Death

Mylos had gotten himself accustomed to the relentless attacks from demons. He believed that they were drawn to his hidden ability somewhat, and must want it for their worthless selves. He could do nothing about it.

"I have been promised ten thousand gold Yreo for your wretched head, youngling. It's a shame I was too late in reaching you, or you would have made me easy gold to last more than a few years."

Mylos smirked coldly as he held his sword, not making a move as he scrutinized his opponent. Alas, his little head carried a heavy bounty which numerous hunters gunned for despite his status and reputation.

For that only, he'd been constantly attacked by troupes of hunters in unison with the demons after his ability. He had never been allowed to rest with their targets behind him, and had been killing attackers left and right.

Although he never thought that the demons would also gain a reward for hunting him. He believed that only the hunters from other dumb races were after his