skies does she return, her absence unexplained and worrisome.”

  Arroyo prepared to respond to the Golden Demon's question. Marius, however, stepped forward, his presence commanding attention. His eyes narrowed as he looked the Golden Demon up and down, the weight of his words heavy in the air.

  “The Water Kingdom Princess is not your concern,” Marius declared, his voice resolute. “You made a deal with my father, and our kingdom has held up its end of the bargain. Yet, you have not delivered a single victory. Perhaps, father, we were better off with the Water Kingdom Army.”

  The Golden Demon's gaze bore into Marius' eyes, a sinister glimmer dancing within them. “So, her name is Agneyastra,” the creature uttered.

  Shaking off the intrusive power of the Golden Demon's presence, Marius pushed the entity away, his voice tinged with defiance. “Stay out of my mind,” he warned.

  Caught between the intense exchange, the Golden Demon turned its attention to Arroyo, his expression shifting with a cunning curiosity. “King Arroyo,” the demon spoke, its voice dripping with malice, “can you use your son Marius as bait?”

  Evain, her voice dripping with venom, accused Marius, “It will not work, Marius broke her heart, when she was sixteen years old. Just kill her and be done with it.” Her words hung in the air like a dagger, ready to strike.

  The Golden Demon, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light, countered Evain's suggestion with a chilling statement, “I don’t want her dead, I want to wield her as a weapon.” His voice, low and menacing, sent a shiver down their spines.

  Evain's eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a sinister smile as she turned her gaze towards the Golden Demon, “Then take her over. Bend her to your will, unleash the darkness within her.” Her sinister suggestion echoed through the hallway, sending a chill down the spines of those present.

  Marius, ever defiant, let out a mocking laugh, his voice filled with mockery and confidence, “He can't, because he is part Keener. Demon powers will not work on her.” His laughter carried a hint of triumph, a glimmer of hope in the face of overwhelming darkness.

  The Golden Demon's eyes flared with anger and frustration at this unforeseen obstacle. “We must stop her somehow,” he hissed, the words laced with determination. “Then everything else will be easier.” His command was clear and decisive.

  A figure emerged from the shadows, unnoticed until now. Alura, her slender form cloaked in darkness, stepped forward. A smile played upon her lips, as Alura began to tread down the hallway

  Alura entered the room, her eyes fixed on Devereaux, sitting in a chair with a mournful expression. She gracefully knelt before him, her voice filled with urgency. “I just heard your father, siblings, and the Golden Demon discussing the purple girl with flame hair.”

  Alura, quick to react, drops to her knees and deftly unties Devereaux’s rope, allowing him to slip free. With a satisfied smile, Alura gives Devereaux a nod. She skillfully devours him with each stroke, savoring the moment, then pulls up. Alura's voice resonated with a hint of excitement and determination as she spoke, her hands fondle him. “If we can capture her for the Golden Demon,” she began, her gaze fixed on a distant point, “he will reward us beyond our wildest dreams. With treasures that could rival the wealth of kingdoms, and power that could shape the destiny of worlds.”

  Devereaux, his chest rising and falling with every labored breath, felt the gravity of their predicament settling upon him like a heavy cloak. His voice quivered as he spoke, his words barely audible amidst the swirling winds. “But how, my love? How do we chart a course through darkness and deceit, to claim such an elusive prize?”

  Alura's eyes gleamed with a fierce determination as she turned to face him, her fingertips brushing gently against his exposure. Alura's voice cut through the air, low and unmistakably sinister. “Simple,” she said, her words dripping with a dark allure. “If we are to distract her, I will assume the role of Emathion's older brother, Ramil. We can lure her in, capture her.”

  Devereaux nodded, his eyes betraying a mixture of fear and determination. “I will do whatever you want,” he replied, his voice hushed. “Just keep going. I am almost there.” His resolve was palpable, but there was a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes.

  Alura's hand continued its relentless motion, squeezing him harder and faster, as if trying to coax every last drop of life from it. And then, in a sudden twist of fate, the tube slipped from her grasp, then with a loud moan from Devereaux as his creamy white contents erupting in an uncontrolled burst. His release spiraled through the air, landing with an audible splat on her chest.

  Alura's voice laced with longing, she utters, “I yearn for something greater.” In one fluid motion, she rises, her eyes searching Devereaux's face in desperate anticipation. Without hesitation, she leans in and captures his lips in a passionate kiss, their connection setting the room ablaze with desire.