General Perspective.
It was on that first day when Neizan, a demon hunter and steadfast believer in his purpose, began to question the very foundations of the reality he had until then held as unshakable.
The sky bore witness to a harsh, star-studded night. A gale battered the aged doors, which groaned like the crunch of fresh lettuce. Illuminated by bluish hues, they contrasted with the orange glow emanating from inside the cabin. Surrounded by dense flora, the structure seemed to hide its existence in the shadowy foliage. The rustic building stood on antiquated foundations—wood and stone, with traces of clay and mortar. It was a monotonous bar, frequented more for its location than its amenities. Crime and the underworld festered around its ocher, splintered tables. Every illicit enterprise used this place as its headquarters.
Echoes from the hallway leading out of the cantina drew the crowd's attention. They glanced sidelong at the newcomer: his white robes, pale as lime, covered most of his body, as if his skin were jealously guarded from human eyes. Yet between the breeze and the man's own movements, glimpses of what lay beneath emerged—a gleaming haze that was nothing more than the reflection of his armor's visage.
His yellowish gaze was half-hidden beneath a messy, greasy chestnut-brown mane. It gave the impression that bathing was more a luxury than a necessity. His foul stench mattered little to him, as it was a custom shared by all present. The man's destination was none other than the cantina's bar, where another figure, just as enigmatic as the first, sat perched. Oblivious to the stares he attracted, the man in the whitish hood settled onto one of the barstools, right beside the second figure, who wore a blue hood.
—Two drinks, please —said the blue-hooded man, noticing from the corner of his eye how the other had sat down without uttering a word. The bartender nodded and moved away to prepare the drinks. Silence flooded the air as both men remained mute.
—Ahem. Well? Not even a hello? —when met with continued silence, the blue-hooded man took a sip of his drink and let out a sound of pleasure. Beneath his azure hood, he wore a light breastplate. Though his body was obscured by the cloak, certain details stood out: two platinum chains dangled from his waist, their tips shaped like hooks or something similar. Perched on his shoulder was a winged lizard. Its scales, purple as a jacaranda petal, bore small bluish spots matching the man's robe. This color dominated its throat, tail, belly, and the undersides of its limbs.
—Blair, you know I'm not in the mood —replied the man in the whitish hood.
—Oh, come on, Neizan! You're never in the mood —Blair shot back.
—You know why —the other man retorted, his voice grave—. And you know the only reason I'd suspend my hunt is if this is truly important. I hope this isn't a waste of time.
—Oh no, no, no. I swear it's not, Neizan —Blair replied hastily. Just then, the bartender returned with two crystal glasses, handing one to each. Blair lifted his and took a small sip.
—Hmm… I'm listening —Neizan said after a moment of deliberation, his curiosity piqued despite himself.
—Well, you've heard the news, right? About the surge of demons in Sumania—specifically in the Verlassener Forest? —Blair asked, still nursing his drink. Neizan gave a curt nod—. Turns out, the other day I stumbled upon a badly wounded man. He was completely shaken, like he'd stared the Devil in the face —Blair's gaze sharpened as he spoke—. He told me he was part of the Hamburg battalion… one of the few survivors of the siege of Urodna…
Neizan's eyes widened.
—According to him… the entire battalion was massacred by a single entity. A demon —Neizan's muscles tensed like a wrung-out towel, and a strange energy thickened the cantina's air.
—That's impossible! General Karl was there! How could anything have defeated him…?! —Neizan's voice frayed with agitation—. Do you have proof this is real? —his piercing stare locked onto Blair.
—Well… like you, I doubted it. That's why I sent my little friend to investigate —Blair plucked a strip of meat from his plate and fed it to the tiny winged lizard on his shoulder.
—And? What did it see? Was the demon there? —Neizan's teeth ground together.
—When it reached Urodna… there was no demon —Blair said. Neizan exhaled sharply—. But… the ruins were drenched in blood. A pillar of corpses stood in the center. And Karl's remains were at the bottom of a massive crater —Blair's voice twisted with unease.
Neizan stood frozen—then shook his head violently, reclaiming his steely composure.
—I've heard enough —He rose to his feet—. I leave now. There's no time to waste.
—Are you sure about this? Even after what you just heard? —Blair's voice was hushed, almost wary.
—I have to. It's my mission —Neizan replied, steel in his words.
—Right. They don't call you 'the Demon Hunter' for nothing —Blair remarked with a wry smile.
—Well, thanks for the intel, Blair. See you around —Neizan tossed a few coins onto the bar and strode away, vanishing like a whisper—leaving no trace behind.
—Good luck, my friend. You'll need it —Blair drained his glass and slammed it onto the table. Then, he too disappeared, swallowed by a thick cloud of black mist—as ghostly and fleeting as if he'd never been there at all.