The guard, still fuming from his encounter with Layla and Raziel, trailed them through the winding streets of the village. His hand clenched around the hilt of his sword as he watched them enter a high-end tailor's shop. He was determined to catch them in some act of deceit or conspiracy—anything to justify his earlier humiliation.

From his hiding spot near a stack of crates, he could see the shop's elegant interior. Layla examined a selection of rich fabrics while Raziel stood watch near the entrance, ever alert.

"They must be scheming. I can feel it in my bones. I know they are going to do something."

The guard muttered.

Minutes passed. Nothing suspicious happened. Layla spoke with the tailor about embroidery styles while Raziel inspected the room with quiet precision. Frustration built in the guard's chest.

"They're mocking me," he hissed. "They know I'm here."

When Layla and Raziel finally left the tailor's shop, the guard followed at a distance. His breath quickened when they entered an apothecary, certain this time he'd catch them buying something illicit. He pressed against the shop's side wall, straining to hear their conversation.

Inside, Layla calmly discussed herbal remedies for burns and fatigue with the elderly apothecary. Raziel, ever serious, tested the sharpness of a small hunting knife displayed on a nearby shelf. They paid, exchanged polite goodbyes, and left.

The guard clenched his fists. His face burned with shame.

"They're toying with me!" he spat. "Parading around like nobles while making me look like a fool!"

Furious and deflated, he slumped onto a bench near a deserted alleyway, burying his face in his hands. His mind swirled with self-loathing and rage. He couldn't shake the image of Layla's cold, commanding stare, her dismissive words echoing in his head: "You assume much for someone so poorly informed."

"Am I really that useless...?"

He whispered.

A low, velvety voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.

"Feeling lost, are we?"

The guard's head snapped up. A tall, elegantly dressed stranger emerged from the shadows, his face partially obscured by a dark hood. His piercing crimson eyes glinted with something dangerous—and alluring.

"Who—who are you?"

The guard stammered, instinctively reaching for his sword.

The stranger chuckled, waving a gloved hand dismissively.

"A... benefactor, of sorts. I couldn't help but notice your plight."

The guard scowled.

"I don't need your pity."

"Oh, it's not pity. I see potential—untapped power wasting away in mediocrity."

The stranger said smoothly.

The guard flinched at the cruel truth embedded in the words.

"You long for respect, don't you?"

The stranger continued, his voice like silk.

"To matter. To rise above these... petty mortals who mock and dismiss you."

The guard's breath quickened. His heart pounded with equal parts fear and yearning.

"What... what are you offering?"

The stranger smiled, sharp and predatory.

"A contract. Power beyond your wildest dreams, enough to crush anyone who dares look down on you."

He extended a hand.

"Do we have a deal?"

The guard hesitated, desperation warring with reason. But the memory of Layla's icy dismissal seared through his mind, igniting his rage.

"Yes. I accept"

His voice trembled.

The stranger's grin widened. Dark, swirling energy erupted from his outstretched hand, wrapping around the guard like living tendrils. Pain lanced through his body as his mind was consumed by a burning, insatiable hunger for destruction. His vision dimmed, replaced by seething hatred.

When the darkness finally receded, the guard was no longer a mere man. His once human features were twisted into a grotesque, demonic visage—horns curling from his forehead, eyes burning like molten fire.

He rose, towering and monstrous, raw power crackling around him.

"The one who humiliated me... she will pay,"

he growled, his voice distorted and guttural.

With a monstrous roar, he turned toward the bustling heart of Eldermire, driven by one singular purpose:

Find Layla. Make her suffer.

______

Layla adjusted the collar of her new cloak as she and Raziel exited the last shop on their list. The cool breeze carried the lively sounds of the bustling market—vendors shouting, children laughing, and musicians playing merry tunes. It was a rare moment of peace, something Layla hadn't experienced in far too long.

But that peace shattered in an instant.

A thunderous crash echoed from the plaza behind them, followed by panicked screams. Layla's head snapped around just in time to see a fruit stand crushed beneath a massive, clawed hand. People scattered in all directions as a towering, demonic figure emerged from the haze of destruction.

Its molten eyes locked onto her, filled with murderous intent.

"Raziel,"

She warned, her tone cold and sharp.

"I see it. Should I take care of it for you, miss?"

Raziel already had his sword drawn, positioning himself protectively in front of her. His gaze remained locked on the advancing beast.

The monster took a lumbering step forward, its burning gaze never wavering from Layla. It let out a guttural snarl, filled with seething rage, and pointed a twisted, clawed finger directly at her.

"You…" its distorted voice hissed with venom. "You mocked me… now burn."

Before Layla could respond, the creature lunged with terrifying speed. Its claws cleaved through the air, aimed straight at her. She barely managed to leap backward, the monstrous hand smashing into the cobbled street where she'd stood a moment before, leaving a deep crater.

"Move!"

Raziel barked, closing the distance and slashing at the beast's exposed arm. His blade struck true, but the creature's thick, armored hide only sparked under the impact.

It roared in fury, backhanding Raziel with monstrous strength. He was thrown across the plaza, skidding to a stop against a stone wall with a pained grunt.

Layla narrowed her eyes, magic crackling faintly around her fingertips.

"Persistent, aren't you?"

She muttered, already bracing for its next attack.

The monster charged again, driven by blind rage. Layla sidestepped gracefully, her magic-infused blade flashing into her hand.

If the beast thought she'd be easy prey, it was about to learn how wrong it truly was.