Author's note:

This chapter is really 18+

Blood will be split.

Also, Poll! Help me with some response here?

Word count

This chapter: 1855

Total: 7128

--------------------------------------------------

Aitken quickly entered the forest and dashed towards the nearest road - he took a single look backwards to see the witch struggling to get up.

Perfect, she will never catch me. First stop, the church. I still need the flower, perhaps I can even learn a thing or two about their plague and about Ramiel, while I’m there.

Sure enough, he quickly reached the road and when he looked over his shoulder, the witch was nowhere to be seen.

He continued towards the church, which was located outside a larger town, placed adjacent to the very woods he walked parallel with. Along the way he would try to fly - he figured he might need it soon. As he flapped his leathery wings with all his might he would fly up one inch, but for every inch he flew up, he would fall two at the discretion of gravity.

He thought long about this, and how he could use his wings. He reached about halfway to the church, still unable to come up with an answer. The air was getting even chillier and the darkness of the night fell over the forest.

In the meantime, Aitken had started flapping his wings at an angle, in hopes he could perform some long jumps. This proved impossible, since he could hardly lift himself off the ground with his wings in the first place.

After a while of flapping his wings to no avail, he saw the gentle glow from the torches near the church-compound.

An armoured guard stood in the front once more.

So here I am, once more… I just have to do better than last time. I cannot fail my family again.

He stood still for what seemed an eternity, peering at the church in the distance, considering his options. Nearby, a twig snapped. Aitken’s head turned in a flash, and he saw a shadow move nearby.

Is it guards? Are they onto me?

His mind filled with questions. But he quickly dashed towards the darkness of the woods, still in the direction of the church.

I’ll try to lose them and slip in the back of the church.

As he dashed into the woods, he heard the footsteps pick up the pace, keeping up with him.

Damnation! But how come they didn’t alarm the other guards?

Finally he reached the backside of the church-compound.

What? One two… five. Five guards? How?

He noticed that one of the guards wore a black eyepatch.

So that’s how they found me so quickly… Why weren’t they at their station in the first place?

Aitken desperately peered around, trying to figure out how to slip in unnoticed.

It was first now, he realized exactly how small he was compared to the humans. He would measure no more than half their size if he stood back to back with one of them.

Suddenly he was snapped out of his trail of thoughts, as his pursuer arrived.

“Give me back the pendant!” The witch said, as she swung her sword from above.

Aitken grit his teeth, as the sword dived straight for his head.

He let his feet collapse under him, as he raised a potato above his head in defense.

Sorry potato!

Ding!

The witch’s eyes grew wide - but more importantly, Aitken’s eyes grew wide.

It was that solid? Woops, no time!

Aitken quickly sent his tail around the leg of the witch, and pulled with all his might, right as she took a step forward. The witch promptly fell forward, onto Aitken.

“Gah! Face justice, witch!” Aitken yelled, as his horn rammed her shoulder, and the warm sensation of blood dripped onto his head. The sweet scent of the witch mixed with the metallic smell spread. The witch winced in pain.

A guard quickly surveyed the entire area, as he poked one of the other guards “You hear that? Was that an imp?”

The other guard narrowed his eyes and pointed. “It’s coming from over there.” And with that, three guards headed towards the sound to investigate.

This is bad!

The witch grabbed her sword and thrust it towards Aitken, who rolled away, pulling the horn out of her shoulder, narrowly dodging the sword as it flew past his wing.

“It’s an imp and her familiar! Kill them! Doe, bring the holy water and some reinforcements!”

All three of the guards took their stances, as a fourth guard dashed into the church.

Aitken looked at the witch Rosedriah, and she looked back at him. “Stupid imp!”

They both jumped to their feet, and ran as fast as their legs could carry them towards the woods.

“Don’t let them escape!”

Rosedriah quickly got ahead of Aitken.

If she is outrunning me…

He looked back and saw the guards gaining on him, fast.

“GAH!” Aitken turned his wings sideways and flapped harder than he ever had before, in his entire short imp-life. His pace picked up marginally, to the point of keeping up with the witch, still further behind than her.

He peeked over his shoulder, and stared almost directly into the face of a guard, who was almost within sword's reach.

AH! Faster!

He felt the wind of a blade on his neck.

Ball mode enabled!

Aitken curled into a ball, stopping himself dead in his tracks with his tail.

The guards legs rammed into the tiny imp, but to no avail. His momentum pulled him over the imp face-first, and he slammed onto the ground.

A second guard followed suit, but just barely.

Aitken dashed to the side, but the third guard had already swung his sword. A deep cut opened a gaping hole in the left wing. Neon orange blood decorated the ground as the wing bled.

he flapped his wings again, but stopped dead in his tracks as a pain shot through the left wing. a faint tearing sound could be heard, as his face twisted from the pain.

I guess there’s no more running.

He sent his tail full-force backwards, aiming for the guards legs.

Ping!

Aitken’s tail felt like it was falling off, as a sharp pain swam its way through Aitken’s tail..

Note to self, don’t tail-whip chain armour.

The guard swung his sword, and it hit Aitken’s horn, taking the top piece off of the left one. In response, the tiny imp grit his teeth and backed off several steps, still staring down the guardsman, who was now joined by the last two. Aitken’s eyes darted around the place, looking for anything that could be of help. His eyes fell on his one and only weapon - the skull-sized potato.

Aitken shrugged and threw the black potato over his shoulder, putting his arms into the air.

“You surrender? There shall be no mercy for demons and witches, followers of darkness itself!” the guard howled as he swung his sword from over his head.

Aitken smirked, as he turned rapidly, pulling his tail along. The tail went past the guards arms and struck him with a skull-sized, hard-as-rock potato fixed in place by the spikes on the tail. The guard was hit square in the face, and tumbled to the ground.

“Black hammer of potato.”

Aitken quickly snatched the sword from the guard, but before he could deliver a coup de grace, another guard had already engaged in the fight - swinging his sword.

Cloing.

Sparks flew as the two swords clashed.

Once more, the potato hammer whipped by, and struck the guards knee from the side.

With a crunching sound, the guard fell to the ground.

“Die!”

The potato rammed the guard in the face.

Smock.

And again… and again...

Smock…. Smock… Smock.. Smock. Smock

Warm red blood splattered onto the face of Aitken. With malice in his eyes, he glared at the second guard who had received the potato-to-face in the first place.

The third guard started screaming. “It’s a monster! Help! Holy water, now!”

As footsteps approached, Aitken bashed the arms of the guard who was lying down. Cracking sounds could be heard all the way to the church, from the guards arms, and he howled in pain.

five more guards arrived at the scene, one held a large glass jar filled with a clear liquid.

“Throw it at him! quickly!” the downed guard howled, as the demon approached him.

The guard with the jar fumbled with the lid, but finally got it off.

Aitken’s sword slowly dived into the wounded guards throat, and strangling sounds became gurgling, as the ground was dyed red.

A the clear liquid flew through the air. Aitken lifted his right wing, and shielded himself with it.

A pain like that of lava thrown onto human skin coursed through Aitken’s entire body. Sizzling and bubbling sounds could be heard as his wing swelled up in small bubbles everywhere the liquid struck him.

An unholy screech was let out from Aitken.

“We got him now! Kill it, before it recovers!”

Aitken backed off as fast as he could, narrowly dodging a few attacks.

“Throw my pendant here, you damn monkey!” A familiar witch yelled.

In his confusion, Aitken complied.

Rosedriah smirked as she caught the pendant with her right hand.

She stabbed her left side with a thick needle, and her dress turned red.

“Arise!”

The two dead guardsmen started twitching.

She took out the needle and stabbed herself once more.

“Hellfire, from the depths of damnation. I summon thee! Aid me!”

She stabbed herself several more times, and her once black dress was dyed red - not only from the shoulder - but also the stomach, from which blood was slowly dripping from the bottom to the ground.

A wave of white flames rolled over the ground, searing dirt and turning leaves to ashes. The flame washed over Aitken and all the guardsmen, lightly burning them - but not Aitken.

At the same time, the corpses had shambled to their feet, and one stabbed a stunned guard, while the unarmed corpse pounced a second one, pinning him to the ground while the first corpse made short work of him.

Terror showed in the eyes of a guardsman. “Retreat! Retreat! It’s the grey witch!” The other two remaining guards hauled butt as they all sprinted for the church.

The animated corpses fell to the ground, as Rosedriah sighed deeply. She grabbed her pendant with her left hand, and fumbled for a bandage with her right. “Command: Follow!”

Aitken felt his will drain, as his feet moved on their own. For a brief moment, he considered if it would truly be so bad to follow this Rosedriah… Then he thought of home. He had to get the cure - he had to enter that church - with this thought, he grit his teeth and sent a scaly hand to the second pendant he wore around his neck. This pendant was given to him under the promise of being capable of controlling the eye that summoned imps, so he tightened his hand hard enough the black bones showed through the scaly skin on his knuckles.

He forced his feet to turn the other way, and he started talking.

“Command: Follow!”

Aitken glared at Rosedriah. “No”

“Command: Stop.”

Aitken felt compelled to stop, but didn’t.

Rosedriah’s face twisted in rage.

“Command: Unsummon!” she howled.

---------------------------------------------

Let's take a quick look at why the grey witch returned, in case you missed that.

She needed her pendant, okay? You wouldn't leave your laptop for the church either... erhmn... Bad analogy, unless you have... Unholy... things on there...? ... Yeah, there's no escaping this hole I dug myself into... I'll see you tomorrow.

Thanks for reading!