"W-What?"
The white-haired daemon couldn't help but grin at the display of fear Crosghol exerted. No matter how hard the beast or his men would resist, his fate was inevitable, unavoidable. An asset vital to his plan, the moment he discovered the lupine's location was when he knew he had to act.
And here he stood, the blade wielded by the lupine daemon piercing the flesh at his throat, men of various races and attributes surrounding him; appalled at the revelation of who he was. After all, why had a daemon come after them?
How unfortunate, that they did not realize they were mere playthings to a daemon they believed to be their equal. Who deceived them to bring about chaos to all.
And he, Arvroth, would deliver justice. Atonement. Salvation.
And that started by claiming all that Crosghol was. Every ounce of individuality, to where nothing would remain except an obedient shell who knew only servitude. A necessary step in toppling the reign of their kind that existed since antiquity.
Adamant to the motions and shallow warnings muttered by the group of barbarians, Arvroth's hand rose to the sword at his neck; each finger delicately curling around the metallic blade. Grip tightening, not an ounce of pain radiated from him as blood dripped from cut fingers, joining with that of his neck.
And the moment Crosghol's exterior shattered, was when Arvroth knew his plan had succeeded; the blade falling from the lupine's grip and clattering uselessly against the wooden floor of the tavern.
"Burn to nothingness." Arvroth whispered, his incantation echoing throughout the dim tavern.
Men rasped, clawing at their ears; the pool of blood that had formed where Crosghol's blade sat spreading outwards. The crimson color faded to a rich velvet, before becoming black and viscous. It lapped at the feet of the group, crawling up their legs; cocooning their bodies until nothing but a mass of man-sized blobs were left, weaponry and clothing dissolved by the dark substance. Even the barkeep, who had been silent throughout the majority of the exchange was not spared.
All but Crosghol were consumed, who's essence was rejecting his own. Cracks began to form across his body, fur peeling away to reveal a velvet-tinged slime, mere shades away from mirroring his own.
"Burn away."
Arvroth snapped his fingers, runic glyphs forming in a circular pattern around him and the lupine daemon; too preoccupied with maintaining his consciousness to notice as he was brought into the depths of a pocket dimension filled with nothing more than an endless sea of his predator's essence.
"Resistance only prolongs the inevitable." Arvroth recited, merciless gaze settling into the struggling beastman. Tendrils of velvet burst from his canine shell, interlacing with the rivets of slime that crawled up his legs; consuming his clothing and barring his body.
"After all, as a daemon yourself, you should know better than anyone how we operate." The white-haired man scoffed, the sea of black beneath his booted feet beginning to rise and coat his form. The vermilion long coat draped across his shoulder gained a glossy quality, become viscous as it joined with the black slime that snaked up his body.
Remaining in his human shape was quite taxing, so it'd be best to return to his true form.
He extended both arms to his sides, fingers outstretched. The crimson gem dangled freely from his right hand, a brilliant glimmer radiating from it. Closing his eyes, Arvroth couldn't help but contain his excitement; laughter slipping past his lips as he embraced his power.
All the while, Crosghol stared on in horror, golden eyes had faded to an opaque black with crimson irises. His fur and any article of clothing that could remotely assess him as a mortal had been discarded, revealing nothing more than a semi-solid, semi-liquid daemon with vaguely canine features. The lupine's paws were tipped with scarlet claws, spikes of crimson trailing down his back and shoulders; holding similarity to the large ram-like horns that jutted from his skull above his ears.
Even so, he found himself cowering beneath the shape before him; where there once stood a man vaguely human and rather tall for his kind, instead stood a daemon he knew he had no chance against.
Not that he was going to allow an outsider to sully his pride.
The figure, now only vaguely humanoid, released a roar to the blackened sky of the dimension they had descended into; reptilian maw lined with rows of black, jagged fangs. Large ram-like horns exploded from the daemon's head, a smaller set extending from the top. A long thick tail whipped about from his backside, the tip ending in a jagged, spade-like blade. Blackened claws tipped his large hands and three-toed reptilian feet; six draconic wings furling outwards from his back, significantly darker in color than the rest of his body.
Vermilion eyes staring down at him in contempt, the same calculating gaze the human had possessed bore into Crosghol's conscious. Ornate designs lined the daemon's primarily black form, his hide reminiscent of scales; square-shaped patterns lined with vermilion accentuating his muscled form that would put any muscled brute to shame.
Of course, this was no brute; nor was it a mindless beast.
All paled in comparison to what lay at his crotch, the epitome of a daemon's pride; two large reptilian cocks hanging between his legs, scaled balls large enough he'd need both hands to hold one, vermilion spikes lining his scrotum. The bases were vaguely knotted akin to that of a canine.
"My name is Arvroth." The daemon repeated, his vaguely reptilian muzzle twisting into a grin. "And it will be known to you henceforth, as master."
"Is that arrogance you're sprouting? You should know better than to belittle your elders." Crosghol spat, attempting to maintain a position of authority. The focus of transforming had come with the consequence of Arvroth's essence retracting ever so slightly, granting him a foothold in the endless sea of black; per the steady riveting flow of velvet slime underfoot.
How unfortunate, that the daemon could not realize every action was hopeless. None ever escaped his sight the moment he laid eyes on something of interest; Crosghol would be no different.
"Ah," Arvroth acknowledged, a claw rising to his face in thought. He tapped at his cheek mockingly, retreating a few steps. "My sincerest apologies, O' Great Elder Crosghol. How callous of me, a daemon who would be of no better use than a mere footrest beneath your power."
"...Is what I would say if I held any semblance of reverence for your kind." The six-winged daemon finished, voice sinking to a low baritone befitting that of his appearance. "It is in fact, the opposite; you belong beneath me, as do the rest of your kind."
"You dare insult me with such--?!"
Crosghol roared as tendrils of black shot up to snatch hungrily at his limbs, a howl of agony escaping him upon his semi-solid form being pierced by the stronger essence. Larger tendrils coiled around his arms and legs, forcing him to the velvet tinged ground that was slowly but surely being overpowered by black.
Stuck to his back, the lupine's muscled chest heaved in his futile attempts to tear himself free of the bindings, refusing to accept his fated demise. Only upon the feeling of pressure upon his chest did his struggles cease, wild gaze snapping to meet the pure vermilion slits that served as Arvroth's eyes.
A clawed hand pressing deep into his semi-solid flesh, Crosghol howled in agony as the daemon's five digits clenched; piercing his body as his tentacles did only moments earlier. His eyes clenched shut, hands and feet straining as Arvroth's hand drove deeper and deeper into his chest; black fangs bared in a knowing smile.
Sifting his claws through the lupine's barreled chest, the howls ended as his pointed digits lightly curled around a ball-like object. Slowly, the horned daemon retracted his arm, strings of velvet latching onto his muscled limb. Of course, it was futile as a shimmering orb was brought into the air, clasped tightly within Arvroth's hand. Nearly the size of a human skull, within a gem-like exterior sat a prismatic orb that deflected all semblance of light.
The soul of a daemon.
All daemons possessed a core, himself included. And when a daemon was subjected to high amounts of arousal or when in near-death situations, was when their core would bare itself to the world to be claimed by the daemon's superior; consumed in order to sustain and retain dark abilities.
And in his hand, sat Crosghol's core. Contrary to the crystalized exterior and orb-like shape, it pulsed akin to a beating heart. The prismatic orb within seemed to glare at him, it's lusterless surface appalling to his sight.
Wishing to be done with the task, Arvroth's free hand unclenched, revealing the crimson gem that he had revealed in the tavern earlier; a shard of purified daemonic mana, unlike natural forms of mana that could be found throughout the realm.
Wordlessly and without haste, the six-winged daemon inserted the crimson gemstone into the salvaged core, the crystalline shell rippling upon making contact. Merging with the prismatic orb within, the crimson gem faded into a fine powder-like substance, specks of red dissipating and absorbed into the prism.
The pulsing crystalline exterior began to slow, webs of cracks spreading outwards until the entirety of the orb was coated. With a clench of his claws, the powerless shell shattered into pieces, exposing the prismatic orb.
Bringing it to his face, Arvroth promptly shoved the orb into his reptilian-esque maw, black tongue savoring the essence he had harvested. Upon clenching his fangs, the prism shattered into a fine powder as it had after absorbing the crimson gem; the shards swallowed and absorbed into his body.
Moaning, Arvroth could not contain his arousal at the feeling of power coursing through his body. The harvesting and consumption of another daemon's core granted euphoria unlike any other, evidenced by the stirring of his twin reptilian members; the knotted basing engorging alongside his bubbling scrotum.
Rising to his feet, the vermilion daemon paid little mind to whatever remained of Crosghol, knowing full well the lupine daemon would eventually lose both shape and mind without a core.
Upon stepping away, however, Arvroth sighed as he felt the slimy, unstable grasp of the unrelenting daemon coil around his right ankle; the beastman's other hand shooting to grasp his left.
"G-Give… it… back…" The unstable beast rasped, small tendrils of his essence extending from his clawed hands to crawl up the horned daemon's legs and feet.
"You've already lost, Crosghol," Arvroth sighed, sparing a sidelong glance at the groveling beast. "Although, I must admit the relentlessness you've displayed is certainly extraordinary…"
Kicking his leg back and breaking free of the beastman's weakened grip, a devilish grin grew across the daemon's face; relishing in the pleasure of grinding his heel into the lupine's muzzle. He repeated the action for his other leg, the lupine's waning strength unable to accomplish much more aside from prolonging his inevitable expiration.
"I'll admit, Crosghol; while I intended on letting you expire after I was done harvesting your core, perhaps in your final moments of sentience you'd do well…"