"Monsters aren't born. They are created.
Not from the imagination of someone's deepest fears, but from tangible negative energy. Darkness formed from cruelty, pain, and evil.
That is how Devil was made; How I came to be."
----
"When I was a child...
My eyes lock with Nightingales. He nods once before he steps down from the podium and ascends the stairs into the glass viewing room from above.
He joins a group of spectators that delegates for the bettors and potential clients interested in investing on one of the fighters.
It's astounding how inhumane mankind can be. To impassively sell, trade, and traffic human beings for the sake of making a couple bricks.
Sneering, I face the three opponents that walk in on the opposing side of the cage before being locked in the ring with me.
I eye them up and down, and a devilish smile cracks my stoney exterior when I recognize the one in the middle. I practically salivate in anticipation to get my hands on him.
I can't wait.
The alarm blares from above, signaling for the fight to commence.
The first of the three steps forward. He's young, probably no older than twenty. A scrawny thing with moppy brown hair, matching brown eyes encircled by black smudged-out face paint. His bare chest showed very little muscle definition, but what he lacked everywhere else on his body, he made up for with his thick arms and muscular legs. He ran at me with a battlecry like yell, his arms spread at his sides as he attempted to bum rush me.
I quickly spin, kicking my leg out, slamming it into his chest. I hear an audible crack of his bones, most likely from the breaking of his his ribs. The kid stumbled backward, gasping for breath and before I gave him the chance to catch his bearings, I pull back my arm and thrust my fist into his face. He stumbles backward with a shout, blood spurting from his broken nose. An angry graze snaps in my direction and he sneers as blood pools down his chin.
