Broke Demon x Slayer🕹️

Level 4

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Level 4: Malebolge Heights, Mr. & Mrs. Siren's Residence

> BEGIN

"Dad! Wait! Listen! They've been here for months and they haven't tried to shoot anyone even once! And I'm pretty sure all the demons they did shoot before that made full recoveries! Well, more or less..."

On the other end of the dining room table, you can see the two older sirens staring back at you, the air in the room uncomfortably tense.

A husband and wife—each bearing an uncanny resemblance to the familiar siren at your side—they seem to consider the siren's words with two very different expressions. Unflinching, you watch the bearded husband slam a fist on the table as his wife sighs.

"A human Syrene!? You brought a human home to meet us!?"

"Dad! I just—"

"Did we not teach you anything growing up? You can't trust a single one of those surface-dwelling—"

"—dear, there's no need for that kind of language."

"She brought a human here, Twila! Do you know what their kind does to us?"

You can see the wife sigh again, smiling apologetically in your direction before looking back to her husband.

"Dear, they seem perfectly well-mannered. Look, they're even sitting at the table like a proper—"

You can hear an exasperated puff of air as the husband slaps a claw to his forehead.

"Heretic below, Twila! I'm not going to keep paying rent to let our daughter house-sit some demon slaying—"

The chair beside you squeaks as it slides back a few inches, the siren at your side standing up from her seat.

"—Dad! They're not a demon slayer! Well...at least not anymore. Honest! If you'd just get to know them—"

"End of discussion, Syrene! That human has to go and that is final!"

> CONTINUE

You watch as the older, balding siren stomps over to your side of the table, placing himself between you and his daughter as he stares up at you and prods a clawed finger against your chest.

"Listen here, human—you just turn your mortal backside around and go right back to wherever it is you came from! I don't want to see you around my daughter ever again, understand!?"

You stare back blankly at the siren from your chair, the chime of an old [hell clock] jingling in the background a few moments later. Behind the older siren, you can see his daughter trying to step around him, grabbing his shoulder with her hand.

"Dad! Wait! They're really not—"

"Dear—

"No, Syrene! Twila! He's either going back to the surface world on his own two feet or in a body bag!"

You watch as the older siren leans forward against your chest, his feet scrabbling against the [hell-wood] floor as he struggles to push your seated form toward the front door. Despite the differences in your bulk, you can slowly feel yourself being pushed across the kitchen floor toward the entryway—the dimly lit [hell streetlights] beckoning outside.

> CONTINUE

Glancing over the bearded siren's shoulder, you can see the siren staring back at you and her father, her words catching in her throat as she doesn't seem sure how to react. You can see her mother step over to her side to pat her shoulder, saying something into her ear as she shakes her head.

> CONTINUE

You glance back down, the older siren ignoring the scene behind him as he continues to puff and pant, pushing you back one [hell foot] after another.

> CONTINUE

Slowly, you glance down at the shotgun in your hands, your standard issue EAF break-action resting there idly in your grip as always.

A moment passes. Another.

> USE [SHOTGUN]

BLAM-BLAM!

A deafening explosion of sound echoes outward from the end of your muzzle, the screech of your chair sliding against the floor coming to a sudden halt.

There's a faint tap-tap-tap as two spent shell casings tumble to the ground, the eyes of everyone in the room slowly drawn to your figure from across the kitchen.

In front of you, you can see the older siren glancing up at his forehead, the dome of his skull smoldering where the high-velocity incendiary rounds had reduced his thin, graying hair to ash.

You can hear a faint squeak trickle out between his parted lips, all three demons in the room now silent.

> CONTINUE

There's a faint creak as the prize [hell bass] mounted on the wall behind the bearded siren breaks free of the now splintered wall, a heavy crash echoing through the house as it joins the small pile of rubble on the floor.

Wordlessly, you rise from your seat and start forward, your heavy boots leaving faint depressions in the floor beneath you. Stopping at the kitchen table, you look down, meeting the siren's gaze as she stands next to her mother.

The siren regards you with a confused stare, slowly glancing between you and her parents, unsure of what to do.

> CONTINUE

You can see the older female siren sigh, a tired smile breaking across her face as she pats her daughter on the shoulder.

"It's alright, dear. Go ahead. I'll talk to your father."

You watch the siren turn, her expression hesitant as she glances briefly toward the shell shocked older siren behind you.

"But Mom, what about—"

"Don't worry, dear. He'll be fine. He's just worried about you. You're our little See-See, after all."

"Mom!"

You can see the siren's eyes flit briefly in your direction, her cheeks turning red as her voice cracks inadvertently. Her mother replies with a warm chuckle, patting her again as she nods toward the front of the house.

"Go on, dear. You two go and talk."

You watch as the siren slowly nods, her cheeks still flushed as she starts past you toward the door. Her mother flashes you a small smile as she follows her daughter past, stopping at her husband's side as she gives the younger siren another reassuring nod.

"Go on."

The older female siren glances at you as well, motioning you toward the door in turn.

"You too. Don't worry about the mess. Albert and I will tidy things up after we have a little chat."

Despite the near-vacant expression on the bearded siren's face, you swear you can see a trickle of sweat run down his brow as his wife uses his first name. 

Staring a few moments longer, you eventually heed the older female siren's advice, stepping past them as you follow the younger siren out the door.