Vestigul

"Listen well, for I shall not repeat myself, humans," she said loudly, her voice ringing through the street.

The humans strained their ears to hear the aesh woman's words, despite the ease with which she threw her voice across the street.

Even Fate, who normally wouldn't care about such a thing, couldn't stifle his curiosity.

Not only did this leader rally millions of imps, the laziest creatures on the planet, to their cause and even train a few of them, but they also were partly responsible for one of Ziobrun's most powerful races resurfacing.

The aesh hadn't been seen for thousands of years. Not a trace had been found to suggest a single one was alive, much less seven. And these seven being the only living members was a ludicrous notion.

It was safe to say there were tens of thousands at the least, possibly even more.

And the humans had earned their ire.

"Our chief," boomed the aesh woman, "is a vestigul named Xrykt of the Thousand Hands. His Tier V might is capable of laying this city to ruin with a gesture. Only your Empress is staying his hand, but she even she must yield before Xrykt's unstoppable might."

That earned a slight gasp from the humans, except the Arch-Mage. Though even that stoic man had trouble hiding the twitching of his face.

Fate tightened his grip on his greatsword when he heard that.

He knew from the bestiaries he had bought that a vestigul was a massive danger, especially one at Tier V.

A vestigul was the aesh equivalent of the imps' shamans.

Vestiguls were mutant aesh with a special Blood Skill: upon burning enough Mana from a Facet, their bodies gained traits of that same Facet. In extreme cases, the aesh gained a pseudo-Skill with little or nothing to do with their body.

This pseudo-Skill grew in power as they did, making the aesh deadlier with every Tier they reached.

The result of such a monster could be seen in the skies above them. World-changing, oppressive might that the Empress struggled with even now.

And the worst part? Fate was certain that this Xrykt wasn't even here. If such an individual could treat the Empress herself like a plaything with these hands, then his physical presence would be even more disastrous for the human race.

An aesh's body would always be their strongest asset. A vestigul was no different. In fact, it was even truer for them.

If only these hands of his could cause such havoc, a feat Fate doubted the aesh needed his body for, then his body would be one capable of destroying a village with a single misstep.

Why, then, would Xrykt bother to send an entire army and not appear himself?

It came down to one word: power.

With such power at his fingertips, why would Xrykt bother to leave the comfort of his own home when he could send his followers?

Not to mention the destruction his presence would cause to the land he wished to conquer, he had to appease those under them with battles so they could grow stronger and prove themselves.

The aesh had dominion over two Fragments, each represented by a human Facet. The first was Envy, and the second was Wrath.

Aesh lived to fight. It was in their blood, more so than even the violent Fox kitsubi. They loved to feel skulls crush, bones snap, and flesh tear under their might.

This was what scholars meant when they said the aesh were far too violent for the Empress to let live.

In contrast, the Fox kitsubi loved fighting as well, but their culture didn't revolve around it. They had the more sensible Spirit kitsubi to talk sense into them and show them the benefits of allying with the humans, and they were much calmer overall.

But aesh? Battle was their favorite pastime, the fastest route of improvement. Why would they give it up?

"Our terms of cessation?" asked the aesh woman. "We have none. We shall not stop until the human race is crushed beneath our feet, as you savages had done to our ancestors.

"Those we deem suitable shall be kept alive as slaves to till fields and build the nation that shall replace your pitiful empire.

"Now, enough talk!" She banged her log weapon's butt against the ground, the drums of war increasing to a deafening volume as she twirled her weapon in her hand. "Come, humans! Meet your end by our hands!"

The aesh yelled, the guttural sound that came from their mouths the same one the humans had heard before the appearance of the demons. With strong steps that shook the ground, the aesh charged.

The Guards at the front stood fearlessly to face them, each one of them a Master to the aesh's Tier III, only for their weapons to be knocked aside as they were sent flying into the side of a building, bloodied and bruised.

A Mage without their Skill couldn't hope to match up to an aesh in combat, physical or otherwise.

As the demons and humans attacked each other, the aesh woman and the Arch-Mage did the same.

The ground shattered beneath their feet, kicking up shards of stone and plumes of dust, as they rocketed toward each other.

Fate tore his eyes away from the two, the dark orbs landing on the other aesh.

He and the other Mages present had a different fight.

The Mages gripped their weapons and charged forward, joining those already in combat with the six Tier III aesh in hopes that their sheer numbers would overwhelm them.

He kicked off the ground and sprinted forward, his sword held diagonally at his side as he rushed for the closest aesh. His wounded thigh flared in pain, but he had felt worse.

The other Mages kept a short berth between themselves and the demon, doing their best to stay away from the aesh's devastating sword, which could sunder stone and rend flesh.

Arrows pelted down from the Guards above, their mundane nature breaking through the haze around each aesh. Some pierced flesh, but most bounced away harmlessly, the crimson creatures laughing gleefully at the humans' futile efforts.

As Fate grew closer, he cursed.

The imps marched through the breach in the wall, hooting and hollering. Some stayed to fight, but most dashed past the humans and into the city.