the Demon with in me

At this hour, the training grounds are mostly empty. The nobles are still downing their wine and their forced laughter, but out here, there is only stone and steel and silence.

The torches flicker in the night breeze, their flame light casting long, dancing shadows across the courtyard.

Seraphis stands across from me, rolling his shoulders in that methodical, careful way he always does before a fight, and exhales. His silver hair is pulled back, his armor gleaming, his posture flawless.

He doesn't just resemble a knight." He is one.

I twirl the spear in my hands, tracking the heft of it in my grip. The wooden shaft, was solid; the metal tip honed to a deadly point.

Swords aren't my style. Too rigid. Too predictable.

A spear is different. It's just an extension of movement. Fluid. Reactive. A weapon of control.

Seraphis knows this.

Which means he's already figured out how to attack it.

I smirk. "You're not gonna spare me, huh?

His gaze remains steady. "I would never treat you like that."

Without breaking stride, he draws his sword and comes into his stance. His movements are clean, they are precise. There is not a single wasted motion.

I let out a long breath, roll my shoulders, and find my own stance. In the back of my mind, the Demon Spirit stirs, prompting an answer I don't truly have. Watching. Waiting.

The torchlight flickers.

Seraphis moves.

The Duel Begins

He bridges the distance in a flash.

No hesitation. No wasted motion.

And his sword is already on its way, a perfect, killing thrust.

I respond, rolling my spear upward in a parry. The impact sends a jarring vibration through my arms and makes me take a step back. The power of his strike is more than anticipated.

He's stronger than before.

I twist, turning sharply, leveraging my reach advantage—slamming the spear at his ribs.

Seraphis doesn't flinch.

He steps inside the attack.

His blade glides against the shaft of my spear in a perfect deflection, turning it just enough to catch my balance.

The next blow will be upon them soon. Faster. Sharper.

I barely twist out of the way in time, the blade graze the side of me.

"Damn, Seraphis," I mutter, summoning a smirk. "You almost had me."

His face does not change his expression.

"Almost isn't enough."

The Fight Escalates

He is moving again, relentless, unstoppable.

His sword is a blur — each strike true, each movement carrying all the weight of years upon years of training.

I parry, I pivot, I stay my distance, but I'm losing ground.

I can feel it.

"He's not fighting you like a friend," the Demon Spirit whispers, smooth in its voice, unhurried. "He's testing you. Measuring you. Deciding if you're a threat."

Training data is cut off .

I see it.

I know it.

But my body is too slow.

And then—

It flickers on the periphery of my mind.

"Take it."

An uncomfortable, artificial heat blossoms in my veins.

The world sharpens.

The air shifts.

Seraphis lunges.

I react on instinct.

For the first time, I let something go.

A spark. A sliver of what is beyond me.

My spear comes out faster than it should.

Seraphis swings his sword—but I don't parry this time.

I drive my spear into the stone below us, and the ground splits.

The effect pushes outward in a rushing gale that sends Seraphis reeling back several feet.

For a brief moment, silence.

Then—pain.

The ringing becomes sharp, slapping against my skull.

My breath catches.

And suddenly, it's not whispers that we hear.

"Yes."

It is a richer, deeper, more real voice than before.

"Let me in."

My spear soaks up the sweat, as I hear the thunder of hooves. Too tight.

My heart thunders in my ears.

The torches flicker.

For an instant, my shadow shifts in a way it shouldn't.

Seraphis sees it.

And in his eyes — for the first time — I see something like fear."

The Aftermath

I gasp, blinking the feeling from my eyes.

The moment passes.

Seraphis straightens, his face unreadable.

"…You're not like you used to be," he mutters.

I manage a smirk, still gasping. "Neither are you."

He studies me a beat longer, then holsters his sword.

"We're done here."

He swivels and walks away — no more words.

I remain standing in the empty courtyard, my breath still unsteady.

"They know," whispers the Demon Spirit.

I say nothing.

Because I know it too