Look at these idiots gawping!

At a run, my poleaxe easily splits three of them in half.

A massive splatter erupts as I cleave them in twain.

Humans are good at screaming, at least. Perhaps not so useless, after all, haha.

I don't know what happened on this side, but as we came through, there were already some dead and injured on this side. I'm guessing whatever brother did, it must have been impressive!

And of course, panicking people, whether it is from rout or disaster, are ever so easy to kill.

I continue to be the vanguard, cutting a bloody swath through these fat, decadent humans with my axes.

Some small ones are also slaughtered. Probably human children.

Normally I'd have some mild qualms about slaughtering non-combatants; but considering I'm not likely to come back alive from this mission, now is not the time for such scruples.

And it does usually have one desired effect: hastening the rate at which real challengers arrive.

My contingent spreads out behind me as they pour from the portal, not wasting the ground I have leveraged as the vanguard, and quickly getting into a similar rhythm.

I spare a glance behind, and it is a glorious sight. The swinging of blades, the roar of fire boiling fools alive, and tendril like vines chasing after people and throwing them into the carnage or outright squeezing the life from them.

Finally, someone with a spear roars crazily at me as my head is turned.

Idiot. Why announce your attack?

His spear is weak. I don't even bother moving and it just glances off my scales.

"How?!" He manages to cry.

I chop off his helmeted head as my answer.

Yes, a contingent of guardsmen has now arrived. But they don't seem very good. They don't even hold their spears right, and they step into obvious traps and get obliterated by spells easily.

Some are slightly better than others, as is often the case. The next one I attack jumps back as I come at him.

I use the opportunity to repeatedly split his spear vertically like a sausage.

As I do that, he wets himself, so I throw my left axe at a different assailant, and then impale him on the remains of his own little pole before kicking his body away. It sails through a shop window in a massive smash of shutters and glass.

My axes are not really made for throwing at all, but they can manage five paces against an advancing foe. This ones look of alarm is entertaining. I pull the axe out. Turns out it was holding his body together. More red blood sprays over me.

Fufufufu.

The red demon. It's nice to relive those old days I had. The blood-rage only makes me stronger!

I should thank brother for finally giving me such an opportunity.

I feel a sense of danger from my honed instinct, suddenly, moving myself slightly to the right.

Suddenly, a great-sword bites into my shoulder from behind, chips my shoulder bone, and gets caught briefly but is pulled out.

Oho? Finally, someone semi-competent. Not enough, but a very nice try. Something painful at last!

Barely in time, I spin and parry a second incoming sword by a hair's breadth.

A female human knight, is it?

Such impressive technique! She immediately tries to work around my parry by deflecting all my strength upwards.

Her second sword slips in the gap she leverages, but I'm no slouch in defence, and I parry that one too.

We clash repeatedly in a few seconds.

Normally, strength for strength against me is a fool’s errand, but I slip slightly on the blood, and she knows an opportunity when she sees one. She kicks my kneecap with her plated boot and stabs my foot before I can force her back with a wide swing.

Yes! Yes!! Excellent! I haven't had a good fight against a human since the Duke of Carnage.

She leaps backwards, a sweat on her brow. Two slightly more competent looking guards in similar purple capes to the woman run up.

"No! Stay back! This one will kill you instantly!" She shouts, practically grabbing one by the shoulder and forcing him back.

Yes indeed. She has a good head on those shoulders too. She knows strength when she sees it.

She glares at me, and her subordinates appear to listen, inspecting me properly this time, with a gulp. They then jump back and run to fight other battles.

Wise move. But time to end this charade. She probably thinks she can weaken me over time with wounds. Everyone assumes that. But my demonic heritage, like brothers, only strengthens me as I bleed. And my fighting style is innately reckless.

Brother says I'm a muscle-power idiot. A walking mountain of scar tissue. He's right.

I ignore the pain in my foot, grin, and charge at her. Full power!