DEMONIC ANGEL

PACT AND BLESSING

As a child, I once sat through a movie, one of those typical tales where the villain wreaks havoc, destroying lives and leaving devastation in their wake. The hero, of course, suffers greatly-losing family, friends, and even his beloved. But in the end, the hero emerges victorious, saving the day and defeating the villain.

But you know what? That ending didn't sit right with me. It felt wrong, incomplete. Because in these movies, the hero never truly wins. Sure, they defeat the villain, but they never truly pay for their crimes. Instead, they're forgiven, redeemed, and the hero somehow finds it in their heart to move on, to forgive and forget.

Well, not me.

I couldn't stomach it, even as a child. How could someone forgive a person who had torn their life apart, who had caused so much pain and suffering? It made me sick to my stomach. If I were in the hero's shoes, I wouldn't be so forgiving. No, I'd make the villain pay for what they'd done. I'd have become gay and fucked them until they die.

That's why I don't believe in the classic hero archetype. It's why I don't aspire to be like them. Because sometimes, being the villain seems like the better option-better to embrace the darkness than to live a life of ruin and regret.

"If someone respects you, then respect them back; if someone is rude to you, you should become ten times ruder than that." It was a creed she had adopted in a world where survival often depended on strength and ruthlessness.

The recent attack by the humans only reinforced her resolve. They had tried their best to kill her, but Scarlett was not one to forgive easily. She was a seeker of revenge, determined to make them pay for their actions.

But to exact that revenge, she needed to survive. As her eyelids grew heavy and refused to open, she sensed movement around her. Someone was carrying her, their steps slow and deliberate. Despite their efforts, Scarlett could feel her lower half dragging along the ground, the rough surface scraping against her skin.

In her weakened state, Scarlett couldn't muster the strength to fully open her eyes, but she could sense the presence of her unlikely rescuer. Though small in stature, their determination was palpable as they labored to carry her to safety. And in that moment, Scarlett knew that she had found an unexpected ally in her quest for vengeance.

As Scarlett summoned the last reserves of her strength, she exerted herself to pry her heavy eyelids open just a fraction. Through the haze of fatigue and pain, she caught a glimpse of her unlikely savior: the same skeleton she had encountered moments before, now laboring to carry her on his back.

The memory of the skeleton's earlier appearance flooded back to Scarlett-the eerie figure brandishing a rusty sword, poised to strike. Yet here he was now, a skeletal frame struggling under the weight of her tall and heavy body.

With each step, Scarlett felt her body scrape against the ground, the rough terrain chafing against her skin. Despite the skeleton's best efforts, his gait was slow and unsteady, the burden of his load evident in every movement.

But even in the face of adversity, the skeleton persisted, pushing forward with dogged determination. Scarlett couldn't help but feel a glimmer of gratitude toward her unexpected rescuer, knowing that his steadfast resolve might just be her lifeline in this dire moment.

Scarlett's voice dizzling slightly as she spoke, her words barely above a whisper, "Are we in hell?"

In response, the skeleton turned his face towards her, his eye sockets seeming to fixate on her with a curious gaze. "You're up?" His voice, despite his skeletal appearance, carried a surprising cuteness that caught Scarlett off guard. Even amidst her pain and confusion, she couldn't help but be impressed by the sweetness of his voice.