"Three days ago, an encounter between hunters and a vicious demon took place by the linking south bridge in Southland! The scholars, our faithful protectors, arrived at the battlefield but were only able to seize the corpse of the monster. The whereabouts of the illegal hunters remain unknown. A word from the chief..."
Blah, blah, blah.
I rolled my eyes as I passed the local TV store, the plasma screens blaring the same recycled news. The somber, dimly lit streets of the city were quiet tonight, the kind of quiet that made you feel like you were being watched. I turned right into a narrow alley, the kind of place where deals like mine went down.
It had taken me a couple of days to find someone interested in a half-botched scorpion stinger. Demons are the only ones who benefit from such relics—or so Hiko said. And sure enough, my "customer" came crawling down from the moon, descending into the alley like a nightmare made flesh.
Forty-four limbs. Forty-four mouths. All of them grinning with rows of jagged, ivory teeth. Its breath reeked like burnt garbage, and it brought along a translator—a lizard-masked human who looked like they'd rather be anywhere else.
The demon's presence created an illusion around us, a void that threatened to swallow me whole. But I'd dealt with worse. As long as I could tell what was real and what wasn't, I'd be fine.
"Show me the money," I said, my voice steady as I adjusted the red-painted capsule strapped to my back.
"No ordinary Nirath could kill a demon like that, let alone a female," a feminine, growling voice replied. "You're quite something, White Wolf."
The centipede-like demon beside the translator settled onto its fangs, its saliva—a transparent, dark liquid—pooling on the ground. I was surprised it didn't try to devour me on the spot.
The thought of civilized demons having tea parties almost made me laugh. But this one seemed calm, almost professional, like it had done this a hundred times before. Maybe it could use a change in clothes—a top hat and a nice dress to hide all those teeth.
Eight years ago, the idea of a demon this sane would've been impossible. Yet here we were, making a transaction like it was just another day at the office.
The translator opened a black suitcase, revealing twelve thousand hins, neatly stacked and gleaming under the dim light. It was the biggest deal I'd ever made.
I set the capsule down and opened it, revealing the fresh, pulsating stinger inside its freezer. The centipede demon approached, its movements oddly deliberate. It even gave a rough imitation of a bow, which almost made me chuckle.
The translator tossed me the suitcase after the demon nodded, and the stinger was quickly claimed by the creature's claws. In an instant, the gushing blood from the stinger was devoured, the demon's mouths working in unison like a grotesque assembly line.
It didn't take long for them to leave, crawling back up to the moon with the translator in tow. The alley was quiet again, the illusion of the void dissipating like smoke.
I checked the money, flipping through the stacks to make sure there were no explosives or petty tricks. Relief washed over me as I let out a sigh.
Finally, I could buy a damn TV.
Now, to deposit money in a bank as a hunter? That's basically a suicide attempt. Only amateurs are dumb enough to risk getting traced like that. I pulled off my wolf mask and stuffed it into my backpack as I stepped out of the black-market alleys and into the news reporting store. From the outside, it looked like your average, harmless little shop selling newspapers and books.
"Evening, Eivil," I said to the clerk, who gave me a nod and quickly knocked on the wall behind him.
"Evening, Wolf," he replied, and the wall split open, revealing a set of stairs leading down.
Welcome to the interconnected nightly markets of Southland.
The air hit me first—a mix of traditional shady business and the mouthwatering aroma of freshly cooked street food. The lights flickered overhead, casting a dim, chaotic glow over the bustling marketplace. Stalls lined the corridors, some selling their wares on mattresses laid out on the floor. Merchants in colorful robes and flashy attire called out to me, trying to peddle their 99% stolen goods.
I wandered through the maze of stalls, heading straight for the electronics section. I was on a mission: to find a relic most people had forgotten about. And there she was—a beauty unlike any other.
A 32-inch retro TV, forgotten and tainted by time, but still holding onto that undeniable charm. Sure, it wasn't the most expensive thing in the market, but the fact that only a handful of these still existed made it a collector's dream. Nothing could match its strength and technology—well, maybe the newer models could, but they'd never beat the aesthetic and nostalgia of this classic.
I remembered the days during the war, eight years ago, when we'd all gather in the bunkers to watch the same channel that somehow kept broadcasting. This TV was a piece of history, and I wasn't leaving without it.
After haggling a bit (okay, a lot), I paid three thousand hins and some change, got the receipt, and asked them to hold it for me until tomorrow. With that done, I decided to wander a bit more.
That's when I noticed a clothes shop near the exit. Nakumi needed some proper clothes—letting her live in Hiko's oversized shirts was a torture method. I picked out what I thought was appropriate for a little girl, but the shop owner, an old woman with a knack for children's fashion, had other ideas.
"How about this long red skirt? And this collared shirt? Oh, and these brown boots—perfect for running around! And don't forget the long socks!"
Before I knew it, I had three bags full of clothes in one hand. If I hadn't made a quick escape while she was distracted, she would've drained my entire wallet.
I reached the exit, which led to an abandoned metro station. As I stepped outside, the first drops of rain hit my face.
"Aaaand it's raining," I growled, glaring up at the sky. Way to ruin my night.
I ducked under a sheltered bench right outside the store, watching as the rain poured down in sheets. My thoughts drifted to dinner when a girl's voice broke the silence.
"It sure is raining heavily, huh?"
The brunette girl spoke with an elegance that didn't quite match the setting. Her voice was soft, almost melodic, but there was something about her—something familiar. Maybe it was her voice, or the faint scent lingering around her. I shook off the thought and replied, my eyes fixed on the cars splashing through the rain-soaked streets.
"Yup, quite the rain tonight," I said, my tone casual but guarded.
She glanced at the bags at my feet, her curiosity piqued. "So, you're shopping for your daughter?"
I hesitated, then nodded, pulling the bags closer to my calf. She crouched down to adjust the straps on her brown leather boots, and I couldn't help but notice the precision in her movements. Skilled hunter, no doubt about it. I needed to get out of this situation—fast.
"I'm Kimrol, by the way," she said, straightening up and flashing a smile.
I raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Kimrol? The same Kimrol who almost got flattened by a bed?"
She rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Yeah, the same Kimrol who got her her bed kicked across the room like a maniac."
"Came to hunt me out, bounty hunter?" I said, grinning. "You've got a real talent for sneaking up on people. Almost gave me a heart attack."
She laughed, a light, musical sound that caught me off guard. "Not everyone's out to get you."
"Says the hunter," I shot back, my tone playful but edged with caution.
Her expression softened slightly, and she tilted her head, studying me. "Relax, Kan. I'm not here to hunt you. I'm Salgar's daughter, remember? My father's got a soft spot for you—something about you being one of his best suppliers."
I sighed, leaning back against the bench. "You could've led with that, you know. Would've saved us both the drama."
She shrugged, her smirk turning into a full-blown smile. "Where's the fun in that?"
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Fair enough. So, what brings you out in this rain? Stalking me, or just enjoying the weather?"
"A bit of both," she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "But seriously, what's with the bags? You're not exactly the shopping type."
I hesitated, my mind racing for an excuse. "It's... complicated. Me and a friend... We are doing charity, for a kid we found and all."
Great, now that was a great excuse. I am sure she won't think of it in the south direction.
There was a moment of silence, and I braced myself for her reaction.
"Like an orphanage?" she said, her eyes widening. "That's amazing! The war's left so many children without families... It's great that you're doing something like that."
I nodded, trying to look sincere. "Yeah, well, someone's gotta look out for them, right?" No you idiot, don't reel yourself in
She beamed, her enthusiasm undimmed. "How many kids are you sheltering? Can I come and see?"
I almost facepalmed. Way to go, Kan.
"Umm... sure, I guess you can come for dinner tonight..." I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
She leapt in joy, clapping her hands like a kid on their birthday. I sighed, already dreading Hiko's reaction. He was going to kill me for this.
But hey, this could benefit us. She was the butcher's daughter; maybe I could swing some sweet deals out of this.
As we sat there chatting—about the orphanage, our jobs, and the intricacies of demon-human transactions—I learned a bit more about how translators and interpreters worked. Not all demons were bloodthirsty monsters these days; some had become merchants, bridging the gap between humans and demons. Her connections could be useful for future deals.
When the rain finally began to settle, Kimrol didn't hesitate. She grabbed my arm, pulling me to my feet.
"Come on, let's go!" she said, her enthusiasm undimmed.
I let her drag me toward the direction of our so-called orphanage, silently praying that Hiko wouldn't cave my skull in when we got there.
In my room, the darkened flames roar surrounding the candles, as I sat atop a dark pentagon drawn from black blood, each edge contains a symbol of the fallen ones and in the middle my name, "itrali-ato, itrali-ato, ni Molshiva him atowo" be in awe, be in awe, for I Molshiva have come, "igriku, igriku, ira fey mindo," take it, take it, this blood of mine the flames and the room began rattling in fear, as the lights flickered, and the books fell, the bedsheet slammed the walls and the wooden floor creaked, one last spell, a spell like this works once every odd human month when two stars align in the far depths of the seven skies, once done I will attain knowledge of the Güdwigth Beast, Kikron.
But then, creak.
The door opened.
I kept my eyes shut, my jaw tightening. Whatever—or whoever—it is, they'll leave if they know what's good for them.
"Molshivaaaaaa… fooooood!" a tiny voice whined, dragging out the words in my ancient tongue.
My eye twitched. Of course. It's her.
the little pest who couldn't read a room if her life depended on it waddled in, her oversized sweater swallowing her small frame. She tugged at my sleeve, her whines growing louder. "huuuungryyyy!"
The candles toppled, their flames snuffed out in an instant. The darkness lifted, replaced by the soft glow of the moon streaming through the window. The ritual was ruined.
My eyes snapped open, a sharp headache already pounding in my skull. For fuck's sake. Now I'd have to wait another month—and endure this headache for a week.
"If you walk in here like that again," I growled, pushing her away, "your legs are gone. Understand?"
Nakumi pouted, her big, round eyes welling up with tears. "But hungryyyy!" she insisted, latching onto my arm like a koala.
I sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of my nose. Why does she always do this? I pried her off and shoved her out the door, locking it behind her.
"Fine!" Nakumi's voice echoed from the hallway, followed by the patter of her tiny footsteps fading away.
I leaned against the door, exhaling slowly. What could possibly go wrong? She'll probably just raid the fridge and—
SMASH!
The sound of glass shattering jolted me out of my thoughts. What now? I sighed, already dreading what I'd find as I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. Sure enough, there she was, standing frozen near the fridge. At her feet, a sea of sugar cubes and the shattered remains of the glass container they'd been in.
"S-sorry..." Nakumi said, trembled out, quivering into the corner. I exhaled and crouched near her as she quickly lifted, her small arms to defend her weak figure.
"You could've seriously hurt yourself, you know," I said, turning around to pick up the glass shards into the trashcan, at least what I could pick up.
"Y-your fault..." she weakly said, holding her tears with furrowed brow, stiffening her arms for a swing, "why are you mean...!" She punched my back, and began a little barrage, I didn't stop her, a demon knows to let its heart out by fighting. When she stopped, she sniffled, looking away.
"Feeling better?" I asked, while putting up a plate to pick up sugar cubes. It wasn't long before Nakumi began picking up beside me. For what it's worth, Nakumi picked the sugar without flipping the plate or breaking it too.
"I will teach you... Be nice" she muttered, her eyes shifted, as if she wasn't about to cry seconds ago. Nakumi pointed at me with a determined grin. She really is like... her. "Say sorry!"
"No,"
"Say it!" she yelled, her fists on her hips.
"No"
"yes" she said with pleading eyes.
I turned around and opened the fridge. I would rather satiate her hunger than apologise, or let anything else break. Nakumi looked up at me with her big round eyes, still trying to convince me to be 'nicer' or whatever but she quickly gave up and went behind me, looking at the fridge. The fridge was full of ingredients. Thanks to Kan. Many ideas came to mind for tonight's dinner. I took out a couple of chicken breasts, beef, some onions, garlic, everything that would taste good.
Everything cluttered the counter when I noticed Nakumi's hands behind her back, hands fidgeted while her eyes kept escaping my gaze. Seeing as one of the sugar cubes was missing, I grabbed Nakumi's arm, "h-hey! let me eat it!" she said, trying to escape.
Who the hell eats a sugar cube raw? Isn't that bad for kids or something? Many annoying whines and pushes made me cave in, "fine, but if you spit it, you lick the floor," I said, checking on the ingredients. Nakumi gulped it whole, then began rushing in and outside the kitchen, possibly trying to not spit out what she just swallowed. But to my surprise she tugs on my shirt.
"More!" Nakumi said, then hang onto the counter trying to get another by herself.
"You like them?" She nodded with a round smile. Who would have thought it was sugar? Giving her another one isn't a bad idea, her eyes glittered as she began running around again, jumping, flipping around, jumping onto the sofa, off the sofa, from the table to the kitchen. When I tried it, the sugar left out a bitter almost sharp thorn feeling on my tongue.
Crimson blood is just as peculiar as ever. I took the plate before she gobbled it after returning from her run around parade. "No more... I'm making dinner," I said, leaving the plate on top of the fridge. Nakumi doesn't waste a chance to play the brat card, trying to get up the counter, so I grabbed her by the shirt, and said, "if you want more, prepare the table," and let her go. She complied immediately. These sugar cubes work like training treats. Time flew as we worked on making dinner, despite being annoying she was helpful.
Once she had prepared the utensils, the plates and a little flower in the middle, she looked up at me, "See? I help. You be nice now, okay?"
I didn't respond, but for a moment, I saw a flicker of my old life in her... Ilyoh, why did you desert us then... I instinctively grabbed the black petal around my dog tag as I turned to the stove.
As I turned down the heat on the pots, the front door creaked open. Nakumi darted past the kitchen doorway, her curiosity piqued. I heard the sound of a woman's voice—soft, unfamiliar—and my instincts kicked in. Who the hell is this?
I stepped into the living room to find Kan standing next to a woman around his age. She was holding Nakumi like a baby, giggling at the attention. The woman turned to me, her smile warm but cautious.
"You must be Hiko, Kan's fellow hunter, right?" she said, her felt friendly but something was amiss. "Kan told me about your charity work. I never heard of hunters who would have such a heart."
Charity? I forced a smile, the fakest one I could muster, while hiding the tension coiling in my back. Kan... What the fuck did you do?
"Nakumi will show you the way. I'll be right back," Kan said, his tone casual, like this was just another day. Nakumi nodded with a quick military salute—where did she even learn that?—and led the woman down the hall.
The moment they were out of earshot, I grabbed Kan by the collar and dragged him into the kitchen, nearly shoving him into the sizzling pots. "You better have a damn good reason for this," I hissed, my voice low and sharp. "Have you lost your mind?!"
Kan raised his hands defensively, his expression calm. "First of all, her name's Kimrol. She's the daughter of the butcher, Salgar. This could be a good thing for us, Hiko. She's also a translator—"
"And you thought that was a good reason to bring her here?!" I interrupted, my grip tightening on his hoodie. "You're risking our necks, Kan. What if she figures out what Nakumi is really?"
He pushed my hand away, his eyes narrowing. "I had to tell her we do charity. She knows we are hunters. She's a bounty hunter after all. What else was I supposed to do, kill her in public? She's a Milith, Hiko. She has connections. She could be a valuable asset."
I stared at him, my jaw clenched. A Milith? That did change things. Their influence was undeniable, but that didn't make this any less reckless. "Something's fishy about this, Kan. Why would she want to team up with us?"
"Look, Kimrol's one of us—she's a Nirath too. If she tries anything, we'll be ready," he said, his tone firm but calm.
I brushed past him, my mind racing. This isn't normal, I will dispose of her later, I'll make it a suicide. I walked into the dining room, where Kimrol was chatting with Nakumi, hanging on her every word.
"I'm sorry, but I'll have to ask you to leave tonight," I said, my voice cold but polite as I opened the front door.
Kimrol's smile faltered, her eyes flicking to Kan behind me. She nodded, her expression a mix of confusion and disappointment. "I understand," she whispered, gathering her things.
I closed the door and turned to Kan, who was glaring at me.
"Way to go, asshole," he said, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "You could've at least given her a chance."
Before I could retort, Kan's eyes widened. "Wait… where's Nakumi?"
The little red head must've slipped past me. I ran outside with Kan. The streets were practically empty, except for some of the occasional cars or pedestrians. The community is friendly, but I rather they be oblivious that our somewhat broken home houses an Armageddon doom girl.
Luckily for us, in the distance, we saw her holding hands with that woman as they began making their way back. Nakumi runs up first and spreads her arms, furrowing her eyebrows at me, "she stays!" the brat said. I assume there is no logic in her brain if she wants to let a potential enemy in, but she didn't jump to talk in our language. So, I will give her credit for concealment strategies, Nirath or not, even a family member can poison your waters.
I let out a sigh, and just let the woman come in. Can't risk her running away like this again, can't kill her either, and chaining her to the attic is out the question... This is the worst. Kan apologised for my actions and took them into the dining room, probably making up a story about why I acted that way by now.
Chatters and laughs fill the dining room quickly. The awkward phase has already diminished. I placed down the pot and let out the vibrant colourful smells of my cooking ensue, for food that tastes bad, it sure looks exotic. "Now, now, here comes dinner."