Looking up at the crystal clear sky, shaking my head slightly, I let out an impressed whistle causing the refugees that were closest to me, to flinch away.

It's not like the whistle was that impressive, but up until people that looked like typical adventurers started protecting the refugee's flanks, I was free to engage the monsters that regularly attacked, looking for an easy meal, and harvest their mana cores.

Without tools, and not wanting to reveal anything about myself, I just had to rip them apart with my bare hands, which even for the grizzled survivors, was a little too gruesome. Wimps.

I soon got the nickname 'Blood Monster Ripper', and people started keeping their distance. How... unoriginal and boring. It seems that creative thinking hasn't improved much since my incarceration.

Still, being given a nickname lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. If they were able to remember me, my custom made, infectious style spell worked better than I could have hoped for and my greatest fear never came to pass.

People may have forgotten me as a summoned being or the hero, but I haven't become a living ghost destined to be forgotten as soon as I disappear from their sight. As long as people don't associate me with certain things, I should be able to live a somewhat normal life.

I still need to find someone who was born mana deficient or one of those high magic resistant races like dragons to see how effective the spell was but at least I can rest easy for the moment.

There aren't hordes of religious fanatics chasing me for killing their wannabe gods or soldiers and civilians trying to mob me for killing a couple of hundred thousand in my bid for freedom.

There is a bit of discrepancy with the numbers at the moment. I say that there was no more than a few hundred thousand, the crystal-like television news reports and other refugees say a couple of million.

Like hell, they could breed that fast and overpopulate that barren wasteland. Propaganda and lies I say.

People don't really seem to be paying attention to the numbers anymore anyway. Some things are just too big to imagen, so it loses its meaning. They all appear to be more focused on this 'Devil', my created persona, and the mutant uprising that threats to spill out into the neighbouring districts of the Alliance.

The sun is shining, the wind is blowing, and I am free. All is right with the world or will be when I get rid of this... curse? Disease?

Hmm, I will stick with curse, sounds better.

The shadow of one of the massive, island-like structures, or what the nearby kids were calling sky battleships, that I was previously impressed with, floated overhead blocking the warm rays of sunlight.

I feel a vein pop on my forehead. It's not like the captain, or whatever commanded that floating mass of black rock, could read my mind and decided to steal my sunlight just to piss me off, but it still irritated me. I can't help but mutter about how the bastard should be thankful I don't have the energy to waste on him.

I can't help but chuckle. Absorbing the Demon Lord's magical essence, the Divine Spears, and years of solitude, ignoring the two idiots, had not contributed to improving my anger issues one bit. In fact, it seemed to have made it much worse. I wasn't sure what was the real culprit or even if it was just my old age but with the handicap I now had, at least until I got stronger and a regular supply of refined mana, I would need to be careful.

Actually thinking about it, the refined mana needed to power one of those must be huge. I might not even need to go into a dungeon and can skip straight to hunting rare and legendary monsters. The only problem is the hundreds if not thousands of soldiers and whatever defences they have. Plus, how would I get up there without wings? They must have some transportation method, but I doubt I will get to see it outside of a combat zone or dock.

Making a mental note to revisit the idea when I had more information, I watched as the ship passed and start to fade into the distance. On its surface, castle-like structures stood with a plethora of cannons, turrets and viewing platforms making even the most powerful seafaring version from my old world look woefully inadequate.

"The things you can do with magic, huh."

The fact that the sky was full of these battleships, of varying sizes and shapes, protected by squadrons of flying races like Valkyries while the dull thud of thousands of soldiers marching in the opposite direction resonated in my bones, told me a lot about the current state of the world, or at least, the Alliance.

Militaristic and in a state of perpetual war, which meant that Styx's claims of everything being peaceful over the years were lies. It was evident that these weren't conscripts brought into face the growing mutant threat. These were battle hardened veterans who's grim expression, organised structure, and cold, calculating gazes, would make most armed forces hide their faces in shame.

Even the adventurers protecting the refugees looked at them with sparkling, awe-inspired eyes causing me to roll my own. Impressive yes, their own ideas? Hardly. Things were too similar to our world not to spot the influence we had on this world. Those fucking collars made sure we revealed all the secrets we knew and these guys went to town. Maybe another reason why they decided to get rid of us?

I scratch my head as I take a deep breath, wondering if I am always going to be this angry. Normally I would make a joke about needing to get laid but I really had trust issues and something that intimate, requires quite a lot of it, at least it does for me. It was one of the reasons that bitch of an elf never made off first base. Yes, I found her very attractive but there was always something niggling the back of my mind...luckily.

Looking around in an attempt to distract myself, my gaze sweeps the crowd in front of me. Well, not everything Styx said was a lie. There were many species mixed in amongst the throng of fleeing refugees. Most were the red-skinned, yellow-eyed demons that called the Demonic Plains home... funny that, but I had seen at least a couple of dozen from every race, even some that I had no knowledge of.

They all seemed to be getting along with each other, even the elves and dwarfs who had a blood feud due to the legends that stated that their old gods had something of a pissing context when the races were created, declaring the other as inferior.

At first, I had assumed it was down to the crisis they found themselves in as nothing brings people together like the need to survive but upon witnessing two thugs nearly get lynched, I decided that maybe racism or any kind was taboo, at least in these parts.

The pair had decided to release their frustrations and pick on a small, arachnid boy but unluckily for them, a group that had not yet stopped for the night overheard and caused quite a ruckus. Soon others joined in, and within minutes, it had everything an anti-racist lynch mob needed.

Some soldiers intervened and arrested the duo, probably for their own safety, though it didn't stop them getting spat on as they were dragged away.

Not that I cared. Back on earth, my philosophy was a mixture of live and let live coupled with we all bleed the same colour. Of course, I needed to amend that last one for this world to 'we all bleed', but so far, I would like to think I stuck to it.

I have killed innocent looking beastkin that would make a teenage girl squeal in delight as well as saved creatures so repulsive that I doubt even their own mothers wouldn't be able to repress a shiver as they hugged them. Most of the time it was orders, the rest was because they had done something to me or my own... or collateral damage... or they were in the wrong place and the wrong time... the end result was the same, and you can't change the past, just like wiping a city or two off the map, so no point thinking about it.

The thug's unlikely rescue was quite an anticlimactic end to my evening's entertainment, so I decided to go and do something constructive and hunt some monsters who were tempted too close to the road by the moving buffet.

They were weak and held little-refined mana, but it might give me a couple of extra days if things get tough. When I get to a working town, I will need to register as an adventurer and get the locations of a dungeon or high levelled beasts but until then, every little helps.

I glance over to another company of silver armoured soldiers marching past, their professions evident by their attire and weapons. Sword and shields for the Warriors, staves and daggers for the mages and staves and lots of pouches for the healers.

It seemed the army still preferred structure over the flexibility adding other classes in would provide and there seemed very little variance in the quality of the weapons. The one thing that I still couldn't get used, no matter how many times I saw them, was what appeared to be magical rifles slung over every soldier's shoulder, even the healer's.

I couldn't help but frown. Why would the army still use or even carry obsolete weaponry if they had guns? It made no sense. I guess a shield and armour could be imbued to resist a projectile but then again, they could against swords and spells. Or they could enchant the bullets to make them more effective? A magical arms race regarding offence vs. defence seemed more plausible but to carry both... there must be a reason, even if I couldn't think of one yet.

"Not so special now are you? Stupid rich kid. You had this coming."

A boy's squeaky voice broke me from my thoughts. Up ahead of me I watch as a group of ragged looking children pick on a teenage girl wearing noble if a little dirty, clothes.

I feel myself smile. The drastic changes in the world had left me feeling more isolated than ever and even if most would consider it wrong, seeing something familiar, if a little cliche, felt good.