Chapter Nine:Are You Afraid Of Me?

A Chapter by RedRozeNinja13

(Warning:Very bloody and gruesome chapter- if you can not handle that sort of thing- skip this chapter. Please and thank you ^ ^)

I like to think of pain as simply a state of mind. Some say that pain is the body warning you, cautioning you that you are pushing yourself too hard- and maybe that too is true, but in an intense situation- I prefer to think of pain as simply a state of mind. Because if it is only a state of mind, surely you can force yourself through it. At least- that is what my Mistress Kay taught me. And my Mistress Kay was never wrong. The demon looks at me as though I am standing in the way of a meal he has been starved of for centuries- and likely he has been. Demons feed off of souls, and this is what makes them so dangerous. Because hypothetically, when you consume the soul of a living being (not the flesh or bone, but the soul, that vital essence inside all of us), you gain not only their knowledge, but their destructive power, and any years left of their life span. This is why demons, particularly those who have been around for a long while, are the most feared of all beings.

And can you imagine why demons would seek souls for consumption above all else? It is exactly as I have told you. Immortality. All-knowing power. Immense satisfaction to top it all off. It is why even the weakest of demons must be taken out as soon as there is a whiff of their scent, because if we turn our backs to them- they will fester and grow, like weeds in the heat of summer, leaching everything they lack, everything they crave, from beings that have strived to attain it. This is also why everyone who goes into battle against demons, particularly those most skilled, know that they can never let a demon take their soul. Such a fate would be unbearable, to know that you have only furthered the destructive power of the beast. A slayer we learned of in training once threw himself from a cliff in his darkest hour, just so the monstrosity would not be able to use everything that he was for evil. Those who have been around longer, who have been able to survive and have played their cards right, killing sparingly and moving often, leaving a nearly untraceable trail, those are the intelligent ones. The ones that can take on human appearance and manipulate the weak minded, who know man’s weaknesses and desires and can toy with them like a cat plays with a mouse- they are the most dangerous. Because sometimes, foolish as it may be, humans grow attached to their facades of lies and deception. Humans, the ones we protect, get in the way of our purpose- to keep such evils away from them. To love a demon? It is preposterous. It will only trick you. Use you. In the end the only thing it craves from you is the one thing you will never willingly give it. And if a slayer is wise, they will never have to play the game of manipulation with demons- because it is a game that none other than a demon can win. A wise slayer will also never challenge an ancient one knowing that there is a high risk of failure- and if you can’t connect the dots there, I truly feel sorry for you.

And this good fellow? Well, since he didn’t have a mortal manifestation and the sight of him was a clear giveaway that would send anyone with a shred of sanity left screaming and running for the hills- It was reasonable to assume that he had yet to achieve the title of ‘Archdemon’, and was obviously not one of ‘The Ancients’. I say ‘The Ancients’, even internally, and a sense of foreboding and an icy cold grip seizes me, from my toes, up the vertebrae of my spine, coming to curl up at the lashes of my eye- because ‘The Ancients’ are the demons that have been there since the beginning of time, ones such as Gorgomon, Daegon, Sanguine, Buthamus, Kelek, and others- they are the pillars for all other demonic manifestations. No demon hunter nor demon slayer has ever been seen again after encountering one of the Ancients. None. In the entire span of history. They are assumed dormant throughout most of the course of history- but the times when they have awoken, those are looked back upon as the bloodiest times there have ever been.

So yes, albeit, from the appearance of our surroundings, this demon may have been here for a while, caused sufficient damage, and may very well be powerful- it is not an Archdemon, nor is it one of the Ancients. Hence, I am not afraid. I feel that- even in the face of immeasurable darkness and destruction- I would not feel fear. That is just how much my soul has been through.

“Tell me your name.” I say lowly, “And I’ll make your death quick.”, even through the pain in my shoulder, I know that I can still fight. It may have been my right arm, but I still have one good arm and two perfectly capable legs. In order to stop me, you’ll have to rip me limb from limb. Even if my good arm lies on my blind side, I have a pretty good feel when it comes to combat. Now, knowing the name of a demon that you slay isn’t exactly necessary- but it can give you a bit of extra information- which is necessary in this situation. This demon made a civilization of people just….disappear. My report would be much more solid if I could gather a name from this Elder Demon. (This is what we call those who are not lesser demons, nor Archdemons or Ancients)

“As though I would tell my name….to….a dog.” His breath is raspy and rattles, his lungs laboring like those of someone who has been smoking since the day of their birth. His speech is likely labored because of his breathing, and because of those protruding snaggle-teeth.

“That surely is something- coming from an already half starved mutt. How long has it been since you’ve consumed a soul? Five decades? A century?” I turn Bloodlust in my palm and give it a testing crack. The weight of it is slightly off-center in my non-dominant arm, but I am sure I can manage.

“It has been….a vwhile….”he drools, the spit hissing and sizzling when it makes contact with the dusty ground. Acid Venom. Question is, what sort?

“That’s what I thought. Why don’t you just tell me your name now, and I’ll make this nice and easy?” I take a testing step to the left, and as I thought, the demon follows my movement like a delayed mirror. He wants a soul, he needs a soul, but even so- it seems as though he simply wouldn’t feel right killing Kurai before finishing off his challenger. Perhaps I have tickled what shred of honor he may still have. But- more than likely, it is that I have triggered some primal instinct to recalibrate targets when insulted. Go on and test it out. Works with nearly everybody.

“I will tell you….my name…..when you tell me…..yours….” He twists up his face in what must’ve been a smile in his book- but really just looked like something that would make a child shriek. Now, telling a demon your name is a risky game, and even lying and telling it the name of somebody else is just as risky. In essence- this demon was asking me to make a gamble. I tell him my name, and He would tell me his. Whoever won would get to make the most of their prize. And it would be no use telling him a fake name, you smartasses out there that I know are thinking ‘Well why don’t you just make up a name?’, because demons, being such liars as they are- can also tell when a lie is being told. My options were- take a risk and learn his name in exchange for my own, or trample on him and hope he gave me his name in the end. And if you’ve ever struggled with demons- you would know that the second option is very unlikely to occur.

“Don’t you dare- Don’t you dare bargain for his name-” Kurai attempts to stand, I don’t even glance over at him. From the sound of his movements I can tell something must be wrong with one of his legs, probably sprained his ankle or something useless like that. And yet still I give him points, because he comes up and tries to fight with me.

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, alright? You were petty before. Now you’re damaged, and henceforth- useless. Stay out of my way. That’s how you can help.”

“But you’re hurt too-” he starts to protest, clearly upset with the double standards of our, eh-hem, loving, relationship.

“It’s not as bad as it looks. And besides, I wasn’t a dreadful fighter beforehand. I’m not completely useless now, as you are. I know how to work through pain. That is something I’ll have to instill upon you later.”

“But-”

“Don’t ‘but’ me, just get out of the way or I’ll wind up ripping your leg clean off.” He clearly doesn’t like my response- but there isn’t much he can do about it. Because he knows I am right. Pain is a major distraction for most people. And Kurai and I? We’re each of a different caliber, him and I. We may as well be of separate species for all of the differences between us, if living with him hasn’t shown me that, then just speaking with him surely has. Kurai uses strength to his advantage, and he’s clumsy, and he has an attitude- but also a strong sense of pride and honor. Against a demon, injured, his strength would mean next to nothing. His clumsiness would cease to be amusing and turn into a disaster. His attitude would only proceed to enrage a demon and give it more drive. And his pride and honor? Those would be the cause of his greatest downfall. Because he would not be able to admit, even to himself, when he would need to retreat and let somebody else handle the task at hand. And I can understand that- one of the hardest things for any accomplished Slayer to do is admit that they are in over their head, but my understanding is also why I will not permit him to become involved in the first place.

“Please, Kurai. Just trust me, this one time. And do as I say.” He bites his tongue and backs up, almost like a child that had been gently scolded by its mother.

“Is he….your whelp…?” The demon snickers. I crack my whip at it’s feet and it makes his slow form jerk back into rapt attention.

“You would do well not to worry about anything else except you, and I, at the moment. They call me The Nightmare Nightingale. So what is it that you answer to?”

“Ahah….do you think me…..stupid…? Give me…..your full name….”

“Aurora Isolda Nightingale.” I state coldly. My name is a mess of contradictions, A goddess of light, an icy battle, and a pretty but useless bird. My parents must have been some pretty interesting folks. My name is also something that I do not prefer to “throw around”. I know the saying “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” is so cliched and overdone- but that really does sum up how I feel towards my name.

“Aurora…? How….cute….” It snickers.

“You did not just call her cute….” Kurai groans, I can feel my eyebrow twitching uncontrollably. Now, if I was going to be uncivil and ghastly I would have “put the smack down” right there, as the people say- tossing my bag to Kurai and hyping myself up like an idiot. But, an Idiot I am not. So I didn’t do that. Not to mention that I am not the best at “the talking of the trash”. Or so I’ve been told.

“Hold my bag.” I thrust it out into Kurai’s chest with so much force that he makes an ‘oomph!’ sound.

“What do you have in here?! Bricks?!” He wheezes.

“You never know when you might need a brick to bash some sense into somebody.” I say without a shred of jokingness.

“What?! Have these been with you the ENTIRE TIME?!” He shouts, The demon seems to find us amusing and waits patiently through our quarrel. He probably hasn’t seen people in a while and does find this rather interesting, but nonetheless it irks me.

“I call it the Brick of Obedience.” I glare ahead at the demon.

“Are you going to answer my second question?!”

“All questions are optional.”

“You make no sense!!”

“Is it that I don’t make sense, or are you just not thinking hard enough?” That shut him up for a while. Ah the blissful sound of closed lips- which is to say, the blissful sound of silence. I take a few steps forward, enough to see the menacing glint in the demon’s eyes.

“Tell me your name.” I command.

“I will tell you mine...if….you defeat me…” he gives another nightmare worthy grin.

“You never said those were the terms.” I say calmly, although my grip on Bloodlust tightens considerably.

“There are….two of you.”

“But I am the only one that will be rivaling you.” I narrow my eye. What did I tell you before? Demons are deceptive.

“What’s to say….If I tell you….My name….that your whelp….will not run for it…..once I kill you?”

Demon had a good point there.

“You’ll have to kill me first.” I warn coldly. “And If you think that’s going to happen you’ve got another thing coming. I have your word that you will tell me your name when I defeat you?”

“If…..” He wheezes and hacks. “If you defeat me….and yes….I cross my heart…..you have my word….” He lets out a hacking laugh, his speech is very garbled, like a permanent guttural growl forming itself into words. I would have laughed- had he not already tricked me. Everybody knows that demons don’t have hearts.

“What are we waiting for then, Dogface?” I feign left and dart right, lashing out Bloodlust and grabbing his ankle tightly with it’s barbed and braided leather. I can feel something around my own ankle. I look down- It’s that ghastly tail from before, he’s mocking me. Using his own body exactly as he sees me using my weapon. I’m not afraid though, I look up at him- he’s smiling as though he’s done something impeccably smart.

“Don’t you know never to grab a girl in stilettos?” I ram the heel of my free foot deep into the flesh of his tail with a terrible crunching sound as it pierces through completely, merely grazing my own skin. As he bellows in uncontrollable rage I yank Bloodlust, the barbs burrowing deep into his flesh beneath that rippling coat of sulfurous fur. Demons have very little self control, in fact very few dark ones do. Once you hurt them, more and more, their animalistic instincts begin to take over. That also means that the longer a fight goes on, the more powerful they will get. As their anger grows- so does their strength. This results in many fights against demons being quite short go-for-the-kill instances.

I wrench my ankle out of the remainder of it’s tail, the entire thing crumbles to burning ash and cinders. There is no blood. Just ash and a sort of venomous black liquid that takes the place of blood in the veins of demons. It sizzles and sears my boot, but the leather stays true. The smell of the demon blood makes me want to throw up- but I choke down the urge and keep my eye trained solely on it. He lunges at me with his claws and I jab an elbow up where his windpipe would be with lightning fast speed, I whip around and lash his back once with Bloodlust, a quick harsh lash, and glass shards tear into the flesh underneath, revealing more and more demon “blood”. I have to jump back to avoid being splashed by the toxic substance. My right arm is really starting to hurt at this point, and I am losing a precarious amount of blood I must say (and it only drives to further whip the beast into a bloody rage). So while the mutt bellows in an absolute frenzy, I rip the belt from my waist and tighten it just above the joint of my shoulder, pulling it taut with my pointed teeth and biting down against the sweet pain as my body protests my own actions. I have it fastened in record time.

“You...smell….positively….sinful…!” It turns, it’s mouth is frothing like a dog afflicted with rabies- and In that moment I know that I must end this. He hasn’t eaten in so long, he’s half deranged, clumsy, and most of all- desperate.

“If I smell so delicious, why don’t you come at me?” I roll Bloodlust’s grip in my palm, Ending this would be as simple as tying a shoe. There are two puncture marks in the leather of my belt from my biting down, but I haven’t even started to sweat yet. Usually I prefer having some fun with enraged demons, the thrill of a prolonged hunt- but I’m not willing to put Kurai’s life in danger for a bit of fun on my part. Usually I go solo on missions. ‘You’re not alone this time’, I have to remind myself, taking a deep breath and letting it fill up my lungs to the brim, wishing time to slow and allowing it to do so right before my eye. He’s coming in low this time, taking a lesson from the last time, when he aimed low and I just weaved right under his arms. He’s also banking that my jumping skills will be hindered by these new fangled inventions that had thwarted his whip-like tail, the little beauties called “Stilettos”. And that may have been true- but I wouldn’t make Kurai do all of his intensive training if I weren’t able to do it alongside him(if I chose to), in the shoes I choose to wear every day. I crouch slightly, at his normal height he may stand between six and a half and seven feet tall- but at his current position, barreling at me like an angry bull with claws, he was at a total standing height of perhaps five, five and a half feet. If I timed it correctly, I should be able to clear that hurdle.

My calves tighten as I near the ground- and in an instant that must have passed much faster than my perception of it- all of the energy built up in my legs is released, in one simultaneous moment that pushes my body up. I twist Bloodlust in the air, my back towards the ground as I turn and attempt to flip onto my feet- but something happens. Taloned hands grip my sides and dig in, puncturing my flesh as I am above it’s head, and they throw me down behind the body they belong to, dazing me for an instant. He’s actually faster than I had anticipated, when I jumped, he caught me mid-jump, my back just above his head and my eye towards the sky, and in the moment I should have been preparing my body to land, slammed me down against the earth spine first. The impact is jarring, but I refuse to release my grasp on Bloodlust, it’s ending barbed coil dangles over the demon’s shoulder like a scarf, bouncing off of it’s thick hide as the tension on it’s length had gone lax. The demon reaches out and seizes my bad arm- as it goes to hoist me upright, I ram my skull up into it’s abdomen and seize the ending coil of Bloodlust, It’s glass shards and barbed wire digging into it’s own master’s hand. My other seizes the grip tightly. I can see my own blood running down my bad arm, the whip’s coil piercing my skin like rice paper. I try not to think about how much what I’m about to do is going to hurt. I try not to think at all- somehow, I always manage to get better results that way.

I plant my feet against his abdomen, my body dangling from him by my wrapped-about position with Bloodlust like a child dangling from her father’s neck by her own arms. My six inch heels dig into his flesh and my injured arm gives a single warning throb- and then I waste no more time.

“Nobody threatens my charge.” I spit at him, he seems a bit slow, and surely unused to my unorthodoxed methods, and doesn’t seem to comprehend what is happening.

I plant my feet firmly and drop my weight, the back of Bloodlust growing taut against the back of his neck, biting and digging in as I half strangle him, half slash his neck open. But I am not yet satisfied. My heels dig up into his abdomen, crunching up into folds of his rippling fur, and I push hard with my legs, relying on their strength once more. I feel something give, and both of my heels crunch hilt deep into his stomach. He tries to howl in pain, but with the extra force as I propel myself downward, all he can manage is a singular strangled gargle before his head is shredded right off of his shoulders- spine and all.

I flip backwards, my injured arm throbbing in warning, pretty much telling me what I already knew, that it was pretty messed up. I land on my feet and pick up the demon’s head, his eyes still swirling in his head as his acidic blood flows like water from the severed nub of his neck, pooling on the ground and sizzling angrily.

“We had a deal. Your name.” I state in a matter-of-business tone.

He laughs, or at least I think he is laughing-really all it is is a garbled up choking sound.

“Tremble in fear….b***h…..my name….is Heramon….and one day….you will repent...for all you have done….and I will be there...to watch…..you burn…-” I get tired of listening and take his brutish head by the ears and do a large spinning throw, it collides against a tree and splinters the bark-shattering his head into terrible chunks of bloody black matter. I wipe my hands on my pants, they are slick with sweat, and the sparse few droplets of demon blood that had managed to get on them burned and sizzled, leaving darker spots of skin. My right hand leaves a streak of bright red with it, my own blood.

I turn to Kurai, my face giving away nothing. I don’t show him that I recognize the name of the demon, or that some part of me knows that what it said was not just an idle threat. I don’t let my expression give away how my arm throbs dully, or how my mind is left reeling for answers. I don’t give away any of that. I just look at him, quirking my head as he looks at my bloody silhouette.

“Are you afraid of me?” I ask.

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