My eyes skim the achievement message in front of me. At first I am paralyzed by shock. But then I come to my senses.

‘Of course, there are a few civilians,’ I rationalize. ‘They are goblins! They probably take their whole community with them to war.”

My crisis of faith and morality averted, I focus on the battle that lies before me. My first real battle in this world. Well, to be honest it is my first real battle that involves life or death. In my past life, I in no way feared for my life. Not just because of my power, but because of what the locals here call ‘plot armor.’

“You two fight,” Quinn instructs us, as we hurtle towards the devastated Camp. “I will watch your backs and bail you out if you need it. Get some experience, gain some levels, and try not to die. Good luck!”

Beside me, Ra’hel looks like an athlete preparing to start a race. Well, the athletes I am used to seeing usually have legs, but it is more about the atmosphere, ya know?

Her body is tense like an arrow ready to take flight. She is practically horizontal, with her tail coiled beneath her, flexing and unflexing.

Positioned between me and Ra’hel, Nevasca has a similar air. Ready to pounce at any moment. Or swoop?

‘Pounce,’ I decide. She is way more beast-like than bird-like.

My musings are cut short as our slab of rock ends its jouney by arriving at the bottom of the river of rock that was once a cliff. The slab’s flight ends, and mine begins.

Caught unprepared, I go flying forward. I roll to break my fall. I achieve a half kneeling stance with my shield up and spear forward, just in time to catch a glimpse of Ra’hel taking off.

Obviously prepared, she uses the momentum of the slab to increase her speed. She launches off the platform, racing forward with a gleam in her eye. Rising to intimidating heights on her tail, she burst through the handful of goblins who are climbing through the wreckage to greet us. Ignoring them she chases after the ones running away.

Glancing around, I see that Quinn had used her wings to catch the draft created from our momentum. She glides gracefully to the ground and shoots me an encouraging wink.

Nevasca lands beside me, as graceful as any cat. Her feathers are upright and ready for carnage.

‘No wonder other races get bonuses,’ I think to myself despairingly. ‘Fucking humans can’t even make a decent entrance.’

Shield forward, knees bent, spear low at my side, I rise to my feet and stalk forward. The group of goblins before me split into thirds. One third turn to chase after Ra’hel, and the other two thirds rush forward toward me.

The first goblin to reach me towers over his compatriots. Standing at about 4 feet he was at least a foot taller than the others.

His well-muscled frame twists as he leaps in the air, the hammer in his hand aimed at my head. My training kicks in.

Shield still forward I brace the butt of my spear on the ground and angle it up. His momentum and inability to dodge midair dooms him.

My plain spear is now adorned with his corpse. The light leaves his eyes as my spear easily pierces through his leather armor. No- leather apron? An odd choice.

Dismissing the experience message before it can even pop up, I allow my spear point to fall on the ground. I plant my foot on the corpse and pull my spear from the body. I note the odd choice of weapon. Aren’t war hammers supposed to have longer handles? And look more intimidating?

Not having enough time to dwell on it, I brace myself for the incoming horde.

Nevasca meets their charge, claws and teeth rending and tail slashing. Turtling behind my shield and using my Source enhanced reflexes, I swiftly and methodically slay the distracted goblins. The poorly armed goblin’s looks of grim determination fade as my spear tip darts in and out. Their attacks are useless against my quick steps and quicker deflections.

A cacophony of earth rumbling roars come from the direction of the cave in the mountain side. Two massive ogres burst out of the cave.

Not quite as muscly as the three we saw earlier; the duo catch sight of me and Quinn and rush over. Clad in leather that covers their vital bits, the very female looking ogres charge. Giant pickaxes in hand, they look every inch the enraged ogre.

Pickaxes? Ogres? Hammer? Leather apron?

Deaf to Quinn screaming at me, I am frozen by my realization. Quinn spreads her wings and launches Source sharpened feathers at the oncoming ogres.

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She charges forward to meet them, sword in hand.

Screams wash over me.

‘A village,’ my mind races. ‘We are slaughtering a village.’

The implications crash against the wall of denial I had built in my mind, battering it down. The ogres from before, hauling a cart of metal to trade at the city. The goblin I had ruthlessly cut down, wearing the garb of a blacksmith. The ogres fighting to defend their village, mining into the mountain. The goblins fleeing, innocent villagers.

Innocent villagers.

My head swivels, woodenly, to catch sight of the fate of those fleeing. At the edge of the forest I see Ra’hel. She rips a bundle from the arms of a goblin caught in her coils. The bundle kicks and wails as her jaw unhinges and she gulps it down. She crushes the goblin screaming in horror that is wrapped in her tail. Releasing it from life and her grasp, she disappears into the forest. Undoubtedly chasing more survivors.

I fall to my knees, spear and shield falling from my grasp. My gut wrenches.

“Murderer,” I whisper softly. Tears flooding down my face. “I am a murderer.”

Guilt and shame fill me with their cruel embrace. I think of my father and all the family I had left behind. A clan of righteous demon-lords indeed. Father I have failed you.

I have succumbed to the evils of our ancestors. A cruel and vicious Demon-Lord I have become.

‘No!’ I cry in my mind. ‘There must be a reason! They must have committed some evil for the Guild to send us to wipe them out.’

Clinging to my denial, I struggle back to reality.  

Before my eyes, Quinn in a life and death struggle. Her finesse is undermined by her attempts to protect me. Alas, her protection is no match for the strength and rage of the ogres. Her wings flop brokenly as she presumably fills them with Source and uses them to block killing blows from the two ogres.

Her sword seeks out undefended flesh. Sadly, ogres’ rhythm and teamwork keeps her on her heels. Unable to follow through with her attacks, the strikes barely cut the thick skin of the ogres.

Motes of light gather around her, some flowing into her, healing her wounds. The rest combining and turning into glowing orbs that float above and behind her.

Nevasca, sensing that I have come to my senses, joins the fight. Her tail whips, launching feathers, much like Quinn from what seems like hours ago. The feathers fly in the faces of the ogres, giving Quinn a much-needed reprieve.

Taking a step back, she points to the ogres with her free hand. The orbs behind her elongate and split apart, becoming arrows of light that crash against the exposed green skin before her.

I watch, relieved that I won’t have to test my battle skills against the large and scary looking monsters. My relief doesn’t last long. The arrows of light melt dots of skin, but not much more. The ogres renew their assault. Their skin releasing wisps of smoke, adding to their intimidation.

Hardening my heart and renewing my determination, I march forward. Nevasca and I single out one of the ogres, leaving the other to Quinn.

I circle from the side. My spear darts in repeatedly, hoping to get the ogres attention. Nevasca uses her tail to swipe at the ogre. Long gashes appear on its deep green skin.  Lashing out with its pickaxe, she turns to face us.

My spear continues to poke and jab. I subtly retreat, drawing her away. From the opposite side of me, Nevasca harries her.

Luring her a reasonable distance from her companion, we adopt the attack pattern of wolves. Nevasca and I circle her. Whenever she turns her back on one of us, the other darts in to land a hit. We aim at vitals.

The ogre’s attention on me, Nevasca lashes out with her claws. The ogre drops to one knee. Success! A hamstring cut.

On one knee, the ogre swivels and lashes out toward Nevasca, no less dangerous than before. Her back faces me. I channel Source into the corresponding muscles and strike. I aim for her shoulder. I thrust the tip of my spear into the joint of her weapon wielding arm. She bellows with pain and swivels to backhand me.

Using my preferred strategy, I roll out of the way taking my spear with me. The ogre, wising up to our plan pivots to keep us both within her peripheral vision. Her right arm hangs limply. The tendons and nerves in her shoulder are damaged. With a grimace, she switches her weapon to her left hand.

No longer in a rush to attack us, she waits for us to come to her. A wise choice. We continue to circle, looking for an opening. Her dark and foreboding eyes follow us. They promise vengeance. Vengeance wrought upon those who attacked the village under her protection unprovoked?

Walling off that line of reasoning within my mind, I focus on the task at hand. Slay the monster. Just like the Guild said. I must do quests to earn money and experience. I need earn money and experience to grow more powerful. I need grow more powerful to get into the dungeon. I must get into the dungeon to escape my debt, keep out of being enslaved, and fulfill my destiny.

Sacrifices must be made. Right? It is me or them! This is self-defense.

As if sensing my self-doubt, the ogre lashes out at me. Caught off guard I am unable to dodge in time. I bring my shield to bear, absorbing the massive impact. Given the strength of the ogre I expect to be blown away. I am not.

The beauty of a pickaxe. All the force from a strike is centered on the tip of the tool, allowing it to pierce through stone. Or through a wooden shield with a thin metal covering.

The tip pierces my side, through my shield. The backswing to meet Nevasca’s oncoming attack rips the shield from my grasp.

I am left standing. A hole in my side gushes blood through my chainmail shirt. I push my now shield-less hand against the wound, attempting to ebb the tide of blood. I direct the Source in my body toward the wound. My Source enhanced veins, arteries, and muscles clench. The blood flow slows.

Nevasca, unharmed, eyes me with a worried gaze. Having learnt from my mistake I focus wholly upon the battle. I vow within my heart to get a better shield. Without it I feel naked. And not the fun kind.

The ogre’s ears seemed to twitch. She turns her head to the side, as if listening to something. A smile I can only describe as vindictive floats across her face. She settles back on her haunches, into a defensive stance.

Then I hear it. Deep rumbling roars. Grief, rage, and betrayal given voice. They come from the direction of the forest between us and the city. Multiple voices, lifting in a chorus.

‘The ogres on the road,’ I deduce. ‘They must have found Ra’hel or her victims…. Our victims.’

Someone grabs me by the collar. It’s Quinn. Behind her is the headless corpse of the other ogre.

“We have to leave now!” She shouts. “There is no way we can take them! We have to run. We have to hide!”

She pulls me and we run.

Away from the decimated village. Away from the mountain. Away from the city.

Away from the monument to my sins.