Meet the devil head-on.

The massive devil turns a gaze quickly back to meet yours, though his body rotates far slower, as if to purposely waste your time. He takes a deep, long inhale before removing the cigar from his lips. After breathing out a plume of smoke, it's beginning it look like the entire tavern area is ablaze. Speaking of which, with a furled brow and focused eyes, he flicks what remains of his smoke across the room to your feet.

You glance down to see the spark catch the wooden floor. Slowly, you glide two fingers along the flat of your blade while whispering the magic phrase, "Frost Blade". The weapon glistens magnificently. Around you, the air cools, and as you bring the tip of Lauo down towards the floor and swing it to the side, the frosted current extinguishes the fire before it can spread.

He lets out a single deep chuckle. "You're shorter than I expected."

"What dumbass reason to you have for hunting me down? You don't look like a hero-type, out to slay the big bad Demon King. Maybe you served under one of the villains who fell by my sword."

"I serve no one," he grumbles.

"Sounds like you do work for Demon King Cresswell though, right?"

"I told the old man. This is personal. Speaking of which, this chat is for our ears only." Perhaps his sluggish movements this entire time were only to fool his enemies. Either that, or a spark of rage has quickly spiralled into an inferno, because you can tell by the motion that he wants nothing more than to crush the elder who has been getting in his way.

The devil's mighty fist comes down towards G like a meteor. In fact, it blazes with a trail of flames. Though he raises up the shaft of his axe, and the impact rings out enough to hurt one's ears. He parries the momentum aside into a counterattack, forcing the devil to retreat a step back, though not without injury. The tip of his left horn shatters off and clatters to the ground near your feet.

"Mother FUCKER!" screams the beast garbed in leather. "I've had enough. You, Warren. You're going down withe the rest of this damned place." Now ignoring G, he storms across the room, knocking every table and chair away by the sway of his body alone. His imps begin circling the room, near the ceiling, with a cacophony of high-pitched cackling. "You killed my brother, Ithic. Took awhile for me to catch wind of that, but I've looked forward to the day I found you."

"Sa'dis' Flame General?" So that's why he's so familiar. "He was a twisted man who was serving another twisted man. Also, I don't know if this changes things, but I actually didn't kill him at all. That was Lady N--"

"I don't care! If your minions spit on my shoes, I'm kicking your ass." He loosens the chain around his waist and whips it like a chain. As it snaps through the air, every link erupts into smouldering flames. "I'm Hell Captain Drazik, leader of the Hellfire Mercs. Yeah, my brother and I didn't really see eye-to-eye, but as far as I'm concerned, hurting one of my own means hurting me."

You pick the chip of his horn off the ground and make sure he can see it. "One of your own was just obliterated by an axe."

He then reaches up to pluck one of the imps from the air. He squeezes it so hard that its head pops clean off. "These are imps!" In his other hand, he swings the flaming chain-whip around in the air.

Then an arrow strikes his forearm.

It doesn't drop his attack, but his eyes widen with rage, and he's taken aback enough that he fails to see the axe swing at his midsection. The blade sinks in deep into his side. G then heaves it back out, followed by a spray of blood.

Up a few steps behind you perches Snow, naked as when she was born, wielding her bow and a few arrows.

You strike next. Your movements are too twist, even with him facing you directly. Your frosted blade swings up and across his upper wrist, pulsing with crackling pink energy, and it cleanly removes the bottom end of his arm, including his hand, from the rest of his body. The chain's fire goes out into a burst of dark smoke and clatters loudly to the ground.

Drazik, however, is far from quiet. He screams so loud that not only would every in the three-storey building be alerted, but likely the neighbouring buildings as well. He grips his bleeding stump and topples over, but you can tell he isn't done. This is the sort of man who'd keep fighting with every last limb removed.

"You're dead! You're all dead--!" But his attention turns to the door.

Standing in the entrance of Journey's End is a bombyx insectrin. You've seen her before. Though she appears somewhat similar to Luna, her hair is longer, and neatly groomed back, split in twain by black ribbons. She wears a frilly maid dress over a hefty bust, with a back cut wide open to make room for her large, swirly wings. In her hand is a dark wooden wand with a blue crystal hooked into the tip.

"Your fight here is finished, Hell Captain," she says plainly. "Come now."

"No way," he barks back. "My mercs will--"

"They're already restrained. It wouldn't be wise to rise up against the Demon King. You know that. So come with me, and we'll patch you up. Even get you a new hand. Maybe the time will revenge will come in the future, but it isn't now."

Caleena. William's maid. Though she's definitely more than that.

Much to your surprise, the devil rises to his feet, and stumbles slowly towards the door. Not even for a second does he turn back to you. It's probably because if he did, he'd lose his temper again. After he dips down and passes through the doorway, Caleena looks to you with a well-mannered curtsy.

"I'll return momentarily," she says. "You'll have plenty of time to regain your composure, but please don't leave quite yet." Then she disappears back out onto the street.

I haven't thought about Flame General Ithic in awhile. It's too bad for his brother that I'm way stronger than I was back then. Still, he's a dangerous guy. And that's another ally of William's to remember. I'd say he keeps bizarre company, but I'm not one to talk.

You turn to see that Snow has disappeared, likely due to her nudity. The others will be down any moment now.

Then you lock eyes with the old man. His chest heaves up and down. Though fully garbed, you can see the hint of a muscled body, especially around his neck and the ends of his arms where his sleeves have slipped. Though he likely doesn't move how he once did, there isn't a wound on his body.

He grumbles and clears his throat. In the silence of the room after a bloody battle, he mutters out, "Got a lot of complaints about you last night."

You chuckle. "Yeah. Sorry about that. But I left a good tip."