The other demons had seemed hesitant to attack me. It felt like an eventuality, given that their creepy leader had given them an order to kill me or chase me off. But I liked to think that my fearsome reputation was what kept them cautiously circling around me.
The assassin, on the other hand, had no qualms. He wielded the same severed Firstborn blade that must have been smuggled off the battlefield in the Department of Torture. And he'd attacked with such speed and ferocity that, as I gripped his wrist, I was failing to keep him from pressing the weapon closer and closer to my throat. Apparently my throat was the most popular target for my enemies. Niven had definitely been a fan.
Again remembering I had strength beyond what had been available to me during my human life, I executed a Vader-esque telekinetic push while simultaneously setting his eyeballs on fire. It may have been a predictable signature move on my part, but I couldn't resist the twisted pleasure of igniting my enemy's ocular organs. As he flew backward in literally blinding pain, I reached out wildly for Torvin. Before the assassin could recover or rally his fellow initiates, I grabbed my captured aide by the scruff of the neck and teleported us both home.
When we were back in the relative safety of my office, I turned to Torvin. "Okay, what the fuck is going on? Please tell me you know something!"
"Bits and pieces, maybe," he said waveringly. "It was all so stressful and I was pretty out of it most of the time."
"Great," I snapped. "As usual, you turned out to be really useful."
"Well, why don't you just teleport back down there and grab yourself a prisoner before they all leave?" he suggested.
"Wow, that's actually a good idea," I admitted. "Now I kind of feel bad about what I just said to you."
It was clear from his expression that he thought I was being sarcastic. But I didn't have time to worry about his fragile self-esteem, so I returned to the cult's hideout without another word.