THE DEMON WAR CHRONICLES

Chapter Six:The Curse of Envy Unleashed

Smoke rose thick above the battlefield, the blood of soldiers mixing with the sand, as if the earth itself was weeping.

Amid this chaos, Dragmor emerged from the flames, his body covered in burns and ash, his features radiating furious rage.

His destruction-filled eyes locked onto Ashura, his heartbeat echoing like the drums of war:

> "This hurts… you insane bastard… I’ll return it to you tenfold!"

Narrator:

Dragmor was not merely the left hand of Queen Aletheia… he was a monster disguised as a warrior.

Every blow he took didn’t weaken him — it turned into energy within, exploding back upon his foe.

That’s why many considered him even more dangerous than Falkoris, the right hand.

He spread his massive wings before letting out a thunderous roar that tore through the battlefield, charged with lethal power.

The energy he absorbed from the burning skull turned into a greater flame, wrapped in a dark aura.

He roared as he hurled it toward Ashura:

> "Taste your own fire… you lunatic!"

The attack rushed toward Ashura at insane speed, the ground trembling beneath him while the latter screamed in madness, raising his hands to block it — but Dragmor’s power was overwhelming.

Rocks crumbled, debris scattered, and everyone felt the shockwaves of his might.

Ashura screamed as his body cracked apart:

> "How… dare you… steal my power!!!"

But the explosion swallowed him whole — a hellish fireball rising to the sky, lighting up the battlefield as if a new dawn had burst forth in the middle of the night.

Narrator:

Ashura was no ordinary foe. He fed on his twisted emotions, his burning envy his true weapon.

Even as he burned within the flames, he did not die — he laughed madly:

> "Heehaaah… burned me with my own fire? Excellent… I want more… show me everything!"

From within the tongues of flame, his body began to crack again, and even darker, denser black flames erupted, destroying Dragmor’s attack, releasing a black energy that made the heavens tremble.

Ashura laughed — more maniacally than ever — his charred body splitting apart, as if another beast was about to break free from within.

Narrator:

The Curse of Envy was about to surface… the more Ashura envied what he didn’t have, the closer he came to his true form…

And now, he transformed into a terrifying demonic shape: three faces — one mocking, one grim, one twisted in amusement — all screaming different words, yet sharing the same madness.

Six arms burst from his body, each wielding a different weapon: two swords, two spears, and two scythes.

He raised them all at once, and the voices of his three faces merged into a single roar:

> "Show me more… show me your power… I’ll crush you all!"

---

Clash of the Great Powers

Dragmor clenched his fist, trembling with rage:

> "This isn’t just a demon… we have to stop him here!"

Falkoris stared for a moment, his voice cold as ice:

> "This… is dangerous. We must work together."

Queen Aletheia, her expression calm yet deeply focused, thought to herself:

> "If we don’t end him now… we’ll all regret it."

The soldiers beneath her wings trembled, even the Nargul in the skies backed away for a moment, feeling as if a new master had arrived upon the battlefield.

Ashura screamed madly, the echoes of his three voices spreading everywhere:

> "Come on… let’s all play! Let’s feast on your hearts!"

His six weapons rose in a deadly whirlwind, tearing through rock and sky alike, soldiers falling, the wind carrying screams and blood.

Narrator:

Ashura’s attacks weren’t mere power — they were a curse.

Anyone touched by the aura of envy collapsed within, their hearts breaking before any blade or arrow reached them.

---

The Heroes’ Resistance

Dragmor charged forward, his massive wings shielding against the wave of dark energy, his roar shaking the earth:

> "You won’t pass without a price!"

Falkoris split through some of the attacks with lethal calm, his face emotionless — yet those he struck felt a chilling death before his blade even touched them.

Aletheia spread her wings, a radiant barrier engulfing her soldiers, protecting them from annihilation.

Narrator: Despite all his assaults, none had fallen — yet Ashura’s overwhelming might threatened the entire alliance.

Ashura advanced, his three faces screaming in madness, his six arms moving at impossible speed, dark energy exploding from his body — each strike creating cosmic chaos: rocks collapsing, the sky cracking, soldiers either falling or swallowed by the darkness.

Narrator:

Ashura had become the embodiment of envy’s curse. Immense power, boundless insanity — seeking to destroy all he did not possess.

---

Collision of Titans

Dragmor struck first — his flaming fist colliding with Ashura’s chest. The black scythe blocked it, and the impact sent shockwaves that shook the ground.

Falkoris charged from the other side, his strikes cold, precise, yet clashing against Ashura’s mad power.

Ashura laughed and shouted:

> "Heehaah! Is that all you’ve got?"

Falkoris:

> "Do not speak to me… demon."

Aletheia raised her hand, unleashing a barrage of radiant arrows. Some pierced Ashura’s body, others deflected against his arms — but he enjoyed it:

> "Aaah… wonderful… show me more!"

Narrator:

With every blow, he didn’t weaken — he grew fiercer.

He turned into a hurricane of madness, the likes of which Dragmor, Falkoris, and Aletheia had never faced before.

Falkoris:

> "This is no enemy to be underestimated… we fight as one."

Dragmor:

> "That maniac… I’ll be the one to stop him!"

Aletheia:

> "Time to fight seriously… no holding back."

Narrator:

The entire battlefield quaked with his triple laughter, as the three mighty warriors stood united.

Blood, flame, black energy, and golden feathers entwined in a vortex of violence.