The one armed imp seems hesitant, probably due to its injury and how quickly the other imp fell. It seems content with watching Ram-head take the lead, who starts charging me. Red blade held high leaving neon streaks in the air, its four eyes locked onto mine with malicious intent, as it shrieks a blood curling warcry.

Before it can close the short distance between us, the wall of vegetation at the edge of the clearing explodes. A goliath of brown fur collides with Ram-head midcharge, sweeping the Daemon off its feet and into a thick tree trunk, causing a dozen leaves to float down with a hefty thud.

The remaining imp squeals “Opio!” The fear is clear in its tone, but surprisingly the imp attacks with no hope of surviving.

The colossus animal, moving more rapidly than should be physically possible, stands and twists itself towards the one armed imp. Like a redwood tree falling on a caterpillar, the mass of fur and claws obliterates the imp.

A warm wet sensation covers my face and arms.

In a half dazed state, I brush my cheek and look down at the substance on my fingers. Midnight black goop with flecks of purple is all that remains of the imp.

A mighty roar causes me to tear my eyes away from the mess and back to the creature. It’s a gigantic bear.

Similar in size to a polar bear but with the thickness of a grizzly. Except this bear has four arms, two on either side (seems to be this fantasy world's theme). From the top of its head down to a stubby tail, is a striped crest of maroon red fur with bone spikes sticking out the centre.

Random patches of emerald moss were growing within its thick hair, large clumps covered its mighty shoulders, and Mother’s twinkling lights were flecked within the damp matter.

I look directly into the beast’s small red eyes and see a rage. A rage for all living things. A rage so unrelenting it could pulverise mountains and destroy kingdoms. Or at the very least turn me into a puddle of blood and flesh.

The bear rises from the crater it created from the imp, a fresh coating of black blood covers the majority of its arms and torso. With jerking movements, it turns and focuses on our meagre bush.

“Mother have mercy.” Yelps Piia.

I’m petrified in place, unable to taste my last breaths.

Suddenly Ram-head leaps from behind, landing the glowing shortsword in the nape of the bear’s neck.

Bellowing a deep moan, the mountain of fur collapses to the forest floor with a crash.

Silence and peace follow for a moment.

A very brief moment, before the Daemon barks a wet laugh with glee.

“Even Guardians fall before Chaos.” It gurgles while rising again to full height. Half its face is missing, replaced with three raw trenches left behind by the bear's assault. With only two eyes remaining on one side, it turns towards us.

“And Order will follow.” It advances.

Stumbling and wincing with agony the Daemon crosses the clearing, and I don’t react.

I don’t react when it grabs my ankle and drags me from my pathetic sanctuary.

I don’t react when it lifts a clawed hand above my head, its face twisting into a makeshift smirk. I force my body, with all the energy I can muster, to do something.

My feeble attempt at defence is placing one arm meekly between myself and the Daemon.

The claws fly slow and true, lacerating my forearm. The pain shrieks like a siren in my being. Adrenaline accelerates through my bloodstream as my heart races like a crackhead about to overdose.

The Daemon claws cocking back for another attack. I look away from my demise and see its other arm ends in a stump at the elbow. I close my eyes to the horror befalling me, hoping I will just wake up. Please just wake up.

The Daemon wails in anger as Piia’s horned head collides with its decimated body. I open my eyes to see them rolling around like amateur fighters in the octagon. Piia just saved me from certain demise and I'm lying here, judging her fighting technique. I'm bloody pathetic.

Even with a tattered leg, she managed to charge the monster she fears. While I can barely move a muscle. I need to do better, I can be better. Witnessing Piia’s sacrifice and the pain in my forearm brings clarity to my dishevelled head.

Still on the ground, Piia snakes her arm around its neck and starts choking the Daemon. The fight is going her way until the Daemon sharply kicks her mangled lower leg. Piia’s body tenses up in pain, she releases the hold.

The Daemon, seizing the opportunity, wriggles its lanky frame around and clambers on top. Using its knees to hold her arms down, it grips her soft neck with its remaining hand and squeezes.

“You are nothing to me slave!” it screams in her face, black blood leaking all over. Her arms clawing at its sides, trying to get any purchase. I tear my eyes away and search the area, how can I help? I can’t even help myself. The clearing was now unrecognisable from the quiet glen it once was, blood and body parts defiling the natural beauty.

“Your Guardians are nothing! Your God is NOTHING!” Piias eyes are bulging with the strain, her arms only managing soft hits now.

I look into the black ichor painting of the imps' remains and spot it. A long bayonet like claw. I crawl over and clench the fantasy shank, unbeknown to the satanic Daemon. Piia’s arms weakly flay out and spasm violently, before finally laying limp.

The Daemon releases its hold, panting from the strain of murder.

Sucking in air, it begins to turn its head to spot me with its only working eyes.

“Now to fin…”

I thrust the claw through the mangled eye socket. Sliding the sharp weapon deep into the Daemon's head. A wet cough escapes its lips as the body topples over and off Piia.

I crouch beside Piia and feel for a pulse. Her throat is a dark tapestry of Daemon fluids and bruising I can see through the light fur. Is that a faint pulse? I open her mouth and begin CPR, forcing air down her throat, then pumping her chest over and over again.

I repeat the process, questioning my technique throughout and doubt slowly creeping in. This isn’t working. Why didn’t I take a first aid course or even watch a Youtube video?

Pumping and pumping, my arms weaken with fatigue. My lungs burn as I force more air down her throat and any hope I had begins to fade.

A gentle breeze stirs the clearing, green motes drifting everywhere. My periphery catches the stimuli, alert from the recent terror, I vigilantly search for danger while continuing to pump Piia’s chest. I see the current of air flowing through the green haze like water in a stream. It swirls and cascades towards Piia and down her throat, flooding her lungs.

She gasps for oxygen, arms weakly pushing me away as I see the terror in her eyes.

“Piia you’re okay, relax relax, it's Seth. We’re safe.” I try reassuring her as best I can.

Comprehension only settles in once she spots the Daemon, an imp claw still jutting out its head. Knowing she’s now safe, her body relaxes, settling into the bloody grass. She croaks a noise to me, her swollen throat barely letting the vibrations escape.

“I don’t understand Piia, what do you need?” She answers with a pointing finger, back towards our hiding bush. Then she points into her mouth and strokes down her neck.

“Water leaves, of course.” I shakingly stand like a newborn foal, I’m running on vapours after the fight. I grab handfuls of water leaves and bring my forage back to Piia.

“We should get away from this area, and find somewhere to rest.” I state while she drinks.

“Soooon.” She painfully croaks the word, water leaves must be helping a little.

“Try not to talk if you can help it.” She nods in agreement.

I look down at Ramhead, its body merely inches from hers. I will at least give her some space from that devil spawn. I briefly inspect his face for any movement, Daemons are built differently so I can’t be too cautious. It's dead and hopefully suffering in Hell. I see now the jewellery hanging from the horns are satanic symbols made from a tarnished grey metal.

Before I can grab the horns to pull its corpse away from Piia, a light rises from the Daemon’s body.

More symbols with varying colours. The symbols look very different this time, however, the colour schemes are the same with identical frequency timings.

This could only mean another opportunity for a class. Would this replace my crappy Shepherd class with a more powerful and useful one, offering abilities and strength that will allow me to survive this hellish fantasy world?

I have to take the chance, that battle almost ended in both myself and Piia dying a bloody death. Taming lesser cattle isn’t going to stop a Daemon’s claws from cutting my heart out.

The vapours fueling me turn into a bonfire at the realisation I might get some actual magic. I need to think about this carefully. This time, I’m aiming for the red symbol. That way if I am too early, I'll still get purple and too late I'll hit gold. Come on magic, I watch the symbol cycle for ages.

The rotation playing out in my brain, I’m calling the colours just as they show. My hand launches forward and touches a rune. A flash of rose gold blinds my sight, the world tilts again. I collapse on the ground, the racing energy too much for my withered brain and body to handle. My vision swims as runes appear before me.

I collapse to the ground, landing on top of the Daemon’s body. As the blackness of unconsciousness takes hold I close my eyelids, settling into the darkness, before a bright light flashes and a strange sensation passes through me.