//------------------------------// // Just another job // Story: The Edge of Grace // by Bold Promise //------------------------------// It was night. Rain hit the concrete road, autumn wind yawned through the shattered windows of long since deserted homes. A figure dressed in red walked down the shadowed streets, searching for his quarry. A contractor, called to investigate this area due to the recent disappearances in the city, of both civilian and police alike. All that were seen were shadows, all that were found were pools of blood and wayward bullet holes in the walls. The authorities did what they had done for generations. Assure the populace that everything was normal, offer an illusion of control and safety. But deep down in their hearts, everyone knew that it was all a lie. That there were unearthly things moving in the shadows, and all they could do was pray. The red-cloaked man detected a trail, and rushed forward. There was a buildup of demonic energy close by, he could afford to be reckless due to his unnatural heritage, the kidnapped victim about to be sacrificed could not afford a moment’s delay. As the demon slayer approached, he could make out the sound of crying. With inhuman agility he scaled the walls of the broken buildings in through the window the crying originated from. An open window, he noted. Likely a trap. There were five of them, chanting unholy verses around a bound girl on the floor, not even out of her teens. Innocent, afraid, her crying did not move the people who gave up their souls and humanity for power. They didn’t even shout before their heads were pierced with a single well-aimed bullet each. It happened almost instantly, the red-cloaked man's precision evidencing his other-human nature. The girl’s eyes widened, her fear allowing a cautious hope to take root. The contractor scanned the room with his guns pointed towards the darker corners. “Hey, kid,” he spoke. “Try to stay quiet and low-key until I get you out of here, will you?” He stepped towards her cautiously, expecting something to happen at every moment. When nothing did, he holstered his guns and went to untie the girl. “You okay?” the man asked as he removed her gag. All she offered in way of response was to desperately push into his chest and whimper, hiding into the only source of safety she felt she had. ‘Okay, this one is probably not a demon in disguise this time.’ There was only a brief moment of movement before he was overwhelmed with intense pain all across his body. The girl was screaming again, this time in pain as well. The demon hunter looked around. Blood was flowing from the fallen warlocks toward his location, into the distinct shape of a ritual circle. Flowing black and burnt red spikes came out of several points on the circle, going through all over his body, two of which pierced the girl. A single true devil in human guise stepped out of the shadows, he could only be the one the warlocks sold their souls to. The contractor choked out a spurt of blood. His eyes shifted from the grinning head of the cult downward to the now unconscious girl under the only arm he could still move. His and the girl’s own blood joined the circle under their feet, its writing started glowing. The demon hunter felt himself getting weaker, more importantly the girl’s breathing was steadily getting shallower. “The son of Sparda!” the fiend interjected maniacally. Its eyes weren’t focused, its smile crooked on skin stretched taught, like its guise was merely a suit made from someone's skin. The hell fiend approached with irregular steps and a hunched gait. Which made sense. Only a bottom feeder could slip through gaps in the barrier between the human world and the demon world, as the man in red had learned in the past. “I have prepared this trap just for you, you know! But now that you’ve gotten yourself caught in it so easily, I am actually disappointed! To think that your humanity made you so weak! Heh heh!” As the Bottom Feeder continued gloating, the demon hunter considered his options quickly. He couldn’t move due to the mystical nature of the spikes holding him in place. While the spells were a hindrance, they weren’t really a risk to his life unless he’d be drained for a few more minutes. The issue was with the girl who only had, at best, a few seconds left. The fiend might’ve been weak, but it was able to easily move between the two worlds. If it felt so much as a hint of danger to its life, then it could escape with speed honed through a lifetime of living as prey to far stronger creatures. One solution was to simply let the fiend grow too big to fit through the gaps in the barrier between the two worlds, but that would require time which the girl didn’t have. The only option the contractor had was to tug back. He dug deep into his being for the memory of a soul once bestowed to him when he was younger. All the while, the Bottom Feeder continued goading and laughing, and the girl was getting closer and closer to death. The contractor gripped the spike going through the two of them, and seconds later, electricity started flowing into it. The circle beneath them was shorting out as the flow was being contested. However, not in the girl’s favor. The Bottom Feeder's laughter petered out before it started screaming in outrage. “No! You’re not supposed to resist! Be a docile prey and let me-” A lot of things happened at once. In a fit of panic, the demon hunter increased his tug to finish it as soon as possible, while both drawing on his demon heritage and conjuring a Golden Orb from his essence to save the girl in the last moments she had left. The Bottom Feeder felt the jaws of the Dearg-Dul press forward around its essence, and attempted to step through the boundary between the two worlds without remembering to first stop its own tug. All of these things happened through the ritual circle as a medium, which collapsed from the strain. A clear night sky, an abandoned house near the edge of the city, an investment that didn't pan out. The sounds of the forest were briefly joined by that of a door's rusted hinges, followed by multiple steps on wooden flooring. Though what was strange was the rhythm of said steps. Rather than a succession of singular steps at an even pace, this sequence was of two steps in each pace. The ones taking said steps were quiet otherwise. They were alien in appearance, as in, not human. Otherwise, signs of sapience were clear. From their clothing, to their human facial expressions and intentional, deliberate movements, to the fact that they were using tools, namely lamps to light the area and chalk to draw a ritual circle in the middle of the topmost room of the building. "Alright boys," spoke the one in charge, "make sure you get the drawing right. Wouldn't wanna have another 'accident', now would we?" The two lookouts in the room exchanged nervous looks, then pretended to keep watch while following what happened next. The one preparing the circle stood up straight, and with a confused look, asked, "Ugh, what accident, Boss?" Boss blew out a tired breath. "It was a metaphor, kid. Means you better do yer job right, or you're gonna get it. Capiche?" "Y-yea-yeah Boss! I'll get it right!" The Boss shook his head in derision and walked off. With the threat delivered, it didn't take long before the circle was complete. Not waiting for the Kid to check that everything was in order, the Boss moved forward with a wicked smile on his face. "Alright then. Fire it up." Nervously, the Kid started channeling his magic into the ritual circle, an ominous light emanating from the runes on the floor. The Boss' smile grew when it was apparent the spell was stable, but then evaporated when it sputtered and died out.. "What. Happened." The Kid gulped and started stuttering. "I-I-I…" "You-you-you what? Messed it up? Cause I figured that much out myself." The Kid started shifting through the pages of the manual he'd been using, "I've followed the instructio-" "Gimme that!" Boss tore the textbook out of the Kid's grasp. It was no use, he wasn't familiar with the scribbles that made up magical theory. He scoffed and threw it in the corner. "Do it again, or I'll have rotten onions shoved in yer mouth." The Boss leaned closer, "An' I don't care if you had dinner or not before comin' here." "Bu-bu-but Boss! The book says, if the ritual fails, we need to wait for the barrier between worlds to heal, or-or something terrible might happen!" "Like what!" "Like something comin' in through it!" That seemed to give the Boss pause. "What kinda 'something'?" "Well, it could be anything. Like living nightmares, or aliens from another world, or…" "Aliens." "Yeah, yeah. Or nightmares, or Sombra!" The boss just stood there, looking at his underling in a deadpan. He rubbed his temples with his forehooves in exasperation. His other underlings decided to voice in, "Ugh, boss? I don't wanna bring no aleuns into Equestria," said one. "Yeah, me neither," said the other. His shoulders dropped in defeat, the Boss droned out, "You know what? Forget it. I'll just keep hiding my salt in sugar bags. I don't know WHY I thought it would be a good idea to try using teleporters. Let's just go." He trotted towards the door, the two lookouts filing in behind him without much thought. As the Boss was leaving, the remaining underling asked, "Ugh, shouldn't we-" "Now, kid! Or do ya wanna taste spoiled onions for the rest of the week?!" "Eep!" And with that, the house was empty once more, only this time with a teleportation circle written on the floor and a magic book in the corner. Long afterwards, the circle comes to life then explodes. The red-cloaked contractor appears over a scorched center of the room. His appearance was… different. Where before he appeared for all intents and purposes as an average white-haired human, now he was quite, well, demonic. Dark hide, horns, glowing eyes, what appeared to be fire billowing in his chest cavity within steel-like exposed ribs. Also demonic wings. In one of his arms was the girl, still unconscious. In his other hand... His demonic face was already intimidating to begin with. The way he looked at the burnt red light in his hand was enough to send monsters running. The Bottom Feeder’s soul was quite an ugly thing to behold. It appeared to the demon hunter that it had fed on quite a few humans before he put it down. Aside for the souls of the cultists who sold their humanity, the fiend also ate several dozen innocent souls, mostly children. As was expected of such a lowly creature, to target those that couldn’t fight back. It likely only showed itself when it did because its underlings seemed to have succeeded in doing the hard part of trapping the ‘Son of Sparda’. The contractor wanted nothing to do with such a vile essence. He only kept it long enough to get back what belonged to the girl. When he was finally done, he crushed the demon into red orbs. It almost sounded like it screamed. After that was done, he returned to his human form, all of his and the girls’ wounds gone. The girl was physically well, despite the blood caking her cyan shirt, the two holes over her abdomen and chest, and her similarly blood-stained brown hair developing white highlights. It seemed her soul was contaminated with demonic energy. Whether she was still human enough to count as merely demon-like when she’d pass on, or whether her soul already was already gone and what was left was just a human-guised demon, was to be found out when she would wake up. The man in red sighed, looked around the room then walked to a shattered window, stepping on a burnt book. It wasn’t raining outside, moreover he wasn’t in the middle of the city anymore. It was still dark out, so he was probably still on the half of the planet that was facing away from the sun. He’d go looking for civilization in the morning, right now he would look for a bed for the girl to rest in. He could also use a nap himself. The contractor woke up with a start, he felt like someone was watching him. Someone aside for the now-awake little girl who was intently staring at him from her nook in the dusty old bed. It seemed this was supposed to be an inn before it was abandoned. An inn for midgets, because all the beds were too small for him, also all the doorways were too low. So he needed to sleep on a few moth-eaten blankets on the floor. He also needed to commit to memory to not swear around the kid after she woke up, every time he forgot to lower his head through the doorways. “So you’re awake,” the contractor greeted from his seat on the floor. He took note of her new ‘condition’, and added, “How are you this fine morning?” He offered a laid back smile to reassure her. It helped a little, going by the way the girl eased a little more out of her blankets. She nodded shyly. “Not one for conversation, huh? Suits me just fine. I’ll just get you to the proper authorities and I’ll be out of your hair.” It seemed she found something disconcerting in what she heard. The contractor shifted his head in thought. ”Don’t worry. I got rid of the ‘bad guys’. They’re not going to hurt anyone ever again. And once I get you to a police station, you’ll be safe and sound on your way back to your parents.” The girl’s mood took a plummet. Tears in her eyes, she finally spoke, “...They’re dead.” The contractor’s brow furrowed. Eventually, he asked her, “What’s your name?” She sniffed. “Lilly.” “Lilly, huh?” he smile again. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Dante.” He got up from the floor. “Now, I’m guessing you might feel like you want some time to… rest. But I don’t know where we ended up, and I doubt you’d want me to just up and leave so-” He was interrupted when Lilly sprang with her hands forward to grab onto his coat. It seemed she didn’t like lunging into his care a second time after she was stabbed, so this time she stayed alert. “...Wanna come along?” Dante asked her. Lilly nodded. He rubbed his chin in thought, “Alright. If anyone comes forward offended about the blood and holes in your clothes, mind telling them I didn’t do it?” She nodded again. Dante turned around, “Okay then. Let’s go.”