บท 155: Dance of the Death God(1)

For a moment, a heavy silence settled over the battlefield. All present, including the demon himself, paused, holding their breath.

"Well, well..." the demon knight rumbled, breaking the silence with a voice that grated like grinding bones.

"A broken warrior, a pitiful assassin, and a novice magic-user barely out of infancy." It convulsed with a sound akin to a desiccated corpse being torn apart, flecks of putrid flesh spattering the floor, then shifted its gaze to the others.

"You pests are hardly worthy of the effort required for your extermination."

A cold smile played upon Cuban's lips despite the sweat trickling down his back as his throwing knives materialized in his hands, seemingly from thin air. 

"Then we shall ensure that it becomes worth your while, abomination."