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The chains emanated a dark, profane energy, winding tightly around Ifrit's entire form.
Whoosh!
The white flames surged, desperately trying to burn through the chains; however, they only continued to tighten around Ifrit. This Spirit King, this transcendent being, was being rendered powerless. Orion, the elf patrol captain who had summoned Ifrit, scowled. No one could understand how it had come to this.
"Ifrit, burn those chains," Orion commanded. There was no way that the chains of a mere dark mage could hold a Spirit King. It was an absolute being that commanded the raw forces of nature, a god in all but name.
"The situation is not good at all," Ifrit said calmly in Orion's mind. "We've been caught in a trap. These chains aren't forged by human hands."
"If it wasn't created by humans, then…?" Orion muttered.
"There's a presence here that embodies the pinnacle of dark magic."
"...The Demon King?" Orion said slowly, dreading the very name.
"Yes, this stench of death belongs to him—the Demon King of Slaughter," Ifrit confirmed.
Orion's mouth tightened into a grim line. He hadn't anticipated the Demon King's involvement. But beyond that, Ifrit's flames had grown weak, lacking...
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