Cruel Fates

(2) Serena

         Well, this is boring.

         I'm pretty sure I've seen the same pine tree four times already. It's been nothing but these towering trees and more trees for the past couple of hours, but no trails have emerged, or at least none that I've come to notice. Judging from the position of the sun, it's probably mid-day, meaning I need to find a trail fast before nightfall comes around. I have no patience when it comes to dealing with anymore of those pesky Wimlins. 

        I suppose I should explain a little.

       After the demons managed to overcome the magical beings that both protected humans and kept balance to this world, all types of classes of demons ravaged the world. One of those classes of demons are known as the Wimlins. They're the weakest in the demonic world and about eighty percent of demons belong to this class. Wimlins prefer taking solitude in forests like the one I'm currently hiking through—unfortunately for me. However, they're more annoying than threatening.

        Next, after Wimlins, are the middle class demons known as the Nérais. They occupy about ten percent of the demon population. Now, they're my personal favorites. Not too tough, not too weak, just how I would like them to be. The ones I've encountered, so far at least, have always been too cocky for my liking,  what a pity that they're really not all that. They, unlike the Wimlins, can actually hold their ground in battles. Like the Wimlins, they, too, like taking solitude in forests but they can also take likings to ruins and other destroyed buildings. Unfortunately, for those who don't understand the Néraises, they do have some intelligence— somewhere deep in those little minds of theirs— which sometimes leads to the person getting killed for underestimating them and their abilities. It's not often that I encounter them, but it's never a good idea to ever leave your guard down when entering an area where they're known to inhabit. At least for those who don't enjoy having small fights here and there.

       Finally, there are the Phamities. The Phamities— they are truly terrifying. The amount of sheer force they possess is nothing to be reckoned with— strong or not. If you're even able to survive them in a battle then you are truly blessed by the gods. I've been lucky enough not to have come across them so far, miraculously. The stories about the Phamities are enough to even give me nightmares. I once heard of a Phamity that took the form of a human and slaughtered an entire town in a matter of seconds not even an hour after someone foolishly pitied the poor supposed human and took him in. The one who suffered most, though, was the town's mayor. The bastard of a demon kept the mayor alive last. He made the poor mayor watch his family, which included his wife and two daughters, being slowly tortured and killed and after he finally finished murdering and putting them out of their misery, he forcibly made the mayor eat their organs, one by one,  saving their hearts for last. Once he was finished, he tortured the man, in ways I can't even begin to possibly imagine. The Phamities are the main force that currently rules this world, also occupying the last ten percent of the demon clan, and I'll be damned if I ever have to cross paths with them. But, enough of that. Thinking about them won't do me any good and there's a very slim chance that I'll ever even run into one, assuming if I live long enough.

       It was then that my ears perked up slightly at the sound of faint footsteps. You have got to be kidding me! Through the small amount of years of experience — and from the sounds of it— it sounded like a small pack of Wimlins. To add to that, through those past few years that I've been trekking through these woods, I've always made sure to have a weapon on me, no matter how small it is. One of these is my dear little best friend, otherwise known as my snake sword, named Nax. It's a beautiful golden sword that currently glinted slightly in the little light that was left. I can only sigh. I loathe wasting energy on killing little things like Wimlins. But, I'm not about to play tag with them so it's a small sacrifice I can make. I can already make out the outlines of some of the Wimlins coming my way. From the looks of it, it's a small pack of climahls. Climahls are most definitely nothing to be afraid of. What is there to be afraid of? They're about 4 feet in height, standing on their short hind legs. What I hate most of all, are their maroon reptilian type scales. Something about them just, I don't know, infuriates me. I blame the color, it's just out of place to me and then their little beady indigo eyes, all arrogant, even though they are definitely  one of the weakest demons out here. I rolled my eyes when one of them thought they could try and catch me off guard when they got close enough to me.  With practiced ease, I, in a whip like motion, snapped Nax at the climahl; the sword extending and circling around the demon— like a snake with its prey— and with a flick of my wrist, I pulled the sword towards my direction so that in the little space in between that my sword left, I could effortlessly cut the climahl in half by having it squeezed. I can feel its navy-colored blood being squirted on my cheek and I made a small noise of pure disgust. It was definitely not a pleasant feeling.