Your World

Prologue of a Long Journey

You were Y/N L/N and this was your world. You may be familiar with the world of Undertale, or any of it's alternate universes, but let me warn you now. This isn't one of those.

You ducked as a fist swung over your head. You plunged your claws deep into his chest, the warmth from his body being the only kind you'd probably get all winter this year. Electricity ran through you and coursed straight into his body, shocking him from the inside out and frying him. A shriek echoed the room, but could barely be heard over the raucous applause and yelling of your audience.

This world is bloody.

Your body reacted before your mind did, leaping to the left as fast as your tired legs could move you. Your fangs closed on your lip to stop a squeal as a large blade like appendage stuck itself through your side. With a growl, you grabbed the blade, the leg of a person you'd later realize, and twisted, successfully throwing him into the wall. For a minute the cheers grew as he slumped to the floor, dead.

This world was unfair.

You stood face to face with the other mage. A grimace was across both of your faces as you studied each other. He was just a boy. A kid held to the whims of humanity. Your mouth ran dry and you spit out some blood in hopes of getting yourself to calm down. You couldn't kill a kid. But you knew you would. You were forced to. The cold metal of a collar around your and his necks beeped, way louder than any group of humans could be. Swallowing you fell into fighting stance, bloody claws readied, wings outstretched, tail swishing.

This world didn't hesitate.

You ran forward, almost gliding over the ground as the kid did the same. His ears laid tight to his head as he let out a growl. A tiger like tail puffed showing exactly how scared he was. But you wouldn't let yourself die to him. You knew that. He knew that.

This world was yours.

A scream. A squelch. The crackle of electricity as it filled the air. The sounds of applause, shouts of anger, the ringing of the bell signifying it was all over. You stood in the middle of 50 something dead mages. Of course you hadn't killed all of them, but you had killed enough. A small boy, no bigger than 15 lay at your feet. His eyes were wide, and scared, his furry ears and tail were matted with blood and his mouth was agape in a scream. A quick prayer.

And you hated it.