Demon Hunterz: Annihilation (Book 3)

Prologue

(Two and a half years later...)

The world has finally had its first taste of supernatural warfare. Humanity witnessed an unspeakable hell unleash upon us through screens in their living rooms, cafes, barbershops, phones, and some where fortunate enough to be surrounded by loved ones in their living rooms. Of course, there were some unlucky souls who saw that hell up close and personal. They laid eyes on these hell spawns once thought to be make-believe. 

The streets became rotting cesspools of flowing red and chewed up body bits. From crushed in heads, twitching limbs, and eyeballs left whole that swam like fish in rivers of darken blood. Cars were left sprawled out on the streets for miles in every city. Streaked with metallic claw marks no bear could possibly mimic. Buildings and neighborhood households are left in shambles. With every night, a new massacre taking place in the darkest corners of the world while the night air fills with their final screams. Somewhere out there, another family watches their daughter, son, mother, father, or cousin get eaten alive, burned, possibly an endless number of fatal torture left up to the imagination of them. In the end, another nameless city blacken by flames gets ravaged, reeking with the scent of the fallen, while twisted shadows march the abandoned streets with fresh vigor and growls. 

All we could do was watch, as the natural order of society crumbled away under the weight of countless deaths, destruction, and chaos.

The demons have carved their blood-soaked message loud and clear. That they are as real and me and you. That there is no stopping their trail of bloodshed. No doubt, this is our new reality. A hellish and frighteningly terrible reality filled with demons clawing at our doors. Nights of unanswered screams that made our blood freeze over. Night terrors of what was to come if we suffered the same fate as the dying. 

Yet there was a silent echo in all of this. A small cry that bounced across the now motionless cities, stripped bare of all life and now served as a public grave to the unfortunate and a reminder of what once was. In the broken in homes of the many, whose final moments were soaked in blood, agony, and screams of murder. In vacant schools where kids were left to die with their dreams. Their lives snatched away by how cruel the world has become, and how powerless everyone was to stop it. 

Their small cries have for months have ensembled to form a rebellious cry to be heard. One that rang with the truth we've all been turning a deaf ear to... 

...that this was our new normal.

But us Hunters? Death and carnage were our cup of tea. Tearing, blasting, and slicing apart the spawns of hell were our bread and butter. Our way of living. We breathe and strive for it. Fighting against odds that seem more impossible than the next. Constantly wondering will today be our last? How would I go out? Who do I have to watch be killed next? Will I be strong enough to move forward afterwards? How bad will the nightmares be this time around? 

How many more will perish before this is all over? 

These are the kinds of thoughts that will always follow you towards every battle you march to.
We are at best, harden warriors who are willing to jump into the jaws of hell to save mankind. A ray of hope that breaks through black storm clouds and shines upon the fortunate.