Daemons
Chapter 10.5

Gore Warning

Initializing...

Link to HQ established, please wait...

Welcome Hunter Frost, ID# 38193.

Please specify your reason for contacting HQ.

“I’d like to report a daemon sighting.”

Acknowledged, please stand by while we connect to your visual sensors.

Carson Frost was a simple family man. He had a wife, two adorable daughters, and enjoyed his job working at a meat packing plant. But while his job allowed him to occasionally bring home bad cuts of meat for his family to enjoy, it often just wasn’t enough to make ends meet. He wanted to give his girls the world, so he’d sought out additional sources of income.

As he’d been looking, trying to avoid any dealings with shady characters that would cause his family more grief in the long run, he’d turned to hunting. Not deer or ducks, but oddities and monsters. He’d signed up to become a hunter, replaceing that his natural physique from his work had made him well suited to the physical requirements of the job. The best part about it was that there were no real drawbacks. He could moonlight as a hunter whenever he wanted, and the pay he received for any catch came with no strings attached. It meant that he could spend time with his loving family, while still being able to provide them a more lavish lifestyle than he’d be able to afford otherwise.

And if what he saw before him really were a couple of daemons, then his paycheck for this could be enough to last his family for a couple years or more. He’d definitely get bumped up to a silver rank hunter if that were the case, clearing him for more impressive jobs that he could partake in after enjoying some of the money this would bring him.

Daemon sighting confirmed. Cross-referencing images against database of known daemons for further information. Please wait...

Carson felt his pulse quicken, his hold on the gun in his hand shifting as he prepared to line up the shot.

Warning! Confirmed daemons are B and S class, third monster remains unconfirmed and shall be treated as A class daemon until further information available. Copper rank clearance insufficient to engage. Please withdraw from the area, a diamond rank hunter will be dispatched shortly.

The hunter froze, taking a minute to let the instructions given to him sink in. One of those daemons were S class? But they didn’t seem that strong from here! He remembered his initial training when he’d signed up, debriefing him on classifications for both the hunters and their various prey. Daemons were one of the most sought after prizes for a hunter because of their strength and power, meaning that the ranking system had been designed to make it clear when one of the monsters was too powerful for the hunter to manage.

Both hunters and daemons were ranked on a five point scale. For hunters it started at copper, the lowest rank that all new recruits started at unless extenuating circumstances were present. Hunters would then proceed through to silver, gold, and then diamond ranks based on their catches and experience. There was a rank above diamond, known as platinum, but there were currently only three platinum ranked hunters in the world and their skills were beyond what a human should be capable of. Apparently there used to be five, but two of the platinum ranked hunters had been labelled missing in action for years, with no one ever hearing from them.

The daemon ranking system had been designed to directly reflect the hunter system, starting at C class for the weakest daemons, followed by B, A, S, and finally X for the most powerful daemons in the world. The rule for engaging daemons was that they had to be equal to the hunter’s rank or lower, meaning that as a copper rank he could only pursue C class daemons. Well, technically there was nothing stopping him from going after the two, potentially three daemons in front of him, but based on those rankings it would be suicidal. The B class daemon would be enough to easily kill the inexperienced hunter, and that wasn’t even including the insanely powerful S class on sight.

Not wanting to die tonight, Carson decided that following HQ’s instructions was the best thing possible. He lowered his gun, slowly retreating into the trees before he was spotted. He wasn’t slow enough though, as his movement served to bring the gaze of one of the daemons directly on him, not in his general area, but directly on him. Carson could only assume from the power he could practically feel from their gaze that it was the S class, their jet black wings blending into the dark cloak that it wore over its skeletal form. It had seen him, and the look on the daemon’s face screamed pure murder.

It was moments like this that the hunter questioned why the armor he’d been given was snow white. The thick white plates stuck out in huge contrast to the dark forest surrounding him, practically leaving him as a bright beacon to the skeleton now advancing to the tree lines. Sure, the plates were lightweight and he was pretty well protected with a Kevlar bodysuit underneath, allowing him to move while still feeling secure in going up against dangerous monsters. And he’d heard the spiel about how the armor was a symbol of the hunters being the champions of light in the darkness. But for crying out loud, the color didn’t have to reflect that metaphor! Black, or camo, or anything would’ve been better right now.

So when the daemon turned his back to talk to the other one, Carson ran. He ran for his life, knowing that if the daemon caught him he’d be dead. He couldn’t hide while wearing his armor, he had no chance of succeeding with that. All he could do was try to get out of the woods and replace other people, praying that the daemon wouldn’t risk outing himself to all those people just to silence him.

The forest terrain was not his friend though, and it wasn’t long before the snapping of branches and a deep, rumbling laugh could be heard behind him. “What’s wrong little human? Why are you running away? Come on, let’s play.”

“No thanks, I’m good!” He yelled back at his pursuer, earning another round of laughter from the skeleton.

“Fine then, I guess I’ll have to make my own entertainment,” the daemon purred, before the distinct sound of his footsteps behind the hunter disappeared. There was no way he was going to stop, not even to turn back, otherwise he’d just be that foolish idiot that died like it was a horror movie. He did stop though when moonlight reflected on metal just before a tree ahead of him came crashing down. While Carson couldn’t see the daemon, he knew the skeleton was responsible, so he spun on his heel and ran. That was until the path behind him was cut off as well, leaving him trapped unless he wanted to try running through the dense cluttering of trees on either side of him.

If he couldn’t run, he had to fight. That’s what motivated him to draw and ready his gun. It wasn’t the conventional type that fired bullets, but rather compressed magical energy. AMP firearms, or Augmented Magical Projectile guns, were standard issue to all hunters and relied on magic for power. Condensed energy cartridges could provide several rounds of fire like a magazine for a traditional gun, allowing the user to avoid drawing on their own energy, which was great for humans who had pretty limited supplies of usable energy compared to monsters. Best of all, it was quieter than a silenced firearm and could be smaller most times, meaning that they were a lot less conspicuous. Almost made up for the horrendously conspicuous armor. “Alright you bastard, show yourself and give me the payday of a fucking lifetime!”

“How cute, the human wants to play. He even thinks he has a chance at winning.” The daemon’s voice seemed to come from every direction, with no direct mean of pinpointing his location. He then started reciting some strange poetry out of nowhere, which wasn’t really helping Carson’s nerves. He was about to go against the second strongest classification of daemons, and he had no clue how he was going to survive this, of course creepy poetry from a guy that looked like the grim reaper was going to freak him out. ”Echoed whispers, a fleeting dream, the world around no longer what it seems. Enter the realm of everlasting gloom, a prison, a cage, an unwilling tomb. Let your lips be sewn shut and your cries go unheard, let the world lose sight of the simple calls of a bird. Nothing shall save you, no mortal science, now that you’re trapped in the realm of silence."

Connection to HQ lost. Attempting to reconnect, please wait...

Instantly everything was silent, the sounds of the forest dying off the same time he lost contact. No crickets, no birds, not even sounds from his own footfall as he shakily took a step back. “W-What the hell’s going on?!” He screamed, but even his own voice seemed muffled and distant, as if the words came from somewhere further away than his own mouth. If he thought he was freaked out before, he was now absolutely terrified. Just what the hell was he up against?

The daemon’s voice remained crystal clear despite whatever he did, laughing at the hunter’s fear and still refusing to show himself. “Aw, is the little human scared? Don’t worry, I just gave us a little privacy to play in. Wouldn’t want any nosy people looking where they shouldn’t be. No, I want your screams of pain and terror to be all to myself.”

No, he wouldn’t let the daemon get what they wanted, he wouldn’t give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing his fear any longer. Tightening his grip on his gun, Carson took a deep breath to calm himself before scanning his surroundings, making sure to keep checking his backside to avoid being caught off guard. He didn’t need to hear himself or any of the background noise in order to take him down, all he needed was to hear the skeleton, see him one time and take the shot. That was all he needed.

“Wow, I guess I should’ve given you more credit, I was expecting someone as weak as you to already be wetting himself in terror,” the daemon cackled, taunting him from the shadows. But there was something different this time. His voice seemed more distinct, with less of an echo effect to stop the hunter from pinpointing his location. It was almost like he was...

Carson whirled around and fired, both the sound of his shot and his curse that followed lost to the silence as he realized he missed. “Oho, so you’re actually gonna fight back?” The echo was back, forcing him to begin scanning again. “Oh, this is so much more fun than I was expecting it to be! You’re far less disappointing than most of your fellow hunters, but don’t worry... I’ll have you begging for your life in no time." The voice took on a sinister darkness to it, sending a wave of fear running through him that it took every fiber of his being to suppress.

As he continued to scan in circles, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, a flash of movement could be seen out of the corner of his eye. Without hesitating he turned to fire, only for a taunting, “Missed me~” to follow. Growing frustrated, his movements became quicker as he kept trying to replace his target, trying to do it quickly to avoid the possibility of the powerful skeleton growing bored of his antics. When he felt something rain down on his head, the gun was pointed up and the trigger was pulled before he even knew what it was.

“Aw, you burnt my snack!” The daemon complained, fading back into the shadows after his place over top of him had been discovered. What was really infuriating was how Carson never notice the winged skeleton hovering above him and munching on trail mix. “By the way, I think you have a raisin in your hair.” This freak was just mocking him!

While he couldn’t hear his own words clearly, he knew that the daemon could hear him easily. “You fucking freak, stop treating me like I’m a fool! You think you’re so funny, but I’m not scared of your little magic trick, or your fucking ranking! I’m the one with the gun and the armor, and what do you have? A pair of wings that are about to get clipped! I’m not scared of you, so come out here and face me!”

Silence greeted him for the first bit, and while he was still well within the supposed field of silence created by the skeleton, this was different. There was almost a pressure to it, as if the whole world was hanging on the daemon’s response. “You know,” he finally started in his deep and echoing voice, his words losing the playful tone they’d held earlier as something darker and more sinister filled the void. “I wouldn’t lie to myself like that if I were you. I know you’re afraid, I can practically smell your fear.” A step could be heard behind the hunter, but by the time he realized no one was there, he’d already pulled the trigger again.

“In your fear, you make bold claims filled with bravado in a desperate attempt to hide how terrified of me you are.” Another step, another missed shot. “Look at you, so jumpy that you blindly shoot wherever I lead you to.” Gritting his teeth, Carson told himself over and over again to not fall for his trick again. He moved his finger away from the trigger, preventing himself from needlessly firing.

“You humans are such a predictable bunch, especially you hunters. You hide behind your fancy toys and gadgets when the bulk of you couldn’t even manage yourselves in a drunken brawl. And when you try not to rely on them...” Another step could be heard from behind, and while he refused to blindly shoot again, the proximity of the sound made him turn to face it. This brought him face to face with the skeleton’s empty eyes, a wide grin cutting across his skull in an almost unnatural way. The experience of screaming without being able to hear yourself is certainly an unusual one, one that Carson was quickly subjected to as the skeleton’s jump scare sent him flying backwards onto his back, scrambling to get away while his shaky hand tried to fire. And as soon as the daemon appeared he was gone, the shot harmlessly passing through thin air.

All around him he could hear that dark, taunting cackle, the sound filling up everywhere with no other sounds to compete with. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about, you tried to face me without your precious little toy only to scream like a little girl! You’re weak, pathetic, nothing! You fell flat on your ass when I did exactly as you asked and faced you, literally. So tell me, how do you intend to defeat me, hmm?”

The cockiness in his tone was only surpassed by the rising dread in the hunter as he realized that his ‘prey’ was right, he really didn’t stand a chance. He could only see and hear him when the skeleton wanted to be seen or heard. The daemon could’ve easily killed him several times, the only reason he was still alive being that he was a source of entertainment to the cloaked skeleton. He couldn’t fight, he needed to run. Why in the world did he ever think he could fight?

“Thinking of running?” The voice came from behind him, and with his earlier confidence gone, he was back to pulling the trigger without even looking, wasting another shot. But the more important thing was the fact that the daemon had caught on to the fact that he was trying to replace a way out of this. What gave it away? Or did the skeleton pulled some sort of trick like he did with the silence field? “It’s pointless really, I don’t let my toys run away from me. Speaking of toys though, I can’t but notice yours. If that little copper marking on your chest wasn’t enough of an indication how much of a rookie you are, then that certainly would be.”

Before Carson could comprehend, the winged daemon was right beside him, boney fingers fiddling with his gun. “Yep, just as I expected, standard issue AMP rifle, no modifications or adjustments made as of yet. Wow, you really are a rookie, and you seriously thought you stood a chance against me? Tsk, someone’s overestimating themselves.” Panic seized the hunter, causing him to violently rip his gun away and take a shot. He didn’t miss because the daemon had moved though, he missed this time due to how badly his hands were shaking. In fact, his target hadn’t moved an inch, as if he knew he didn’t have to.

“Like I said, you’re all the same,” the daemon purred, a devilish grin on his face as he started walking towards the now terrified hunter. “You think a simple little toy like that gives you power, that your flimsy armor makes you invulnerable. But you have no idea what real power is, or how weak and insignificant you are.”

As the skeleton steadily approached, Carson scurried back, eager to put as much distance between them as possible. “S-Stay back!” He screamed, the field of silence once again deafening his cries to his own ears as he raised his rifle. With how badly his hands were now shaking, it took everything he had to steady his shot. But with the way he saw his target’s grin grow wider as he pulled the trigger, he already knew he would miss. The cloaked skeleton merely tilted his head to one side, the shot whizzing past and through where his head used to be.

“Wow, I’m impressed that you could be so accurate in such a state, I actually had to dodge that one!” He exclaimed with glee, somehow making it sound like both a compliment and mockery at the same time. “You might’ve even made a decent hunter had you not ran into me tonight. But I’m afraid our time together is drawing to a close.”

What did he mean by that? Was he finally getting bored of toying with him? No, Carson wouldn’t let that happen. Like he’d told himself earlier, all he needed was one good shot, and this would all be over. A surge of adrenaline ran through his system, helping him steady his hands. Standing his ground, the hunter lined up his shot, this time aiming for where the skeleton’s soul would be. He’d have to move his entire body to dodge it, so he likely wouldn’t be fast enough. For my little girls, I’m not gonna die tonight. I’m gonna take this bastard down and use the money I get to give you girls the life you deserve. This is for you, my little angels. Steeling himself, Carson made sure his shot was perfectly lined up and fired.

He could practically watch the shot soar through the air in slow motion, its trajectory straight on target as it ripped through the air. But just as it was supposed to connect, a flash bisected it, causing the magic to lose its form and dissipate harmlessly before reaching its target. When the initial shock wore off, the hunter’s eyes went wide at the sight of the gleaming scythe now clutched in the daemon’s hands. “Nice try, but it wasn’t enough,” the daemon said, continuing his advance with the weapon now firmly in his grip.

Gritting his teeth, Carson knew he couldn’t let that display deter him. He might’ve been able to cut one shot down, but how would he deal with a barrage? This new idea in his mind, he clenched the trigger and held it... but nothing happened. Panicking, he repeatedly squeezed the trigger, only for nothing to happen. “Fun fact about those standard issue rifles,” the daemon’s voice reached him again, radiating from every direction as he’d once again vanished into thin air. “They tend to have limited ammunition, a ten round limit if I’m not mistaken. If my little spell wasn’t in effect, you would’ve just heard several little clicks coming from your little toy.”

Several clicks? But then that meant... “Looks like you should’ve been counting, friend. You’re out.” Carson could practically feel the ominous presence of the daemon behind him, leaving every part of his body rigid save for one arm. That arm was slowly reaching down for the spare magazine of ammunition he had, only to freeze as he found it missing. “Yeah, I took the liberty of removing that from you a while ago, you were too busy being scared though to notice. Guessed that you’d figure out that a single shot at a time was useless by the time you got through the first ten rounds, didn’t want to take any chances. No, your time’s up my friend.”

He was out of ammunition... he didn’t have any way to fight back... oh god what the hell was he gonna do? Glancing down at the gun in his hand, his lips pressed into a thin line as he considered his last resort. The rifle in his hands wasn’t exactly small, and while built to be lightweight enough for extended travel it had some serious weight to it. With a battle cry full of fear and desperation, Carson spun on his heel and raised the gun high, planning to bring it crashing down on top of the daemon’s head.

Except the skeleton was gone by the time the hit would’ve connected, his strike passing through the air in front of him harmlessly. Except... there was something wrong, the weight of the gun was suddenly gone. Had it fallen from his grip? No, no he needed it, it was his only weapon! Even if it’d been reduced to a glorified club, it was the only thing he had for defense! Where was it?! He began frantically scanning the ground in front of him, trying to catch sight of it as quickly as he could before the daemon reappeared to strike while he was vulnerable.

“You’re looking a little lost there, friend. Here, let me give you a hand.” That voice, that same mocking and sinister voice that would probably haunt him for the rest of his life, was right behind him. Whirling around, he came face to face with the skeleton again, though this time he appeared to be far less threatening, practically leaning on his scythe with a lazy atmosphere to him as he simply handed over his gun... With his hand still holding it...

It only now seemed to occur that there was something more serious than his gun being missing. That was his hand, blood spurting out of it as it maintained its death grip on the rifle despite having been severed completely. The blinding agony only kicked in once he caught sight of the bloody stump of his wrist, flesh and bone on full display. Despite the fact that he could practically feel himself straining his vocal cords screaming, his own voice remained muffled and muted to himself as he clutched at the heavily bleeding wound. But it was very clear from the sadistic grin on the daemon’s face that the cloaked figure could very clearly hear his screams and was enjoying every minute of it.

Moonlight flashed off of the blade of the scythe, now stained crimson with Carson’s blood, as the skeleton took a step forward as if to hand the gun back. Terrified of what would happen if he let him get close again, the hunter stumbled back as he clutched his severed wrist to his chest. “Rude, and after I tried to be nice and give you back your precious toy,” the skeleton snickered, faking an insulted look. Tossing the gun carelessly to the side, the daemon steadily sauntered his way over to the human who was now scrambling to maintain distance between them. “And now you’re trying to run away from me? Tsk, I thought you were better than that, my friend. Why don’t you stay a while?” He asked with an almost innocent tone to his voice that didn’t match his actions as the scythe was swung down and embedded into Carson’s foot, doubling the pain while leaving him incapable of moving away any further. His backward momentum would’ve sent him sprawling to the ground, were it not for the hand that shot out to hold him in place. “Heh, falling for me already?”

It took everything he had to pull his attention away from the fire burning at both his wrist and his foot to focus on the skeleton that was now right in front of him despite his best efforts. “P-Please, mercy...” He croaked out, tears pouring from his eyes due to both the fear and pain. “I-I didn’t do anything to you, I’m nobody really! Please, I’m begging you, I have a family, a wife and two daughters that are expecting me to come home! They don’t even know that I do this, I just wanted to be able to give them the life they deserve with the money this would make me! Spare me please, I’ll never speak of this, I’ll retire from being a hunter, I swear, just don’t punish my family by taking me away!”

“Mercy?” The daemon asked, sounding genuinely confused before he burst out laughing. “You think yourself so innocent in all of this that you deserve mercy? Wow, you really are a fool.” The distance between them was closed completely, the skeleton’s boney fingers moving to hold his chin in place so he couldn’t look away from his hauntingly empty eyes. “You’re far from innocent, friend. You’re lucky that I’m even capable of mercy, otherwise I’d torture you until I found out where your family lived, before dragging you over there to watch as I slaughtered them all and finally killed you.”

“N-No, you can’t!”

“Why not?” The cloaked daemon growled as he cut him off, his large wings moving to block part of the moonlight and cast them further into shadows. “It’s essentially what you’ve doomed me to. You called us in, you reported our location. Now I’ll have to watch as your comrades relentlessly hunt down me and my brothers, I’ll have to do everything in my power to keep them safe, and even then it still might not be enough. They don’t know everything I do to keep them safe, just like your family doesn’t know of your work as a hunter, and I think we both prefer it that way. You and I are much alike, both working in the shadows and keeping secrets from those we care most about in order to provide them with the life we know they deserve. So you’ll understand when I say that out of respect for your reasons I’ll spare your family, but your life is forfeit. You’d do the same if the roles were reversed.”

The daemon seemed to remember something as the hand not currently holding Carson in place dove into his cloak, fishing around for a minute before pulling out a phone. Checking it elicited a frown as the hunter was suddenly released, causing him to collapse flat onto his back in a very awkward position due to his foot still being pinned. He had to bite back the gasp of pain as his wrist collided with the ground, blood splattering against the grass where it connected. He was pretty sure even more damage was done to his foot as well judging from the increase in the pain radiating from it.

When he finally managed to prop himself onto his elbows to look at the cloaked skeleton, he could see him texting on his phone, not caring about him in the slightest. The winged daemon even seemed happy, a small smile playing on his face that was far less unsettling, almost normal, compared to the ones given to the hunter. Clearly it must’ve been good news, perhaps from the B class daemon that had been with him. They’d seemed pretty friendly from what he’d seen of them, maybe he was even one of the brothers that he’d mentioned.

He’d managed to push himself to a sitting position while his attacker was distracted, trying to remove the scythe in the short time frame he had before either the skeleton noticed or he passed out from blood loss. From how much of the crimson liquid had stained his armor so far, he knew he didn’t have much time to get out and get help, less than ten minutes for sure, probably closer to five.

The second he touched the scythe though, a pair of soulless eyes bored into him, the daemon stalking over and kicking him down with his clawed feet. He flexed them, driving the talons slowly into his armor despite the material’s strength while finally pulling the scythe out of his foot. Were it not for the cold fury burning in his empty sockets, Carson would’ve felt some relief being able to finally fix the extremely uncomfortable and painful angle his foot had been stuck in. But the anger on his features was clear as day, making him hold his leg in place as if he were scared to move it. Scoffing at the human’s cowardice, the monster pulled his foot off and turned to walk away. The hunter remained somewhat optimistic that perhaps whatever had been on his phone made him willing to spare the clearly weaker of the two. That hope was completely diminished though as the scythe was gracefully spun around in the hand holding it before being driven down through Carson’s stomach.

The taste of blood instantly filled his mouth as pain completely overwhelmed him and left him gasping for air. That taste soon grew to be actual blood bubbling out of his mouth as his teary eyes turned to face his assailant with a pleading gaze. The stare that greeted him back though was as cold as the grave. “Stay. I need to make a quick phone call. I’d recommend not moving too much, your intestines have been ripped to shreds and the only thing keeping you from going into septic shock is my scythe. Squirm too much, and all those precious bodily fluids will start leaking out and there’ll be nothing to stop all those innards from coming out. I’m not done with you yet though, so try not to die. Perhaps something more constructive, liking making peace with your fate and saying your goodbyes, is a better use of your time.” With that the skeleton stalked off, far enough that Carson couldn’t see him but still close enough that he could hear half of the conversation going on.

“Night, we have a major problem, we’ve been made.” ... “Look, it was unavoidable, it was either get seen or let Killer’s soulmate die right in front of him. You know what that would do to him, I hate to say it, but I chose the lesser of two evils.” ... “Tried to commit suicide and jump off of a bridge. He’s fine now, and for the record Killer’s gonna be staying with him for the time being, so he’s not coming home for the next while.” ... “Your brother apparently.” !!! “Hey, I didn’t pick up on any major warning signs when we saw him either! Don’t get pissy at me for the actions of someone I don’t even really know! Look, I have to hurry this up, I’ve got our nosy little wannabe hunter slowly bleeding to death, and I’m not done playing with my toy yet. I’ll head home after I’m done and give you more details.” ... “Yeah, bye.”

Carson had barely paid attention to the words spoken, replaceing his mind to be almost numb to what was going on around him. Everything except for his injuries felt cold, whether from blood loss or shock he didn’t know and didn’t really care despite the fact that both were alarming. He’d given up trying to move his head, letting it loll to one side as a thin trickle of blood drained from the corner of his mouth. Nothing else really moved save for the extremely labored expansion and contraction of his chest from his weak and shallow breaths. The few thoughts he still had were completely of his family, his beautiful and loving wife that had supported him since they first met almost two decades ago, and his two precious daughters that had been the brightest lights in his life since they were born.

Love, girls, I’m so sorry. Looks like Daddy won’t be coming home tonight. I never wanted to leave you alone like this, I swear. I wish I could go back, to listen to you honey when you told me it was a bad idea to go out tonight. I should’ve told you what I was doing, and then listened to you when you inevitably tried to talk me out of it. What will they tell you about how I died? Will they even tell you? Or will I forever be missing to you? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, no amount of money was ever worth risking leaving you all alone, leaving you to take care of our little girls alone. Nothing was worth them not growing up without their father, I wish I could’ve seen that now. God, I’m such an idiot! Please God, have mercy on my family, don’t let them suffer because of my stupidity! Honey, girls, I love you all so much, I wish I could undo my greatest mistake, and I’m so sorry. Don’t forget me.

“Oh, you’re not looking too good there friend,” the daemon said as he came back over, noting the hunter’s pale complexion and glazed eyes that barely shifted to meet the winged one’s gaze. “Guess impaling you wasn’t my brightest idea, should’ve left it in the foot I guess.” He sighed, scratching the back of his head before his hands loosely wrapped around the shaft of the scythe. “Have you made your peace yet? If so, I’ll make it quick. Consider it a reward for being such an entertaining plaything.” Having already resigned himself to his fate, death was almost a welcome mercy that would spare him any more of the agony he was in. He offered a single, very slow nod of his head to say that he was ready, closing his eyes as he waited for the inevitable.

“Very well,” the daemon stated, ripping the scythe out of its current spot. The reaction was instant, Carson’s eyes flying open as he began to feel his intestines shift and leak out of the gaping hole in his stomach, blood and bile pouring out even faster than before. His tear stained face turned to the daemon, silently begging for the mercy he was promised. It came in the form of a raised scythe, fresh blood and bits of gore dripping from its tip as the winged skeleton lifted it into the air. With one swift cut, the blade bit into the soft flesh of the hunter’s neck, cutting through the spine like a hot knife through butter. The cut was so quick and clean that Carson’s severed head barely even moved from the motion, his now truly lifeless eyes staring vacantly up at his killer while his mouth hung agape and blood gushed from his neck and splattered against his cheeks.

They say that the brain continues to function for at least thirty seconds after death. If that were the case, then Carson’s mind would’ve seen his killer step away, flicking his wrist to clear away the excess blood and flesh stuck to his blade before spreading his wings. The daemon paid him one final glance before ascending into the sky, disappearing into the darkness of the night as the magic surrounding the area faded with his presence.

...Connection re-established.

Welcome back Hunter Frost, ID# 38193.

...

No vitals detected, scanning for signs of life... no signs of life detected.

Hunter ID# 38193, Carson Frost, DECEASED.

Preparing bereavement package to send to listed family, preparing team to recover body.

Cause of death: Unknown.