Alone.

Back straight. Long locs flowed around her, even though twisted into a medium length complicated style. Breath even.

Her attire consisted of some animal’s hide, acquired from kills, covering her medium breast; another, a strip of fabric she had snatched from one of one of the bodies lying around to make a skirt to cover her flared hips and curved derriere.

Her gaze held no emotion.

Even though the eyes were exquisitely beautiful—the color of the palest blue—they were almost as stark as her white locs. Her skin, which usually possessed the reddish fertility color of the earth, was now dyed red with blood. Vultures flew above, circling her, while around her, below, scavengers ate, stealing parts of the dead.

Her face was cold. The massacre she had left behind had been effortless. Not daring to spare anyone—no, she lied; she spared a few.

Shivering and kneeling before her were those who served her.

She did not spare them a single glance, but continued to focus her gaze, looking up at the heavens, sneering.

What is she?

A Beast, disguised as one of the two-legged walkers.

What did she want?

To kill those who made her hurt so.

Those dwelling in the heavens, able to easily look down into the middle realm, saw this woman.

More beautiful than a goddess, more sensually made than a demoness, she was—simply—an abomination.

A few sneered, hoping she would die, condemning her for still breathing life, while others simply stared at the female who seemed to be more powerful than a goddess. To them, she was a being that should never exist, but exist she did.

What makes the two different?

Gods and demons?

The desire in their hearts.

Gods had no such lowly desires, becoming slaves to them. Those are for the lowly beings.

Since their founding, they held absolute power until this woman appeared, challenging them.

The ruler of the heavens had thought it was time for these lower beings to be purged, leaving room for those they had deemed worthy to live.

He began slaughtering them.

Should they not begin to hate?

These gods had lived so long, ruled so long from the beginning of time, but what they did not know is, before time itself, there were the Kazmetik-kin kind and their Primordial kind. What was time for such omnipotent beings?

Nothing but an eyesore that controlled them.

Still, they had warred, suffered, died and eventually were forced to slumber.

Then the gods, in their ignorance, emerged. Time started with a spark. Who was the instigator?

Was it the one in the background looking at the emergence of these powerful beings as a joke?

No one knew.

This female had been among the Kazmetik-kind and Primordial kind.

One of the few who would rather forget their origins than slumber.

To suffer until she found that others were able to make her become anchored.

How long?

If you wished to measure in the words of time, how long exactly? Using what medium?

Universal time?

Kazmetik time?

Galaxy?

Domain?

Realms?

Time of the gods?

It is unknown, but it has been too long.

It doesn’t matter, anyway.

Defiant, her mind fragmented, she gripped her bloodied weapon.

An entire sun and moon to kill them all.

Until the entire mountain desert area was littered with bodies of all ages.

The weapon in her hand was a massive trident; a long middle prong with a needle-like tip slowly extending to a twisted barb.

The two on the outer side—left and right—had dual sharp edges.

The handle she held was long and twisted; a rare weapon, she was able to summon at will.

On her right shoulder sat a magnificent bird. Its long neck was bare, but its head had a plume of white feathers forming a single line, almost like a crownet.

The eyes on each side of its head were an encompassing black width.

The beak was sharp with the upper curved downward.

This bird normally would be around three meters, but now it was a quarter of her size.

Raising the weapon and tipping it slightly, she released a grating roar.

Immediately, the sky darkened, blotted out by the fifty-over majestic birds who swooped down to feed on the dead.

“Aky svzx bmodnabitonh! Aky swahlehmeh watarahji deh xcusmnin! Rhmweh! Bhmweh! Kmehake! Kyaqwedehmek zu huhuklqeh! Zehbvehk buhuguh! Zehvehk waghah cu qwerhjaklu buloi!”

(You are an abomination! Your entire clan deserved to die for their sins! Young! Unborn young! Females! This lowly slave begs for justice! Punish this unbeliever! Punish this sinner for marring your world with its filth!)

The woman watched coldly as the birds dove and, in a few moments, found that one survivor who struggled against the attacks and picked her to death.

Satisfied, she turned to leave. Perhaps she would meet males to help reproduce once again.

Her hearts may ache, her mind may be unstable but she has— *BOOM*

*RUMBLE*

*BANG*

A flash of energy, a mixture of gold and red flashed, immediately vaporizing the flock of birds in one strike.

The woman paused, startled.

Soon after, the Sound followed once again and with a bang, she was struck several times until she stumbled.

Shaking her head, she leapt away, moving some distance, leaving the thunder behind.

Soon after, another Sound, and she was struck at such a rapid pace that she fell on her knees and spat silver blood.

Wiping her mouth, she tilted her exquisitely beautiful face—a face even the goddesses above envied— up to the sky and stared.

She wished to speak, but could only emit a broken howl; in anger, pain, and hate. Parting her lush, pink-tinged lips, she bared pearl white teeth with four sharp fangs; the rest were simply blunt.

Where her tongue was supposed to be, there laid empty. It had been cut, leaving her partially mute, only able to communicate with guttural sounds.

Her once-proud arm guards had been cut from bare biceps; the rings around her neck signifying she was a mated female with three consort males and a mother of four.

They, too, had been removed.

Her right hand had a sleeve of traditional markings made by her three consorts into a tribal mark of beauty.

A mark against her once flawless flesh.

She roared again at the heavens.