Crimson Illusion

Crimson Illusion-Chapter 4-Deal with the devil

“Knowledge is power. Power corrupts. Study hard. Be evil.”

Rayne’s P.O.V.

The pain radiated though my body every time my knuckles made contact with the heavy boxing bag. The punches would be echoing through the empty training hall if there wasn’t music blasting from the sound system.

A nice touch to the Alpha’s compound, if you don’t mind me saying. And even better was that the training hall was underground, surrounded by many halls that led not only to the massive garage, but also another training hall, shooting range, the cells and the armory.

The training halls were equipped like the best human gyms, but they also had many things only paranormal creatures would need to train with. The armory was equipped with weapons ranging from small senbon needles to sniper rifles to grenade launchers. And there was even a special room that contained everything you needed for biological warfare as well. The garage was filled with cars that went from every man’s dream classic cars, to armored vehicles.

All in all, there was everything we needed to start a war and win it.

Looking at this and then remembering how fantasy books portrayed us made me scoff and punch the bag harder.

We weren’t peaceful creatures. Never were and never will be. Paranormal creatures were just as humans. We had advanced strength, speed, magic, powers and the whole nine yards, but we still went to war. We still killed, raped, maimed, robbed and created destruction in general.

There isn’t a paranormal creature out there that I knew of that didn’t want to cut off somebody’s head at one point in their lives. Hell, I could bet that paranormals were even more bloodthirsty than humans ever hoped to be.

We taught our young how to kill. We gave it weapons and we taught it how to use those weapons. There were even some species of fey that killed their young if they weren’t strong enough to kill at the age of five or six.

Other species gave their weak the lowest positions there were. And to be honest, I still haven’t seen even one race of paranormals that took in their weak members with open arms. It was do or die in our world, and to be honest, even if it seemed like it, die wasn’t that much of a good choice.

You wouldn’t die a fast and painless death. No, you would be punished for being weak. Your pack, flock, tribe, clan, whatever, would torture you and prove to you that if you ever manage to come back to life or be reincarnated, you better be stronger than you were now.

That’s why there were many crazy paranormal beings out there. And many of those crazy ones are assassins. That’s purely because if you’re an assassin your assignments are mostly murder. And everyone knows that the crazy ones like killing. No matter when, how or who, just as long as there’s blood.

And honestly, being crazy beats being sane any day of the week in our world. And it beats it hard with a baseball bat with nails stuck in it.

When you’re crazy, everything’s easy. You don’t give a fuck about anything but yourself. You kill who you want and fight who you want under the guise of ‘I’m crazy’. And no one questions you. Why? Because you’re crazy. And they’re all pussies who’re too afraid to say anything.

Hell, you can be a petite blonde haired woman who’s five-five with zero to none muscle mass wearing unicorn slippers, but if you’re proclaimed crazy, no one would even breathe in your direction. One of the most feared assassins, Throe, looked like a highschooler. He had big baby blue eyes and the slim body of a swimmer and light brown hair.