The feloine did not blink as he took aim and pulled back on the crossbow’s release, the mechanism spitting out the bolt like the snap of the hooded snakes Ander had seen in his youth. The iron missile flew forward to strike its target directly in the horned head before falling straight down to the floor. The winged devil again began to laugh and dance, frolicking in the air.
Ander looked down at the seemingly useless little bolt and back at the flying devil, a smile forming on his face as wide as the one that Ashrem himself now sported as he recognized the missile for what it was: one of the feloine’s special bolts left over from his service during the demon wars. The scout had once told him that the missiles were specially blessed by the servants of the War Maiden Balsta, meant to pierce the evil aura that protected demons.
Suddenly, the Imp’s frolicking turned to wild contortions as the creature tore at its head with its claws. “What have you done? The pain!”
Ander watched as energy crackled around the devil causing the creature’s leathery hide to blister and crack like mud on a dry sunny day. Shafts of brilliant light emanating from deep within pierced the devil’s limbs, growing brighter with each passing breath, until with a bright flash all that remained was a bit of smoke and a few ashes that drifted silently towards the floor.