"With everyone so afraid of demons, I've made a killing," a man muttered to himself as he towed a cart of colored bottles. The common person, who wasn't tucked safely away in a mansion, didn't have the luxury of denying the flesh-eating monsters that walked the night. But there were so many other dangers to fall prey to—if not the nocturnal beasts, then the snake oil salesmen who slithered in the light of day, pawning off their divine elixirs, lucky charms, and other talismans meant to repel evil. Normally, these false remedies would collect dust, and the ones selling them would give up the unscrupulous trade and get real jobs, but people made stupid decisions in a climate of fear and bought them in droves.
The two-story, wooden building in front of this particular fraudster was the site of his most ambitious scam yet. If he could get the apothecary to stock his wares, he'd rake in a fortune. He struggled to open the door with his right hand and brought his cart inside with his left. No more stress and strain from then on. He needed to project confidence if he was to close this deal.
"Hey, watch where you're going!" a voice growled.
So much for not messing things up. The merchant had collided with someone the moment he'd entered. As a career manipulator, he always had the right words ready to weasel his way out of a confrontation. But when his eyes adjusted to the hooded figure he'd bumped into and noticed his purple skin, fangs, and slitted eyes, he simply froze.
"Wait your turn. There's a line," Pearlan chided, then turned to the clerk and resumed his business. "I'm here for my employer-mandated urine sample!"
The apothecary nodded, handed the Duke a bottle over the counter, and showed him to the bathroom. Though the deed happened behind closed doors, the swindler remained uncomfortable, almost enough to piss himself instead. He'd made money off people's superstitions but had never come face to face with the stuff of their nightmares. So this was a real live demon, he thought, a smirk creeping to his face in the 30 seconds before Pearlan's return. No wonder the humans' fears were so profitable.
"All right, next," the shopkeeper called, breaking his reverie and receiving the fiend's fluids. "Wait... hold on. Why is your urine red?"
"Just because the color of my piss is weird doesn't mean there's anything wrong with it. Test it and find out," Pearlan retorted. For once he had the sense not to broadcast the fact that he was a demon and peed differently. Or maybe he'd just forgotten to, since he had other, more exciting things to attend to. The same couldn't be said of the bleary-eyed apothecary, who set the filled bottle down and sighed as the Duke exited.
"Okay, I'm ready for you now," he droned to the waiting merchant. "Let me guess... You're a solicitor?"
"Not just any solicitor," the schemer replied with sudden enthusiasm, producing a red potion and delivering the pitch. "What I have in my hands is a panacea that grants eternal life to whomever drinks it, and I'm willing to offer my stock to you for a reasonable price."
"I see..." the worker responded, accepting the concoction and giving it a cursory glance before setting it aside. "So you're a typical snake oil salesman. I've dealt with your kind before, and I tell every one of them that I'm not interested in buying their junk. If that's your only business here, please see yourself out the door."
"A snake oil salesman?!" the man sounded off, snatching his potion off the counter and backing defiantly away. If he were talking to some random schmuck, he might have kept his cool and upped his persuasion. Knowing he wouldn't get anywhere with the apothecary's damning assessment, however, he quickly stormed out. "I've more satisfied clients in a single day than you see in a week!"
It wasn't that the merchant's pride was hurting. He just derived satisfaction from guilting an honest man. The most pious, upstanding citizens were often the easiest to trick. The herbalist was merely the exception to the rule, and he wouldn't let a small bump derail his one-track, business-oriented mind. He promptly returned to his horse-drawn carriage, loaded his cart's contents inside, and arrived at his next stop two weeks later.
The desert village of Hokori was a harsh, unwelcoming environment. Perhaps that was why its resident tribe was so inviting in comparison. An outsider had to possess a strong, honorable character to brave the harsh conditions and make it here, for the barrens would quickly break any weaker-willed, self-interested traveler who meant them harm. Whoever survived them, the deeply spiritual people at the land's mercy believed, had the desert's mandate. So the merchant settled in nicely, his potion sales skyrocketing among a naïve public captivated by the few novelties that penetrated the wasteland, but insulated from the bigger picture of the outside world. Not all of his wares were quack cures. Some were common medicines, energy drinks, or supplements—nothing special by civilized society's standards. There were enough functioning remedies to impress the tribesmen, however. The most effective lies were hidden among truths, and pretty soon, word of a miracle worker had spread throughout the town. It was in those conversations that the merchant learned of Hokori's ailing chief, the witch doctors' solutions that had failed to cure him and the short time he had left. His most promising business opportunity yet—a village head with deeper pockets than anyone else—had been presented to him on a plate. In a mere few days, he was granted an audience with the chief and his advisers, and arrived at the tribe's central tent with a lone immortality elixir in hand.
"So you're the fabled miracle worker," one of the ruling class stated, "and I understand that you have a cure for our leader's sickness."
"Yes, it's right here," the grinning swindler answered, transferring the bottle to the man who'd introduced him. Dispersing the chief's other aides who'd crowded him in anticipation of a recovery, the latter opened the vessel and tipped its liquid into the bedridden patient's mouth.
"Of course, the cure won't take effect right away," the merchant spoke up in the silence that followed. "He'll need a daily dose for the next month or so, but I have more than enough potions in my-"
All of a sudden, the chief rose and stretched, evoking gasps from everyone in the room. The feverish red of his skin had lightened to an unnatural pink, and the sickness in his eyes had been consumed by a feral intensity. But the most striking of all the changing expressions was the merchant's own face, colored with surprise. This wasn't supposed to happen. What could have been in that potion? Had he mixed it wrong? Had he taken something he shouldn't have? The plan was to pawn off a month's worth of do-nothing elixirs, prey on the village leadership and suck Hokori dry. Now, it was the chief who eyed him like prey, approaching with the deliberate gait of a prowling lion and licking his lips.
"Confined to a bed all this time... I've grown so..." he muttered, pausing his thought and taking off, pouncing on the fraudster and biting into his neck. In the end, the salesman, who'd fancied himself a cunning serpent, was a sacrificial lamb to a god who'd rule Hokori in the darkness for the next five years.
"...Hungry."
~~~
The light of the next day made the battle with Rurona seem like a distant memory. Sena was glad that the fangs peeking from the demonized children's mouths had been replaced with smiles as they sparred, and grateful that she could spend the day as an ordinary camp counselor. She sometimes wondered what it would be like to live a normal life, forget her past and free herself from the dangers of the path she'd chosen. A passing fancy—that was all it was. She knew she couldn't feel safe in a world that her family's killer still inhabited, nor could she move on without resolving her hatred.
With the enormous weight that she carried, Sena appreciated every break she got. She had time to spare after she'd finished sparring with the children, and she used it to swim in the cleansed waters of Kessho Lake. Well, technically the cleanup crew still needed to confirm that. The swordswoman, however, was confident enough in her abilities to relax in them. She was more worried about Kit gawking at her swimsuit-clad body anyway.
When the cleanup crew arrived, Sena finally decided to cover up and reassume her professional demeanor. The campers rested in the cabins as an army of slayers swarmed the grounds and conducted their investigation. Only one among them approached Kit and Sena to officially take over their mission. Yet the orange-haired, yellow-eyed girl was overwhelming enough alone.
"Well, look who it is. The shameless kill-stealer from Final Selection," she mocked Sena.
"Am I supposed to know who you are?" the scarfed slayer asked.
"My name is Tora!" the girl snapped. "And like I said, you know me from Final Selection. You beheaded my target instead of minding your own business. I'm sure your current partner knows what that's like."
Sena smiled in surrender. She couldn't argue with that. Confessing that she still didn't recognize her was off the table as well, since this Tora girl appeared to have a short fuse and would only be angered further.
"Nice to see you again, I suppose," the blue-haired girl answered instead, sighing indifferently.
"Yeah, 'nice' to see you for sure," Tora shared the sentiment. "I'm surprised you've even survived this long."
"Pretty bold words coming from someone who couldn't finish off a demon herself and is now stuck doing cleanup duty," Sena retorted. Maybe Kit's penchant for banter had rubbed off on her and caused the normally composed girl to fire shots of her own. While Tora had as massive an inferiority complex as he did, she didn't take it quite as well.
"You think you're better than me?! We've been demon slayers for the same amount of time, but I've seen things you couldn't possibly imagine..."
"What are you talking about?"
"I mean..." Tora assumed a warning tone. "...that the demons you've fought up until now are nothing compared to what's out there. They've all been unintelligent, hunger-driven lone wolves whose smartest plays were using other humans against you. Everyone in the Corps believes the same myth that they're too primal and self-interested to form groups. But there are monsters out there who have the capacity to think, organize, and melt into human society. I've encountered them myself and barely escaped with my life. So I suggest you get off your high horse and watch your back from now on."
Sena listened patiently to the girl's little speech, hardly stifling a smile. It was bold of Tora to make claims about her experiences, when she knew nothing of them. The blue-haired slayer had been chasing a single fiend for the past few years, one who fit the shorter swordswoman's description and was perhaps even more elusive. That others like him existed didn't worry her, since they were just obstacles standing in the way of her archfoe.
"Those sorts of demons?" Sena dismissed. "I know them all too well, and I'm ready."
~~~
It never ceased to amaze the Mystery Eater how cruel humans were to each other. Without realizing it, no less. The mortal spectators cheered like madmen from the stands of his underground arena, where a young man armed only with a regular sword fought for his life against a demon. The imp wasn't complaining. If they weren't so eager to watch one of their own die, then his business model wouldn't work. He observed the smoothness with which it unfolded from the height of a balcony reserved for esteemed guests.
"Excuse me, sir," a lesser fiend approached him. "I received word from a nightjar that Hokori Castle has collapsed, and the chief has been defeated."
"I see," the Mystery Eater replied. As the subordinate proceeded to give a more detailed account, the devil mused that the slayers whom they were keeping an eye on were growing stronger, though not enough to become a threat. There were so many more powerful entities to weigh them against—the royals, the government, the Corps, and human society as a whole—that they, despite their recent results, were the faintest blip on his radar. At this stage, he might have even considered them allies, since they eliminated other intelligent creatures that competed with the Red Demon for resources. "We'll have to send a few of our own to salvage the rubble, and establish our presence in the power vacuum. What are your thoughts, Branch Leader Suji?"
The muscled, stoic, seven-foot monster whom the Eater addressed was none other than Suji, commander of the Gladiators and champion of the ring. He watched intently as the human, missing an arm now, inched away from the demon on the arena floor below. It was a shame, really. This boy had showed promise, lasting as long as he did with an ineffective blade, but his efforts ultimately ended in failure and Suji was again without a worthy opponent. The imp had asked his thoughts, but the connections in his brain only formed in response to the gruesome disconnections of the human's limbs.
"Good exercise..." he managed. Suji was the rare kind of demon who appeared to possess human intelligence, but spoke with fists rather than words. Somehow the Mystery Eater knew exactly what he meant. Sending the Gladiators to do the heavy lifting and mine the rubble of Hokori Castle was indeed good exercise, and expanding his influence to the disorderly city was a brilliant plan. The removal of the ruling class had all kinds of consequences on a society, from chaos to faction to sudden job insecurity. With no vision to guide the impoverished residents, the imp's operation would quietly supplant the chief's, and the new coliseum he planned to construct below the desert sands would draw in countless challengers seeking prize money.
"Slayers destroy their enemies with no understanding of the long-term ramifications," the Mystery Eater stated. "They deal with the imminent danger and disappear, thinking that they left the site of their mission in peace. But the people they free from one demon's trap are doomed to fall into another's."
"The one slayer you're so fond of...?" Suji muttered.
"Ah, yes. Sena," the hatted devil recalled, "the only one among them who had the foresight to call for backup and ensure the threat was gone for good. It's too bad that she's cold, distant, and thinks only of herself and her experiences. Her strong sense of independence leaves little room for others to contribute, which will be her undoing."
"The others? Worthy opponents..." the Branch Leader hoped.
"They have much to learn..." the Mystery Eater contested. "The redhead, Akane, is the most incompetent among them, constantly finding herself in vulnerable positions and relying on others to do her job. Dolan is the most despicable, slaying demons because he thinks it's fun or some other frivolous reason. We intercepted the letter he penned to his family earlier, where he enthused about his first kill like a child ignorant of the blood on his hands. An airhead like him probably never gave thought to demon-human coexistence, and the evil that the Corps really is."
The imp knew that Suji had no verbal response. But he could tell, from the balcony rails that snapped under the latter's slammed fist when he finished speaking, that they felt the same. They may have been friends to demons, but they were the slayers' worst nightmare.
~~~
"What's this? A castle in a town called Hokori mysteriously collapsed overnight? And there are rumors that demons were running the city the whole time?" Pearlan paraphrased the newspaper he was reading. "Ah shit, do you think this'll raise questions about other demons in government and cause an uprising against me? I might have to do another publicity stunt to convince them I'm a good person, like applying for the same hospital job I did five years ago. Which means taking another urine sample..."
"If you're so worried, then go outside and feed your 'people' some lie that'll calm them down," Arashi responded, keeping his eyes closed and meditating in the center of the mayor's office.
"WORRIED?! I am NOT worried! In fact, I know just the lie to tell them!" Pearlan spat. He opened the curtains that backed his desk and stepped into the crisp, night air of the balcony. "LISTEN UP, EVERYBODY! IT'S YOUR MAYOR SPEAKING!"
It didn't look like the Duke had lost any popularity among the citizens, for they quickly dropped what they were doing and gathered around. But the royal mastermind, who sought to minimize every risk, delivered his speech anyway, even if the words hurt more to say than they helped.
"I know all of you are wary that a demon is in charge, especially after recent events, but I assure you... I'm a good soul who will protect each and every one of you, and will NOT burn your kids alive, infect their ears with curse words, or give them heart attacks in 40 years!" Pearlan internally cringed with every utterance. He powered through, though, because the last part of his address was the most important. "Thank you for listening! I’ll see you all in Season 2!"
