The Author's Viewpoint

This had to be the worst possible situation. One Tave never thought would actually happen. Two demons were holding him tight from behind while another shoved that poison down his throat.

The same poison he had prepared himself.

Fuck.

Tave had no choice. He let the drink slide past his lips, down his throat, burning all the way. Then, forcing a twisted grin, he let out a loud, wild laugh.

"HAHAHAHA! DAMN, THAT HITS HARD!"

He slammed the cup to the ground like a real demon would, roaring with fake joy. The other demons burst out laughing around him.

"YEAH! That’s more like it!"

Another voice rang out from somewhere deeper in the crowd, "Come on! No stopping now! Let’s keep it going!"

More cheers followed. More drinks were raised. The party fired back up.

Idiots. All of them.

Tave’s heart pounded. He could feel something weird happening inside him, like the sigil’s power was shifting, unstable. If it failed now, if the disguise dropped for even a second, he could lose his horn.

Still, as long as he could hold his demon face together, it should be fine. Right?

They were all drunk. Wasted. They wouldn’t notice if he wasn’t wearing a horn... right?

In the middle of all the chaos, Tave tried to slip away, weaving through the crowd while still accepting mugs shoved into his hands. He laughed loud, fake, making it look like he was having the time of his life.

In truth, his mind was racing.

If only I could find a way to free Fang, or at least get my hands on the keys that’s locking the others up.

Then, through the messy blur of music, yelling, and drunken howls, he caught something strange.

"Skarn! Skarn’s back!"

His blood went cold.

He kept dodging the bumping, swaying demons, one of them spilling a full mug right across his face.

Damn it.

"Who the hell is Skarn?" the other shouted.

"C’mon, drink more! This stuff is magic!" someone shouted nearby.

Wait... Skarn?

Tave’s eyes widened. That name. They were saying his name. No, not his name. But the name of the demons whose face he used.

He spun around toward the voice that had said it. It wasn’t the Scum-Brew.

"Skarn! One of the ten that were killed by the challengers!"

The demons around barely reacted, too wasted to care.

"Yeah whatever, who cares... more drinks!"

"Skarn’s here with us! I saw him!"

Tave’s heart slammed in his chest. If more of them started realizing he was alive, this could go downhill fast.

He had to get out. Now.

Without looking back, he pushed through the crowd, head down, moving fast and low between the swaying bodies and clashing cups. As soon as there was a clear path, he slipped out and walked away.

"Skarn, yes, I saw Skarn!"

Tave heard the voice again, louder now. He picked up his pace, pushing harder through the crowd, until he slammed straight into someone.

"Skarn!"

The shout didn’t come from behind this time. It was right in front of him.

Tave looked up and saw the face of the Scum-Brew, grinning ear to ear.

"They love it! They’re drinking like maniacs! Laughing, screaming, falling over. This is perfect!" Scum-Brew’s eyes sparkled with pride. "Thanks to you, Ska."

Before he could say anything else, Tave slapped a hand over his mouth and grabbed his arm.

"Come on," Tave hissed through clenched teeth. "I need more of that drink. Show me where you keep it. I want more. A lot more."

Scum-Brew blinked, surprised, then beamed. "Skarn, you’re enjoying it now too? Haha, finally! Knew you’d come around!"

Every time he tried to say Skarn again, Tave yanked his arm, steering him away and trying to keep him quiet.

Somewhere behind them, the voice still searched for him, cutting through the noise of the party.

Out of all these demons, why the hell did someone have to recognize that name? There’s no way Skarn was that important... right?

Tave dragged Scum-Brew into the storage room where the drinks were kept and slammed the door shut behind them.

"Skarn, you know you can just grab the drink outside, right? Everyone’s out there now." Scum-Brew said with a tipsy laugh, clearly already half-drunk.

But Tave wasn’t listening. He could still hear that other demon calling out, getting closer.

Damn it. I need to hide.

"Hey, come on, let’s head back out. The party’s not over, hahaha! Why’d you drag me in here, you crazy bastard?!"

Then. "Come on, Skarn, let’s go hang with the others before all the drinks run—" Scum-Brew’s words were cut short.

His voice caught in his throat.

Tave’s hand was clenched around his neck, and it was burning, wreathed in the black flame of the Soul Fire.

Scum-Brew’s eyes bulged in shock, his mouth opening to scream but no sound came out. Tave’s grip tightened, and with a sudden yank, he slammed the demon’s body against the side of the brewing shelf. Bottles rattled and a few shattered on the ground.

Before the demon could recover, Tave drew his blade and drove it straight into his chest.

Scum-Brew twitched violently, struggling for a moment, but his strength gave out fast. His arms dropped. His body slumped. Silent.

But then.

Shit.

As Tave stared at the body, he saw them: two horns. Fully intact.

And Tave?

He only had one.

The door burst open, slamming against the wall. A loud voice echoed through the room.

"Skarn! I knew you were in here. Come on, buddy, why didn’t you tell me you made it out alive?"

The demon stepped inside, eyes scanning the dim room, until they locked onto the far corner, where Tave now stood.

But Tave didn’t look like Skarn anymore. He was wearing Scum-Brew’s clothes and had taken on his face, thanks to the shifting disguise.

"The fuck are you doing barging in here like that? You idiot. Who the hell are you even looking for? There’s no one here," Tave snapped, throwing the Scum-Brew voice as best he could.

But then he froze. He’d slipped.

Scum-Brew wasn’t supposed to talk like that. His rank was low. He wouldn’t speak that boldly to any demons in this place.

The demon’s face twisted in anger. He stormed forward and grabbed Tave by the neck, squeezing.

"You dare speak to me like that?" he growled, his breath thick with drink. "I saw Skarn walk in here. I need to find him. He owes me. Don’t get in my way, worm. Do your job, shut your mouth, and stay out of things you don’t understand!"

He shoved Tave against the wall, eyes narrowing, scanning him.

Then his gaze settled right on Tave’s forehead.

Right where the single horn sat.

The demon laughed suddenly, grabbing the horn.

"Your horn’s real nice, huh? Hahaha! Real smooth! Strong too! Look at that!" He cackled, clearly drunk. "Yeah, solid horn! Hahaha!"

Tave tried to pull away, but the demon’s grip only tightened around his horn, yanking it slightly as his expression twisted into something darker.

"This is Skarn’s horn," he growled. "What did you do to him? Where is he?"

His voice was no longer drunk and sloppy. It was sharp, angry, and demanding.

Tave could feel the pressure on his horn getting worse. Pain started to shoot down his skull.

He was out of time.