The Demon King's Guide To Not Getting Defeated By A Paladin-Chapter 56 - 55:Blood and Blushes.

The tunnels stretched on forever. Or at least, that’s what it felt like. Quinn and Azra moved at a steady pace, their boots splashing through shallow water as the faint stench of rot clung to the back of their throats. The fire from Quinn’s earlier spell had long since fizzled out, leaving the oppressive dark to creep back in.

Quinn’s sharp gaze swept the shadows ahead, his shoulders loose but ready. Behind him, Azra clutched his satchel and muttered under his breath, adjusting his glasses for the hundredth time.

They hadn’t spoken much since the monster had disappeared, but the silence didn’t feel heavy....just stretched thin, like a string waiting to snap. It snapped first in the form of Azra’s voice.

"...so," Azra started, just loud enough to echo faintly. "Girls."

Quinn glanced back over his shoulder, one brow raised. "Girls," he repeated flatly.

"Yeah. Girls."

Quinn huffed a short laugh, shaking his head as he kept walking. "You really think now’s the time?"

Azra shrugged, stepping over a broken pipe. "Better than thinking about... whatever that thing was. So." He squinted, his smirk barely visible in the faint glow of Quinn’s guiding light. "Which one do you like?"

Quinn stopped mid-step, his ears picking up the words even though he tried to pretend he hadn’t. "...what?"

"You heard me."

Quinn scratched the back of his neck, staring anywhere but Azra as they walked. His pace slowed slightly as though the words themselves had weighed him down. Images flickered behind his eyes despite himself.

First it was Emilia.

Her pink hair. That soft shade that fell just past her shoulders, catching the light in delicate waves. The way she always tilted her head slightly when she spoke, her small hands fidgeting with her sleeves when she was nervous. Petite, fragile-looking — though Quinn knew better than anyone that she was anything but fragile.

His cheeks warmed despite himself. He could almost hear Azra’s teasing in the back of his head. But then... another image pushed forward.

It was Asami, lastly.

Her mane of silver hair, loose and wild, the strands catching faint moonlight like spun metal. The way her armor clung to her shoulders, her hips, her long legs striding with quiet power. He couldn’t help but imagine — for just a heartbeat — what she’d look like without the armor, her toned body clad in nothing but a bikini under the summer sun.

She was Hot.....maybe too hot.

He cursed himself silently, shaking the thought away even as his ears flushed red. Azra leaned forward, eyes narrowing knowingly. "You’re thinking about her right now, aren’t you?"

Quinn grunted. "Maybe."

Azra chuckled, almost tripping over a loose stone. "Which one? Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that can’t pick between two?"

Quinn shot him a look, his coin rolling between his fingers to distract himself. "Not like it’s a damn contest," he muttered.

But Azra wasn’t finished. He pushed his glasses up again and let out a theatrical sigh. "You know who’s really hot, though? Asami. There’s something about her..." He waved his hands vaguely. "That hair. Those eyes. And imagine her out of all that armor—"

Quinn cut him off with a sharp glare.

"That’s enough," he said flatly.

Azra blinked. "What? You’re thinking it too—"

"I said. Enough." Quinn’s tone was low now, and for once Azra shut up.

They walked in silence for a while, though Quinn could still feel the faint smirk tugging at Azra’s lips behind him. And then they reached it.

*

The tunnel widened into a larger chamber. It was a circular junction where several sewer lines met. The stones here were cracked and slick, and the smell was somehow even worse. And there... at the far end of the room...dark streaks smeared the stones. Claw marks dug deep into the walls.

Quinn stopped first, his eyes narrowing.

This was where the monster had been waiting. Azra’s breath caught. He adjusted his glasses and stepped up beside Quinn, swallowing hard as he took in the sight.

The air here was different. It was heavier somehow.

Azra’s hands curled into fists at his sides. For a moment he just stared at the claw marks, his jaw tight. Then, with a sharp breath, he bit into his thumb. The coppery scent of blood hit the air immediately, dark drops falling onto the stones. But then... his blood began to move.

It coiled along his fingers like molten metal, twisting and hardening into the shape of a blade. The edge shimmered faintly in the gloom, wickedly sharp.

Azra’s voice was low but firm now, his usual nerves burned away. "...This time..." he murmured. "...I’m not running away."

The resolve in his tone rang faintly in the dark, and Quinn just watched him for a long moment before his own smirk returned faint but approving. He flipped his coin once, caught it, and let it vanish back into his pocket.

"Good," he said simply.

*

The chamber grew colder as they stepped deeper, the faint trickle of water drowned beneath the sound of their own footsteps. Quinn’s eyes swept the shadows ahead, the faint golden light at his fingertips flaring just enough to cast long, distorted shapes on the walls. Azra followed close behind, his newly-formed blood blade gleaming wetly, its crimson edge catching every flicker of light.

The smell of char and smoke hung faintly here, mingling with the rot and then Quinn saw it.

A figure.

It crouched in the far corner of the room, half-hidden in shadow. Its chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath a faint, rasping growl. Steam curled from the pale, stretched skin across its shoulders... burned. The fire from earlier had left its mark. Blackened streaks and cracks marred its limbs, and wherever it shifted, the faint hiss of seared flesh followed.

Its glowing eyes snapped up as they approached.

And it growled low, pained, but still threatening. Quinn’s coin spun in his fingers, but his voice stayed calm.

"Looks like it remembers me," he muttered, bit somehow he couldn’t stop staring at it. There was something almost humane about it, and he wondered if they were just his instincts.

Azra tightened his grip on the blade, his voice strained. "Good. Let’s make sure it doesn’t forget."

The creature attacked first in a blur of limbs and claws lashing out toward them. Quinn sidestepped, letting it skid past him, his hand igniting in golden foxfire as he lashed back. The flames struck its side, sending it careening into the wall with a hiss of pain. It was perfect hit and he loved it.

But it didn’t stay down.

It sprang again, slashing at Azra, who ducked low and slashed upward with his blade, leaving a deep, gushing cut along its arm. It howled.....a sound halfway between animal and man and staggered back.

Quinn’s foxfire lashed out again, catching its chest and forcing it against the stones. The smell of burnt flesh grew thicker, and he wondered why this creature kept attacking when it was clearly underpowered.

Azra darted in then, teeth bared, and drove his blood blade straight through its thigh, pinning it to the ground. The creature’s eyes went wide and for the first time, its growl faltered.

It sounded almost... like a cry.

It writhed under Azra’s blade, claws scratching weakly at the stones. And then, through gritted teeth, through its inhuman maw, it spoke. "...help..."

Quinn froze. This wasn’t expected.

Azra’s eyes went wide. "...What?"

The monster’s breath came in ragged gasps now. Its glowing eyes glimmered strangely..... with something not just feral, but... pleading. "...help... me..."

They both stood still, watching, as it reached one long, burned arm across its own abdomen. Quinn’s instincts screamed to strike it down, but curiosity rooted him in place. And then... the creature stabbed its own hand deep into its belly. Quinn flinched as blood and black ichor gushed over its chest.

With a wet, horrible sound, it pulled something out. But Quinn couldn’t quite understand why it would go as far as wounding itself like that.

Just the mere thoughts of getting stabbed by moving limbs frightened him, unleashing a shiver down his skin. This was crazy. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

It rose in its trembling hand slick and glimmering, faintly golden even through the gore.

It was a lamp.

A golden lamp, tarnished but unmistakable, now cradled in its claws as it slumped to the stones, still growling faintly but this time low and broken, like a sob.

Quinn and Azra could only stare, frozen in place, watching the creature’s chest rise and fall unevenly as it held that strange, cursed object in its palm.

Quinn’s voice finally broke the silence ...quiet and disbelieving. "...the hell... is going on here?"

The creature’s lips peeled back in another pained snarl but it didn’t lunge. Didn’t attack.

It simply clutched the golden lamp tighter. And the chamber fell quiet again, the faint hiss of its breath and the dripping of water ringing around them.

Waiting.