The Forsaken Hero
I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. My fingers were numb and cold, my arm aching where the needle pierced the vein. Something clattered onto the pavement, and I looked down to see the needle. It had slipped out of my hand. Nothingness swirled around me, bringing the first sense of peace I'd felt in my short, miserable life. There was no one to miss me, and no one I would miss. There's always someone else to beat or rape. The regulars would move on quickly. I died. Only...wasn't death supposed to be dark? And since when did 'nothingness' have so many gods? Discord: https://discord.gg/PX3xqJdZMY
Power of a Demon
The world around me twisted into a chaotic whirlwind as the Shadow Demon closed in, its claws gleaming with deadly intent. My thoughts jumbled together, panic crippling my ability to think, let alone cast a spell.
"Xiviyah!" Soltair's shout hovered on the edges of my fear, and I looked up as he and Trithe rushed behind the demon, but I knew in my heart it was too late.
"Fyren!" My voice trembled as I called out, desperation filling my words.
The clash unleashed a shockwave of ash and shadow, but my Adaptive Resistance protected me from its heat and toxins. Fyren strained, muscles bulging as he held back the demon's overwhelming strength.
I staggered back, my heart pounding with fear. It seemed impossible to defeat something this powerful. The demon's soul pushed the boundary between the seventh and eighth levels, surpassing even Soltair's might.
"Xiviyah!" Fyren grunted, "Focus!"