I stood there in front of them and watched them inch closer and closer.

I cursed myself for being so weak.

For letting myself be used like this.

But there was nothing I could do.

The 'Plains of Fire' was home to hundreds of demonic and beastial races who had countries, cities, villages and wonders of all kind.

It was exactly similar to the 'Plains of Life' that the humans, elves and demis inhabited.

There was no difference... well maybe a little, I mean we had lots of volcanoes, fire, lava, soot and ash and the sky was usually red.

But aside from that it was the same.

But the terrible part about it was those scumbag heroes.

Heroes my ass.

Not even their own people liked them.

They did whatever they wanted.

They broke into houses, pilfered supplies, took the coins a small family in a village had been saving for years and congratulated themselves on finding loot.

They came into the plains of fire and massacred indiscriminately all while muttering how much 'experience' they got or how much 'loot' they found.

And another thing that bothered me.

Whenever the so called heroes killed something, the bodies would turn into light and occasionally drop things and then a few hours later the people that died would 're-spawn'.

Then the heroes would come again in a few hours and laugh about how they found an awesome 'grinding' spot and how they'd abuse it till it got 'patched'.

It pissed me off.

This existence was terrible.

And the worst thing of all, was that every decade or so, the strongest heroes would think they are finally strong enough to kill the Demon Lord, so they'd force the Kings, Queens, Dukes and Princes in the Plains of Life to raise and army to besiege us so they could clash with the Demon Lord and in the end they'd simply die.

Because compared to the might of the Demon Lord, the heroes were ants.

But if it only ended with their death it'd be great, but no, no, no... it wouldn't end with that.

The heroes who led such a great army would bring death and catastrophe in their wake and kill hundreds of thousands so they could 'experience such an event'.

When we died by the heroes we'd respawn, but when we died to normal beings, we died forever.

Never to come back.

It was terrible.

I've lived through two such wars.

I was 1 year old when the first one happened so I don't remember much but I know my older brother and father marched off to fight in the name of our Country 'Dervashag' which answered to the Demon Lord.

From that war, only my father returned and he was missing his arm.

We suffered such hardships because of that shitty war.

The second war was even worse, half of village was called off to war, including my mother.

No one from my village returned.

I was left alone.

All for those shitty heroes 'event'.

I hated them immensely.

I was a mere Demonling, and a lesser Demonling at that.

The lowest of the lowest within the 'Plains of Fire'... Well not the lowest, but I was down there.

We didn't even get names.

We simply communicated by saying 'You', 'Oy', 'Hey', 'Big Demonling', 'Tiny Demonling' and such.

We were not even given names unless we were normal or higher ranked and even most normal ranked beings didn't get names.

And I know that the people of the Plain of Life suffered the same fate.

Their villagers were called 'Villager', or 'Farmer', or 'Peasant'.

I loathed this world but I could do nothing but accept my fate.

Which brings me back to where I am right now.

I'm employed by the country of Dervashag as a border guard, and that is what I was.

A Lesser Border Guard Demonling.

That was what I was called.

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And I was amongst the tens of thousands of other Demonlings with that same name.

We had such a sad fate.

And as a border guard, the heroes called us 'Low Level Mobs'.

The weaker heroes would come around here and 'grind' and 'farm' us.

They made me feel like an animal.

But I couldn't even fight such a terrible fate.

And now in front of me stood a 'party', a group of heroes, who had come to grind on me and my kind.

Low Level Knight: “Oy guys, come on, its just a bunch of weak little Border Demonlings, lets just level up a bit today and go home, I heard of a good sushi bar” the low level knight in crappy old metal armour stated to his companions with arrogance as he viewed me and my kind in annoyance. His voice was cocky and uppity making me think he was a pretty boy, probably anyway.

I couldn't even charge at him.

I had to stay here and wait for him to come to me.

We had to wait for them to engage us, or come within 5 metres of us before we were allowed to attack.

If I had to live such a life then why I was given intelligence.

No, let me rephrase that.

Back in my village, we had full control of our bodies and intelligence but once we were given a job we became husks. Lifeless tools.

I hated it and I wanted to just die, but I couldn't do that either.

Low Level Priestess: “Yeah, lets do this quickly so we can go out and enjoy ourselves tonight” the blonde priestess said as she leaned her staff onto her shoulder and clapped her hands.

The remaining party members which consisted of a Low Level Hunter, Low Level Berserker and a Low Level Mage, all nodded in agreement with each other.

I knew they were low level because of the fact that they were here and their attire, I also knew what their profession was because of their attire.

I sighed internally and watched them come towards us slowly.

They moved arrogantly and without a trace of fear.

As if they knew they would never have to face anything that could kill them in these lands.

Even though there were tens of thousands of us, they never fought more than 10 at a time.

The other border guards near me looked on with the same eyes as mine, no... their eyes were lifeless seeing how they were broken a long time ago and I'd probably break soon as well.

The party nodded to themselves and charged at us.

They finally engaged us and but the monotone voice that should have resounded in the air saying 'Battle Engaged' did not come.

I watched my kind charge mindlessly and attack.

I watched them slowly die and fall.

I had not been forced with the impulse to charge and die mindlessly.

I had not been forced to say the same words as my kind.

I had not been 'forced'.

I wasn't being controlled.

And then it was me and them.

The five of them were looking at me curiously.

LL Knight: “Did it glitch? It isn't attacking us” he then shrugged “Oh well, lets kill it and continue” but to his surprise and mine I yelled and charged.

Lesser Border Guard Demonling (Main Character): “CURSE YOU AND YOUR STUPID RULES” and I surprised myself immensely, I had spoken words other than 'Die fool' or 'KeKeKeKe'.

They all look startled and didn't react in time as my terribly made pitchfork entered and went through the priestesses chest making her cough up blood.

Everyone had a look of shock on their face but within a few seconds from that moment, I had three arrows, 1 sword, 1 axe and a magic bolt hit me, obliterating me physically.

My final moments before I respawned in a few hours was pleasant as I heard them yelling “Anna”, “Anna stay with us” and “Take out the fucking health potion quickly!”.

I smiled as I began to disintegrate.

Fuck the heroes, they deserved far worse than this.