The air that night was stone-cold in a stone-cold world, a world that was barely moving, people that were barely breathing and hearts that were barely beating. The sky was of a hellish red, the red that can be found every so often on the dirty tainted hands of a sinner's blood, the type of red that would never wash away, the color that fills your soul with hatred, the sky of a nightmare, literally...
Disturbed, I sat there, speechless, and all I had in my mind was a deep blank that I couldn't seem to fill with any thoughts. I did not even know what to think or whether I was dead in hell or living hell, unsure which would be better. However, after realizing that something was off (in the good sense) about my mobility, my strength, my whole being I started gaining a bit of confidence. It was not a very picturesque sight, it was like waking up to seeing that all hell broke loose, not to mention the crowds of people sitting atop of buildings, looking like scarecrows, or rather cats that were ready to eat their pray. There I was, having mixed feelings about the situation. As bad as I wanted to rip those people's limbs apart, I wanted to run away as far as possible... or rather to fly away, considering that when I turned my head I could see wings that resemble those of a fallen angel's as black as my soul could be.
Slowly, but steadily I started to walk and the cement floor started to crack, creepily, almost scared myself. Despite being heavily outnumbered, the "scarecrows" didn't dare approach me and followed me cautiously. Tens of eyeballs following me as I led the stairway to hell, creeping me out. A short scream made all of them disperse into a rain of bodies that was pointed towards its center: me. Calmly, they landed into a circle about 50 feet from me, as if they were trying to stay in formation, ready at any moment to cast a spell at me. Notorious as the whole situation was, the most disturbing thing there was, aside from the sky and those creatures was their eyes, filled with hatred. Black cornea, red iris and red pupils was the perfect combination to scare the sh*t out of everyone, yet I remained calm, telling myself that my eyes probably looked the same. Calmly, I spread my demonic wings, of which apparently I had control to a certain extent, and they all took a step backwards, their knees almost trembling.
Feeling a bit inclined toward my right side, I realized that I had something attached to my belt, something pretty heavy. Curiosity got the best of me so I ended up checking what it was. Indeed, it was a sword, a magnificent one after all. However magnificent it was, it had a nasty vibe radiating from it, something dark and mysterious, the type of feeling that overwhelms you and takes control without even bothering to announce you. Knowing I was off to a very dangerous start, I liked it. Living dangerously wasn't much like me, but once the adrenaline started rushing I couldn't stop myself, it truly took over. So there I was, standing eager to fight, with some kind of devilish sword in my hands and dark wings attached to my back. My bet was that the creatures would all attack at once, given how they decided to arrange themselves. The wings wouldn't offer me much protection from behind. My front was pretty much covered, if you could call it that. One swing of that hellish object and they would all perish away. Even more, for some very strange reason I was extremely confident in my sword wielding skills. Regardless of how heavenly those skills are, I couldn't possibly have enough time to finish off the people in front of me, the distance was too close and they were too agile. Then the only decision left was to jump high enough to get rid of them all at once. Jokes on me, tens of silhouettes still watching me from above, but after all it was my best bet, so I took it.
