Novel Full Chapter 483: Intercepting Attacks
Chapter 483: Intercepting Attacks
The wind howled against Skylar’s wings as Damien soared northward, the kingdom of Galandra shrinking behind him with every beat of the wyvern’s wings.
The towering walls, the barracks, the winding streets, and the people who had watched him ride through the gate — all of it slowly faded into a hazy blur of stone, smoke, and distant memory.
Damien didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. All he said was “I hope Galandra stays long and strong enough to withstand the coming storm. The bloody sky continues to darken as the days go by.
Indeed, the sky was becoming redder slowly and it wouldn’t take long before the way broke out. He also had a feeling some cities or kingdoms were already engaged in wars with the demons.
Just as Delwig had done but their fall was due to unforeseen circumstances. Galandra was the best example he could give now. They’d faced demons twice now and we’re still standing.
Although these groups were smaller than an average demon horde, the warriors of Galandra were still able to put up a fight.
He even felt like they had some hidden power tucked away. This was because the military force he’d met there was subpar and if that was all they had to face the demons yet to come, they were sure to face doom.
However, these people had also survived the last demon wars and so, there had to be some sort of hidden force or power that these people were keeping a secret.
Still, it didn’t concern him. If they survived, it was a win for humanity as a whole and if they didn’t, “I’d miss their library.”
Goodbyes had never been his way. He preferred to leave quietly and keep moving. Resting too long made the world feel too stable — and when the world felt stable, something usually exploded.
He had learned that lesson the hard way.
Besides the red colour, the sky was clear, crisp, and wide open. Perfect flying weather. Skylar rode the currents effortlessly, the wyvern’s shadow gliding across hills, forest patches, winding roads, and the occasional lonely farmstead.
Eventually, Damien exhaled a long, slow breath.
“Goodbye, Galandra,” he murmured into the wind. “Try not to burn down while I’m gone.”
Skylar rumbled in agreement.
Luton peeked out from Damien’s cloak, looking around with childish curiosity.
Probably searching for something to eat.
“No,” Damien warned.
Luton sank back down with a pitiful wobble.
Hours passed as they cruised northward. Damien kept his eyes on the horizon, scanning for trouble, prey, or opportunity.
It didn’t take long before Skylar’s ears twitched making it obvious that the wyvern has sensed something.
Damien felt the wyvern tense beneath him.
Something was approaching.
Damien leaned forward. “Show me.”
Skylar veered slightly to the east. Ahead, far in the distance, dark specks moved in formation. Not birds. Not wyverns.
Demons.
Flying demons. They were lean, grotesque creatures with skeletal wings, jagged claws, and eyes glowing like snapped embers.
They flew with purpose, heading southwest… back toward Galandra or at least, in its direction.
Damien’s jaw tightened. “Not happening.”
Skylar’s wings folded slightly as Damien redirected him.
The demons noticed him too late.
He dropped from the sky like a falling star.
Damien didn’t even summon Fenrir. These weren’t worth the effort.
He pulled out two unsheathed blades mid-fall from within Luton’s (Universal Space).
Two demons lunged at him too late.
The first one lost its head and the other lost its wings.
Skylar blasted through the formation with a burst of shadowed wind, scattering them like leaves.
A third demon shrieked and dove, claws extended, only for Skylar to bite it cleanly in half, swallowing one part without delay.
Four fled and Damien pointed and them. Skylar understood immediately and gave chase.
They ran while Skylar pursued. The fleeing demons tried to dive into clouds but compared to Skylar, they were too slow.
Luton shot out from Damien’s shoulder like a slingshot, expanded mid-air, and swallowed two of them whole.
“Chew,” Damien muttered.
Gurgled satisfaction.
The last two demons panicked and dove toward the ground. Skylar cut them off, the pressure of its wings forcing them downward. They hit the dirt. Hard.
Damien landed moments later and ended them with two clean thrusts.
He wiped his blade and looked toward the direction they had been flying.
“Galandra again,” he murmured.
If he hadn’t left when he did, that swarm would’ve hit the outskirts. Maybe another farm. Maybe a caravan.
He mounted Skylar again. “We keep going.”
After another hour in the air, Damien angled Skylar downward. They were approaching an area where roads twisted through hills and rivers, the pathways heading toward the coast.
He needed to reach the seaside trading city and catch a ship to the northern waters.
Skylar descended low enough for Damien to jump off. He landed on the dirt road, cancelling Skylar so the wyvern could rest.
Fenrir resummoned with a shimmer of white light, shaking his fur as if waking from a nap. Luton flopped onto Damien’s head again.
“We walk,” Damien said.
The wolf nodded without a single growl.
The slime vibrated and jumped on to Damien’s head. It had grown tired of his shoulder and now wanted to stay even higher.
A peaceful day.
For about three minutes.
Damien heard the yelling before he saw them.
“Stop the carriage!”
“Hand over everything!”
“Hurry up or die!”
Typical bandits. “Same stupidity in every region.”
Damien sighed and kept walking.
A wooden carriage had been blocked on the road by a group of eleven men. The horses were panicking, the driver was trembling, and a woman inside the carriage was crying.
One bandit yelled, “Break the door!”
Another raised an axe.
Damien called out flatly. “Touch it and lose both arms.”
The bandits froze.
One turned. “Who the hell—”
His voice died when he saw Fenrir.
Then he saw Damien.
Then he saw Luton.
“Is… is that a demon in human form?” one whispered.
Damien’s eyebrow twitched. “Don’t call me that.”
Fenrir growled.
The bandits panicked.
Five charged him anyway — desperation or utter stupidity, Damien didn’t know.
It didn’t matter.
Damien moved like he wasn’t even trying. A sweep of his foot dropped two instantly. A palm strike crushed another’s windpipe. Fenrir bit through the weapon of the fourth and knocked him out with a head-butt.
Luton jumped onto the last bandit’s helmet and dissolved the metal with a cheerful hiss.
The man screamed and fainted.
Damien shook the slime off. “Don’t eat the helmet again.”
Luton burbled apologetically.
The remaining bandits tried to run.
Fenrir growled once — and they fell over themselves scrambling away.
The carriage door opened cautiously. A middle-aged man stepped out and bowed deeply.
“Sir, thank you! Those—”
Damien lifted a hand. “Save it. Stay on the road until you reach the city walls. Travel fast.”
“Yes, sir!”
Damien kept walking.
“Bandits,” he muttered. “Always bandits.”
Fenrir chuffed as if agreeing.
The forest thinned. Hills lowered. The scent of saltwater drifted on the wind, faint but unmistakable.
The coastline.
Damien walked with steady steps, his pace unhurried but determined. He consulted his map multiple times, a habit he developed after Luton devoured the first one.
The trading city lay along the northern shore, roughly a day’s journey from here if he didn’t stop. There were ships that traveled to the northern islands, not directly to the Twin Disasters Island, of course. No one in their right mind sailed there.
Damien wasn’t planning to take a ship all the way anyway. Just close enough to fly the rest.
He continued walking, his mind drifting toward the quiet horizon.
Arielle, Lyone, and Apnoch.
Were they already on their way to the Eastern Shirefort? Had they run into trouble? Were they safe?
He shook the thought off. Worrying from a distance never helped anyone.
He would catch up eventually.
For now, he needed strength.
Real strength.
Not borrowed power or through luck. Not the kind that depended on others surviving beside him.
Strength that would let him stand in front of a demon lord and not flinch.
Strength that would let him tear down the ones creating these new variants.
Strength that would make sure no city — no fortress, no kingdom, no person he cared about — suffered like Delwig again.
The path was long and lonely but it was his.
The grassy plains shifted into coastal dunes. Seabirds cried overhead. The breeze grew cooler, sharper.
Damien stopped at a cliff overlooking the ocean.
Waves crashed beneath him. Ships dotted the waters far in the distance like tiny specks on a vast mirror.
There it was; civilization and commerce.
His doorway to the islands.
He inhaled deeply. “Almost there.”
Luton chirped.
Fenrir stared into the distance, tail swaying.
Together, they descended the cliff path, following the road toward the large sea city waiting beyond the horizon.
Damien didn’t know what challenges awaited him next.
But whatever they were, the world was about to learn something important.
He wasn’t done yet. Not even close.