Lancelot whirled around, with Frostslash firmly gripped in his hand. Before that woman's voice had sounded, his Spirit Perception hadn't given him the slightest hint, which alone was enough to indicate how terrifying the owner of the voice must be.
The figure that appeared before them was a woman with black hair and a well-proportioned body. She had a pair of thumb-sized horns on her forehead, which added an abnormal, otherworldly mystique to her already beautiful face; her skin was bronze, a color not uncommon among mortals, but it shone with a metallic luster that mortals could never possess.
Beyond the horns, there were other characteristics that betrayed her fiendish identity—such as the huge leathery wings on her back and a long, forked tail. At first glance, she could easily be mistaken for a Succubus, but everyone present was not misled by the particular scent that emanated from her.
"Demon…" Lancelot tensed, like a viper ready to strike, "what do you want to do?"
