Pink's reaction is expert, for what little good it does her. Almost as soon as the beams are released she beats her wings and propels herself over half of them. Her black buckler appears in front of her and deflects another beam, as it connects with the buckler's surface the beam is literally pushed away and redirected in another direction; impressive little piece of magic in the buckler for it to do that. Unfortunately that is where her defensive options seem to run out and she's forced to rely on angling her body, minimizing her profile to the turtles on the ground and trying to dodge between their attacks. Thanks to her movements three more of the beams pass by her harmlessly, a fourth grazes over the armor on her thigh, but the fifth punctures her wing – still extended from her initial burst.

In mid-air Pink sways, controlling her reaction to what is almost certainly a huge amount of pain. Those beams the turtles are firing are a form of innate magic from creatures afflicted by the corruption so it's hard to say exactly what they'll do but judging from the large amount of mana expended creating them and the barely controlled nature of the magic – the beams are literally breaking down and tearing themselves apart because of the chaotic and uncontrolled magic from the moment they leave their casters bodies; the upside being that since they immediately break down they can't be maintained and redirected like proper beam magic can be, the downside–

“AHHHHHH” A raw scream of pain interrupts my thoughts.

Pink plunges out of the air, dropping like a stone into the midst of the turtles. The pain undoubtedly overpowering her ability to maintain even the simple magic of flight. After all that magic is formed from corrupted unaspected mana – being hit by a spell that is in the process of dissolving itself will lead to a certain amount of spillover. A body will naturally repulse the hostile mana but it seems Pink's defenses were not equal to the task of repelling the corruption. And having that corrupted mana circulating in her body is obviously uncomfortable as I imagine it would be for any uncorrupted being. It certainly looks uncomfortable, Pink is writhing about on the ground in the midst of a field of turtles, in truth it's a bit embarrassing as a master to see my servant laid so low by turtles so I roll over and look up at the sky. Drifting along up among the clouds … deliberating.

After the brief moment of consideration I reopen the conduit connecting me and Pink, flooding her body with my mana and purging the corrupted mana. Below there is a moment of pregnant silence and then I hear the battle resume, hopefully Pink can handle the rest – and quickly. In the meantime there is something I need to do, though I am really, truly, loathe to do anything – much less this sort of thing, it's clearly servant work! As I float along and watch the clouds above me, pointedly ignoring the sounds of the struggle going on below, I wonder what I did to deserve this kind of fate. A fate where the clouds get drift by lazily above me and I have to work.

Grumbling internally I roll over once more and, after a bit of deliberation, select a target. There. In a big cluster of the smaller turtles, there's one with glowing with a red so deep it's almost purple. It doesn't seem aware of me at all, it and all the other turtles are completely focused on Pink, a hundred beams of magic criss-crossing the basin trying to pin her down. Slowly I drift above the turtle, using a handful of tiny bursts of power to direct my flight, paying more attention to the clouds above me than anything – not because I'm lazy! - it's so the turtle will stay oblivious to me. While I'm positioning myself I can see Pink is going a bit crazy – summoning huge bolts of green lighting to destroy the turtles, cutting them apart with her sword, deflecting and redirecting their magic with an odd magical vortex she's summoned; all the while dodging and weaving and moving with frankly ridiculous speeds. Just watching her makes me feel tired, though it is somewhat satisfying to see her so easily able to adapt to using a much larger amount of mana – that speaks to her skill more than grilling a few turtles.

And perfect. I've maneuvered myself above the target. It is still completely oblivious to my existence, all because I released no killing intent or large mana fluctuations to break my stealthy approach – I'm such a genius. The battle below is cooling down a bit too now that the turtles numbers have been reduced by half – the ones still alive are the ones that have formed large clusters, which makes them harder for Pink to approach. But even those are being whittled down by the green lightning she's tossing around – it's fortunate she didn't kill my target before I got here I realize belatedly. I loiter around a bit longer while Pink is mopping up down there, hoping that maybe Kaos Himself will reach down and do my work for me. Or anyone at all really, I'm not picky.

No such luck. With a final desolate sigh I release the magic holding me up and drop down towards the red-shelled turtle. As I drop I concentrate on increasing my density, trying to increase my weight and the velocity of my fall – by the time I've dropped the two hundred feet or so to the ground I land like a meteor, slamming straight through the turtles shell – then continuing without slowing and smashing straight through the turtle and onto the ground below. The shockwave from my impact blows the turtles that had been clustered around it away, scattering them to the four winds. It also unbalances the huge turtle – which Pink had been once again dancing around and trying to de-limb – and creates an opening in its stance as its huge bulk is broadsided by the expanding wave of energy, cleanly lifting the turtle off of its remaining legs – the massive being suspended in the air helpless for a moment. Pink pounces on the opportunity; cleanly severing its foreleg and ensuring it is impossible for the turtle to regain its feet. Unable to stand on only two legs the turtle crumples to the ground, no longer a threat – only a massive target.

Ignoring all that I stand up from the middle of the explosion of gore I've just created. In my hand is the turtle's crystal heart. Most monsters have such a crystal – it's what defines them as monsters instead of beasts – a heart made of and fed by mana. Typically they are either black, white, or some shade of gray on the sliding gradient in between, the color is indicative of the monsters maturity and when they crystal is completely black that means the monster has absorbed all the mana it is capable of absorbing. This heart is a smudgy gray color – streaked with purple. And even now, holding it in my hand, I can't sense the mana from the heart. I can feel my brow furrowing. How troublesome.

If I can't sense corrupted creatures via their mana … well it doesn't bode well. To say nothing of a little ambush like this, this changes everything, the timetable I'm tentatively working with won't be accurate if I can't get a clear grasp of my enemies … actually all that sounds troublesome, I decided to leave the planning to Pink so she must have already thought of this. No need for me to worry on that front! But more importantly is that this little crystal heart – about the size of my fist – is a clear source of the corruption seeping onto the physical plane. I didn't expect to find such evidence so soon but here it is. I can feel corruption leaking from it even as I hold it in my hand – truly a disgusting feeling, like the pattering of a thousand tiny insect legs rushing up my arm. And a headache is forming. All this from such a tiny source – I might have to revise my expectations considerably going forward, I think grimly.

Such a contradictory existence, that hides itself from my sight until we're almost close enough to touch and then overpowers my senses with this incomprehensible and unusable garbage energy. Makes me sick feeling it, that terrible feeling of incongruance that I have been able to ignore suddenly flaring to the front of my mind – a blaring warning: something is wrong. Setting my teeth on edge and causing my stomach to tense in a reaction almost like fear, if you can imagine! For me to be afraid. I can feel a smile spreading on my lips, not a gentle one, as I consider what must be done to this thing that dares to cross me. To shake me from my sleep and bring me here with its foul stench.

It's clear what must be done. I have to verify if it can be destroyed. And if it can be I have to destroy it. Scour this interloper from the world. Here. Now. With my own power. So … let's begin.

With a thought Runes begin snapping into existence all around me, until I'm surrounded by a mural of arcane patterns drawn in swirling hodge-podge of ancient languages, gently glowing that sickly green color I'm so familiar with. A half dozen of the most powerful offensive magics I can conjure off the top of my head swirl around me – likely enough destructive power to level the mountain range in the distance – waiting for release. I extend my arm, holding the crystal heart up in front of me and I can see my Rune Tattoo's have lit up out of the corner of my eye – an artful spiderweb pattern of vines running down my arm from my shoulder – terminating in a blooming rose on my palm; all of it glowing the tell-tale green of demonic magic. This magic is engraved on my skin to provide a myriad of beneficial effects – notably the greatest magical defense I'm capable of conjuring snaps over my body automatically anytime a certain threshold of danger is exceeded – as has just happened apparently.

First the heart in my hand begins to burn – heating quickly to temperatures hot enough to melt Veltinium into slag. The heart is unaffected even as the flames dance around it. The second spell activates and I begin to apply pressure – a crushing weight like the center of a black hole localized in the palm of my hand. The flames surrounding the heart flicker into nothing, the heart itself is reacting as well – the purple streaks running throughout are beginning to glow; expending power to maintain structural integrity? Hard to say. The seconds tick by as I continue my onslaught, determined to grind this infected heart into nothing with the sheer weight of my magical power. Thirty seconds. A minute. With a sigh I release the magic, the magical runes fading into nothing as I dismiss them – no point in continuing like this – it seems such relatively mundane methods are insufficient.

Frustrated by my failure I decide to take a break. Looking around it seems Pink has finished mopping up the turtles. Their giant patriarch is reduced to an unmoving lump of flesh spilling unsavory fluids onto the desert floor. Looking at the remains makes me feel a bit sick – not in the physical sense, it's not like it's weakening me – it's just something unpleasant to be around, to have to see. Trying my best to ignore it I instead focus on Pink, who has at some point reformed her armor once again – she's reclaimed her impractical heels and is now wearing a black dress that is somewhat similar to mine, though with her assets she fills it out much better – and is now standing about ten feet away, watching me with rapt attention. Her previous warlike disposition has all but disappeared and now she looks like little more than an exceptionally pretty girl in a cocktail dress, a slightly sexy pout playing about her lips … in the middle of the desert … surrounded by the remains of a hundred rock turtles … it's a slightly incongruent look.

For a moment I'm speechless, looking at her. At times I'm slightly blindsided by her beauty, her perfect hourglass shape, her overly soft and feminine features – attractive demons are rather atypical after all – but it's not like it's a bad thing. If only I was about ten thousand years younger… The idle thought causes a grin to sprout on my face. Pink stiffens perceptibly when I start smiling at her for no reason while holding a monster's heart, her whole body going rigid – except her tail which whips wildly back and forth behind her, a subconscious expression of nervous energy perhaps. Having cute subordinates is certainly a good thing. I almost want to tease her a bit but right now we're working and it's not like I'm actually that interested.

“Pink, gather these stones from the enemies you destroyed” I hold the heart up for emphasis “...especially the one inside that thing.” I point up at the veritable mountain of dead flesh that used to be the giant rock turtle. “And … uh … maybe be a bit careful handling would be wise? Try not to eat them or anything at least.” Ingesting the corruption directly would be very bad indeed.

“Understood Go-, Mistress. I will do so at once.” Pink gives a crisp and elegant curtsy and then sashays away.

I follow her hips with my eyes for a moment before turning back to the monster heart still grasped in my right hand. Definitely not interested. I reassure no one in particular. Anyway it's time to get a bit serious I guess. Narrowing my eyes I raise my left hand, observing as a green flame is born, dancing on my index fingertip. Soulfire. Soulfire is widely considered to be the pinnacle of most schools of demonic spellcasting and is widely acknowledged as the magic with the highest potential to inflict damage from any school. The reason's are myriad and complicated but to put it extremely briefly it's something like an exchange – your life for the life of your enemy. Soulfire is a candle lit on both ends because if you really want something dead, you have to be willing to get a bit burned. A magic very compatible with demonic philosophy. And this thing needs to die, I feel that strongly.

So without further thought my entire hand alights with Soulfire and closes around the heart. The first feeling is perhaps expected – pain – pain beyond what I have experienced in years uncounted; like my hand has been dipped in something molten that has just begun to cool. As if that feeling of insects pattering across my skin has intensified a thousandfold – and now they're biting. For something to hurt me this badly it would almost have to be done my own hand, the thought streaks across my mind slightly hysterically. It hurts. It huuuurrrrrrtttttttssss. But even as it feels like my hand was dipped in fire, my head feels as if its been dunked in ice-water – suddenly clear and focused. I should have realized sooner. It was so obvious. Since when do I… but that doesn't matter right now because I'm locked into this contest – until its conclusion one way or the other.

The thought pushes all other thoughts aside. Clears my head. Chases away the remnants of the strange and unfamiliar emotions I was experiencing just recently. The thought that I might die here. So ridiculous. So absurd. And yet, here, with my own Soulfire consuming me, I am perhaps closer to death than I have ever been in all my years of life. If the crystal heart is faring any better is impossible to tell, it sits in my palm engulfed – along with my hand – by the raging emerald fire easily visible due to the angry streaks of purple pulsing within the flames. I hone my focus to a razor's edge, intent on controlling my flames, intent on destroying the crystal heart.

As I mentioned, Soulfire is somewhat like lighting a candle on both ends – the key to survival is ensuring the opposition runs out of wick first. Metaphorically speaking. As I focus on the crystal heart, shoving the somewhat novel feeling of pain aside, I can see it running out of wick. Cracks that run along its length, illuminated by tendrils of green fire, are appearing all over it. And then without fanfare it's over. The purple flashes cease, burned out of the heart – and out of existence. Victory. The expected outcome. With an iron will I control the feelings of elation rising in my chest – they are not my own I recognize – being inside the area of influence of these crystal hearts is clearly affecting me. Inciting odd feelings. I mean really. Fear? Anger? Lust? Rage? Four distinct emotional states in as many minutes?

My life is not measured in minutes. I should have noticed immediately. And for my lapse, I experience something worthless like pain, though that is already receding to nothing, suppressed by my absurd physical capabilities. No permanent damage dealt this time – but a lesson learned perhaps. To effortlessly burn all the corruption from this world is beyond even me it seems … annoying but not wholly unacceptable – this corruption is merely a symptom after all and I would never consent to undertaking such a lengthy and difficult endeavor in the first place.

“Mistress, I've gathered the monster's hearts.” I hear Pink say. And indeed, piled there next to my faithful little succubus is a small mountain of crystal hearts, with one substantially larger than the rest prominently displayed on top of the pile, each glowing and pulsating an ominous purple. Ah. I can feel the headache coming back.