The Devil’s Condition

A hundred thousand years later.

Demon Continent.

In the eerie silence of the night, on a vast expanse of grassland, a warrior stood in the middle of a mighty spell carved on the ground.

There were skulls, bones, blood, skin, and even actual heads and body pieces of humans scattered around on the spell.

The red hair of the warrior fluttered with the wind and so did her black robes as she stood with a lifeless expression in the middle of the spell.

"In shadows deep, I call your name,

From fiery depths, arise, and claim.

This pact we forge, our destinies entwine."

The girl chanted calmly and slit her wrist, letting her blood drip down on the spell.

Her crimson blood flowed to all parts of the spell and lit up, casting a crimson glow in the dark night.

A loud cackle was heard in the next few seconds and…

"HAA!" The warrior heard a gasp and two dark claws immediately grabbed her neck.