Nothing really changed. Sefi sat opposite, calm as always, straight-backed and steady-eyed. She did not tremble, did not pale, did not try to say anything – just watched Serie. Her face carried no anxiety, no confusion, only ordinary concentration. As if this was just another day.
— Miss Serie, you must eat, — she finally said, her voice even, almost lifeless. — Today is a remarkable day, and I have prepared dinner, tasty. — She gently pushed toward Serie a plate with something new. A light, cold sweetness, adorned with mint and thin shavings. — This should please you. You have never eaten such before, I recall your food history.
Serie took the spoon. The sweetness was... flawless. The taste measured to perfection – soft, refreshing, like the breath of the forest before rain. And yet...
— Delicious, — she said quietly, almost in accusation. — Too much so.
She had expected something to be wrong. Something she could seize on, say: “Oh no, it’s bitter,” and in that way let her soul breathe. But the food was perfect. As was the evening. And that only deepened the bitterness inside.
— You really aren’t troubled... are you? — she exhaled, eyes lowered.
— I am surprised, — Sefi answered. — However it does not matter. You need not waste energy considering such things. Today is a special day, and I believe you deserve rest.
Serie looked at her. The girl... no, the demon – kept speaking with that calm, detached voice, like reading an instruction manual. Yet she kept sliding plates closer, bringing seconds, adding tea at the right temperature. Everything was perfect.
— You are a demon... — Serie whispered, as if to herself.
— Correct, — Sefi nodded. — I possess all traits, according to definition... demon, by your words of course. Reason, magic, sharp teeth, the need for meat. However I control my actions, and see no reason to interfere with you. I have not committed crimes against humans. I am certain I am capable of living in society.
— You feel no fear in that?
— I would like to, but cannot. Though I suppose not a problem, still it is a small problem. — She stopped for a few seconds, — Though I must admit, it is strange.
Serie lowered her head. No, she did not understand. She could not. Demons feel no guilt. No love. No fear. They simply exist – doing what they must. Without hate. Without pity.
— And what will you do... when I leave? — Serie suddenly asked. Her voice almost colorless.
— Since you raised this topic... — Sefi paused. — I want to start a business. Sell goods, make wine... simply live. That is my goal. — And after a pause she added: — And... I would like to hire you again. You are a good teacher, Miss Serie.
No... this could not continue...
— I will kill you.
Sefi lifted her gaze. Only now did something faint flicker across her face – not fear, not outrage... more like just a pause. She raised her brows slightly.
— Why?
The question was simple. Almost childish. It struck Serie harder than any spell.
— I... — she coughed, fists tightening. — ... — Words would not come, stuck in her throat. She wanted to speak, but could not... It was awful, absurd. Strange, she just wanted... to end it all.
— I have caused no harm. Not killed humans. Not betrayed. Not lied. I only learned. I cook, I clean, I follow your schedule. I help. I do not understand the reason why you want to destroy me. Perhaps for killing animals? If so, you ate them too, so I assume no, you are not a hypocrite. Please, explain. This is important for my further adaptation... or is this your joke?
Serie said nothing, could not: what rose inside her like a wave, like a storm... fists clenched. The words were logical, hitting straight at her core. Indeed, what had the demon done? She had not killed humans, not devoured them, not crushed lives into the dirt, and here Serie said she would kill her. For nothing, just... because...
— Is it because I am a demon?
And Serie nodded
— "Wanted her... to lie," — Serie caught herself thinking. A terrible thought: selfish, full of spite, hypocrisy and pride... unworthy of her.
Wanted this creature to lie
To say: “I am awaited,” “I have changed,” “Spare me,” – as demons do. If only she had lied. If only she had cried. If only she had clung to words, to pity...
If only she had tried to kill. Leapt forward, clawed her throat, hissed, breathed hard, unleashed claws, fangs, magic. If only she had proven she was a monster...
Anything, to make it easier, to erase this vile sense of guilt, to... kill
But Sefi did nothing. She just sat, passing her the spoon, adjusting the teapot, sliding over the armrest stand.
And that was worse. Far worse.
— Still... Miss Serie, I would call this... prejudice and a hasty conclusion on your part. Violence is not necessary... — Sefi began, but was cut off.
Serie’s fists pressed harder into the wooden surface of the table. The demon fell silent, seeing this, and dared not continue. Sefi only sighed. She chose one plan.
She directed mana into the floor
Serie felt it instantly. Her body grew lighter. Much lighter. Here it was, the nature of demons. That sensation – like sleep, like a dream... relief... yes. Now this creature would strike. Perhaps even creatively. Just a little longer.
Mana seeped from Sefi’s body into the floor, reshaping the structure beneath. She did not even try to conceal it. Serie had never taught her that – it would be against the nature of a demon. They do not hide. They do not mask. They fight... they are monsters, beasts.
Spikes?
Predictable. Yes, effective. But... one might expect something more refined from her. Though, perhaps not. From a demon – only aggression. Nothing else. Savages with human words.
The floor’s material bent, becoming alive, flexible. From it rose tendrils of wood, but – with no sharp ends. They did not seek to wound. They meant... to bind.
For a moment Serie felt doubt. Just a moment. And then – her defense triggered automatically.
The tendrils burst into splinters, not reaching half a meter from her. Instant dispersal. Another’s magic – nothing against her spells.
Sefi blinked. Her eyes widened just slightly. She had not expected that. And Serie... only lowered her gaze.
— You should have aimed for the head, — she said, weary. So weary... deeply. — That would have been easier. — True. For herself. Easier. She was selfish, yes. But also tired. Of thoughts. Of demons. Of herself... why...
She raised her hand and slowly, without emotion, pointed her fingers at Sefi
— Zergest. — The spell of mana destruction, one of the most powerful and pure. It erases everything: mana, spells, structure... even demons, for they are magical beings. Yet it would be quick, very quick, without awareness, without pain, without anything.
It was mercy
***
...
...
...
...
...
Sefi was still standing
Nothing had happened
Serie was silent. Something inside kept her from finishing it. It hurt inside – not an enemy’s spell, no... just there. Existing and... simply... there.
The house sank into emptiness. The spell with which she had seized the whole space dissolved on its own. She had drained the magic within the house, the very magic Sefi had fueled into everything here. Clearly she had chosen to use her own home as a weapon, even if it meant destroying it in the process... better not, for... this place would be her memory. Her last. Let it not become a grave. Killing here could not be allowed.
— Outside, — she ordered, rising. She simply stood. No anger. No emotion. — Try to run, I will kill you.
— Understood, Miss Serie, — Sefi replied. Her voice calm. She glanced at the house. No mana could be felt. Which meant the spell had been cast and lifted instantly. Efficient. Rational. Just like Serie herself. But what was it, all of this... in a single second...
***
Outside, a light wind stirred. Over the forest, darkness was falling. Sunset had burned out, yet still lingered in its reflections. Leaves whispered, but birds were silent. The world stood still... as if only the two of them remained alive.
Two figures faced each other. One – brimming with anger, bitterness, fear. The other – with empty, dispassionate eyes.
— This is your final lesson, — Serie said. — If you can wound me... even a scratch, a strand of hair, a nail – you live.
She paused. This was mercy. Even if false. But sometimes a lie is kinder than the truth... and who is the demon here? It is she who deceives, not the demon... what a betrayal...
The demon made her curious
The demon was her student
The demon... served her
And now she deceived the demon
Truly, what kind of trap is life? Could such things be real? Some divine plan? Design or chain of chance? Was she lucky or not?
— I will be careful, Miss Serie, — came the response from her opponent... the demon.
Quiet. Even. Without a note of fear. Just a statement.
***
The sunset burned out. And silence came.
Serie stood, her head tilted slightly forward. The fingers of her right hand slowly traced through the air – as if a conductor marked the prelude. Around her, space shuddered. Mana gathered, heavy as lead. It did not explode. It pressed down, and that was only part of her strength. No need to show all.
Sefi just stood, watching her with awe. Her wave of mana was powerful, but she relied on quantity, while Serie used density and concentration.
— I will use only one spell, — Serie threw. — Begin.
Sefi did not reply. She only raised her hand, and a thin streak of mana passed through the air, like a brushstroke of ink. She said nothing. Spoke no incantation, no word. Her magic required no language. Only calculation.
The first attack was barely visible
Barely perceptible to the eye, it was an attack of needles. Long needles, aimed at arms and legs, the places where one could disable without killing. Eight of them, small objects, moving at high speed, impossible to dodge.
But Serie had already stepped aside. Her body moved with ease, almost carelessly. With her fingers she made a sharp motion – and one of the needles collapsed, tearing itself apart. The rest scattered, like fragile plants under a heavy hail.
— More, — she smirked. — You promised.
— My actions correspond to the conditions, — Sefi answered calmly.
The second attack followed almost instantly. From beneath the ground spikes began to grow – crude, large and sharp enough to pierce steel. They rose in hundreds of rows, creating a cage, a trap, continuous geometry changing each second. They did not strike. They tried to corner, to remove any chance of retreat.
Serie did not change tactics. Her face did not move, but anger gripped her more strongly.
— Zergest. — A second and… space collapsed. Spikes three meters from her crumbled into molecules. The air vibrated. A light wind turned into a storm. The whole attack dissolved, and the elf hadn’t moved, not a step, not even a centimeter.
Sefi did not retreat. She simply began to advance in another way. Such attacks meant nothing to Serie, then perhaps explosions? Gunpowder was needed, but a high concentration of oxygen could replace it. After all, air sustains fire, and if there’s too much of it, there should be a blast. Pump enough in and there will be an explosion.
A gust of wind flung her hair back, but she remained still. In her eyes – no fear, no hatred, not even interest. Only fixation: target, direction, calculation. Points of pressure.
— You don’t want to survive, — Serie said, watching her attacks, watching how she froze.
— Incorrect, — Sefi replied. — I am analyzing the most effective strategy.
Serie took a step. One. The only one, in her direction. The earth beneath her rose as a wall, lifting in a surge, a spiral storm of debris surrounding her, meant to restrain. It all flared with flame – fire magic, but distorted, dense, too much. The fire burned bright, turning into blue flame.
Sefi extended her hand
The air between them collapsed. Now she increased the concentration not gradually, but sharply. The flame flared again, and then came the explosion, but it vanished at once, as if it had never been.
— Interesting. — Serie spoke when the wall of earth before her fell apart like sand. She began to step toward Sefi, slowly, step by step. Nothing could stop her. She simply existed and showed her superiority by merely walking toward her. — But not enough… although…
***
— You don’t understand, — she whispered. — I am not defeating you, I am simply denying your existence as a threat.
She raised her hand, one last time
— If you were a monster… I would fight. If you lied… I would scream. If you begged, even once… I would waver… but you – are emptiness. You cannot be hated. You cannot be forgiven.
She slowly stretched her fingers forward
— I am not killing a demon. I… am deleting an error. — She said it not to Sefi, but to herself… as if convincing herself. — Yes… an error.
Her fingers closed
— Zergest.
The mana inside Sefi shuddered. Like dust struck by a blow. Her heart began to contract. Not an explosion. Not death. Not pain. Just disappearance. Swift.
Like turning off a lamp in a house long abandoned
Sefi lifted her gaze
— I… understand. Thank you, Miss Serie.
She vanished
Because now Serie was left only with guilt. Guilt for wanting to kill not a monster… but a being that tried – coldly, mechanically – yet tried to care. Simply because she had decided so.
***
How she wished this scene were reality, that… everything would just vanish. But no… She held the demon’s life in her hands, she didn’t even need to approach her… Just do it, but Serie couldn’t, she didn’t. She couldn’t find the will.
Sefi tried again. A complex weave of pentagrams. A fireball, sealed into a core and surrounded by an anti-magic dome – in case of dispersion… maybe that way it could be protected from it… dispersion?
She hurled it — three at once
— Zergest, — Serie said. Quietly.
And all three spells vanished, as though they had never been. She hadn’t even lifted her hand. Sefi stepped back.
— Your… control is too effective, — she spoke, as if comparing what happened to her own logic. — I miscalculated.
Then she directed mana into the ground, the air, every drop of space, constructing a tactical circle. The entire battlefield was to explode. This was her maximum. Everything she had learned – in one attempt. At least some scratch it had to inflict… yes. Something, anything. It was her trumpcard.
To finally wound
And the ground beneath Serie began to glow – so bright the evening turned into a false dawn. But the elf did not move. She stood as if waiting for that light, watching the earth… and simply observing. No slightest motion, no shadow of doubt.
Sefi thought: what to do? She needed to protect Serie from the explosion, and yet deal at least a scratch. But how? It seemed impossible. Cancel the spell?
— Don’t you dare, — Serie said, as if reading her thoughts.
Looking closely, one could understand – she had been watching Sefi the whole time. Watching her eyes. Every movement. Her gaze was sharp, almost painfully attentive. She saw everything. Even the tiny shifts in Sefi’s face that Sefi herself did not realize. Strange… she feels no emotions, yet her face still changes. What kind of habit is that. Neither good nor bad – it simply exists.
The explosion came
Deafening, blinding, like the flash of the sun at arm’s length. Night shattered, yielding to day, but only for an instant. The roar filled everything, the flat field turned into a crater. This was her all – her trump card, her finale.
— Poor. Very poor, — came the voice.
Serie stepped out of the crater. Not a speck of dust on her. Not even her hair was tousled. Her gaze burned with hatred. She advanced – step by step, slowly, like death itself, certain she would catch her. And the victim could no longer run.
— You were supposed to wound me. Kill me! Do anything! But not protect! — her voice broke. — What… you don’t want to live?! Or do you think I’ll spare you?!
— I… did this? — Sefi did not at once understand that she had protected her. It had happened automatically. Without decision. Without plan. Her strength was gone – mana drained to zero, her body weak, her legs would not hold. She collapsed, into mud, into emptiness. Strange… with what had she protected her? Earth magic? Perhaps she had strengthened the structure or the barriers?
— You… you… wretch! — Serie grabbed her by the throat, sharply, harshly, pulled her close. — Playing with me?! Bastard! — her voice trembled. This was not just anger, it was fury that drowned reason. — … I will show you a demon’s instincts… I will kill you… make the cause.
And then everything around changed
The space filled with light – not blue, no. White. Poisonously pure, searing. This was not just light – it was the essence of mana, condensed to the limit. A misty veil streamed through the air, filling everything, like the flesh of the elements. Serie’s mana was absolute: without color, without form, as if the sky itself had fallen to earth and become a body. She stood at the center of this aura – motionless, proud, terrifying.
Magic itself would bow before her
She was not a sorcerer. Not an elf. She was God.
— How do you like it? — her voice came with a light smirk, but inside it was something that froze the blood in veins. Not that it mattered. — "Come on, tell me I’m a heretic, that I’m unworthy of the title of mage, that I’m worthless" — This was her desire, the one she wanted to hear. This was… her trump card.
To finally… kill
Sefi tried to answer – but the trembling in her hands betrayed her. Her fingers quivered as if from cold, and inside something began to crawl, bitter, viscous. Fear. It rose slowly from her stomach to her throat. She didn’t know what it was. But it was.
— You are God… — Sefi said, looking up, where foreign power quivered in the shroud. — But… why do you fight me?.. You could have destroyed me in the first second. Then why… play?
— Because I can, — Serie simply said. Her fingers tightened on Sefi’s throat, firmly, as though wanting to crush it. — Well, what do you feel?
— I feel… — Sefi said and closed her eyes, her hands trembling, cold, this was fear, but inside. Bitterness, something burning. — fear. Bitterness, heat… I don’t understand. Perhaps anger?
Serie’s smile widened. Unhealthy. Almost animal.
— You are like all demons. Ha! — her laughter sounded so that it was no longer clear who here was the demon. — At last. At last! I have a reason. A reason! I will kill you!
She hurled Sefi into the ground. Sefi could not even raise a hand. No mana. No strength. No pain. Only emptiness. As if her life had ended, yet her body still lived. And that was more frightening than death.
— Mort, — Serie whispered, and a beam of death burst from her hand. It was not Zergest. It was something else. A grim ray, black as the abyss, with a cutting edge. Magical armor or sorcery might protect from it, but the demon had neither. This was her end. It did not merely kill – it annihilated essence itself, as though burning away the very idea of existence.
…
…
…
…
…
***
But he did not reach the target
The beam passed a centimeter from Sefi
He stopped
Serie could not
The fingers on her hand trembled. The veins at her temples pulsed with rage. But she did not take a step.
— Disappear… away! — she shouted. — If you don’t leave within ten seconds… you will die!
Sefi did not move
Not because she didn’t want to, but because she couldn’t
Her body felt as if it were filled with lead. How to be? How to move… how… but… ah, she must… she doesn’t want to die. Not here, not now… never.
One
Sefi barely got to her feet, looked at Serie, and somehow began to stagger forward. Her legs trembled, just a little more – and she would collapse to the ground. But she couldn’t. She mustn’t. She absolutely mustn’t.
Two
It was something inside. It made her move. Fear… fear of death. Terror before this… god. And if there was a chance – she would leave, run away. Hide… like now.
Three
But there was also something else, more bitter and burning than fear – spite. Why did she hide her power? If she had shown it – this wouldn’t have happened. Sefi would have long since fled… left, or done something else. But no. Miss Serie… no, the elf concealed her power, as if she were toying with her, as if Sefi were a mouse. Played with her. Still… what was the point of hiding strength? Why not show it? Proudly, to everyone. Then she would have neither enemies nor problems. So why? Illogical. If she had such power… she would have…
Four
It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. The main thing – to survive. If she’s alive – then it’s worth every effort. No matter what. Yes. She must live.
Five
The main thing… to escape. Far from the house… from this forest. And not to be seen by this elf… god – it doesn’t matter. To hide and live. Quietly. To gather strength… and… but does she have a chance against a god? Against absolute might? Perhaps, yes. She saw that her mana was of enormous scale, spreading more than a kilometer. But such a quantity could be achieved… and then… yes… she would take revenge.
She would kill for everything
***
Six
The demon barely staggered forward. Could not run, but desperately moved. That was good… but too slow. Should she draw out the numbers, to give her a head start? How it infuriates… with every passing second. Couldn’t she just kill? Huh? She could. But she didn’t.
Seven
Inside something desperately thrashed whenever she wanted to kill her. Dragged her down – her heart, her soul, like an anchor into the depths of the sea. How maddening. She should never have come to this place. Better if she had destroyed everything without any hesitation.
Eight
How much she wanted… just to leave this place. Leave all feelings behind. Only her body held her back. It didn’t want to go. It didn’t want to lose sight of the demon. Why? Out of some petty care? Out of food? For what? She could have had the best of the world, hundreds of times better than all this. This wretched house, this wretched food, this wretched everything… but… was it really so wretched? Since her heart… didn’t want to let go? At first she was playing, but then… did that disappear? Or not?
Nine
This demon is strong. Not now, but one day she will be. She will kill many… and Serie could have stopped it. But she didn’t want to. Was this selfishness?
Ten
The countdown came to an end. The demon had not left, had not vanished from her sight. Her movements were sluggish, her legs barely carrying her body – as if a gust of wind would topple her. Like a fragile branch. The demon had no strength like hers: no mana, no techniques, no spells. Nothing. Her magic could have ended it all in a second. But it did not happen. She needed to better… understand herself. To understand… yes… to understand, then she would speak.
She would speak for everything
— Today is a special day, isn’t it? — Serie looked at the sky. The moon shone beautifully across the dark expanse, illuminating everything. The stars swayed, the wind blew… everything was perfect. But nothing held her here.
She could have simply left. But no… her body turned toward the house, as if controlled by someone else, and she stepped there – to the door. Covered with hide, so it would be warm. To the house that… pulled her in.
***
The table was set, as before, only the food had cooled a little… She shouldn’t have started talking about… all that. Or was it not she who started speaking? Strange. Usually she remembered everything – millennia, all their events. But not this part. As if… she didn’t want to. Still… the food was delicious. Yes, not terrible. She found no flaws. Too delicious. Pleasant… and painful.
— I must finish… the meal.
After all, the food was prepared by her
— I don’t even know her name… — A month was something fleeting for her, like a blink. All this time she merely did what she wanted, but never truly tried to know… her. And now her chest ached from it.
She sat down on the chair, took a spoon, and scooped up the already melted dessert: icy shavings with berries, which had been too many this month, and grapes… now mixed with water… like a soup. A strange soup.
— Tasty… — Yes, too much so. Hah… how curious, how strange and how unnatural. Such a thing could have been made even by ordinary people. Only… the taste was different.
Why?
She didn’t know. In all her life she knew much, almost everything about the universe. But not this. Strange… truly, why… had it become salty? Usually this was sweet. Could it be… that demon oversalted it? Hard to believe. She would have noticed earlier. And then…
— Am I crying?