Nobody noticed me enter.
I was just a wisp of shadow, a suggestion of movement in the flickering torchlight. The main tavern room was exactly as I'd expected—a cesspit of depravity. Demons of all shapes and sizes lounged around crude wooden tables: gamblers, mercenaries, drunks. Trash that crawled out of the gutters, slapped on some armor, and pretended to matter.
I stayed in the shadows as I moved past them. The chatter washed over me like background noise.
"…heard the auction's tomorrow…"
"…noble from the Ninth Ring's paying in pure souls…"
"…boss is meeting the buyer tonight…"
That last one almost got a smile out of me.
Almost.
The private room sat behind a heavy door of reinforced steel wrapped in leather, still bearing claw marks. It screamed important. It screamed danger. It screamed Kick me in.
I didn't.
I let Umbra guide me. My senses snapped back to the panther's view—Rina on the table, unconscious, arms tied behind her back. The satyr was polishing a wicked-looking dagger as if rehearsing where to insert it first. The werewolf was sniffing her hair like the flea-bitten pervert he was. And the pigman…
Counting coins.
Click.
Clack.
Chink.
Gods, the sound offended me more than anything.
'Umbra, ' I whispered through the link, 'you start with the satyr. Leave the werewolf and the pig for me.'
"Grrr." Another low growl—anticipation tinged with hunger.
I didn't kick the door in. That was for amateurs and people who wanted to announce their presence to every thug for three blocks. Instead, I simply pushed it open.
Yeah, the door was unlocked from the start. How stupid is that? I was planning to have a dramatic entrance. But it's fine.
"Evening, gentlemen," I said, stepping through. "Well… two gentlemen and one grease-powered disappointment."
The werewolf blinked.
The satyr froze mid-polish.
The pigman didn't even look up from his coins.
"I'm in the middle of business," he grunted, not raising his snout. "State your purpose and get out."
"My purpose," I said, walking toward the table where Rina lay, "is to get my friend back. And to kill you all. But mostly the killing."
Umbra moved first.
A black blur launched across the room, slamming into the satyr and dragging him off his chair. The dagger clattered to the floor as claws met fur and screams filled the space.
The werewolf roared and rushed me, claws extended. Predictable. I sidestepped, caught his wrist, and used his momentum to introduce his skull to the wall. Hard.
CRACK!
He dropped like a sack of fleas.
"That's for sniffing her, you mutt."
I swiftly summoned more hell chains to bind them, especially the goat fucker; the last thing I want is another lust bomb.
Only the pigman was left.
He scrambled to stand, sweat spraying in panic.
"W-Wait! I can pay! I-I can pay double—no, triple! We can—"
I was in front of him before he finished the first bribe. His tiny eyes widened as my hand closed around his throat.
Warm. Fat. Slippery.
Disgusting.
"You know," I mused, applying just a little pressure, "I used to think demons were the pinnacle of depravity. That nothing shocked us. Nothing disgusted us." I squeezed harder. His face turned purple, eyes bulging. "But your kind always finds a way to lower the bar. Dig deeper. Drag the world with you."
His sausage-like fingers clawed at my grip, desperate and pathetic. I could feel the grease of his skin under my palm, the way his throat quivered as he tried to wheeze out another offer. I didn't let him. My hell chain uncoiled from my arm, slithering with a metallic hiss as it wrapped around his wrists, pinning them to the desk with a satisfying thud.
"Shut up," I growled, leaning in close enough to smell the rancid stink of his breath. "I'm not here for your gold or your squealing. I'm here for her."
I pointed toward Rina, still motionless on the table, the black crystal on her forehead pulsing faintly under the dim light.
"T-Take her! She's yours! I've got dozens more, better ones—" he rasped, the words bubbling past my constricting grip.
I tightened my grip just enough to cut him off. His words choked into a gurgle, and I felt a sick sort of satisfaction watching the panic flood his face.
"You don't get it, do you? I'm not negotiating. I'm not bartering. I'm deciding how much pain you're gonna feel before I end you."
"Let's make this quick," I said, more to myself than to him. "Where'd you get the crystal on her head? What does it do? And who's behind this little operation?"
He sputtered, drool leaking from his tusked mouth.
"I-I don't know much! I just… I just handle the sales! The crystals, they… they keep 'em weak, controlled! Can't fight back, can't run! They drain 'em slow, keep 'em alive for… for buyers!"
I tilted my head, the chain around his wrists tightening with a thought. Metal bit into flesh, and he squealed—fittingly, like a damn pig.
"..."
Sorry, he's already a pig, but you get the point.
"Buyers, huh? Who's the big fish? Who's bankrolling a shithole like this for high-end slaves in the literal ass-end of Hell?"
His eyes darted again, fear warring with self-preservation.
"I c-can't! They'll… they'll skin me alive! They've got power, real power—"
BAAM!
I slammed his head down onto the desk, the stack of coins scattering with a metallic clatter across the floor.
"Wrong answer. I'm the one who decides how you die. Not them. Talk, or I will start peeling bits off until you do."
His whole body trembled, sweat pouring off him like he was melting. He was about to speak, but I cut him off.
"You know what, I don't even need you to speak," I said, my eyes glowing with a dangerous red light. "You will tell me everything later, but for now, give me the key to the black crystal on her forehead."
He stared at me, a glimmer of defiance in his terrified eyes.
"NEVER!"
"Hehehe…" I chuckled, summoning a hell chain blade and pressing it to his fat neck, "Tell me, what's the most valuable thing you own?"
"MY… MY GOLD!"
"WRONG!" I pressed harder, the blade sinking into his flesh, "It's your life."
"Y-You'll never get it! You can't use it! The crystal is bound by contract!"
SLAP!
I backhanded him so hard that one of his tusks cracked. The wet snap was disgustingly loud. Blood and spittle flew across the scattered coins.
"Contract?" I purred, leaning down so my face was inches from his. He smelled like old shit. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know what the crystal is; I used it before. Now give me the key, or I will throw all your gold into a lava pit after I'm done skinning you alive."
His remaining defiance crumbled like wet paper. Fat tears and snot streamed down his greasy jowls.
"NO! NOT MY GOLD!"
"Then talk, pig."
He let out a high-pitched squeal, a sound of pure, undiluted terror.
"OKAY! OKAY! I'LL TELL YOU! THE KEY IS… IT'S IN THE SAFE! BEHIND THE PAINTING!"
"Hehehe," I chuckled. "How original."
He flinched, his piggy eyes darting to the wall behind him, to a gaudy painting of some demonic battle scene.
I sent a hell chain slithering toward it. With a flick of my wrist, the chain whipped the painting from the wall, revealing a small iron door set into the stone. No combination lock, no keyhole. Just a small indentation in the center, glowing with a faint red light.
"It needs a blood sacrifice," the pigman whimpered. "Only the owner's blood can open it."
"Then I guess I'll have to borrow some of yours," I grinned, retracting the chain blade.
I pricked the pigman's finger with the tip of the blade, watching as a single drop of blood welled up. I let the chain drip the blood onto the indentation on the safe door.
Click.
The door swung open, revealing a small compartment inside. And there it was.
A small, ornate key, carved from what looked like polished bone. It pulsed with a faint, sickening energy, the same energy I felt from the crystal on Rina's forehead.
"Bingo"
I snatched the key, my fingers closing around the smooth bone. A jolt of cold energy shot up my arm, making me shudder.
"Ugh… this thing is nasty."
It wasn't just a key; it was a conduit. A direct link to whatever dark magic powered those slave crystals.
I moved toward Rina, my footsteps echoing in the now-silent room. The only sounds were the pigman's whimpering and the faint, rhythmic clinking of the chains binding the werewolf and satyr, who were still struggling against their restraints.
Umbra sat beside me, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he kept a watchful eye on our captives.
"Hehehe." I knelt beside the table, my gaze softening as I looked at Rina's peaceful face. She looked so vulnerable, so different from the shy, stuttering succubus I knew.
Gently, I brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, my fingers tracing the edge of the black crystal. It was cold to the touch.
"Rina?… Can you hear me?"
Nothing.
Her chest rose and fell with steady, shallow breaths. She was alive, but her mind was gone, locked away somewhere deep inside her own dream.
I took a deep breath, the bone key feeling slick and wrong in my palm. I had to be careful. One wrong move, and Rina's head would be a smear on the ceiling.
I positioned the key over the crystal, the notched end aligning with a small, almost invisible indentation. My hand trembled slightly, a mix of adrenaline and the lingering, frustrating hum of my own lust.
"Umbra… keep watch."
I turned my attention back to Rina. I pressed the key into the indentation.
Click.
The crystal pulsed, a wave of dark energy washing over me. For a second, I felt a surge of conflicting emotions—fear, despair, a desperate longing for release—before my own will, tempered by years of heroism and hardened by recent demonic corruption, slammed the door shut.
I held my breath, my heart pounding in my chest, and turned the key.
Slowly.
The world seemed to hold its breath. The pigman behind me let out a choked sob.
Click.
The crystal on Rina's forehead shattered, not with a bang, but with a soft, almost musical chime. Tiny fragments of black glass scattered across the table like fallen stars, their dark energy dissipating into the air.
Rina's eyes fluttered open.
They were wide, unfocused, filled with a terrifying emptiness. For a long, agonizing moment, she just stared at the ceiling, her mind still lost in the crystal's grip.
"Rina?" I whispered, my voice softer than I intended. "It's me. Azariel. You're safe now."
Slowly, her gaze shifted, her eyes focusing on my face. Recognition flickered in their depths, followed by a wave of pure, unadulterated terror.
"A-Azariel?" she stammered, her voice a hoarse, trembling whisper. "W-Where… where am I? What happened?"
"You were taken," I said, my hand gently squeezing her shoulder. "But you're okay now. I'm here."
She sat up, her eyes darting around the room, taking in the scene of carnage—the bound werewolf and satyr, the pigman whimpering on the floor, the scattered coins. Her gaze landed on the shattered remnants of the crystal on the table, and a strangled sob escaped her lips.
"Th-that thing… it was… it was in my head…" she whispered, her hands flying to her forehead, her fingers tracing the smooth skin where the crystal had been. "I… I couldn't move. I couldn't think. It was like… like I was a ghost in my own body."
"I know," I said, my voice grim. "I saw them put it on you."
She looked at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and gratitude.
"You… you saved me? Why?"
"We're friends, aren't we?" I said the words, feeling strange and unfamiliar on my tongue. "Plus, I have a policy against letting people kidnap and enslave those I consider… family."
A flicker of something warm, something I hadn't seen in her eyes before, sparked to life. Hope. Relief. A tiny, fragile spark of trust.
"You… you consider me family?" she stammered, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. "B-but… I'm just… I'm nobody…"
"Nobody's nobody, Rina," I said, my voice firm, a hint of the old hero's conviction bleeding through. "Not to me."
She looked down, her hands twisting in her lap, her twin tails twitching nervously.
"I… I don't know how to thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"You don't have to," I said, my gaze shifting from her to the whimpering pile of greed on the floor. "But he does."
"Tell me, Rina, are you in the mood for some pork?"