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(( Still in progress))
It was in the destroyed city of demons, the great ones had chosen, it was time that they blossomed like a rose. This group of demons, on the edge of all roads, had chosen to fight to the end. Their fangs bared, their feelings were not shared, but all had one common goal. Victory over their past.
It was in this madness that the king of Daemoniac stood, Saix the wolf demon. His short white hair and small but muscular body standing out in the crowd. Almost god like he stood in the center of the battlefield not even drawing out his katana, fighting off the hordes of enemies with only his limbs. He had the strength of a thousand angels within his impure body. His movements were that of a fluid fighter, his elongated ears coming to a point behind his head leaning downward. He did not know why he was fighting his own kind, he did not know why his clothes were torn, his baggy pants being the only thing left on the small but muscular Daemoniac. He was running, but not from fear, from the life of a lesser being. Saix only wished to grow, and when the elders had denied him that right he began to kill them. That is how all of this madness began.
He was gritting his fanged teeth, the battlefield around him echoing with all of the blows exchanged between him and the elites. His fists and feet were his weapons of choice until forced to draw his katana. It was on this fateful day, where a greater demon had chosen to fight his own, that Saix would draw his weapon for the very first time.
Surrounded, the demon grinned, he would not let this get to him. His body was taking blows, and giving them left and right. As he fought he felt his blood lust, for every hit he received he gave out two more, three more, and only climbed in his rage. His blood was spilling slowly onto the ground around him as he refused to give even an inch to the enemy of gain in ground. His pride moved him to fight this way, he had people he cared about that were bound to be watching him from the sidelines, he could not afford to stand down and submit. This did not change his attitude towards all of the ones coming for him in the heated situation. Before it was just a name they all went by to be covert, to keep a cover, now it was their own and he led it. It was in his period of thought that his opponents saw the opening and struck hard. A small pool of blood surrounding Saix as he was hit with the blunt ends of the weapons of his enemies.
Close to a higher rate of blood loss even for a demon, Saix was losing his edge in this battle. His eyes were glossy, his limit of using no weapon was nearing, there were just too many for him to fight alone. It was in this moment that his companions appeared at his side. They were not there to fight with him, they appeared near him to push him forward. It was law of Daemoniac, the weak were fed to the strong to become better.
In this moment of all of his companions shoving him forward the Daemoniac king bared his fangs. His hands did not draw his weapon, instead he let the enemy surround him, taking a defensive stance. He was better than this, and it was in this moment that the Daemoniac king would show his true strength. He let them come to him, let them flood over him using the enemy's own motion against them he began his trial of blood.
Hellfire surrounded his body, the great demon raising his fists began to move with his aura instead of his body. It was in this moment that he began to move faster, he was using something not of the earth to move his body, using it to gain his speed. He was using his own speed now, the great movements he had forgotten in the heat of battle. The roar of the Daemoniac king echoing throughout his enemies as he knocked them back one by one. His companions hearing the roar of the king jumped to join the battle, their feelings moved by his trial, he had succeeded in his trial of blood. The king that would fight alone, to the death, without a weapon being their leader. In the end he stood with his few, his proud followers who called him king who all had their eyes upon the bloodied master.
His head lay low, the bodies around him the same color as the blood that ran down his abs and chest. It was then that he drew his katana, shoving the blade point of the black blade into the ground beneath him. He said nothing to his companions as he wiped himself clean from the blood bath, it was from all of his silence that the females and males alike went to fetch their king some clothes. He said nothing as he sat weakly letting them dress him in his tight shirt and form fitting armor. The Daemoniac sat in silence. His breathing slowed, his grey skin shined with blood. He looked to his followers bowing to them with every piece of pride he had, and it was then that they all kneeled with him, a family of equals.
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