𝕂𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊

I hear that the Tsaritsa envies Lady Ningguang's liquidity. After all. . . Shnezhnayan assets are frozen.

Bounty: Unclaimed. Mission: Accomplished. Time: Served.

Far as devil-altercations go, contrary to popular belief; Bracing oneself for combat, rarely forms a hunter's primary concern. Bear in mind, from incubation to completion— Pterugean metamorphosis throws into disarray, that delicate and innately human balance, between flesh and spirit. Tipping overwhelmingly in favour of the latter. Hence, most devilfolk will indulge in tortures of mind and soul, before ever considering the physical angle. Bearing greater proximity to entity than organism, though expertise varies— These beings enjoy partial access to a realm, beyond mortal bounds. Degrees of clairvoyance are not uncommon and peering into one's innermost chambers, comes to them as second nature. Entering a direct confrontation, particularly when alone; Renders all an open book. Secrets no longer are and devils will burrow gleefully into wounds, their targets may have forgotten were festering. Falsehoods are another stage one must be wary of. For these malformations are clever and spin lies, interwoven with fibres of truth; Handiwork of such masterful make, even seasoned hunters alike, may at some point fail to distinguish reality from make-belief. Given a heart that appears to situate not in the thoracic cavity, but at all times, beats several galaxies away– Combined with an insurmountable Spirit Whisper, I comprised every devil's tailored undoing. Still, for all those slain. . . Hundreds of novel entries rose, reborn from shallow graves. From the moment devils wandered upon its soil; My home, t'was a planet unsuited to salvation. How true rings the old-Earthen adage, noting that hell offers no greater anguish— Than to gaze upon its demons.

𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰, 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦. . . ﴾⊱ 𝙸𝙳𝚁𝙸𝙻𝙰 ⊰﴿

I seem to have found myself in– Somewhat of a conundrum. . .