Runaway Devil

Before I could blink, soldiers were on us like flies on shit. Despite Azgaria's clear orders, I already had four demons on my ass. Sharp bursts of excited energy shot through me with every strike. With the feel of their muscles parting beneath my knife, the spray of blood with every hit to the face, I watched them drop only to be replaced with another. Azgaria wasn't kidding, they made up for the lack of quality with overwhelming quantity.

My world suddenly became small moments. There was nothing outside of the blood, my only prerogative was to kill and move on. The blood lust filled my whole chest with each inhale, and a smile graced my face despite our circumstances. I was back in my skin, with my claws, my fangs, my body. I pulled power and momentum from my feet, up my thick legs, and through my muscled torso with each strike. The sensation was invigorating.

There was a moment of stillness, soldiers were collecting themselves for a brief moment before coming in again. They just watched a good chunk of their comrades die within minutes of the battle's start. And only against a single demon, her hound, and an angel. I would never know the propaganda they were spreading, but they certainly did not do me justice. I almost felt bad for these men, they had no idea what they were in for.

Before they could strike again, I lunged for the one closest to me, his breath catching in his throat. I filled his chest with bullets and moved on, that wouldn't kill him but he would be stunned and out of commision. I felt a jolt move up my arm when I pistol-whipped my next target. His skull was thicker than I expected and despite having just spit blood, his head snapped back to me. He sneered and grabbed for me.

He was big and slow but packed power behind every strike like each was a killing blow. I avoided his grasp and nearly fell into another. I ducked, manuvering around both soldiers like a stuborn mouse between two cats. One was bigger than the other, with a flat, broad face. The other was slender and faster. I was going against two foes with vastly different fighting styles and strengths.

My breathing bacame labored, I couldn't dance all day. My eyes caught an opening. The bigger one, with sharp, piercing eyes, reached out for me. He was grabbing at my face, looking to smash my skull to pieces. I met his open palm with the point of my knife, grinding my teeth as I pushed it past the inside of his wrist, burrying the blade in his forearm. His scream turned into a strained grunt as he craddled his hand. With every minute movement the blade would scrape and grind inside of his hand, wrist, and forearm, turning it to a ribboned mess.

The slender one's dark eyes widened for only a moment before squaring up. He straightened his shoulders and planted his feet, bringing his hands up into the basic training fighter stance. I looked him up and down once, shaking my head. I suddenly saw his age and inexperience. He was Issac's age, just a kid. I couldn't keep the sympathy and pity from my eyes. I would be killing a child.

He saw my moment of hesitation and capitalized on it, like he was trained to do. He stepped in close, since I was bigger than him, he would have the advantage the closer he was. I had reach, he had a lower center of gravity. He landed a few solid blows to my sides, looking for a weakspot in my core. He wouldn't find one. I grabbed his shoulder, anchoring my talons into the meat, and burried my fist in his stomach. I did not release him, but instead continued rearrranging his organs until blood spurted from his lips.

I dropped him and stood, keeping my head on a swivel. Balan was chasing down a soldier, blood and saliva dripping from his massive jaw. The soldier was holding a bloody stump, where half an arm used to be, close to his body. His face was pale and each step looked like his last. Finally, he collapsed and Balan had him. Confident that he could take care of business, I set my sights to Alec.

He stood over a body, more strewn about him, his breathing just as ragged as mine. His skin was spattered with blood and sweat. He held a demon's sword, having taken it after he killed its owner.

"How's it going?" I asked, smirking at him from across the courtyard. He met my smile with an even brighter one.

"It's going." I chuckled, already barreling towards another man. He was twice my size, a freakish height. He was prepared for me, his body expectant and taut. What he didn't expect was for me to duck low at the last possible second. I took him out at the knees and planted the sole of my boot in the back of his neck. His body twitched and a small sound escaped his lips. I left him there to die slowly, unconcsiouness creeping in on all sides.

I snatched his long sword and tested the weight. My brows rose in suprise. It was lighter than it looked. I twirled it, feeling it and how it moved with me. I took a liking to it and hoped I could keep it longer than my other weapons.

I took a step towards my next target. He was roughly my height and build, young and strong looking. There was a glint in his eye that implied more experience, or at the very least intelligence, than the others. Alec was busy with another, unaware that he was being stalked. I was about to start running when something snatched at the back of my shirt.

I was yanked back like a child who was about to run into traffic. I went sprawling but quickly righted myself, braced in a kneeling defesive position. My eyes darted between the demons. They were splattered in blood, some had lost pieces of armor. But they all had the same look in their eyes, It was a rage that only the ignorant could have.

"Treacherous whore."

"Coward."

"Scared little rat."

"Fucking disgrace."

Their taunts all melded together and became one large, angry wave of school yard insults. I watched them and stood slowly, letting them say their piece. I looked at each of them and smiled wickedly.

"You gonna do something about it, or just stand their and bleed?"