The Slayer Ascension: Cursed and Blessed.-Chapter 42: Strange Demon
Chapter 42
Dim twilight spilled over Rasna City, washing the crowded streets in fading gold. People flowed through the roads with easy laughter and lively faces. Shops were still loud. Voices still high. Even with the sun long gone, the city refused to sleep. It breathed. It pulsed. Just as alive as it had been during the day.
Amidst the moving crowd, one figure stood out like a stain that would not wash away.
Not because he looked inhuman. Not because he acted suspicious.
But because he did not belong.
White and black hair whipped in the air, strands fluttering like they shared his misery. His steps were heavy. His shoulders slumped. Low muttering slipped from his lips, broken and bitter, the kind that made people instinctively steer away.
"...wretched bastard... thief... why take all of them and leave me with none..."
That miserable soul was Gazel.
Hours had passed since the incident with the handsome thief disguised as a savior. Roy. The name still burned. Time had done nothing. Not even a dent. Gazel had searched other parts of the city, hoping for another betting den, another chance to claw something back.
Nothing.
Every single den was shut down. Ruined. Left dry.
He did not need to think hard to know why.
"That damn thief..." Gazel hissed, puffing as he trudged down the wide street.
Anyone watching might wonder why someone this desperate did not just get a job. The truth was, he had tried. He really had. Applied for quick work. Easy coins. Anything.
But Gazel’s life had never included honest labor.
He hunted demons. Crushed bandits. Hunted thieves and looted them. That was all he knew. He had no skills a city wanted. No craft. No trade. No patience for smiling customers.
So he was turned away. Again and again.
Eventually, he left the heart of the city behind and slipped into a narrow alley. The moon climbed above him, pale and cold, casting silver light over Rasna, which was still buzzing with life even at this hour.
After walking a while, Gazel dropped onto a large rock by the side of the alley. He opened his palm.
One silver coin.
Just one.
That was all he had left.
And Bulwark was still far. Extremely far.
"How the hell am I supposed to survive till then..." he muttered.
Misery pressed down on him like a weight. To escape it, Gazel let his thoughts drift. Sweet lies, if only for a moment. He imagined himself stronger. Sharper. Deadlier after reaching Bulwark. He imagined crushing that white haired freak beneath his heel.
He imagined getting his brother back.
He imagined making the devil pay.
The thoughts piled up, filling his head, keeping the darkness at bay.
Then his right fingers twitched.
Once. Twice.
A signal carved into his bones.
Danger.
Gazel reacted on instinct. He dropped low.
A figure flashed past his head.
The air rotted.
A stench slammed into his nostrils, foul and suffocating. Gazel snapped his head up and locked eyes with the thing that missed him.
It looked human.
At least, it tried to.
Dark lines crawled across her body like living scars. A pulsing darkness split her face in ugly patterns. Patches of flesh had caved in, rotting, lifeless. She looked dead.
Yet she moved.
Alive, but not living.
An undead.
Gazel frowned, eyes locked on the demon before him.
He had seen demons that twisted into massive animalistic predators when fighting. He had seen others that kept their human forms, so close to real that you could walk past them on the street and never know. Most demons fell into that category.
Gazel himself did.
But this one did not belong to either.
That alone made her dangerous.
A new type. One he was seeing for the first time.
Which meant caution.
Demons always carried dark malice. It clung to them like smoke. Some learned to suppress it. Most could not. Others simply did not care. Either way, it was always there. Surrounding them. Pressing down on the air.
This one was different.
She was not hiding her malice.
She did not have any.
At all.
The realization crawled up Gazel’s spine.
That was wrong.
Very wrong.
Gazel straightened and coughed lightly, trying to draw her attention. The demon was slowly turning her head, scanning the alley as if searching for something else.
He coughed again. Louder.
Nothing.
He coughed harder, irritation bleeding through.
Still nothing.
"Hey, you fool," Gazel snapped, huffing. "You attacked me first and now you ignore me. Today is really a horrible day. Even a low demon looks down on me now."
Finally, she noticed him.
Her head tilted.
Her dark pupils softened unnaturally, shifting, writhing, as if something inside her skull was moving them around.
That cannot be it... can it?
Then Gazel saw something worse.
The dark veins crawling across her body were moving too. Sliding beneath her skin like living things.
The demon opened her mouth.
What came out was not a voice.
It hit him like a wave.
Gazel’s spirit screamed. His soul compressed under invisible pressure. His head throbbed like it was about to split open.
"What the hell is that..." he growled, clutching his skull.
The demon grinned.
Then she lunged.
Gazel reacted instantly. The mind attack rattled him, but training dragged him back on his feet. He twisted aside, barely avoiding her first strike. His hand dove into the bag at his chest.
Steel flashed.
A kitchen knife shot out, flying like a charging cheetah. Whatever a cheetah was. He had never seen one.
The demon tilted her head slightly.
The blade slid past her.
She charged.
So did Gazel.
Years of fighting, killing, surviving surged through him as he met her head on.
The clash was brutal.
Fast.
And short.
Extremely so.
Barely two moves in, Gazel’s body was hurled through the air. He slammed into the alley wall and crashed down hard. Pain exploded through him, sharper than anything he had felt in a long time.
Still, pain was familiar.
He forced his head up.
The demon walked toward him.
Her mouth moved, forming words that never came out.
As she neared, Gazel raised his hand.
The obsidian ring on his finger glinted.
The discarded knife trembled.
It lifted off the ground and shot forward.
Straight at her heart.
The demon’s hands snapped up.
She caught the dagger.
Firm.
Too firm.
Gazel strained, jaw clenched, but the ring could not tear it from her grip.
The demon grinned, lifting the blade, ready to drive it into his chest.
Then her expression changed.
Her smile vanished.
Her eyes narrowed into thin slits.
She dropped the knife like it burned her palm.
Panic flashed across her face.
And then she fled.
She bolted down the alley at a speed that shattered everything Gazel thought he knew.
Too fast.
That demon was far beyond his level.
The realization chilled Gazel to the bone.
But what froze him even more was something else.
His assumption was wrong.
The demon was not targeting him.
She was running.
As unbelievable as it sounded, that demon was fleeing.
Being hunted.
Gazel sucked in a deep breath, forcing the thought away. He did not want to imagine what kind of existence could make something like that panic and flee like prey.
----------
Elsewhere.
The demon Gazel had faced tore through a deserted part of Rasna City. The streets were empty. Silent.
Too silent.
Without warning, long purple chains snapped out of the darkness. They wrapped tightly around her body and slammed her into the ground with brutal force. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂
Crack.
The stone beneath her shattered.
A figure stepped out from the shadowed alley, one hand gripping the glowing chains.
"To think one of the vessels of that abomination was hiding in this city," the voice said, calm and lightly amused. "What a shocker."
The demon screeched, lifting her head in terror.
She saw him.
A handsome young man stood there, chains coiled around his arm. His smile was gentle. Almost kind. His face soft and tender, like he was dealing with something ordinary.
If Gazel had been there, he would have been stunned.
Stunned to see a man look at such a horrifying demon as if it were nothing more than a nuisance.
The young man tightened his grip on the chains.
Roy.
The very one who had ruined Gazel’s day.
Damned thief.
The name etched high on Gazel’s list. Right after the white freak.
To be continued.
