3. the defeat

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I lost.

We both know it.

His smile makes me wanna do him right there. But he was gonna kill me so hate triumphs.....well everything else.

He grabs hold of my shirt collar. My body is too weak for me to get up. His hand is the only thing holding me upright.

"Well, this is disappointing.", he said, eyeing me up and down. "They said you were the best of the warrior angels. Didn't think they meant subpar when they said best."

"Well, I might have been slightly distracted by your unexpectedly good looks."

He laughs, but it's an awkward laugh. I can tell by his face that he has zero experience in flirting.

It's necessary to maintain a confident facade. It'll give me time to heal.

I look down at my wound, but there's no progress. Blood keeps seeping through the wound, drenching my shirt. My head spins but I have no idea whether it's from the blood loss or the panic.

I didn't think I'd die so soon. Seven hundred isn't exactly a milestone. I was expecting to go to about two thousand. Well, not anymore, I guess.

I don't like my brain sometimes. Too many ridiculous thoughts rushing around for me to focus on the real problems. In this instance, this goddamn demon trying to steal my wings. I couldn't just let him take the most powerful wings to exist just like that. I am not gonna go down without a fight. Despite my exaggeration, I probably wouldn't die. But the wings in his hands? I can't do that.

His hands grab the sword tighter as he brings it closer to my wings.

I muster all my courage and strength as I hit him smack in the middle of his face. Blood drips from his nose.

He smiles. "Interesting."

"Psychopath."

"I hardly think so.", he says.

Right before he comes swinging at me.

The last thing I see before I pass out is his long fingers, curved into a fist and the branches of a tree that looked like a man floating on a cloud.

The first thing I see after I wake up is the morning sun's first rays and the dry ground stained with dark red blood.

My wings are gone.

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