"So be it." Mors let out a menacing laugh as he backflipped, dodging the golden spear easily before gracefully landing. Much to the horror of the villagers and priestess, Mors performed a small, mocking bow as he revealed a confident, unyielding smile. "Let me introduce myself, My name us Mors Letus, and I will be exterminating you on this fine evening. Don't worry about being impolite and not telling me your names; I won't remember them anyway."
Mors' actions, along with the spine-chilling aura that emanated from him caused the seasoned guards, many having served in the military, to swallow hard and grasp their weapons tightly as they took a few steps back.
"Defiant to the end," shouted the priestess as she muttered something under her breath before the guards were surrounded by a warm, golden glow, removing the fear that was gnawing at their hearts.
Seeing this Mors chuckled. He knew that the invisible barrier trapped him, the woman just cast some kind of spell to aid the guards and that they were much stronger than him but instead of fear, he felt elated.
When facing a superior force in a hopeless situation, do everything in your power to sow the seeds of doubt and fear. Act without mercy, restraint and limits. The victor writes history. Never give up, never surrender.
"Things are so much easier when there is only one choice. Kill or be killed, destroy or be destroyed. Survival of the fittest," chuckled the demon, his previous concerns and worries seeming incredibly insignificant.
Four guards rushed towards Mors, thrusting their spears towards his limbs in an attempt to disable him. Their attack was executed with incredible teamwork and skill. However, Mors simply grabbed the tip of the fastest spear and lifted himself up out of the way of the others, before quickly spinning and using the vicious, black spikes on his tail to blind one of his assailants, disfiguring his face permanently.
As the man let out a blood-curdling scream, Mors used both of his feet to smash into the face of the man behind him, propelling himself forward, towards the guard blocking his path. As Mors passed, his hand turned a sinister black, easily shredding the throat of the man with his newly transformed, claw-like fingers.
"GET BACK," bellowed the priestess as she released another golden spear, accompanied by other, less impressive spikes of varying shades. "Have I not taught you fools anything? Do not engage a demon in close quarters. Push him back and cripple him from a distance."
Hearing her shout, the uninjured guard grabbed his surviving two comrades and yanked them back, leaving Mors to suffer the barrage alone. The spells slammed into the floor, kicking up and illuminating the dust before an earth-shaking explosion, sent visible shockwaves outwards.
Mors' figure flew out of the dust, crashing onto the floor and rolling a couple of meters before immediately standing up. Shaking his head, Mors glared at the priestess only for his pupils to shrink as he saw yet another, much larger, volley about to rain down upon him.
Leaving a trail of hissing blood, Mors' body turned into shadows and raced towards the villagers crowding together.
I must keep close to them. I doubt I can survive being caught in another barrage.
Me and my big mouth, maybe I should have left a way out for them instead of saying I would kill them all. Then again, it looks like their hatred goes beyond mere indoctrination.
Instead of cowering, the adults in the group of villagers stepped forward and held out their palms, spikes of earth, water, fire and many Mors could not identify formed in front of them.
Fuck I forgot this world was so dangerous that even non-combatants must attain a certain level to survive.
Unable to turn quickly in his shadow form, Mors had to materialise and throw himself to the side as the villagers obliterated everything in front of them with their hastily conjured spells, including a few of the houses far behind Mors.
As Mors hit the floor, a long, silver sword glinted in the firelight, causing him to dodge sideways. The sword smashed into the ground, cutting a long groove as one of the old guards, holding onto the monstrous blade, spat on the ground. "Vile demon, I shall avenge those that your kind has taken. For my dead wife and child, surrender to your fate."
As he got to his feet, Mors tried to laugh as the thought of killing someone just because they were the same race as your families murders but a searing pain to the right of his chest caused him to look down, spotting the shaft of a black arrow sticking out of his chest. "When the hel-"
His words were cut short as another arrow slammed into his shoulder, causing him to fly forward, barely managing to use his other arm to push himself so he could flip and land on his feet.
"Strike two." Mor's' words confused the guard who was about to thrust a spear into his thigh long enough for Mors to spin, sweeping the guard's legs with his tail and grabbing the spear. Throwing himself to the floor to avoid another arrow and the charge of the sword-wielding guard, Mors rolled to his feet and threw the spear with as much force as he could muster. Allowing himself to be hit with another arrow, disabling his left leg, so that he could get a clean shot, Mors shouted out triumphantly. "Strike three... you're out."
A high pitched, female scream erupted from the woods where Mors had thrown the spear. Moments later an archer emerged, clutching the spear embedded in her guts before falling to the ground, twitching.
"EMILY!" The longsword guard enraged, appearing next to Mors and before the injured demon could react. Swiftly kicking down onto Mors' right knee, shattering it, the man's face twisted in rage. "DIE DEMON."
Just as the sword was about to separate Mors' head from his neck, strange, golden light stopped the man's blade, small sparks fluttering downwards burning Mors' skin. "Don't be so foolish. If that demon has a curse on him, you will be killing yourself and your loved ones. You know the drill. We will purify him with water or fire... and as there is no water about, fire will have to do," spat the woman as her wrinkled face appeared in Mors' vision, smiling menacingly. "For a demon, you're weak."
"Say that to your dead, you old hag," gurgled Mors, the arrow to his chest filling his lungs with blood, "and who said I am finished?"
"I did," smiled the priestess evilly. "Break his arms and legs and secure him to a trunk by metal chains. Bring as much firewood and burning oil as you can."
"With pleasure," said the guard as his foot slammed into Mor's elbow, causing him to hiss in pain as it shattered. "It shouldn't matter what he suffers as long as he is alive for the purification, right?"
"Sure, go nuts... and please, don't be gentle. My son died last month on the wall, and as a support type, this may be the only bit of vengeance I can claim," said the woman in a sorrowful voice as she walked away.
"I will kill you," muttered Mors, grinding his teeth as the guard smashed his other knee cap. "I am not one to forgive, nor will I forget."
The guard chuckled grimly, no mirth on his face. "That all you got demon? Words? You do not scare me. You will be dead soon, along with those that you have murdered."
Looking into Mors' eyes, the man's breath caught in his throat as the crippled demon evilly smiled as he thought about Grim's words. "We shall see human; we shall see."