2. Dazirus

2

DAZIRUS

T he arena below me roars with excitement. A ten-headed hydra hisses and thrashes, ensnaring seven hapless humans in its death dance. Blood splatters. Limbs fly. It's a gory spectacle, the kind that sends the crowd into a frenzy.

I yawn.

Not that I don't appreciate a good bloodbath. But once you've seen one man lose his entrails to a multi-headed beast, you've seen them all.

I turn my attention back to my book. An erotic tale of a nobleman and his maid. Now, there's an interesting kind of battle. The play of power and submission, the forbidden lust...it makes the hydra look tame.

"Lord Dazirus," says the little demon to my left.

Zalith, my aide, breaks into my thoughts with his customary disdain. He never did understand the art of leisure.

"The council awaits your decision on the trade agreement, Dread Lord."

"Why would I want to do all of that when I can watch idiots beat each other to death in the arena?" I retort, flipping a page in my book without looking up.

"But Lord Dazirus--"

"No buts, Zalith." I silence him with a wave of my hand. The maid in my story is about to have her corset unlaced by her noble master, and I'll be damned if I let a stuffy trade agreement ruin the moment.

Zalith huffs behind me, his frustration evident in every clipped step he takes around my luxury box. Poor Zalith. He doesn't understand that being a noble demon isn't just about power and politics. It's about savoring every deliciously sinful moment life has to offer.

Like watching men lose their lives to a beast while losing myself in an erotic tale of desire and debauchery.

A particularly loud cheer from the crowd pulls my attention back to the arena. The hydra has claimed another victim, leaving a man's severed arm spinning in the air like a grotesque windmill.

"Brutal," I comment, but my mind is already drifting back to the book.

I flip the page. The nobleman's hands are now trailing up the maid's thigh. My own hand idly traces the edge of the page, anticipation curling in my stomach.

Yes, this is much more interesting than any gladiatorial game or trade agreement could ever be.

I glance up from my book, catching sight of the hydra. A shoe dangles from one of its many mouths, a comical contrast to the beast's fearsome visage. A snicker escapes me.

But the amusement fades quickly. A familiar melancholy settles over me like a heavy cloak. My life is far from terrible. Wealth, power, and all the perks that come with being a noble demon are mine to wield. But it's not what I most desire.

What I crave is freedom. To break free from the suffocating embrace of demonic politics and explore the world on my own terms. My gaze drifts to the humans in the arena, so fragile and emotional. Yet, there's something intriguing about them. Something I cannot quite put my finger on.

"Zalith," I say, turning to my aide. "Why does my family forbid learning about humanity? They're fascinating creatures. I find that their propensity for chaos often exceeds that of even demonkind."

Zalith's face scrunches up like he's smelled something foul.

"You give humans far too much credit, Lord. And as far as your family goes, it’s not my place to speak, but…”

I sigh.

“Just out with it, fool. I do not wish to while away eternity while listening to your stammering.”

He sighs.

“It's a good rule, my lord. Humans have... bad habits. Habits your family doesn't want you to learn."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Well, now you’ve got my attention, Zalith.” I lean forward eagerly. “What kind of bad habits?"

"Desire, impulsiveness, and indiscretion," Zalith lists off, his tone disapproving.

A grin spreads across my face.

"That sounds like a good time to me."

Before Zalith can protest, I vault over the railing of my luxury box. The wind whips through my hair as I plummet towards the arena floor. Screw spectating. It's time to fight.

My wings unfurl as I plummet, catching the air and slowing my descent. I land with a thunderous impact that sends sand flying. The crowd's roar hits me like a physical force, a mix of shock and excitement.

I shrug off my robe, letting it fall to the blood-soaked sand. The cool air kisses my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms and chest. My scars, each a testament to battles past, stand out stark against my pale flesh.

The hydra, momentarily distracted by my dramatic entrance, turns its many heads towards me. Confusion flickers in its eyes. This isn't how things usually go.

"Let's make this interesting," I murmur, feeling my eyes begin to glow with anticipation. My blood sings in my veins, pumping hot and fast.

I launch myself at the beast, my fist connecting with one of its scaled necks. The impact reverberates up my arm, but I relish the pain. It's been too long since I've felt truly alive.

Blood sprays as I tear into the hydra, my nails lengthening into claws. I rip one head clean off, the visceral satisfaction of it sending a thrill through me. Before another can grow in its place, I breathe a gout of flame, cauterizing the stump.

The hydra shrieks, its remaining heads snapping at me from all directions. I dodge and weave, my body moving on instinct. A tooth grazes my shoulder, drawing blood, but I barely feel it. The pain only fuels my frenzy.

One by one, I tear the heads from the hydra's writhing body. With each victory, I seal the wound with fire, ensuring no regrowth. The beast's blood mingles with my own, turning the sand beneath our feet into a crimson slurry.

As I face the final head, time seems to slow. The hydra's eyes, filled with fury and fear, lock onto mine. In that moment, I see myself reflected in those reptilian orbs - wild, savage, truly free.

With a roar that shakes the very foundations of the arena, I launch myself at the last head. My hands find purchase on its jaws, and with a strength born of pure adrenaline, I wrench them apart. The crack of bone echoes through the suddenly silent arena.

The hydra's massive body crashes to the ground, lifeless. I stand over it, chest heaving, blood dripping from my fingertips. A grin spreads across my face, wider than any I've worn in centuries.

This. This is what I've been missing.

The roar of the crowd fades into white noise as the rush of battle consumes me. I tilt my head back, reveling in the thrill coursing through my veins. For once, I don't care about politics or responsibilities. I am alive, unchained, gloriously untamed.

A commotion at the arena's entrance snaps me back to reality. Soldiers in ceremonial armor pour into the ring, their expressions a mix of shock and outrage. Of course, my moment of rebellion wouldn't go unpunished.

"Lord Dazirus!" Zalith's panicked voice rings out from the luxury box above. "They're here to take you back!"

I throw my head back and let out a hearty laugh as the soldiers surround me, their spears leveled in my direction. Do they really think a few pointed sticks can contain me? The arrogance is almost endearing.

"You boys picked the wrong demon to mess with," I taunt, flexing my claws. A wicked smile plays on my lips as I prepare to tear into them.

Before I can make my move, a flash of light envelops me, sapping my strength. Runic bindings snake around my wrists and ankles, draining my powers. I growl in frustration, struggling against the magical restraints as the soldiers close in.

"Enough of this nonsense, Lord Dazirus," a gruff voice commands.

I turn to see the Captain of the Royal Guard glowering at me, his hand glowing with the remnants of the binding spell. Curse that overconfident prick and his self-righteous adherence to the rules.

The soldiers seize me, their grips vice-like as they haul me away from the arena. I thrash against their hold, but the bindings have effectively neutered my powers. For now.

As they drag me past the entrance, I catch a glimpse of Zalith watching from above. The smug bastard looks utterly relieved to have me restrained. I lock eyes with him and flash a defiant grin.

"Next time, Zalith," I call out with a laugh. "Next time!"

My voice echoes through the arena as the soldiers pull me into the tunnel beyond. They may have captured me, but they'll never tame the fire that rages within. This was just the beginning of my rebellion against the shackles of nobility.

I am Dazirus Kal'Vareth, and I will not be denied my freedom.