Ever heard of evil incarnate?
Ever thought it could exist in reality?
Guess what, sweetheart. It does exist. And I’m it.
Yeah, I’m a demon. Don’t sound so surprised, we’re everywhere. You poor mortals
just don’t know it. That hot girl on the street? Yeah, a succubus. She’ll
gladly do all the things you thought of doing to her in your head. But you won’t
make it through the night alive, I’ll tell you that. Maybe those punks that
stole your bike last week? Yeah, minions. They’re cheeky and hard to keep in
one place at a time, but harmless most of the time. These few are the lesser
demons. They’re no big deal. Most mortals don’t ever get the chance to worry
about any of the bigger demons.
Well, that’s about to change a whole lot in a really short time…
My name’s Drakonika, well I was created with that name. Most people in the
daylight call me Drake. Despite being only several hundred years old, I’m still
schooling. No, I didn’t redo high school again and again for the fun of it,
that’s just plain stupid. I could have done something more productive with my
time. I spent the last three centuries in Hell, fighting and surviving.
Finally, I got out. Yeah, I escaped Hell. Seriously, it’s not that hard. The
gatekeeper’s a tough nut, but a good sword arm and three centuries of nothing
but constant battle in the lowest levels of Hell do make for a good training regimen.
This mortal world is gonna take some getting used to, you can’t stab anyone and
everyone here. There are “social conventions” and “laws” that don’t let you do
the sort of stuff that is common practice in that Hellhole. Killing, maiming,
stealing, all illegal. Stupid mortals. But I don’t want to call any attention
to myself. If I get dragged back to Hell, I’ll be in for an eternity of the
most miserable and torturous existence imaginable. In fact, not even something imaginable.
Demons down there, especially the Painmasters, don’t have the mortal inhibitions
of the mind. They are twisted, sick and sadistic beyond mortal comprehension.
And I’m in for some of the worst of it if I was caught.
Imagine my horror when I find out a new Demon Lord has ascended. And he’s
looking at some new property placement. MY property. Here, on Earth. By the
time the Angels get down here to reclaim their “precious land” made for the
race that was “flawed by choice but perfect in practice”, millions would be
dead. Not to mention I’d not only lose my new home, but I’d get dragged back to
Hell if his troops found my horns.
Not an option.
If you think this is gonna be a tale of how a demon finds the good inside him
and sheds his horns for good to live happily ever after, I’d like to stop you
right here and direct you over to another book. One with a happy ending and a
nice, wholesome story. This is gonna be anything but wholesome. Shit is gonna
hit the fan more than once. Blood and guts everywhere. Things are gonna go down
in the worst ways. So if you made it this far and you’re ready for a story that
is more realistic, as far as realistic goes with angels and demons for your
mortal minds, then here you go boys and girls.
Demonspawn.
I sat on the ledge of the skyscraper, dressed in my customary full black, sword
slung over my shoulder and throwing knives tucked away underneath my hoody.
Being a demon, I only needed to eat and sleep once every few months, so that’s twelve
hours of darkness to kill. What better way than to make use of the restless nature
I was created with?
I hunt demons, other than myself. It’s like a strange sport that has developed
within the earthbound demons’ community. With demons escaping left, right and centre
from the Gates of Hell, we gotta keep the numbers down. If a demon deserves to
live here on Earth, he’ll keep his head low and out of trouble’s way. But there’s
always a numbskull or two that think their demonic strength, speed and powers
make them gods. And if they attract attention to themselves, it’s not long
before angels crack down on the city. Or worse, if hellknights do it. So we
police ourselves. As soon as night falls, we hunt. Crime lords, petty
criminals, terrorist cells, crooked businessman, paid-off politicians, all ripe
for the picking. Sounds like I’m a goddamn saint for doing it right?
Well if getting paid in money and powers still counts for it, then yeah I’m a
bonafide Mother Teresa.
Demons of desire often pay for the destruction or capture of souls. Some pay in
mortal cash. A lot of it. Some pay in soul shards, a more… demonic form of
currency. And some pay in demon essence. Rare essences extracted from a demon before
death, only powerful demons are given powers and extracting the essence of one
is no small feat. But absorbing it means all new abilities. Imagine that?
But those always come with a catch. You don’t hunt little snatch thieves or
cripple a con-man for those. Hell no. Those contracts are usually put out on
greater demons. Demons have multiple horn sets according to their caste.
No horns are pathetic weak demons like minions and grunts.
Two horns are ordinary, the bulk of the population of Hell, like myself.
Four horns are usually powerful warriors or hunters, accomplished in the art of
killing.
Six usually denotes greater demons, they’ve
been around for millennia.
Eight horns are Archdemons. Generals of the Demon lords. They could crush an
army in the blink of an eye.
Ten horns are only reserved for Demon lords. Only three live. Four,
now that there’s a newly ascended one. They have been clawing their way through
Hell since the dawn of time.
Contracts with powers usually mean killing a greater demon. Not an easy task
for a two-horn like myself.
My cell phone rang through my black jeans as the sounds of the ever-bustling
city surrounded me.
“Drake, got a contract for you. Big pay off.”
“You’ve got my attention, as always. What’s the pay-off, Phil?”
“An essence. Pyrokinesis.”
“Woah woah woah, hold on. What’s the catch?”
“Six-horns. Before you say no, just hear me out alright?”
“You better be sending a small company along with me. Or maybe a couple of
tanks.”
“The contract was put out ten minutes ago. Every Hunter within a five mile
radius is gonna be running for this one.”
“So? If they’re tired of living, let em screw themselves over. I’m perfectly at
ease not getting myself ripped limb from limb.”
“Or you could use this as your chance to take him whiles he’s weak.”
“Phil, that four-horn nearly ripped my head clean off my neck two weeks ago. You
want me to risk a six-horn like him? He’ll erase my sorry ass from existence.”
“Alright, your choice. I’m not the
hunter here. But its pyrokinesis, rare ability.”
I bit my lip, it would be worth it. Really worth it. It was a rare and powerful
ability. Control of fire.
“I’ll do it. Upload the contract.”
“That’s my boy! The go-getter, the hunter, the eye of the tiger, the-“
“Dude, please shut up. I swear, say one more thing and the first thing I burn
down is your house.”
Silence pervaded the call before the receiver on the other end clicked and the
call ended.
Heh. Phil was always such a goof.
