In the leadup to the coming battle, Derzina tried to keep busy by assisting with the defender’s preparations where she could. Yet no amount of work could truly distract her from Meztraxia’s approach. Either Derzina would avenge her fallen city, or die by the same hands that had brought it low. The warning came from Atasimon that the demons were nearly upon them and Derzina relayed the news to the gods. Every soldier the city could muster took their positions and the waiting began.

Breathless with a combination of excitement and dread, Derzina could hardly contain herself. Were she not bound by both good judgement and their plans, she’d have left the city and hurled herself at the approaching host. The fear of death seemed a paltry thing before the emotions raging within her.

She sat in a chair in Inea’s study, part of an underground wing of the palace which they’d determined as the most defensible part of the city. If everything went according to plan, then the other gods would waylay Meztraxia as he pushed forward to claim the last of Atasimon’s essence. It was far from a certain thing, but it was the best chance they had of defeating him.

In theory Derzina’s role was by far the easiest, all she had to do was wait down here and the others would take care of the rest. In practice, she already found the thought of sitting back while others were fighting and dying excruciating. Once the battle began it would only get worse.

“Have you fought in many battles before?” Derzina asked, turning to Atasimon for support.

“Only a few. After the battle against the Demon King, this is easily the most important.”

“This must seem like nothing to you then, compared to fighting against the Demon King himself.”

“I’m not sure the difference is as great as you imagine it to be. This battle may very well decide the fate of humanity, much as our fight all those years ago did. And while the Demon King was far more powerful than a mere Demon Lord, we also have but three gods left to oppose him rather than almost every divine being of Oelindrey.”

Though Derzina was sure the goddess was just trying to reassure her, the idea that this battle might someday be remembered with reverence approaching the slaying of the Demon King brought a certain sense of wonder. She had dreamed of being part of the annals of history as a devoted defender of Ortesion and its goddess, but even her wildest imaginings had never placed her as a defender of humanity working alongside gods.

Entranced by this endless interplay of hopes and fears, Derzina was caught completely by surprise when someone knocked on the door and practically leapt out of her chair. “What is it?” Derzina called through the door.

“I’ve just been told the demons have reached the walls,” Araveena said. “The battle has begun.”

“Understood.” Derzina checked her loaned sword and armour for what had to be at least the fiftieth time, finding them to be to her satisfaction just as before. It made her feel a little foolish but she couldn’t help herself. Green armour clinking, she paced back and forth as she waited for the next tidings of battle. After what felt like a painfully long time, they finally arrived. Though not from a source she would have expected, much to her consternation.

“Something’s wrong,” Atasimon said, “he’s already here.”

“What?”

“Meztraxia, he’s… I’m having a hard trouble pinning down his precise location but he’s very close.”

Derzina was running for the door when she heard cries of pain and steel striking steel. Golden light appeared around the doorframe and she stopped dead. There was no one here with magic like that, it was just like… Ortesia’s light.

For a moment hope stirred within her, could Ortesia be alive after all? Only for it to be crushed by her own thoughts; Ortesia couldn’t possibly have survived. If her power was present then it could only be Meztraxia who was wielding it. She didn’t think she could hate the Demon Lord more than she already did, but his latest sacrilege brought forth such fury that it felt as if fire flowed through her veins.

“Stop,” Atasimon commanded, as Derzina was on the verge of bolting out there in heedless rage. “I know that you want to bring him to justice, but we have to follow the plan. We cannot allow our personal feelings to defeat us, not again.”

Derzina drew her blade, clutching the hilt with such force that her hand hurt. As angry as Derzina was, Atasimon was right; they had to wait. Even if beyond this room people were fighting and, by the sounds of the screams, dying. An impact shook the entire structure and Derzina flinched. Unless Meztraxia had grown enormously in power since they’d last met, the cause could only be Gorthar. Figuring that battle must be approaching its end, one way or another, Derzina decided she’d waited long enough.

Flinging the door wide, she found the corridor beyond empty but for one of Xanathel’s Paladins lying at the end of it. The poor woman was curled up in agony, covering her eyes with her hands. If she’d been looking at Ortesia’s stolen light directly then she’d likely never see again. Tragic as it was, Derzina had no time for pity. She ran out, hopping over the fallen Paladin, to see yet more Paladins locked in battle with Meztraxia’s spiked constructs. Unlike the last time she’d seen them, the Demon Lord’s creations were easily the size of a man and seemed to be fighting on equal terms with the Paladins.

Derzina stabbed at the closest creature, trying to find a weak point in its armoured form, but all she managed to do was get it to turn on her instead. Fortunately, it was an opportunity the Paladin facing it took full advantage of. A thin stream of darkness shot from their hand and connected with the back of the creature’s head. As its claws slashed at Derzina, its head crumpled inward and it fell to the floor, where it expired in a matter of moments.

Within the tight confines of the building, the fighting was quick and vicious. Derzina watched helplessly as the visor of one of the Paladins was smashed open and the demonic construct ripped straight into their skull. In less than a minute, they destroyed the last of Meztraxia’s minions albeit at the cost of several dead or injured Paladins. Thanks to their protection and prowess, Derzina was unscathed when the survivors burst out of the corridor into the larger room beyond where the battle still raged.

Inea and Xanathel, both wielding pollaxes, fought alongside each other against Meztraxia while Gorthar was doubled over in the corner, his robes wet with blood as he clutched his stomach. The Demon Lord’s armour was crumpled over his right arm, which hung limp at his side, but he was holding off the gods using the light and shadow that enshrouded him, with a sword in his hand and protected by a hard, purple shell formed from his magic.

The two gods drove the Demon Lord across the room at speed, the three of them moving with such fluidity it seemed more a dance than a battle. Xanathel struck high, while Inea struck low only for their weapons to be deflected by Meztraxia’s stolen divine power. He hopped atop a large piece of fallen stolen, slashing at them with blades of golden light. Looking out at the battle, she struggled to even follow, Derzina felt helpless. The Paladins who’d accompanied her apparently felt the same way, as they stood and watched the gods clash with the Demon Lord.

“What are you doing here?” Araveena hissed, sheltering behind a pillar.

“Sorry, I couldn’t just sit there and wait.”

“You could at least try to stay out of sight,” Araveena said, dashing over to Derzina. “It’s you he’s after.”

“He knows where I am, hiding will make no difference.” Nonetheless, she let the wizard drag her behind one of the pillars that it might afford them some measure of protection. From there she watched as the Demon Lord, perhaps galvanised by Derzina’s presence, went on the offensive. A wave of intertwined light and shadow fell upon Inea, obscuring her completely, while Meztraxia turned his focus to Xanathel.

Using only his good arm, he deflected the head of Xanathel’s weapon with his sword and drove it downward. He stomped down on it and his opponent tried in vain to pull it free. Xanathel abandoned his weapon, using his free hands to spew darkness upon the Demon Lord.

It melted right through the purple shell surrounding Meztraxia, only to be consumed by the mist that emanated from the Demon Lord. Unperturbed by the torrent of darkness capable of disintegrating steel and flesh alike, the demon in his black and purple armour slashed at the god’s exposed face with his blade.

Ceasing the flow of darkness, Xanathel danced back and only received a long cut along his cheek. But the Demon Lord was far from finished, he continued to hack and stab at the unarmed god. Powerless, Xanathel gave ground easily, dodging and weaving, until he found himself pressed against a wall.

Abandoning all pretence of grace, he raised his armoured forearms to protect his head. Inelegant as it was, it was a defence Meztraxia found difficult to break with only one arm. After a few ineffectual swings of his blade, he paused for a moment and brought another of his full-sized soldiers into being. Unlike the ones Derzina encountered earlier, its features were clearly defined and there was a weight to its presence. It leapt on the cowering Xanathel and, using its entire bodyweight, pulled one of the god’s arms aside enough to give Meztraxia a clear opening.

Struggling against the demon as he lowered his head to protect his face, Xanathel was hammered to the ground as Meztraxia brought the pommel of his sword down on the god’s head. As the Demon Lord knelt down, surely seeking to finish the struggling god, Inea charged forth from the maelstrom of gold and black at Meztraxia’s back.

Her once magnificent suit of green-silver steel was riddled with cracks and marred by her own blood. Only her weapon was undamaged, the metal-clad shaft held high as she emerged and brought the hammerhead down on Meztraxia’s back. Caught totally unaware, the blow caved in his backplate and sent him to the floor. He tried to regain his feet while light and shadow gathered to defend him once more, but Inea didn’t let up. Sweeping aside his paltry protection, her next strike slammed down and he screamed in agony.

Purple mist leaked from his armour and Derzina was about to shout a warning when Gorthar, the front of his robes torn enough to expose the deep gash in his belly, crossed the room in a few bounding steps and brought a solid block of stone down atop the Demon Lord. The crunch of breaking steel and bone filled the room, and Derzina clapped Araveena on the shoulder.

“Go.”

Taking her meaning immediately, the wizard ran out as the demon continued to struggle in spite of the ruined body surely concealed beneath the stone. Araveena pulled back her sleeves and removed her gloves, revealing wooden arms covered in dimly glowing sigils of every colour. Once she reached the Demon Lord’s side, she touched the purple mist with her bare hands and it froze in mid-air. She made incredibly rapid, seemingly nonsensical motions through the air, her hands sometimes seeming to phase right through each other. As she worked, the colour of the mist cycled rapidly through all manner of hues and Araveena’s glow grew brighter until the entire room shone with her radiance.

“Is it working?” Derzina asked of Atasimon, not daring to distract Araveena.

“I don’t know, all I can sense is chaos. There’s certainly something happening, but the stolen portion of my essence feels no closer than before. Wait, I can feel Meztraxia’s presence fading. That must be a good sign.”

The Demon Lord’s struggles ceased as Araveena’s light grew brighter still. She was muttering to herself as everyone else looked on in silence, afraid of disturbing her work. The wizard shouted something of which Derzina caught only a syllable or two before she was blinded by a flash of colour and lost consciousness.