The battle was over. Skarmandros opened his eyes with a groan. He was wounded and could hardly see. From what he could see, however, it appeared he had been sent flying by a blast and had landed far away from everyone else, most likely on the other side of a hill.
He winced as he realised the seriousness of the situation. He was so weak he could barely see. Everything was a meagre haze, and his psychic senses appeared to have been disabled somehow. He was bleeding profusely – the black, caustic substance flowing freely from his chest put him in considerable pain.
Suddenly, a figure appeared from over the hill and began to walk towards him. Skarmandros could not see who it was…everything was too blurry…
He only hoped it was an ally…
The figure approached. At the sight of Skarmandros' body, it laughed and kicked him.
The demon recognised the voice. It was Marquess Hector.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Looks like you've finally been defeated," he mocked.
Sirius appeared presently, still riding his horse. Hector turned to Sirius.
"Take our friend to the castle. I will make arrangements once we arrive."
Meanwhile, Jo, X and Damien stood amongst the soldiers' corpses. Not all of them had been killed. Most had fled, and Pent, Louise, Hawkeye and Athos were nowhere to be seen.
Damien suddenly spoke. "Wait a minute! Where's Skar?"
They ran over the hill, too late, it seemed. The demon was already being carried away.
Jo turned to X. "Shouldn't we go and help him?"
The assassin shook his head.
"Not even we can save him now."