With the Labyrinth of Lies behind them, KJ felt a newfound clarity, his mind hardened, his control over his powers more refined. Malak, grudgingly impressed, led him through a series of treacherous, yet direct, pathways leading towards Lord Veridian's citadel. The Demon Lord's fortress loomed on the horizon like a jagged, black mountain, piercing the sickly crimson sky of Hell. It was a monument to oppressive power, built from fused obsidian and reinforced with the screaming souls of its countless victims, their tortured faces etched into its very walls. Legions of Veridian's forces patrolled its perimeter, their numbers immense, their vigilance unwavering.
"Veridian rarely engages in direct combat," Malak whispered, his voice dry. "He prefers to watch, to manipulate from the shadows. But he will not suffer such an insult as your continued existence within his domain. He will be waiting." Malak's plan was audacious: not to sneak in, but to create such a massive diversion that Veridian would be forced to reveal himself. KJ's red aura, now capable of both subtle control and overwhelming force, was the key.
They launched their assault at the weakest point Malak had identified – a fortified gate guarded by a battalion of heavily armored fiends. KJ unleashed his power, a focused burst of his red aura that slammed into the gate, warping and twisting the infernal metal. The fiends rushed them, their numbers seemingly endless. KJ fought with a cold, precise fury, his movements a blur of crimson light. He manifested his aura not just as energy blasts, but as razor-sharp constructs, slicing through armor and limb. Malak, a shadowy phantom, moved among the demons, using dark magic to sow confusion, turning their allies against each other, striking at their weak points with poisoned blades. The combined assault was a whirlwind of destruction, tearing a gaping hole in Veridian's outer defenses.
The ensuing chaos was precisely what Malak desired. Sirens wailed through the citadel, and legions of demons were drawn to the breach. KJ and Malak pushed deeper, fighting their way through corridor after corridor, leaving a path of devastation. Finally, they reached Veridian's throne room, a vast, cavernous chamber pulsing with dark energy. And there he was. Lord Veridian. He was not the hulking brute KJ had expected, but a tall, slender demon, cloaked in living shadow, with eyes like chips of polished obsidian that held an ancient, chilling intelligence. He sat upon his throne, a look of contempt etched on his face.
"So, the prodigy crawls from the abyss," Veridian's voice was a low, resonant growl that vibrated through the chamber. "You have caused me… inconvenience. A minor infestation, easily purged." He rose, and the shadows around him deepened, coalescing into spectral weapons and guardians.
The battle began. Veridian was a master of shadow manipulation, his attacks fluid and unpredictable. He could extend razor-sharp tendrils of darkness, project blasts of corrosive shadow-fire, and summon ephemeral clones of himself. KJ met him head-on, his red aura blazing like a supernova, pushing back against the encroaching darkness. He learned to counter Veridian's shapeless attacks by focusing his aura into solid force constructs – crimson shields, pulsing projectiles, even temporary enhancements to his own physical strikes. He unveiled a new aspect of his aura, manifesting it as powerful, concussive waves that ripped through Veridian's shadow constructs, forcing the Demon Lord to put more effort into defense.
Malak, though outmatched by Veridian's raw power, acted as a crucial support. He targeted the structural weak points of the throne room, causing collapses that distracted Veridian, and used subtle, debilitating curses to momentarily weaken the Demon Lord's connection to his shadows. The fight was a dance of light and shadow, brute force against cunning, raw power against ancient magic. KJ pushed his aura to its absolute limits, feeling the strain, but refusing to yield. He saw the cold anger in Veridian's eyes, the surprise giving way to frustration, then a flicker of fear. The Demon Lord had underestimated the "prodigy."