You could picture it so perfectly in your mind: you appear standing on Deathfang's neck, sword already mid-swing, and you take the Daemon's head neatly off its shoulders. You save Deathfang, Asarnil pledges eternal friendship, Deathfang shares some juicy dragon secrets, happy ending for everyone but the Tempter. The Daemon has other ideas. In an instant its talons are out of Deathfang's neck and catching Branulhune in mid-air, and though daemonic ichor spills forth, it manages to arrest the swing of the runic blade. It catches your gaze in its own, and in a moment you know that it was capable of offering you any pleasure imaginable and some that weren't, but all it was willing to grant you was pain.
With one talon clutching Branulhune, a second fending off Asarnil's Ithilmar blade, and its body writhing to avoid Deathfang's massive talons, it somehow manages to spare enough attention to craft a spell. With a scornful glare and a flick of its wrist silvery shards shoot out at you and you're barely able to sway backwards in time to avoid whatever they are, though you manage to wrest Branulhune from its grip as you do so. This gives it the opportunity to turn its full attention on Asarnil and it takes it with savage glee, and an outraged howl echoes across the battlefield as its claws close on nothing but air as Asarnil's silhouette blurs.
That's when a ball of pure-white energy strikes the Daemon's back right where Max's spell-bolt had struck previously, blowing a massive hole through its torso. The Daemon sways in place for a moment, blinking and frowning in confusion, before melting away into rapidly-evaporating ichor. You lower Branulhune, torn between being impressed, grateful, and upset at the sudden intervention of Hysh, before you remember that the rest of the battle is still ongoing. You turn your attention to the fortifications and see that Ruprecht's exhortations has spurred the Winter Wolves into a full-blown countercharge, and the Daemonettes are falling back from the wall of stone as battlecries and shouted prayers to Ulric rise above the din. Then the Daemons follow their leader's example and begin to dissolve one by one, and in moments all that remains is Dwarven bodies and Daemonic ichor.