The very nature itself writhed in agony with the newly begun process.
A thick mist crawled over the forest like a supernatural eclipse. Where this haze touched, leaves shriveled and wilted, animals choked on the heavy air, and the soil cracked.
Black, translucent hands emerged from the ground, snaking through the air. Fine veins spread across them, glowing with a sickly purple hue.
With each moment, their number grew exponentially. Hundreds of them, perhaps thousands.
As if drawn by an invisible force, the hands converged on a single point; an amalgamation of profane miasma formed, growing increasingly compressed, ever closer to its final shape.
The mass contorted before condensing into a human form. The translucent energy solidified, cleared, and stretched over transparent bones, turning into flesh.
One arm became disproportionate before naturally correcting itself; hair sprouted, jagged teeth appeared, sharp nails grew – it resembled a human, but wasn't one. Finally, its clothes formed: a dark tunic, ancient and seemingly from another world.
Its grey eyes opened slowly, sweeping the surroundings without hesitation. Its mind began to work, devoid of values, devoid of morals.
Only instinct.
*****
The sun shines brightly, the rustling tree leaves gently filtering the light streaming through the windows of a modest barn.
"Finally finished cleaning!" a young man thinks to himself, brushing straw and dust from his white hair. "Took me almost the whole morning, but it was worth it for the payment they offered."
Instinctively, his gaze drifts to the shadows in the corners of the walls, his red eyes intensifying.
His hand touches his dagger sheaths, a habit even he doesn't know he has.
"I must just be getting paranoid..." he thought, but couldn't shake a sense of unease. "Again."
He heads for the barn exit, walking towards a small house nearby, where he meets an old woman.
"Ma'am, I've finished cleaning the barn, as you asked."
He steps closer and repeats the phrase, as the old woman didn't understand the first time.
The old woman, finally understanding, smiles and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a few coins.
"Thank you very much, young man," her voice, though kind, is rough with age. "As promised, here's the money."
She hands over the money, placing her hand over his and letting the coins drop into his palm. The old woman's hand trembles slightly with the movement, a reflection of the difficulties brought by advanced age.
He bows slightly, a common gesture acknowledging the wisdom of elders. "I thank you again, but I'm already leaving."
Bidding farewell to the old woman, Erías walks along the dirt roads towards the nearest city.
His steps kick up dust on the arid ground as he observes how dry the grass is.
"I hope it rains soon..."
His eyes drift to the sky, seeing how sparse and light the clouds are.
Even if it didn't rain soon, gazing at the blue sky calmed him, as if his inner anxiety had been carried away by the wind...
A few hours pass, and by late afternoon, Erías is still walking along the empty roads.
He was lost in thought, holding the strap of his backpack, when a brief gust of wind snapped him back to reality.
The atmosphere gradually changed, becoming denser, darker. He looks at the sky again, noticing something wrong.
A subtle shift, one only someone who had spent much time observing the sky would notice.
It wasn't natural, not caused by the sun's movement. It was something that shouldn't exist.
Erías recognized it, something that shouldn't be familiar, yet it pursued him. When he felt a sensation that nearly made his stomach churn, a chill rose from the base of his neck and spread throughout his body; his jaw clenched instinctively, certain of what awaited him ahead.
Only one thing in this world made a man feel that excruciating mix of feelings: the corrupted mana of demons. Something that seemed to disturb the very soul of whoever sensed this profane power.
Feeling the cursed presence, a supernatural rage and revulsion surged through his entire being. His eyes glowing, even redder, with a rage more than familiar.
"Damned creatures..." His hands clenched at his sides, his eyes guiding him towards a new route. "Wasn't what they did enough? Always coming to bother me. This is becoming routine," Erías thought, his mind clouded with thoughts.
If he wanted what happened to his family not to happen to anyone else, he had to do this.
He walks towards the traces, his steps firm, leaving footprints even in the hard earth. The surroundings grow darker, and the very nature around him seems to twist to escape the nefarious presence. The soft rustling of leaves, once nature's innate song, was now a warning of the calamity ahead.
After a walk that felt eternal, following the traces of that which most resembled sin, Erías finally sees it. The demon, who had been walking along a dirt road, senses his presence and turns its face towards him.
Its black hair sways in the wind, its eyes expressing no emotion.
Its gaze cuts through the air to the young man, so empty and threatening it would make even an experienced soldier beg for mercy.
"You didn't notice my presence?" Its voice was as terrible as the melody of the agonized screams of all the souls in hell. All demons' voices were like that. "Or are you just foolish enough to come to me, perhaps?" Its gaze analyzed Erías, trying to understand the break in behavior humans usually displayed. "Fleeing is natural. But you humans always think you're different..."
Erías draws one of his daggers from the leather holster at his waist. He points his blade at the demon, his voice tearing through the once-calm forest in a threatening tone.
"Protecting others is also a natural inclination, isn't it? And I will kill you for that," he retorts with a similar argument, but rage clouds his reason. "And there's no necessity in what you do!"
The demon looks at the dagger, trying to understand the reasoning.
"Would you blame a wolf for hunting a rabbit?"
Erías grew even more irritated by the audacity of this comparison, a vein bulging in his neck as his jaw clenched.
"You don't do this out of necessity, only by nature!" He slashes the air with his dagger, a dangerous hiss accompanying the movement. "Not for survival, but by pure instinct."
"Exactly," it takes a step forward, its gaze dark. "Does that have any more justification than you, who kill animals for sport?" Something in its voice, its tone ironic yet raw and sincere, made Erías feel numb with fury.
Unable to counter-argue, he responds:
"Shut up!" He couldn't contain himself. "I won't show you any mercy."
Looking at him, the idea of peaceful coexistence between "two extremes" was impossible.
He raised his eyes to meet the warrior's, its eyes a direct window to the cataclysm of its existence.
"I am not asking for your pity, human..."
A crack opened where it had stood as it shot towards Erías, aiming a blow at his chest. Sparks ignited when its attack was blocked by the human's daggers.
"I won't lie, you are unexpectedly strong," said the demon, forcing its hand against the daggers.
The blades often sliced through the air where the demon had been, each miss fueling Erías's frustration further.
The demon's eyes followed every movement of its opponent, its combat mastery a reflection of its honed instincts.
Every advance, every footwork and hand movement, resembled a deadly dance.
A thin line of blood stained its clothes as the tip of Erías's dagger cut its chest. Ignoring the pain, the demon grabbed Erías's wrist and slashed his left shoulder with its claws, jumping back when Erías tried to stab its eye with his free dagger.
The slash cut through the leather jerkin, tore the linen shirt, and finally opened a large wound on his shoulder.
"Despite that, you're still human," it shook its blood-soaked hand, scattering drops of the red liquid on the ground.
Erías brought his hand to his shoulder, holding the wound while panting, thinking of a strategy.
His gaze rapidly alternated between the demon and the trees, the roots, possible paths, movements, attack routes, and escape routes. His mind quickly became a machine predicting which strategy would work or fail.
Without hesitation, he dashes into the forest, pursued by the demon. Clearly faster, he manages to get out of the demon's sight.
They dodged holes, passed through bushes, cut through trunks, and destroyed trees as the chase delved deeper into the forest.
The demon struggled to keep up, finding it difficult to follow the sprinter. With a mix of presumption and annoyance, it yelled:
"You're only proving what I said! Act like a rabbi-"
A sharp, sudden cut at the base of its neck interrupted its speech.
Its eyes tried to follow the movement, its mind tried to comprehend what happened, but its thoughts were shattered by another tear across its chest. And another, and yet another...
Erías leapt off the tree trunks, using them as springboards to unleash blows and slashes with his daggers at the demon.
Each movement seemed a blur in the air; his body moved like an arrow. From tree to tree, from blow to blow, cuts opened on the demon's pale skin.
"How is this possible?" the demon reflected, trying to respond to the rapid movements while seeing its own blood in the air. "How can a human be this fast? I was easily dodging his blows before, but now my eyes can't even follow him..." the demon thought, its eyes moving desperately between the afterimages as it tried to track and block Erías's attacks. In its final moments, it felt an emotion it couldn't explain.
A crimson torrent enveloped its arms completely, an offensive magic being prepared, destructive and deadly.
The demon moved its arms in a desperate motion. A red flash extinguished all hope... and the demon's life. Erías's daggers pierced the demon's neck, decapitating it in a clean cut.
The warrior fell to one knee on the ground, trying to catch his breath. His fingers, pressing against the wound on his shoulder, felt the warm blood flowing painfully.
He lifts his gaze and sees a village in the distance, where the demon had been heading. He did his job, he saved lives... or so he thought.
However, what put him on alert wasn't the sight of the houses, but the dancing shadows shaped like axes and swords accompanied by the sound of footsteps.
Three men were approaching.