The girl stood frozen, her slender frame trembling in the fading orange light of the sun. Before her loomed a demonic knight, its towering figure clad in obsidian armor that seemed to drink in the waning daylights.
Its eyes glowed with unnatural red hue, and the jagged edges of its sword reflected the dim glow like flames licking at the hard steel. The knight raised its weapon high, the massive blade arcing downward with terrifying finality.
She shut her eyes, her teeth clenched as her body froze in fear. Her heart pounded like a drumbeat of her own impending death.
Her strength was gone, drained from the endless struggle. Her body felt like lead, powerless against the knight's overwhelming might.
A single blow could crush her entirely. A single backhanded strike could leave her broken beyond repair. Her fear gnawed at her resolve, leaving her with only one choice.
Her sister must live.
The girl shifted her position, bracing herself to shield the one person who mattered most. She knew what it meant—it was a sacrifice.
She would die here. But in death, perhaps her sister would gain the slimmest chance to escape. She stopped thinking about anything else. She just hoped—prayed for one thing. That when the blade struck her, it would get stuck in her body.
One second. Please, God. That's all I need. One second. Let my death allow my sister's escape!
The dark blade fell.
She winced, expecting the sting of death, but instead, there was no pain. No searing agony. No suffocating darkness. Everything just felt… still. Like nothing happened. In fact, nothing happened to her. Instead, a deafening thunderclap tore through the air.
It doesn't sound like a lightning strike or any spell that rushes at high speed. At least nothing came close.
She could still feel the fear that welled inside her. Yet even then, she pushed herself with whatever bravery she had left. Her eyes snapped open, wide with fear and confusion.
The demonic knight staggered backward, its imposing form crumbling as dark red blood gushed from a gaping hole in its throat. Smoke and steam hissed from the wound like burning meat. The knight collapsed to its knees before slumping forward, lifeless.
The girl's head turned instinctively toward the source of the thunderous noise. To the west.
Her breath hitched in her throat.
Standing in the distance was a figure unlike anything she had ever seen—a young woman, barely older than herself, shrouded in an air of chaos and defiance.
In the woman's hands there was this strange contraption of metal, its open barrel still smoking. She held it with practiced ease, her finger resting near a small lever-like mechanism beneath the grip.
The girl stared, bewildered. Her savior was human—or at least, appeared human—but nothing about her seemed normal.
The savior's clothing was alien, scandalous even. She wore a black hooded garment made of unfamiliar fabric, paired with an absurdly short skirt that no modest woman in the girl's world would ever dare wear. Her boots bore strange, intricate patterns of stars on their sides, and a belt of ordinary leather was the only familiar piece of her attire.
But it was her upper garment that disturbed the girl most.
The fabric bore lettering in a language similar to the one she knew, but the words were indecipherable. Worse, emblazoned on the chest was a grotesque and macabre image—a graphic depiction of mutilated bodies dripping with blood, paired with the words Cannibal Corpse and a strange, black-and-white label reading Parental Advisory.
Who would wear something so vile?!
The savior's voice broke through the girl's thoughts, sharp and commanding.
"Heads down! Heads down! Heads down!"
The girl instinctively shielded her sister as her savior raised the contraption again, pulling the trigger. Another deafening bang bang bang shattered the air.
The girl pressed her palms to her ears, the sound too much to bear. She dared not look, but the agonized cries of the remaining demonic knights told her enough.
The strange weapon roared again and again, spewing smoke and thunder. The contraption was fed by a chain of tiny, pointy objects linked together, and each time the savior fired, the chain whipped forward, feeding the weapon like a beast devouring its prey.
The two sisters cowered in fear, covering their ears and squeezing their eyes shut, unwilling to witness the carnage.
When the gunfire ceased, the girl dared to peek.
The battlefield was unrecognizable. The ground was riddled with craters, blackened and smoldering.
Thin trails of smoke rose from the earth, and the bodies of the demonic knights were reduced to little more than mangled, charred remnants.
"Fuck me sideways till three more Sunday." The saviour whistled, chuckling proudly at the contraption. "Blessed be the Wehrmacht! It really is a buzzsaw. H-man knows his stuff."
But there was no time to dwell on the aftermath.
A new group of knights emerged on horseback, their blackened armor gleaming menacingly. Their demonic steeds charged forward, the ground shaking beneath their weight.
The girl tightened her embrace around her sister, shielding her once more.
She looked up at her savior.
The woman's face was alight with something terrifying—exhilaration. A sinister grin spread across her face, and she let out a manic laugh that sent chills down the girl's spine.
"AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" the savior cackled, her voice echoing across the battlefield. "You think you fuckers are something special? YOU'RE NOTHING! F-U-C-K-I-N-G. NOTHING!"
With a mad gleam in her eye, she tossed the spent contraption to the ground and extended her arm outward.
"Centurion… C-RAM," she murmured.
Suddenly, a massive structure materialized beside her, dropping from the sky with a resounding crash.
It was an intimidating sight: a dome-like turret with six long barrels protruding from its triangular chassis, supported by thick metallic legs.
The savior turned to the girl and flashed a smile that was anything but reassuring.
"Feel the sting of a thousand angry hornets," she said with glee before another insane laugh burst from her lips. "By all means… enjoy the symphony."
The turret whirred to life, its barrels spinning at blinding speed. Then came the sound—a roar so loud it dwarfed even the savior's first weapon. A streak of red light burst from the barrels, cutting through the darkness.
The charging knights didn't stand a chance.
Their bodies were torn apart in an instant, riddled with holes the size of fists. Blood sprayed everywhere, and their demonic steeds fell alongside them.
As quickly as it began, it was over.
The savior snapped her fingers, and the turret vanished as if it had never been there.
She turned to the sisters, who were trembling in terror.
Their fear of the knights was nothing compared to the fear they now felt for their savior.
The girl's mind raced.
Is this… the magic of the gods?
The savior smirked, raising a finger to her lips in a silencing gesture. The girl's blood ran cold. This was not a hero sent to save them. This was something far more terrifying.
The girl, trembling and clutching her sister, dared to ask the one question that burned in her mind. Her voice was small, shaky, and laced with fear. "W-Who… Who are you?"
The savior didn't respond immediately. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes scanning their surroundings, as if ensuring the threat was truly gone.
Then, with a casual flick of her wrist, the air shimmered. A large, thick blanket materialized in her hands.
She crouched before them, draping the blanket over the two sisters, shielding them from the chill of the night and the smoldering battlefield's acrid air.
Her movements were deliberate, almost gentle—a stark contrast to the chaos she had just unleashed.
As the blanket settled over their trembling forms, she raised a finger to her lips, motioning for silence. The faintest of smirks played on her lips, a mixture of amusement and something darker.
The two siblings trembled as their savior's eyes flashed over them. A pattern emerged as she leaned in closer. It looked like three circles and another circle in the middle. Black circles inside yellow irises. They didn't look natural for the two, they looked—fake.
"I am your sinful savior," she said finally, her voice low and laced with a chilling confidence. "Your ambiguously immoral mortal champion. Your beacon, yet your abyss." Her smirk widened, her eyes glinting with a sinister light. "I am… the heartless summoner."
The girl clutched her sister tighter, the weight of those words settling over her like a suffocating fog. The savior's presence was overwhelming, her aura both protective and deeply unsettling.
As the savior stood, her shadow cast long and dark in the flickering light of the burning battlefield, she flashed that same sinister smile once more, a smile that promised salvation—or ruin.
The sisters huddled together beneath the blanket, their small forms trembling in unison. For all the demons they had feared, none had shaken them as deeply as the woman who had saved their lives.