Chapter 2: Beginnings ii

Weak. That’s all she is.

The girl was currently running away from that strange woman. She didn’t pay attention to where she was going either, she just simply ran. She knew that the wound she inflicted on the woman would be fatal, but she wasn’t sure what would happen after. Would she be hunted again? Would she die again? Her mind raced to find a solution, a solution that would not fail her like many have before. The woman was going to die. She needed to run. If she were to be hunted…

Then she could only hunt them back. But to do so…

She stops in her tracks, the dim lighting from the sun had already faded, stood next to the great trees and dark canopies in the heart of the Balros Forest. She stood there in the dark, confirming what she decided on doing prior.

To become stronger.

Not only to escape all pursuit.

But to accomplish her original goal. Killing Him.

Slight madness in her steps, she glances around to the ground where she spotted tracks. These tracks however, carry the scent of urgency and blood. But none of them smell of danger. Grinning, the girl follows these trails to find an old friend.

The girl nods towards the mortally wounded wolf, a wide grin plastered across her face. A single clawed finger moving towards the exposed chest of the great wolf of the Balros Forest. The wolf, lying on the ground, resigns to his death, for if he could not fight anymore, he should at least die with his honor intact.

*SHIK*

The girl pierced the hide and flesh which had been burned by the strange fire, and pierced the heart of the great and once noble beast.

*THUMP*

The girl retracted her hand, the wolf’s body robbed of its strength finally falling, finding eternal rest at last. The wolf’s pack, which had lost its leader, howled into the night, mourning the loss of their king. They howled until day arrived before departing in search of a new territory, for the Balros Forest without its king meant danger to all.

The girl however, did not know this. She left after she heard the satisfying squelch of the wolf’s heart being stabbed and how his body fell to the dirty ground. She would have eaten the wolf’s corpse had it not been for all the burns and dirty fur on it. She recognized the danger within the forest, but she could confront it. No. She will confront it. If she ran from another beast once again, she can never consider herself fit enough to kill Him.

The girl ran, and she ran. She killed countless creatures, beasts, and monster as she swept through the Balroz Forest. Stronger, faster, she became one with the carnage that brought her back to life. Her instincts awakening the madness that she had forgotten from the hunger earlier.

Only after a few days does her crazed killing spree end. The lives of thousands, although small, were ended by her very claws. She had reached the end of the forest that she loved and hated dearly. However, during those days, no creature would approach her. She had slayed the King and had become the Queen, though, she did not care for such a title. Let the beasts fight for it once more. She must become stronger.

The tall peaks of the Balros mountain range could be seen ahead of her, but she could not fly. Even if she did, she would not be able to fly that long. The Balros mountains were gigantic, huge even when she was back at the bloodied field but now that she was closer to them, she realized they were much bigger than she imagined. The peaks reached into the sky, covered in treacherous snow and ice gleaming from afar. She had to find a way around.

The rocky infested terrain interrupted her running. She hated it. She was used to dodging the roots of trees and traversing tricky vegetation, but the absurd number of rocks, pebbles, and boulders lying around on the ground made it impossible to not touch one. Sharp jagged edges and smooth slippery surfaces littered the rocky plain, and her only option was to traverse it. Not unless she could go through the mountains, but she couldn’t so she had to make do.

She tried to run through, but she instantly slipped on a small stone. She fell flat on her face into the jagged edge of the rocks. Screeching, she pulled herself out and tended to her wounds. Lines of blood trickled down her body as she removed the rocks, noting that although they were sharp, they lacked the ability to be used as a weapon. Only to be used as a deterrent for barefoot (or any) travelers like her.

She went to one of the lesser trees in the distance, a mere twig compared to those within the Balroz Forest but it should be fine. She took one of the fallen leaves and fashioned a small wrapping from it tied together with some stalks of dried grass she had picked up along the way. She placed them on her dirty feet, they won’t protect her from much but it would be better than nothing, crude as it is.

She ran back to the rocky field and began to run. She ran as carefully as she could, one mistake could result in the various rocks to scratch and stab into her skin. An experience she would never want to happen again. After a few minutes of doing this, she got used to it. Avoid the smooth stones and jump over the sharp ones. Simple. She quickened her pace northward, skipping over the stones as day came to night and night came to day.

She had to hunt the local population of Burrowers for sustenance. Apparently they were the reason as to why there were so many stones here. Could the stones be something used to defend against invaders such as her? Or were they simply byproducts excreted from them… Giving up on that thought, the girl continued to run until she heard the voices from somewhere nearby.

“How much are we getting from this load?”

A low gruff voice rang out far to her left. The girl immediately hid behind one of the boulders and peeked from around it. The girl could spy a wagon of some sort, led by two chestnut colored horses. Their hooves covered with some kind of metal to prevent injury from the rocks. She would consider it to be a wagon, but the back of it was covered in some kind of cloth. She could see two men riding in the front. A thin one held the reigns while the other held some sort of stick. The girl knew that it was a weapon, but she never saw something like it before. Unlike the processed metal she had seen so many times clashing on the battlefield, but this weapon had some sort of shine to it. A dark metallic luster that draws the eye in. Tipping the long unwieldy stick with a sharp curved blade, designed probably to stab and cut like a sword but with more range.

As she considered the potential danger that the weapon posed to her, the two continue to talk as they road down the northward road.

“These two were cheap, not pretty but not ugly either. They’d probably sell for a few silver coins but no more than that in the Berran territory.”

“I’d expected less. A silver coin or so for the both but more than that? 2? 3? Er… 5?”

The man with the stick raised his free hand and raised fingers, stupendously failing the simplest of calculations.

“4 silvers dimwit. I wouldn’t have hired you again if not for your strength and our past relations. Just keep your mouth shut and let me make the negotiations.”

The man, presumably named Dimwit, stopped talking from then on. The two men quietly passed where the girl hid, the wagon passing soon after as well, but she saw what was behind the cloth if only for a few moments. Two females, average faces and body, dressed in rags with chains attached to their limbs to deter any method of escape.

The girl saw the chains, an indescribable feeling welled within her, one she had met once only days before. Wrath. The girl’s eyes glowed scarlet, her body shaking from the energy in her blood. She leapt towards the cart, slitting the neck of the driver, and cutting the wrist of the man with the weird stick before jumping off.

The driver couldn’t even react, he slumped over dead in the seat, his partner screaming as blood soaked his leather armor. The weird stick forgotten on the ground, dropped with the hand that held it still attached. The horses, feeling the lack of restraint, charged forward unevenly. The wagon went out of control. The man with one hand fell off the wagon, scarred and stabbed by the innumerable stones, trampled to death by the horses before they freed themselves from the restraints and fled. The wagon had landed on its side, broken on the field but intact enough to not collapse at any given moment. The two women freed themselves from the broken wagon, the clinking of chains following suit. Confused, they looked around to see who their savior was, but all they saw was a red light moving quickly away in the distance.

Name

Unnamed

Age

9 Days

Race

Lesser Devil (Scarlet)

HP

31/36 (+.01/s)

MP

85/85 (+.022/s)

SP

3/29 (+.011/s)

STR

10

INT

18

WIS

9

CON

9

AGL

15

LUK

2

Skills

Level

Proficiency

[Demonic Vitality]

1/10

12.7%

[Hunter’s Eyes]

2/10

74.9%

[Blood Oath]

N/A

N/A

[Twisted Fate]

N/A

N/A