The old chapel park was my favourite past time place in this forsaken land, the crumbling stone walls and moss-covered arches stood in opposition against time. The afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of long trees, casting dappled light onto the cobbled path that wound through the overgrown grounds and cobblestone. Birds flitted between the branches, their chirping melodies blending with the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. The air smelled of damp earth and wildflowers, a quiet reminder of nature's relentless reclamation.
I walked along the path, my hands buried in the pockets of my long, dark coat. My boots crunched against the uneven stones as my gaze was fixed on the ground ahead. The chapel loomed to my left, its grand facade now swallowed by creeping ivy and patches of grass that sprouted from cracks in the stone. The stained-glass windows, though shattered and dulled by time, still caught the sunlight in faint, colorful glimmers.
I paused at a bench, its wrought-iron frame weathered and rusted, and sat down with a heavy sigh. The weight of yesterday's events pressed on me like someone threw a stone and it got stuck in my throat. Kan's recklessness had brought a Nirath into our hideout, and now we were stuck with her. My jaw tightened as I stared at the chapel. I am used to Kan's shenanigans, he is that kind of person after all. Good hearted, even at the worst times... But this time, It is making me feel my blood crawl.
The girl's presence was a liability, a ticking bomb waiting to explode. How did a young and naive girl like that find herself to become a Nirath... My blood was bubbling in my skin, as if it was trying to escape me. Kan's is going to complicate this for me, I can kill her, but he won't believe in my reasoning... He had a soft spot for strays, always had. It is why I am still alive today.
I leaned back on the bench, my sharp eyes scanning the chapel grounds. The park was empty, save for the occasional bird or squirrel darting across the path. The solitude was a rare luxury, one I often sought when the chaos of our lives became too much. Here, among the ruins, I could think.
My gaze drifted to the chapel's entrance, where the heavy wooden doors hung ajar, their surfaces warped and splintered with age. Beyond them, the interior was a shadowy labyrinth of broken pews, crumbling altars, and scattered debris. I'd explored it once, during the war, as a safe place during expeditions, and a communication place for supplies and trading. I remembered the way the air inside felt heavier, as if the walls held their breath, and the dust sat down for communion.
A faint rustling sound pulled me from my thoughts. My hand instinctively moved to the hilt of the knife concealed beneath my coat, but I relaxed when a small bird hopped from the broken windows above onto the path in front of me, pecking at the ground. I watched it for a moment, and it stared back. But then I heard whispers by one of the benches to the right.
Since when did people come to this place to pray.
I turned my head slowly, my left darkened eye scanning the area. There, on a weathered bench beneath the shade of an ancient oak tree, sat an old woman. Her hunched figure was wrapped in a tattered shawl, and her gnarled hands cradled a large, leather-bound book. The cover was worn, the title barely legible, but I recognized it immediately:Malakin's Signs of The of End.
I'd seen it before, in the hands of some zealots and idiots in the streets, chanting "the world will die! The world will die! " Over and over again. If you ask me, the signs sound pretty bogus, and if you think about it hard enough, it is almost impossible that any of them happen, and that is coming from a demon.
But it felt strange watching her. The tension in my shoulders eased, and I barely felt any anger anymore. The park, the chapel, even the whispers of the crickets and birds faded into the background, it feels so... Calm.
The old woman looked up, her milky eyes meeting mine. She smiled, her face crinkling like parchment, and gestured to the empty space beside her on the bench. "Would you like to join me, young man?"
Her voice was soft yet shake, and it carried a warmth that I hadn't felt in a long time. I hesitated, my instincts warring with the strange, soothing pull of her presence. But before I could stop myself, I found myself walking toward her, my boots crunching against the cobblestones.
I sat down, the bench creaking under my weight. The old woman didn't say anything at first, her fingers tracing the edges of the book's pages as if they were precious.
"Do you know how the world ends?" she asked suddenly, her voice breaking the silence.
I stiffened, my fingers twitching toward my knife. But the calmness in her tone kept me grounded. as if I was not meant to be afraid from this situation. It may not look like it, but she could slit my throat right now and I would still accept it with open arms.
"No," I lied.
She smiled again, as if she saw right through me, and opened the book. The pages were yellowed with age. I was surprised they didn't crumble under her fingertips. She began to read, her voice steady and clear, as if she'd done this a thousand times before.
"There to greet the end are four major signs that will show before the hour comes," she said, her finger tracing the words on the page. "The first: a man of great faith will die to a man of great doubt. The second: a woman of great power will rise to rule the world, but she dies in her throne. The third: a hole will appear in the land of Akash, and it will swallow everyone in it."
I froze. Akash—That's Southland's old name before the war... I never heard of any of these signs before, did we read the same book?
She continued, her voice unwavering. "And the fourth: a great tree will rise in Mokalin. And it will devour the world."
Mokalin. The pre-war name for Central-Land, where the miracle's order is set. My chest tightened, and a cold shiver ran down my spine, I never heard of any of these before. But I still doubt it. I can't even begin to imagine how it would go.
Before I could say a word to protest the book's claims, the old woman closed the book gently and turned to me, her eyes filled with a strange light. "Thank you for listening to me," she said,
She stood, leaning heavily on a cane I hadn't noticed before. She began to walk away towards the grand doors of the chapel, her shawl trailing behind her like a shadow helping her walk.
When I finally stood and followed her out of the chapel, she was gone. The park was full of people going on by their daily life, some running, kids playing with animals, and no sign of an old lady with a cane, oh there was an old lady with a walker though... And she just threw it at her grandson, that's what he gets for throwing water balloons at her I guess.
I sighed, taking steps towards one of the empty benches by the park. Well this was scary, who the hell was that, and if she was a miracle she would have killed me by now. They have their ways of finding out demons... Whatever it was, I don't think I will be coming back here anytime soon.
"Why? Are you scared?" A voice spoke from my right,
"No I am ju-" I turned to my right, and I a dark head made out of black smokes sat next to me. Its head was completely stationed on my shoulders.
"Kikron… You're as ugly as the books say" I said, not eyeing the eager's fangs, "So the ritual worked,"
Kikron's presence was never a good sign. It meant the darkness within me was stirring, threatening to take control. I clenched my fists, feeling the familiar weight of his influence pressing against my thoughts.
"What do you want?"
"What do I want? You are the one who summoned me, treacherous demon." He said in a low guttural voice, "hmm... I have never met a demon who tries to resist his master... So you are whom they call Misnath. Lets see who can control who first."
"Don't speak of that name..." I stabbed the smoke around my right shoulder, but the smoke slowly seeped through my nostrils, my ears and my mouth. Leaving a bitter sweet in my teeth.
The whispers started then, soft at first, like the rustle of leaves in the wind. But they grew louder, more insistent, until they were all I could hear.Kill. Kill. Kill.The words reverberated in my mind, drowning out everything else. I pressed my hands against my ears, trying to block them out, but it was no use. The whispers were inside me, a part of me.
"Stop," I muttered, my voice barely audible. "Damn it... Not now..."
Kikron's laughter grew louder, more manic, like the laughter of a . "Weak. See how easily you succumb to me.!"
My body spasmed, my blood surging like droplets as they floated around me. I could feel my skin shifting, the blackened, burnt texture of my body began rising. My vision blurred, the world around me twisting into a chaotic mess of shadows and light.
I stumbled to my feet, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I needed to get away, to escape before anyone sees me. I am not about to die because some ancient idiot wanted to go kill around.
***
I found myself in a dimly lit alley between two tall buildings, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. The whispers had stopped, but the weight of Kikron's presence was still there, pressing against my mind.
"I won't…" I whispered, my voice trembling. "I promised Kan I... Won't kill innocent people."
But the darkness was relentless. I could feel it spreading through me, my skin turning black, my eyes shifting from red to white. My body spasmed again, and I let out a strangled laugh, the sound hollow and broken.
"Weak! Are you even a demon? Holding to promises to these ants!" The beast roared, as my body spasmed in the alleyway, taking the true form of the demon, the black burnt skin engulfed me, as my iris turned from red to white, and the secular from white to black, "I will bestow upon you, the true power of a demon."
Saliva fell from my mouth while laughter filled my body as shadowy figures emerged from the alleyways to its centre, coming for the hunt of the blooming beast.
Euphoria surged through my veins. I chopped off my left hand's middle finger with his fangs. The four hunters back up for a second before launching at their prey. Black and red blood splattered everywhere, painting the walls a new texture. In one slash of my finger, two of the inexperienced hunters dropped cold, their body spasming before they eventually stopped moving over their pool of blood.
the other three jumped in front of me as I ran to my prey and chopped off my right arm their demon blood infused blades.
I screeched backwards, looking at my cut arm, before launching at the the leader and biting his ear off, chewing it. What a beautiful taste. The leader retreats behind his goons, his jaw clenched with droplets of blood falling to his side.
I picked up my arm from the ground, reattaching it to my shoulder by wrapping the dripping blood around.
"Let us dance," I whispered in a sibilant tone. I ran towards them, my form was a blur of twisted limbs and snarling defiance. every movement was a calculated chaos, a deadly dance that left destruction in its wake.
As the hunters advanced, their silver blades glinting menacingly in the dim light, My form twisted and turned, evading their strikes with the uncanny agility you can only find in a true demon. But they had hut my flesh a couple of times, rendering my body a canvas of fresh wounds, my blood spattering the ground in dark, glistening droplets.
My blood coalesced in the air, forming into wickedly sharp blades. Like a sculptor shaping clay, I manipulated my blood into certain death. With a flick of my wrist, the blood-crafted daggers flew towards a hunter, piercing through her light leather armour and flesh.
"Fuck the harvest! get the holy water!" The leader said, before one of the goons pulled a bottle from the satchel, gripping at it as his eyes glared at me. I stopped, backing up slowly. "That's right you piece of shit, run away!"
The hunter splashed it at me as I jumped on the wall, his fingers sticking into the concrete, when I noticed his right hand, my eyes widened.
My right hand began dissolving, and not only that, my wrist followed after it, the skin first, then the muscles, then the bones.
I couldn't contain my scream before I pointed my nails and smashed into my forearm, ripping the limb off to the ground. Water by itself is deadly to us, but holy water grows through the body, all the way to the heart, then...
My infested arm fell on the ground, exploding into a bloody mess.
I launched onto the roof of one of the buildings. Escaping the conflict in the explosion, as my blood began spilling onto the dusty floor. I placed my palm hand on what was left of my forearm, focusing my blood on the injury to stop the bleeding.
"Damn you Kikron…" I whispered as his laughs grew louder in my head, as if he was partying out, then he came out.
A head out of a head, a fang out of a fang, a wolf into a wolf, with four eyes, and a growling face. Kikron emerged from Hiko's cheeks, the darkness of his skin decreasing slowly as the master began resting
'Kehehe. Maybe you are not as weak after allMistnath..." He whispered, as he escaped into my body once again, "I shall abide by your promise. But you know what this means."
"Yeah yeah, now go down there and shut the fuck up." I yelled as I finished covering my right arm's wound. It would take the entire day to have it come out again...
The clamor of the skirmish spilled out into the streets, drawing the attention of passersby. Murmurs and gasps filled the air as a crowd gathered at the alley's exits, their eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and fear as they peered into the scene of destruction. Word spread like wildfire, and it wasn't long before the scholars, white-clad peacekeepers armed with special-grade holy water rifles. If you thought bounty hunters were bad, these kinds will make you wish you killed yourself first.
They were a different breed, the kind devoted towards killing any demon on sight. I darted across the rooftops, my senses heightened from the intense fear growing in my stomach. The scholars were relentless, their steps swift and their eyes sharp. I could hear their voices behind me as they closed in.
Shit, think, think!
Ahead, I spotted an old, burnt-out building apartment, all it had for itself was the long iron rods sticking out of the broken concrete. With a burst of speed, I leapt toward it just as the first shots rang out. Holy water bullets tore through the air, one grazing my leather jacket and leaving a sizzling hole. My feet barely touched the ground as I hurled myself through a shattered window, glass shards scattering around me.
Inside, the air was thick with dust and the acrid scent of charred wood and dust. The building was a relic of the war, its walls scorched and crumbling. I crouched low, my breath ragged, my mind racing.
What would a demon with one arm, two legs, and death on his heels do in a second?
Then it came to me. I bit down on my remaining hand, severing it with a sickening crunch. I hurled the severed hand into a corner of the room, where many of the building's rubble remained. The scent of my blood and the fresh wounds would mislead the scholars, drawing them into the building while I made my escape.
I listened intently, my ears straining to pick up the muffled voices and footsteps outside. The scholars were closing in, their confusion evident as they followed the trail of blood. It was a risky gambit, but it bought me the time I needed.
Quietly, I slipped out through the stairs emergency exits and slid down the building, using what i had left of my arm as a softening grip on the wall.
I blended into the crowd as I wrapped my bleeding wrist with a strip of fabric torn from my jacket. I moved swiftly and silently, my movements calculated to avoid drawing attention. The streets were alive with the usual chaos of Southland, and I used the crowd to my advantage, disappearing into the sea of faces.
***
"What the hell happened to you?" Kan yelled, his voice a mix of frustration and alarm. Coming back home was easy, what was not easy was being hungry on the way back. I was trying not to eat a human every five seconds. Can you imagine being starved and seeing a steak dangled in front of you every five seconds? I would probably devour the person holding the steak too.
I slumped onto the sofa, wincing as the movement tugged at my wounds. "Hunters. Scholars. The usual," I said, my tone dry. "Holy water. Chase. Ran away."
Kan didn't waste time. He grabbed a vial of demon blood and a jar of mud, mixing them into a thick paste. With practised hands, he began applying it to my injuries. We'd been through this ritual more times than I could count, but this time felt different.
As Kan worked, Nakumi stepped forward, her small hands clutching a handful of mud. "I help too," she said, her voice soft but determined.
I didn't have the energy to protest. She knelt beside me, her fingers brushing against the stump of my arm as she applied the mud. The moment her touch connected, Nakumi shenanigans happened.
A surge of power shot through me, vibrant and electric, like a current igniting every nerve in my body. My missing arm began to regenerate at an astonishing rate, muscles and skin knitting together seamlessly in a matter of seconds.
I stared at my newly formed arm, flexing my fingers in disbelief. The room fell silent, the only sound the soft breathing of its occupants. Even Kan looked stunned, his hands frozen mid-motion.
"How'd you…" he started, his voice trailing off.
Nakumi giggled, her laughter light and carefree. I couldn't help but smile.
How could I forget, you used to heal me after every hunt...
"Good job," I said, closing my eyes and leaning back against the sofa with fully formed grin, "I will give you a sugar cube later."