Pride is extremely important to demons. Now that Nyx was going with the assumption that they themself were a full and total demon, that fact hit them like a brick to the face.

They weren’t sure who or what the dude who called himself Spencer really was. By the way his face combusted, he had to be a demon. Hell, he might have been Dodd in disguise, if just in time Dodd had scampered to the other side of the front door really fast (hey, things happen). But one thing was for sure: Nyx knew when they were being messed with, and Spencer was certainly messing with them.

Don’t cross a demon lord.

...Unless that demon lord can’t even handle a few low-level enemies, and that exact scenario was looking very likely to happen right now.

A heap of monsters tumbled out of the trees. Minor fachans!

Eugh! Nyx hadn’t seen these shits in a while, and they looked more disgusting than they remembered. They looked a few shades off from human, and not in an apelike way...more like the Cyclops you might find in an illustrated cut of The Odyssey, only they had their features supercompressed, their tongues and teeth oversized and hanging out, and their number of limbs reduced. Fachans hopped on one leg, and they had no arms, just a single hand in the middle of their chests. If one squirrel stood on another squirrel’s shoulders, together they'd be the height of one minor fachan.

That description doesn’t sound very scary. And considering what other sorts of monsters Gaia could pump out, it was less than nothing. But seeing that crowd of four fachans fling themselves from trees to earth and spring right up onto their big flopping feet just made Nyx feel nauseated.

Nyx had a dagger, but wished they had a humongous club, just to smash these hairy humanoid roaches as fast and satisfyingly as possible.

Spencer watched the minor fachans land with glee. Over their hoots and whoops, he said, “Fachans of the southern wilderness. Didn’t the two of us...?”

“It was more than just us,” said Nyx, taking their dagger in one hand and channelling some magic with the other. They wished he would shut up so they could concentrate.

The fachans hopped into a curved line formation...trying to surround Nyx. Weak little fachans like this didn’t have potent magic, but in numbers, they got quite annoying.

Nyx whipped their free hand forward. A spread-shot of light energy fanned out, hitting them all on the legs. The energy seared. But they hardly even budged—they were tough, wiry things. One even belly-laughed, waggling its tongue to taunt Nyx.

Of course, this magic failure and the fachan’s response happened in a very brief span. Two seconds, at most. Nyx would recover and make a second move easily. But the blow to their pride was...ouch. It stung a lot worse than their spell.

Nyx took a step forward, deciding to use close combat. That was the only step they took because the fachans used their distortion magic to twist Nyx’s ankle without even touching it. If Nyx had looked at their ankle, they’d have seen it warping in space the way paint swirls in a can, splashing apart for a moment just long enough to be perceived. Instead of looking at that, they looked at the ground—stumbling hard and face-planting.

Spencer literally laughed at them.

Nyx sprang upright with a quick, heavy groan-sigh. They took aim at one of the four fachans, took another big step forward. Their ankle warped. This time, though, they knew to follow fast and strong with another step. No hesitation, no worrying about the little shift in their forward movement. Don’t mind the distortion, just take the open window and stab.

They fell upon the fachan. It tried to leap away, but Nyx grabbed it by the leg and collapsed with it onto the rough roots and grass. Nyx stabbed it vigorously in the back. Reddish-grey monster blood seeped out. Bones crunched. The fachan wailed and wailed until it went silent.

The other fachans watched attentively. Nyx rose onto their knees, looked at the three of them, and realized that they probably didn’t need to go through all the trouble of leaping onto, and stabbing, all of them. At least, they didn’t want to. Too embarrassing. It was a lot of effort for what people on Earth might call a first-town, level-one kill.

“If I wanted to kill a bunch of fachans,” Spencer called out, “I’d knock a few arrows out, like this.” Just that fast, he moved an arrow from quiver to bow and lanced one through a fachan’s bulbous eye.

“Sqriiiiiek!” It collapsed, blood trickling down its face.

Nyx groaned. “Shut up, I can do this.”

If the light from the Master of Light and Darkness wasn’t worth a damn, surely the darkness could make up for it. Nyx, still kneeling, decided to use their shadow powers to end this match.

When they extended their shadow, the fachans clearly suspected what they were doing. The shadow shifted unnaturally, eased toward them, and then snapped forward. Like children running away from high tide, though, the fachans hopped backward.

Spencer said, “They’re not that stupid.”

“It’s a simple diversion, Spencer. When the big threat’s in front, monsters like this don’t think to look behind.”

While the bulk of Nyx’s shadow had been contorted to sit in front of them, there was a slight tendril of it that had separated from the main. It slithered beneath leaves and carefully maneuvered beneath tree roots, just to remain unseen, just in case. And all of this in a matter of seconds.

Apparently Nyx still had A skill.

In a single move, that hair-thin shadow made contact with those of both the remaining fachans. At that moment, they were done for. They screeched as an invisible force seized them with pain. They were getting their shadows sucked away, and that was one method—among many—of draining life.

As the fachans squealed, Spencer sidled over. He watched as the shadow sucked life out of their features, turning the thick flesh sunken and pale. The monsters’ eyes became totally white, and when the process was done, they fell to the ground looking bizarrely out-of-place, like objects from another plane. They left no shadows, after all.

He said, “That’s overkill.”

Nyx said, “You’re never satisfied.”

The lord of Nightfall stood up and dusted their shins off. The blow this had given to their pride still hadn’t worn off, and yet they were feeling more bright than overcast. Yet again, they had accomplished that grand achievement of...having done something. Something worthwhile. Even if in a tiny or intangible sense. They had what Dodd was hinting at: the proof that they could go further.

“It’s been a nice outing, hasn’t it?” said Spencer. “Nice day, right?”

“This was fun at first, but now you’re getting on my nerves,” said Nyx. “The old Spencer was never that annoying.”

But then Nyx thought about it.

“........Wait. He was.”