They say demon hunters are supposed to be graceful, cautious, and deadly.
And then there's me...
I tripped over my own shoelace three minutes into my patrol.
"Whoaaah!" I landed face-flat on the ground, my demon-slaying blade bouncing out of its sheath and skidding across the cold asphalt like it had somewhere better to be.
The low-ranked demon snarled. Purple-skinned, with one bulging eye, two protruding teeth, and a hunched back, it watched me from the shadows of the alley. Smoke hissed from its horned head.
"Pathetic hunter," it growled, its eyes glowing crimson.
Yeah. I know, you can say that.
I blew my thick red hair out of my face, "I'm still learning, okay?"
With an exaggerated sigh, I scrambled to my feet, reached for my weapon, and lunged at the demon—but missed.
The demon took a step forward, its claws gleaming under the moonlight, "you were saying?" it sneered.
My fingers curled around the blade's hilt. I spun on instinct—clumsy, yeah, right—but with decent aim. The blade sliced across the creature's chest in a flash of white-blue fire.
The demon staggered back, its eyes widening in horror.
My lips curved. "Still learning, huh?" I tsked.
The demon shrieked in pain and disintegrated into ash.
I stood panting, my blade raised, chest heaving. Then I looked down—and realized my boots were on the wrong feet. In my haste to catch this demon, I'd left the house without properly dressing myself.
"Ugh, Elia," I groaned. "Get it together."
Demon hunting wasn't supposed to be this chaotic. I mean, sure, I hadn't exactly gone to Celestial Academy like the top agents. I was what you might call… a field recruit. I woke up one day with a burning wrist, a glowing tattoo, and the next thing I knew, I had a blade forged from angelic silver and a talking wristwatch.
Speaking of which…
BZZ. BZZ.
Oh yeah, that's the talking wristwatch. It lit up and vibrated against my wrist.
"Please don't be another emergency," I muttered, tapping the blue slide. "I just got the ash out of the hoodie."
A soft chime followed, and the holographic face of Guardian Myrr flickered into view—white long straight hair and beard, a long white robe, light blue glowing eyes, and the personality of a sleep-deprived professor.
"Elia Crimson," he said, his voice as stern as ever, his face as cold as the storm. One might think an angelic being would have a welcoming face. Well, that's what I thought until I met Myrr.
"We have a situation," he added.
"Hi, Guardian Myrr!" I said cheerfully, wiping soot off my sleeve. "Don't worry. I got the demon. There were minor complications here and there… you know, involving gravity. But overall—success." I gave him a thumbs-up, my teeth flashing.
His glowing eyebrows didn't move. Not that it surprised me; he never smiles, really. Then he said, "This is not about that minor fry. We have a… runner."
My stomach tightened. "A runner?"
"Yes. One of the top-tier demons has escaped the Seventh Ring. We believe he crossed into Earth's realm approximately two hours ago. Your presence is required."
Okay. You have got to be hookie-pookie kidding me.
Look—minor demons are my thing. And let's not forget I'm not even a high-ranking hunter. Never will be (just my luck). So… getting this kind of information from Myrr was kinda...
Dammit. This better be some prank. College student play.
But Myrr's face was stern. A little smile could have eased the pang.
I tried to swallow my nerves. "So… you're assigning me?"
Guardian Myrr gave me a look—the kind that said you don't want me to repeat myself, because, initially, when he gives a command, it doesn't need to be repeated.
"You've been… unconventional, but effective. And frankly, most of our elite hunters are either in Purgatory or recovering from your last friendly fire incident."
"That was one time!"
He cleared his throat.
"Regardless. We need you—being the only one available—and… you're close to the disturbance site."
I nodded, gripping my blade. Myrr was giving me a task only elite hunters could handle. I must not fail him.
"I'll get him."
It didn't take long to reach the coordinates. The sky had turned dusky, painted in tired gray and rusted orange. The air stank of blood and metal, and the wind carried a faint burn in it… like scorched feathers.
The town was nearly empty, old, and somewhere near the riverbanks.
I walked slowly down the lone road, alert. The sound of my boots, (by the way, on the correct feet now), tapping the pavement in utter silence. Only the crickets of the night made a sound.
I crossed through an abandoned train yard, keeping my hand on my blade, my gaze narrowed, ready to strike this creature that dared…
Hmm. Well, if it wasn't for him, I'd be in my room, fresh clothes and hoodie on, popcorn in hand, Netflix up—probably watching the new Squid Game arrival.
Sigh. This better be quick.
I walked further down through the bushes before I saw it.
Or rather… him.
A figure sat slumped against the wall of an old shed. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, blood seeping through the fabric and running down his side, the blood dripped onto the dusty ground.
He looked human. Like, too human. Tousled dark hair, a sharp jawline, skin a little too pale under the moonlight. But his eyes…
They flickered the moment I approached—golden, glowing faintly, and not entirely… right.
I froze mid-step, my fingers tightening around my hilt.
It was the first time I'd ever seen a human-looking demon. I mean, there's these guys, and Myrr tends to assign me to ugly-looking creatures with odd skin colors… sucks being a recruit.
He suddenly raised a trembling hand.
"Please," he rasped, but I was drawn to the melody of his tremor...
"I… I'm not here to hurt anyone. I'm just…" he coughed blood. "I… need shelter. Just for tonight."
"Awwnn, how sweet." I paced in front of him, my gaze fixed on nothingness.
"Listen, Mr. Human-Looking Demon, this is my biggest task. And I don't know about you, but if I get rid of you, it'll give me a higher rank and a chance to be at Crescent Academy."
"Please." He coughed again, and I turned to him—to those gorgeous eyes on me.
My instinct screamed: Demon.
My orders screamed: Kill on sight.
But something else… whispered different.
Unlike the other demons, his voice wasn't evil. It was filled with agony and pain. I took a step forward, lowering my blade just a fraction.
"Who are you?" I asked cautiously.
"Just someone running from the wrong side of Hell," he said, his voice dry. "But I suppose that makes me your target, doesn't it?"
I didn't answer. I didn't move either.
I looked into his eyes, and instead of seeing a monster… I saw a boy trying not to bleed out on the floor.
"Damn it," I muttered, sliding my blade back into its sheath.
"What are you doing?" he asked, clearly shocked.
"Probably something stupid," I said. "But you're hurt. And now you're talking, which means you're not trying to eat me. That earns you… like, two points."
He blinked at me. "Two points?"
"Yup. Out of a thousand." I held out my hand. "Name's Elia. You gonna stand or pass out again?"
He stared at me like I was insane. I know... my middle name was Medusa. Like, mad redhead girl… yeah, yeah.
Well, maybe I was. But I'd already made my choice.