At the battlefield, the smoke finally cleared.
The magus stood tall, his skin returned to its normal pale tone. The demonic traits were gone the horn dissepeared. His sharp blue eyes locked onto the dying Krell Alpha dangling in his grasp.
He looked more like a highborn elf now than any demon. "Now tell me everything you know about that traveler."
The Krell Alpha had no limbs left—his arms and legs torn away, his torso a broken shell. The magus held him up by the neck with one hand, while the other arm was plunged deep into the Alpha's chest.
"Kekeke… What traveler? Do you mean the other outsiders!? Why should I tell you anything?!"
Despite his condition, the Alpha's voice was laced with pride, his tone mocking. Even in the face of death, he refused to grovel. He was still an Alpha. Dead is better than submission.
"Tch. Foolish choice," the magus muttered, curling his lips into a sharp grin. "I'll just extract the information directly from your corpse, then."
