Sting.

A sour, rotting blast of trash hit the air. Eggs gone grey piled over expired milk, all of it mashed into bags that sagged like dying lungs.

People slept on them anyway.

Pale faces, hollow cheeks, rags the same color as the dirt they were glued to. Misery soaked the street deeper than the gutters.

One of the poles had a wanted sign of an Imp, wanted ‘dead’.

The Imp swerved past a beggar in a dusty beanie shaking a cup at him.

“Ah! You piece of shit! Can’t even spare ten Ricos?” the beggar snapped, grabbing the Imp’s brown cloak. The fabric was soft, almost luxurious compared to the concrete filth under him.

“Hey! I’m talking to you—”

“Silence mortal.” The Imp spun around, their yellow moons piercing into the hobo’s eyes.

“….”

‘Asaldom. Pit of Floria. A place full of mortals with high aspirations, high dreams. Wishes to become something new, something important.

Hence why they commit the ultimate blasphemy, attempting to become God.’

“Why are you just standing there?”The hobo’s lips curled into a gap-toothed smile. Starving. For food, for drugs, for anything. He was already half a skeleton.

“Do you know who I am, or does ignorance cloud your insignificant mind?” The Imp growled, their fangs sharpening before they leaned back.

“I don’t care who you are, do you have any ricos?” The beggar slammed their cup on the ground.

“I don’t care for ricos— stop pestering me mortal.” The Imp waved their hand off as they began to walk away. Their tail slapping against the street floor.

“Hey! Aren’t you an Invalian?” One of the other hobos on the left hand side yelled out.

“So what?” The Imp hid their face, scowling.

“You heard about what’s going on with the Guildfords?” The hobo waved their hand, flies swarming around it.

“No.” The Imp shook their head, standing a metre away from the homeless man, “Enlighten me.”

“You heard of that little girl, Melissa? She’s run away from home— damn Balataries they’re stupid!

Those Guildfords— they have everything! But th—”

“I couldn’t care to listen to your story.” The Imp’s eyes narrowed, “You caught my eye but then I forgot people have no true cognition of their own.”

“So what? You’d rather indict yourself with sloth?” A voice spoke out—

The Imp’s eyes widened as they spun around.

“Begone! Get lost!” The Imp snapped their hands. Everyone’s eyes fell on the figure as the hood snapped away.

Revealing the Invalian Mutilator.

“It’s you! Your the one the saints aughta kill!” One of the hobos screeched!

“I hope it’s Merlin that kills this bastard! It’d be right if an Invalian takes the life of this scumbag!” The one prior wagged his finger, his eyes then leering to the wanted poster behind.

Rumble…

Rumble….

“Who dare let a human judge me?” The Imp sternly spoke, clouding themself in the misery of the city whilst the ground beneath began to tremble.

As the hobos sank to the ground, a barrage of spears erupted.

Thwip.

Thwip.

Penetrating every single one of them through the head. Blood leaking out their skulls as their faces were still stuck on the same frame, the same shout.

As for the Imp…

The Imp clutched the badge in their hands, it hadn’t warped yet.

‘Perhaps the trials are on pause for a moment, maybe I can rest for once. Did Thidos seriously? No, he wouldn’t… He never would.’

The Imp sighed, staring above into the night sky.

A dark night. Stars glinting, untouchable, unmovable, watching from above.

The Imp’s claws reached out toward the sky.

They fell to the floor, as their body rested on a soot-covered street.

Their lips began to speak.

“I heard that there’s a new cafe in Lovanka— held by one of the knights. It may be an easy kill— or it could be a challenging fight…

W—What do you mean I can’t?!?!

I hear you! I hear you!

But listen, I can easily defeat any of the knights— it’d only be a problem if one of those damn Angels got on the case.”

The Imp stomped their feet against the ground, as a voice within their head began to yell at them.

“Masalor! Listen to me!” The Imp pleaded, “The shop is called ‘Opena’, it’s held by the Second Saint!

He’s the most forgettable one— nobody will be there, nobody will notice! Leave me be! I can go invisible!”

The Imp fidgeted, shaking their body around before roaring.

But as soon as their roar ended, they vanished.

Blipping away and leaving destruction in their wake once again.