I paraphrased this a bit to keep the word count of the blog post more user-friendly. Meet my anti-heroine Shevata, in one of her “normal” moments:
The demon Nautificus made a deep purring noise as he examined the young girl, appearing to be sleeping across the large obsidian chair. He flicked her hair with a long fingernail. Could this really be Shevata? With expertise, he removed an object sparkling in her ragged clothing. He realized he was holding a holy relic.
Dropping it, he stepped back in horror. A sharp blow to the side of his head sent him reeling across the room. He faced the girl holding a large iron skillet. “Nautifiticus, you’re caught in my domain to feel the demonic pain of cold iron. What brings you here?” Said Shevata.
“Your head, Shevata. What else?” He wiped blood from his nose with thorny fingers.
“Zermon suspects that I damaged his demonic son’s pretty skin, and sends an incompetent associate.” She snatched a small bag from his waist, removing a large blue gem the size of her palm.
“Thief.” Said Nautificus.
“Yes.” Said Shevata. “This gem harbors souls.” She kneeled in front of him so they were face-to-face. “So, old adversary, who is in here?” She waved it before him.
He dove at her; she dodged him, but fell on her back when he grabbed her ankle. As he raised the black sword to run her through, the iron skillet flew into her hand. She struck his shoulder, moving him sideways. When he turned to attempt another strike, she smashed the gem with the flat of the skillet. A bright light flashed and a distant scream was heard when Nautificus vanished. Shevata placed the skillet on the arm of the chair. She summoned the sword into her hand, smiling as she twirled it.
Compassion for the bad guys isn’t one of Shevata’s traits.