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Ice materialized under the boy’s feet as he dragged the limp body of a man across the cracked concrete, making it easier for the smaller figure transport the soldier. Under normal circumstances, Emizel wouldn’t have even considered saving the fool’s life. In an ideal world, his first thoughts would have been of finishing the job and making sure the man’s soul made it safely to the afterlife.
But that wasn’t the case. Death was tasked with saving the lives that were on the brink of death. His role was reversed.
A sound. Emizel dropped the man’s coat, straining his ears against the noise of the distant fighting. It wasn’t another demon; he’d be able to feel it’s powers. He was far from the fighting, taking a less known route to avoid conflict.
“Who’s there?!”