Demon Hunters

Casus Belli I

It was the middle of the night, and the city was slumbering in total silence – save for three men that sprinted through the deserted streets, frantically looking around. One of them pointed toward the church, and the group started to run toward it as fast as they possibly could. As they reached the doors, one of the group's members started to fiddle with the keys while the other two kept scanning the street. Their blood ran cold as they saw a dark figure approaching down the street. When they finally got the door open and made it inside, the trio immediately started to assemble a barricade out of whatever they could get their hands on. The statues that lined the walls blankly watched on as a jumbled heap of pews, tables, and cupboards was hastily gathered to block the entrance. Satisfied with their work, the group settled down and waited. The moon shone through the stained-glass windows above the barred doors, bathing the church in a kaleidoscope of colours.

"Do you think he saw where we went?" one of the men, clad in a priest's attire, whispered with a trembling voice.

"Almost certainly. We need to come up with another hiding place as soon as possible!" another one replied, pulling out a flintlock pistol and staring at the doors nervously.

"We need to find out who squealed," the third, wielding a rapier, chimed in. "This was supposed to set us up for life, damn it!"

"Never mind that! Right now, we need to get out of the city, and only then should we start worrying about revenge!" the priest nervously insisted.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. The three men froze up and turned to look toward the entrance. There was a second knock and none of the men dared to even draw breath. They waited in silence, and soon someone tried to force the door open – to no avail, as the lock and the barricade stacked in front of the doors held firm. However, just as they were about to breathe a sigh of relief, the large window above the church's entrance exploded inward, showering the men in a hail of glass shards. The group's members retreated, unsure of what had just happened, but as soon as they realized that their pursuer had somehow managed to jump through the window, their expressions shifted to abject terror.

"I'm glad that you decided to bar the door. This way there won't be any disturbances while I deal with you," a distorted voice said.

The man – or rather, creature – who had leaped through the window slowly stood up. Two curved horns protruded from his forehead and his jet-black eyes seemed to emit a faint glow. He opened his mouth to smile, revealing a set of pointed and razor-sharp teeth. The three men were all frozen in fear, and seemingly unable to do anything about this menacing creature.

"Now, then. I recommend that you pray. It won't save you from me but confessing one's sins is typically a good thing to do before you die," the creature growled as it started to approach the men.

Finally, the gun-wielding man managed to compose himself. He took aim and pulled the trigger, causing a loud bang to reverberate in the church accompanied by a thick puff of smoke. As soon as it dissipated, an uncertain smile began to form on the gunman's face. He had hit his target, and a thin stream of blood was now flowing down the stranger's body, forming a crimson puddle on the church's floor. However, there was no trace of pain or fear in the horned man's onyx eyes – in fact, being shot had apparently only managed to amuse him.

"I enforce the Lord's will here on Earth, and so I am protected by His light. You cannot possibly hope to wound me," he said, spreading his arms.

The men stared at the bullet wound, a slow sense of dread rising within them. Slowly but surely, the musket ball began to emerge from the gaping wound it had created. It hit the church's stone floor with a clink, and by the time it stopped, the bleeding had stopped. The stranger raised his hand toward the gunman and squeezed it into a fist. Much to his horror, the gunman felt as if an invisible hand had just closed around him, forcing his arms against his body and leaving him unable to move.

"What...?" he gasped.

However, he didn't have the time to say anything else. The stranger quickly jerked his hand to the right, sending the unfortunate gunman hurtling through the air. His cry of terror was cut short when he hit the church's wall, accompanied by a loud cracking sound. The gunman's limp body fell to the ground, leaving behind a red stain at the point of impact.

"Do something!" the priest-robed man screamed.

The swordsman didn't seem happy about being ordered about, yet he still brandished his weapon and charged toward the horned beast. However, as he lunged toward his target, the stranger moved with seemingly inhuman speed and grabbed the swordsman's arm mid-air. He then proceeded to throw the swordsman to the ground with horrifying strength, killing him instantly. Now alone, the priest fell to the ground. He closed his eyes, crossed his arms, and started to pray for himself desperately.

"I must wonder if He is willing to forgive you," the stranger huffed as he walked toward the sole survivor.

"Please! Don't kill me!" the priest cried. "I'll give you everything you could possibly desire! Do you want money? Women? Wine? Whatever it is you desire, I can grant it to you!"

The stranger chuckled and lifted the priest by his lapels.

"Unfortunately for you, I only yearn for justice," he said.

"You... demon!" the priest huffed, staring into the black voids that were the stranger's eyes.

A quick punch from the horned stranger ended the priest's life before he could say anything else. Throwing the body to the side, the stranger observed the church. He felt a sting in his heart for having had to break the window but felt nothing about killing these men. He knew that his actions had been justified by the highest authority, and in that knowledge, there was a certainty. Yet another member of the clergy and his co-conspirators had been punished for their sins. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His horns receded back into his forehead, and as he opened his eyes again, they were clear blue. He glanced at the still bleeding corpse of the priest and nodded approvingly. Once again, Gabriel von Richter had carried out the will of the church.