DEMON HUNT

Chapter 58: Make it stop

It's late at night. The starry skies stretch endlessly over the area, a simple but beautiful sight. Omero sits alone, in the great hall of the Hōlē, deep in thought. Loud noises- bangs, clangs, and the likes, fill the background. Wild celebrations are happening all around him, amidst jubilant cries and expressions. They're sending of the late high chief Frey, but his son isn't participating. He's not at all mentally present.

Mark separates himself from the ecstatic multitude, taking a seat at the table of the moody Omero. He holds a relatively large wooden jug of booze in his right hand. He has no care for the send-off, but Mark has always loved a good party. Reaching across to the other end of the table, he taps Omero's hand. This manages to grab Omero's attention. Mark speaks loudly, attempting to cope with the noise.

Mark: At my father's funeral, I gave five different speeches. Yet somehow, I'm the disgraceful son, and you're the son of pride. It's just crazy.

Mark laughs as he helps himself to some booze, reducing the jug to half its original content. Omero doesn't so much as chuckle. He's clearly not in the mood to be jolly. Marks laughter ceases. He gives an expressive face as he stares at Omero. He chooses to switch gears, still talking loudly.

Omero: You're a very boring person, you know that? So, you've been on one mission for what? eight decades? And now you finally return home, take out your ungrateful father like a boss, and yet here you are, still overly serious. What the hell is your problem?

Omero answers with all seriousness, angrily counting his words.

Omero: My problem... is that my mission... is yet to be completed.

Mark: Okay, let's start all over. What exactly is this mission?

Omero: My mission is to stop his coming.

Mark rolls his eyes.

Mark: Seriously? That's all you're going to give me? All you people use are pronouns. If you're so afraid of one weirdo rising up from the dead, then you should at least know him enough to have a name. I'm not grandpa level old like you lots, so you've got to give me these little details. What's his name? The person you so seriously call 'demon'.

Omero repeatedly shakes his head.

Omero: No, no. His name is a curse to all who utter it. It is not meant to be used.

Mark notices something. Omero is visibly trembling. The fear in Omero seems somehow contagious. It takes the spilling of booze from his jug, for Mark to realize that he, too, had started trembling. These happenings make Mark even more curious, desperate, in fact. He rises to his feet, yelling.

Mark: You have to give me something. Just tell me! Who is this person? What is his name? Who are you people so afraid of?! I know what happens if he's allowed to rise, but who is he?! You must give me a name!

Looking rather downcast than before, Omero finally yields.

Omero: I can only tell you this...

Omero's lips move slowly as he mutters an answer.

Omero: K...D...

On finally getting an answer, Mark sits back down, suddenly becoming calm. He speaks in a low tone. The noise has reduced significantly, since the ceremony has progressed to another stage. This allows Omero to hear him without trouble.

Mark: I understand the amount of death and destruction to come if KD returns.

Omero cuts in sharply.

Omero: No.

Omero's eyes bulge out creepily, he grabs Mark's hand, squeezing it tightly. It might be accurate to say that he's become so consumed by what he intends to say that he doesn't fully realize his actions.

Omero: You cannot in your wildest imagination begin to even fathom the smallest possible fraction of chaos that he brings. The suffering, the pain, the crisis, the devastation... If that devil comes back, then you and everyone you know and love will die horribly...and you'd be the lucky ones!

Mark forces his hand out of Omero's hold, Omero's reply scarring his mind. He rises to his feet and walks away, taking his booze with him. Instead of cheering Omero up, which was his intended plan, Mark had somehow managed to ruin his own mood. It was as if he had traded his jolliness for absolute fear. The unsuccessful mission to extract and eternally seal him away, now suddenly carries more weight in Mark's eyes.

Omero remains seated, rooted in thought, his entire body trembling for fear of what might come to be.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
On another side of the spectrum, Nicholas walks down a quiet road, at the heart of nighttime. He looks far from okay, his all black mufti attire having rips at random edges. His once neatly braided hair now looks rough, his eyes reddened for lack of sleep. He staggers as he goes on, a light post at times being the only reason why he doesn't hit the floor.

As Nicholas carries on miserably, he sees a person standing in front of him. It's a recognizable face, leaving him in awe. The said person speaks calmly to him. It's Handanovic.

Handanovic: Nicholas, you don't look so good.

Nicholas motions his hand, as if to say 'shoo'!

Nicholas: Go away! You're not real. You're dead.

Handanovic smiles warmly.

Handanovic: How can you say that, Nicholas? I'm alive. You saved me.

Nicholas shudders as he responds.

Nicholas: No...No, I didn't. I didn't save you.

Handanovic smiles savagely, in response to the reply he had just received.

Handanovic: But you could have. Join me. Join us!

Nicholas fearfully begins to run away, moving haphazardly, without looking back.

Nicholas: You're dead. Stay away from me! You haunt me when I close my eyes. Leave my waking hours the hell alone!

On getting no further replies from Handanovic- who by now, is clearly not a physical or tangible entity, Nicholas slows down a bit, catching his breath. Turning to take a look, he sees Gradel. Gradel gives a weak call.

Gradel: Nicholas, goo lad. He...lp me. I beg of you...help me...

No sooner had Gradel appeared that multiple other voices, masculine and feminine alike, joined in, all crying for help. Nicholas gives a terrified look as he staggers into a running motion again. He breathes heavily as he goes on, his mind travelling everywhere at the same time. He yells as he goes.

Nicholas: Make it stop! Somebody please make it stop! Make it stop!

Nicholas' screams soon become weaker and fainter, changing into a helpless plea for assistance. He closes his eyes as he falls to the ground, with a loud thud.

Nicholas: Somebody...anybody.... please make it stop...

As a rare moment of calmness comes upon him, he slowly opens his eyes. To his absolute regret, the first figure he sees is Renard. Unlike the apparition of Handanovic and Gradel, this entity feels realer. Renard looks exactly like he did during the great fall, causing Nicholas to once again retrospect on an event he wants nothing more than to forget entirely.

Renard: You can make it stop, whiner.
The secret lies in three letters. R...I...P.

Renard's words instantly strike a cord. Just as Nicholas is about to respond, he hears a loud horn blow, with two bright headlights approaching him, closing distance in mere seconds. Nicholas yells angrily.

Nicholas: Stop messing with my head!

The atmospheric temperature suddenly spikes, leaving a substantial amount of evidence behind. He hadn't realized, but now he has. Nicholas finds himself on a railway, a signpost some paces from him. It reads 'WARNING: Highspeed trains approaching'. Perhaps the most important bit of information, is that Nicholas, in his rage, just turned a fully loaded passenger train to a worthless body of molten steel!