Sitting on the ground, Cain quietly nursed the terrible gash across his face with a grimace.
He looked around him.
The ground was scorched and smoldering with embers and remnants of the violet flames produced by the {Darkfire Imp}.
He turned to his side. Right beside him was half the smoldering corpse of Imp.
He grimaced and winced as he recalled how terrible the battle had been.
The Imp had been no easy opponent. Not only had she been swift and incredibly noble, she had a near endless supply of the sticky violet flames that locked flesh clean off bones. He has almost lost his life in that battle.
Luckily, he had come out with only a few deep gashes, a punctured lung, and many terrible burns.
The girls, who were the only ones still alive after that terrible battle sat down across from him, throwing distrustful glances at him from time to time.
He grimaced again, 'I can't trust you backstabbers either.'
Then he sighed.
