Chereads / Rise of the Devil Hunter (DH fanfic) / Chapter 2 - Life of Randy

Chapter 2 - Life of Randy

I am Randalph Brigsiel. That's what they call me now.

Born into the Demon World, I didn't start life as anything extraordinary.

My parents, kind in their own way, were just ordinary demons trying to survive. When you hear the word "demon," you probably think of monstrous beings with horns and wings who thrive on evil deeds.

But my parents didn't fit that mold entirely. They were simple, practical folk, neither kind nor cruel—just struggling to survive like everyone else.

I still remember the day they saw me for the first time.

They argued over my name, their voices filled with warmth and nervous energy. Eventually, they settled on "Randalph." Their happiness in those moments was infectious. My father held me in his large, rough hands while my mother smiled down at me, her face etched with exhaustion but also joy.

But joy doesn't last long in the Demon World.

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The Demon World is a harsh, unforgiving place. It is not a land of flourishing beauty or peace, but one of war, suffering, and constant turmoil. Four Grand Dukes, the most powerful beings in the realm, wage endless wars for dominance, their battles leaving destruction in their wake.

Their wars are not contained to grand castles or distant battlefields. The magical forces they unleash sweep across the lands, devastating everything in their path—forests turned to ash, rivers boiling away, and entire villages reduced to rubble.

The Grand Dukes, egoistic tyrants that they are, don't care about the ordinary demons caught in their conflicts. The strong thrive, and the weak perish. That is the law of this world.

My family was among the weak. My parents, ordinary and unremarkable, were just another set of pawns in this endless game.

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By the time I was one, my family had already been forced to flee our home. The war had spread to our village, and staying meant certain death. Along with countless other refugees, we traveled through desolate lands, seeking sanctuary in one of the larger demon cities.

The journey was grueling. I may have been too young to fully understand, but even I could sense the despair in the air. Families huddled together for warmth, their eyes hollow and haunted. My parents worked tirelessly to keep me fed and safe, but their faces grew thinner with each passing day.

When we reached the city, we were met with scorn and exploitation. Refugees were treated like garbage—tools to be used and discarded. My parents had no choice but to bow their heads to the nobles, offering their labor in exchange for scraps of food and a place to sleep.

Some refugees were conscripted as soldiers, others forced into labor camps to build fortresses for the nobles. The women who were less fortunate were reduced to playthings for the noble class, their dignity stripped away for the amusement of others.

I was too young to understand everything, but I could feel the fear and anger in my parents.

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By the time I turned two, I had learned to crawl and stand on my own. I tried walking but failed miserably, falling more often than not. Despite my struggles, I remained patient, realizing—even at that young age—that overexerting myself would only lead to more pain.

My parents continued to work long hours, returning home late at night. They were pale and gaunt, their strength fading with each passing day. Yet, they always smiled when they saw me, as if I was their only reason to keep going.

I didn't understand the specifics of their work, but I knew it was dangerous. They would whisper in hushed tones late at night, their voices tinged with fear.

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The worst day of my life came when I was five. My parents, already weakened from years of hard labor, didn't come home one night. Instead, a stranger arrived—a tall, shadowy figure who offered no explanation as he dragged me away.

I was handed over to a man who could only be described as a mad scientist. He had a wild look in his eyes, his thin lips twisted into a permanent sneer. He collected orphaned demon children like me, using us for his twisted experiments.

The experiments were horrific. We were strapped to tables, injected with strange substances, and subjected to agonizing procedures meant to "unlock" the latent potential of our demon bodies. Many of the other children died in the process, their small bodies unable to endure the pain.

The scientist, obsessed with his theories, believed that modern demons had regressed—that true demons of ancient times had horns, wings, and tails. He was determined to "revive" that strength, no matter how many lives it cost.

I survived. Somehow, I endured the hellish experiments, but the scientist dismissed me as a failure because my appearance hadn't changed. What he didn't realize was that the experiments had worked—just not in the way he expected.

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I gained abilities from those experiments, powers that I kept hidden from the scientist. My senses became sharper, allowing me to hear the faintest whispers and see in near darkness. But that wasn't all.

Three abilities awakened within me:

Eternal Bond: The ability to form a connection with someone, allowing me to share thoughts, lifeforce, and magic with them.

Duplication: The power to duplicate items, though with a trade-off—the more I duplicated, the lower the quality of the copies.

Ascension: A skill that allowed me to enhance the quality of items.

I knew better than to reveal these abilities. If the scientist discovered what I was capable of, I would become nothing more than a tool for his ambitions.

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At seven, I was handed over to the soldiers. My purpose? To serve as a training dummy. Day and night, I was beaten and ridiculed, treated as little more than a punching bag.

But I survived. I studied the soldiers, memorizing their techniques and practicing them in secret whenever I could. In the quiet moments, I meditated, focusing on my body and mind.

The soldiers looked down on me with contempt, but they underestimated me. I was a quiet observer, absorbing everything, learning, growing stronger.

By the time I turned thirteen, I was no longer the weak, helpless child they had dragged from my home. I was something else entirely.

And soon, the Demon World would come to know it.