The shadowy tendrils lashed out at Tristan and carried far more force than a dragon of that size should be able to muster. He was sent back, sabatons skidding across stone, until he managed to plant his phantasmal tail to stop himself. “Come here,” the creature hissed out. Tristan couldn’t see the face, or the head, the voice came from all around him.

  He could hear the Demon King screaming, pleading, and then his voice ending in a gurgle as he assumed Eloise slaughtered him. But Tristan could not focus on what she was doing as the creature’s sinuous coils attempted to wrap around him. He sent essence down his maul and activated Cryogenic Cube, his essence draining precipitously to less than half remaining. A huge, square cube of ice appeared all around him, including containing some of the demon dragon’s body which immediately froze. He turned and smashed in one smooth motion, shattering the body with his hammer, and then dropping the weapon, he grabbed with his claw and yanked hard. He dragged more of the demon dragon into the frozen domain, which froze yet more of its body, and he hacked with his sword; the sheer force of his blows completely obliterating the frozen flesh.

  “You dare!” it screeched, but could not reach him with its body without entering the zone of icy death that only Tristan could survive for more than a few seconds. He continued to drag more of the body in, and kept hacking it to icy chunks.

  “Tristan!” Eloise shouted.

  He could barely hear her through the hunt-urge’s roaring of blood pumping through him, but he glanced at her and saw why she had called his name. The Demon King’s corpse was being consumed by the demon dragon. Tristan grabbed the maul and charged forward, through the icy cube, and weathered the impacts of shadowy tendrils that slammed into his armor but only left little dents and barely slowed him. He reached the head and spun as he did so, throwing his hips sideways and bringing the tail to bear.

  Crack!

  The bang of the impact echoed through the whole chamber and sent the demon dragon’s head and the partially consumed Demon King’s corpse into the wall with another resounding smack. Yet the dragon still gobbled down the Demon King. Then, its body began to glow a bright red and regenerated; flesh mending where Tristan had smashed it. And despite him continuing to hack into the flesh, the creature cackled and spoke in Demon’s Tongue. “I am the first of my species. I have advised every Demon King or Queen since they began their rule. Terrorax the eternal reclaims his lent power!”

  Tristan glanced at Eloise. “Amulet! Now!” She vanished in a shimmer of yellow light, and he knew she was safely back at the Citadel of Essence, and he could go all-out without concern for her safety. He was against his favored foe, and yet they were underground where he could not use his greater maneuverability to its best advantage. Yet the hunt-urge pushed him to confront this creature, here and now. A little under half my essence left. He moved back toward the pedestal that King Arinclex’s form had appeared upon, and the demon dragon coiled its form around him, before bringing its head to look dead-on at him from in front. Tristan poured essence into his Pocket Dimension II scale, set his hammer down, and snagged the essence elixirs from within. He gulped all of them down in a swift motion, and then tossed the hammer into the extradimensional space before letting it shut. Thanks to where he opened the storage space, right in front of him, the demon dragon did not know what he was doing as Tristan was hidden from view.

  But that also meant Tristan couldn’t see what it was doing, and as the pocket dimension closed, a torrent of fire blasted out over his body. Tristan just let out a barking laugh. “Fire doesn’t hurt me!” he shouted as he leaped forward and stabbed right through the creature’s eye. It recoiled back, and Tristan dug into the snout with his left hand, driving his sword deeper into the eye socket. “I’m a dragonslayer! I’ve killed arch dragons! You’re just one more to add to my crucible!”

  The remaining eye affixed on Tristan, and he felt the incredible, sharp pressure on his temples of enchantment, but it did nothing thanks to his consumption of an enchantment dragon’s blood. He pulled his sword back and stabbed once more, this time into the nostril and deep through the face, eliciting another roar of pain. The demon dragon’s body writhed around, and banged Tristan across the floor, ceiling, and walls. Yet he clung tight and kept stabbing, his armor fully protecting him from the impacts as he laughed with glee at his prey floundering and panicking.

  The demon dragon took flight, up through the hole Felicity had carved with transmutation, and then burst through the ceiling with Tristan taking the full brunt of the impact on his back. The masterful craftsmanship of the gnomes and the Dragonscale cloak protected him fully, and they ascended high into the skies above where the thing began to thrash and move in more wild ways to fling Tristan off. Finally, it succeeded, and Tristan pushed essence into his cloak as he activated Wing Glide. He turned in the air and faced the creature as he slowly glided down.

  The demon dragon sneered at him from above. “You! You worm! You cur! You insignificant speck! How dare you fight me! Who do you think you are?!”

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  Tristan did not respond, instead angling his feet down and pointing his toes down. “The skies unfold before me.” He went arcing up; a shimmering, silver meteor that slammed into the demon dragon and tore right through the creature, leaving a gaping hole as he flew up into the air from the speed of his launch. Spinning in the sky, he quickly sheathed his blade and drew his bow, drawing the vine-laced bowstring down as he strung it, and opening his pocket dimension as he grabbed an arrow, nocked, and poured essence into the weapon. Bolt, Split Bolt, Chain Bolt, Boltstorm, and Elemental Imbuement – Multi with lightning and ice.

  The demon dragon writhed in the air and scanned the skies for him, finally landing upon Tristan’s form, flying overhead, and holding a glimmering, crackling, yellow bow. Tristan let loose, and the bolt slammed into the other, uninjured eye; burrowing deep and delivering the body-locking shock that completely incapacitated the demon dragon’s form. It went tumbling down to the citadel below, and landed on the large, central spire – impaled through the center before the heft ripped it in two and it tumbled down in two halves on opposite sides of the building.

  Tristan immediately put his bow away, spun his crucible, and activated Spoken Message: Realm in his Platinum Ear-Cuff. He focused on every other device that the gnomes had made as he spoke aloud in Elvish. “The Demon King has been slain. His assassins are being rooted out. Fey Realm army, pull back.” He then swapped to Demon’s Tongue. “Demon Houses? Your uprisings have done what they needed to do. I will have my emissaries help facilitate the peaceful election of your next Demon King or Queen, and the transfer of power.” He heard various voices respond in affirmation from his forces, and acknowledgements from the various Demon Lords and Ladies he and his nymphs had coordinated with.

  Tristan glided down to the top half of the demon dragon’s corpse, splayed out upon one of the roofs. He drank deeply of the demon dragon’s blood – the smoky taste almost pleasant at this point. He then performed Drain Dragon, siphoning the essence crucible and adding its power to his own, and finally he extracted some blood and put it into one of the vacuum-sealed vials. He headed back to the hole, and dropped down, manifesting Wing Glide as he swooped to the platform in the chamber where the Demon King had been talking to King Arinclex.

  Tristan put his foot on the pedestal and spun his crucible. About a quarter left. He pushed his essence through his sabaton and into the stone, and it activated. He could see an empty chamber, with a closed door opposite him. He spoke in Demon’s Tongue. “Arinclex!”

  There was silence for a few moments, and then the door opened and the king of the kingdom of Bhant appeared, but froze in the doorway. “You,” he said with vitriol in his voice.

  Tristan grinned and let his helmet recede as he stopped the flow of essence to that part of his armor. “I am Tristan Dragonbloom, formerly Winterbloom and Anorox. Ruler of the Fey Realm, and the lord of its people.” He flourished his cloak to his side, and kept speaking as Arinclex stood, rooted in place. “Gisele Damadan, formerly Anorox, set you against me. Well, you know better, don’t you? Duberceix set his assassins loose on prominent bloodlines.”

  “I . . . I had no idea! He was just advising me of political maneuvering!” Arinclex took a step forward.

  “Come now, you had to know.” Tristan crossed his arms. “Now, Gisele is no family of mine, and I will not seek vengeance on Bhant. But, I will be sending emissaries to the edges of the kingdom of Bhant. All those with Elf blood, and who seek to escape your bigoted kingdom, are welcome to return to their ancestral home.” Tristan grinned in the cockiest way possible, which given his recent feats, was easy to pull off.

  Arinclex grit his teeth, and his voice was low. “You dare disrespect me by talking this way?”

  “You dare?!” Tristan shouted back, letting his full wrath be known. “You pinned the death of my mother on me! The people I cared for!” Tristan scowled and pulled the Anorox family crest from around his neck, still socketed with the Archon’s Favor and the King’s Favor. The last remnants of who he once was.

  I’m more than Anorox. More than Winterbloom. I think it’s time for a new crest for my bloodline. He crushed the emblem in his hand, crumpling the solid metal with a single, effortless crunch. He dropped the scrapped metal. The remnant of a past self that felt like a lifetime ago. “King Arinclex . . . if you do not allow my people to leave of their own volition . . . I will destroy you. I will destroy the kingdom’s power structure. I will give you over to the Empire of Dorcelli to be ruled as a puppet state. In a season’s time, expect them at your western coast. Proclaim to all of Elf blood that they may return home, and leave their horrible life under your rule behind . . . am I clear?”

  King Arinclex stood straight-backed. “I cannot stand against your might . . . the Elves will be taken care of.”

  “Good.” Tristan stepped away from the pedestal, and the image faded. I thought inter-realm communication was not possible. Perhaps this item is unique? He stood over the stone and thanks to his now-perfect recollection thanks to Logos’ Realm Bridge, knew he could re-draw it for The Citadel’s professors to examine. Having inter-realm communication would improve so many lives. He walked to the hole in the ceiling and with sheer force of muscle alone, jumped up twenty feet. He dug his fingers into the masonry, and scaled the collapsed floors until he was back in the throne room.

  Spinning his crucible, he activated his Platinum Ear Cuff once more, focusing only on his Fey Realm Strike Force. “Report.”

  “Citadel clear,” Felicity said with pride.

  “This one has destroyed their armory,” Willow said.

  Other voices of reports from around Saumur came in. Someone had found a ledger with the names of the assassins, and their assignments. A few were in other realms, and the ledger was taken by his forces so that the Venomous Rose’s remaining members could be tracked through divination and hunted down. Tristan spoke as the last of the reports concluded. “Our work here is done. Return to the rift . . . we are going home.”