Slayer of Myths
The village was engulfed in flames, casting an eerie glow upon the surroundings. I observed the chaos with a mixture of annoyance and detachment, striding casually amidst the burning wreckage. Each step I took sunk my boot heels into the mire, causing me to clench my teeth in irritation. These boots had cost me a hefty sum of two silver bars and a bronze, a reminder of my poor judgment in trusting that shady merchant. Nevertheless, I couldn't deny they looked exceptionally impressive on me.
In the distance, a silhouette emerged from the smoke. Lowering my crimson hood, I cracked my fingers in anticipation and retrieved my beloved cobalt flintlock from its holster. My thumb rested firmly on the trigger, poised to unleash its deadly force upon any threat that dared approach me.
Amidst the cacophony of anguished screams from the villagers, who were being mercilessly hunted by grotesque and otherworldly creatures, I glanced up at the night sky. The bright, yellow moon held my gaze with its eerie radiance. "Of course," I murmured to myself, a wry smile playing on my lips. "A full moon. Just my luck."
With measured steps, I closed in on the only remaining structure still standing. Though dilapidated, its foundation appeared relatively intact compared to the rest of the village. The desperate cries of a survivor reached my ears, pleading for assistance. I responded to no one in particular, my voice carrying a sense of reassurance. "Fear not. I have arrived."
Summoning my strength, I swung my leg with swift determination, striking the wooden door of the house. The impact caused a violent explosion of splinters and dust, shrouding the area in a thick haze. Despite my composed demeanor, I couldn't suppress the urge to sneeze as the particles invaded my nostrils. After all, I wasn't impervious to the effects of the swirling debris.
A mischievous smirk danced across my lips as the beast growled in response. "What's the matter?" I taunted, my voice dripping with disdain. "Are you content to merely entertain me with your snarls, or will you summon the courage to engage me?"
The monstrous creature snarled, revealing its formidable fangs stained with a familiar crimson hue—blood. Thick droplets of the viscous liquid fell to the ground as the beast callously discarded the woman it had held captive, its attention now fixated on me.
I held my ground, unflinching. Fear had no place within me; it was a foreign concept, a realm I had long abandoned. The creature sniffed the air, drawing nearer with a calculated stride. Sensing its approach, I took a deliberate step back, ensuring I had enough room to dispatch it. I, too, inhaled deeply, mimicking the beast's actions, but my intentions diverged. My aim was to detect any lurking werewolves, poised to strike me from the shadows while I engaged in this battle.
Counting my foes with precision would lighten my burden, making the impending conflict more manageable. The scent that filled my nostrils consisted of smoldering fire, the acrid odor of decaying blood, and the repugnant stench emanating from the creature's matted fur. Disgusting. Did these creatures not spare a moment to cleanse themselves in the nearby stream? It would have been so convenient.
"Who...are you?" the creature rasped, its voice tinged with an unexpected hint of curiosity.
I blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected query. Well, well, what an intriguing coincidence. It appeared that I had mistakenly assumed this creature lacked any semblance of intelligence.
"You can speak," I remarked, uncrossing my arms but keeping my index finger firmly on the trigger. "How rare."
"Rare?" The creature echoed, seemingly puzzled by my observation.
A chuckle escaped my lips, tinged with amusement. Did this creature truly possess such limited knowledge of the world? I raised my wrists, revealing the steel bands adorned with Roman numeral markings. Familiar symbols that held significant meaning to me. I glanced back at the creature, a deceptive smile playing upon my lips.
"I don't mind enlightening you," I stated, my tone dripping with condescension. "Luckily, I still have a few minutes to spare. Is there something you wish to understand before you meet your demise?"
"Who are you...?" the creature inquired, its voice laced with curiosity.
"Ah, my name," I chuckled bitterly, once again taken aback by the ignorance displayed by these wretched beasts. How dare they forget my name? Did they not comprehend who I was and the power I wielded?
"It's Nyxerion Vermillion," I replied, introducing my identity with an air of superiority. Why, you may wonder, would I disclose my name to a mere beast? Well, it mattered not. He would not be leaving here alive, after all.
"Nyx..." the creature repeated, its voice trailing off as it attempted to grasp the unfamiliar syllables. "Ver...million."
"Indeed, that is my name," I confirmed, a wicked smile curling upon my lips. "And what might be yours?"
"Elon," it responded, a hint of resignation in its voice.
"Elon," I repeated, my smile lingering as I holstered my beloved flintlock pistol, for it would not find use today. Instead, I drew forth my gleaming grey dagger, unsheathing it with a calculated flourish. Pointing the blade toward the creature, I regarded it with a sinister glint in my eyes.
"Ah, Elon," I mused, savoring the name upon my tongue. "Perhaps severing your jugular vein would be the most fitting way to end you. After all, I am a woman of refined tastes when it comes to slaughtering. Would you prefer it that way?"
Elon's reaction to my taunting was far from submissive. He assumed a defensive stance, snarling fiercely and warning me to keep my distance. His wet fangs glistened in the dim light, a clear sign of his readiness to attack.
"Don't... come any... closer," he growled, his voice strained with a mixture of fear and defiance.
I couldn't help but be amused by his feeble attempt to establish dominance. Closing the gap between us, I intentionally disregarded his warning, relishing in the discomfort it caused him. Flustering my prey only served to make them more vulnerable, their actions prone to error and ultimately leading to their demise.
Suddenly, Elon lifted his head toward the heavens and released a haunting howl. My heart sank as a thought crossed my mind. Was he calling for reinforcements? Would his allies come to his aid?
Momentarily retreating, I assessed my predicament. Concealed beneath my crimson cloak were two flintlock pistols and a musket, each armed with a mere three bullets. I possessed a total of nine shots, and it typically took at least four shots to immobilize a creature of his kind using the specialized poison in my ammunition. Additionally, I wielded two blades—the dagger I currently held and a sword bestowed upon me by His Highness.
Taking down two wolves with my firearms might be feasible, but facing the others in close combat would prove challenging. Observing Elon's gaze fixed on my momentary distraction, he seized the opportunity to sprint away.
"Crap!" I cursed under my breath, quickly preparing myself to give chase. Leaping from branch to branch, I utilized the cover of the dense foliage above to trail after him. While it would have been easier to traverse on the ground, doing so would leave me vulnerable to ambush by his companions. I couldn't afford such a risk.
Gliding through the air with the aid of the wind currents, I expressed gratitude for their presence. They propelled me forward, hastening the pursuit. Within seconds, I closed the distance. Elon ran frantically beneath me, his desperation palpable. Noises emanated from the thick underbrush, signaling the reunion of the werewolves he had likely summoned.
Three werewolves, unaware of their impending demise, stood before me.
"What's the problem, Elon?" one of them inquired, his voice bearing a hint of concern, tinged with a husky timbre.
"She is... here," one of the werewolves confessed, his voice laden with apprehension.
"Who?" another questioned.
"Arcanthal's Red Riding Hood! One of the King's most elite assassins!"
"N-No... it cannot be..."
"It is her... there's no mistaking it. The Slayer of Myths."