Eliad pulled up the hood of his red leather trench coat with green trim. It was one of those that had once been recognized as a symbol of his order of the Black Cross Hunters, but now, for the vast majority of people, it was just another piece of clothing.

Eliad touched the touchscreen of the runic device on his left forearm, and a small holographic map appeared in the air. On it, a black dot rested over Catlon, one of the four macrocities that housed Anlova; one of the two hundred seventy-two states that made up the largest and most powerful country in the world; Ibelir, also known as the United States of Ibelir.

"I hope you're still alive, brother," he thought. He looked up and saw dawn breaking. He put on his glasses and got on his motorcycle.

Due to the limited range of runic devices, and the few brothers and bases left worldwide, members of his order were often on the move in search of possible demonic appearances, which, to their joy or dismay, were increasingly on the rise.

The roads and alternative paths were a dangerous place for travelers. Not only because of their condition or shape, the magical corruption, or even the abundant Raiders, but above all, because of the different races that made up the species of the "Savages." These generally lived all over the world in the form of gangs or even roaming armies that ravaged and plundered everything in their path.

Eliad saw some vehicles approaching in the distance, so he preferred to veer slightly and head down one of the secondary paths through the shrubs of the devastated land. A few kilometers later, he took a detour and returned to the main road.

The beep and flashing light of his runic device caught his attention. Eliad pressed a button on the handlebar, and a holographic screen appeared behind the motorcycle's dome. A red dot now indicated where a level 1 demon, also known as "Born," had appeared. These were, relatively speaking, easy targets. Even a normal person with a weapon and appropriate military experience could defeat them.

For a moment, Eliad thought about continuing on his way. He had already lost Lucio and Dalia, and he wasn't sure he could also bear the death of his best friend. However, he knew that only members of his order could truly kill the demons. So, he finally turned towards the location of the appearance.

The signal led him to a roadside bar known as "The Tire," and like many others, the place was a mix between a grim-looking bar and an improvised fortification. In the center was a large sign featuring a spiked tire and the name of the bar in black letters. On the rooftop and some balconies of the building, several unfriendly-looking guards equipped with submachine guns and other automatic weapons watched over the premises. A wall of almost two meters, made of various metals, surrounded the entire venue. Having a bar away from the law and the safety of the macrocities had its risks. But also, its benefits.

Eliad parked his motorcycle in the half-empty parking lot and walked into the establishment. Inside, the kitchen and a bar shaped like a staple were on one side of the venue. The rest of the vast space was occupied by black wooden tables with numerous empty drinks and a small stage attached to the wall. Several humans and some Savages occupied parts of the bar and tables. In both corners, there were stairs going up and down. The decoration of the place was somewhat dense and consisted mostly of tires of different types. It also housed weapons, chains, photos, and a national flag. Natural light entered through the few windows, leaving much of the interior in slight shadows.

Eliad headed to one of the empty stools at the bar and sat down. At first glance, none of the patrons or the attendant seemed to have any trace of mutations, so for the moment he dismissed the idea that there were any corrupted in the bar. On the other hand, the place showed no signs of violence, which meant that the possession had surely occurred on another floor.

However, that did not mean that the Born was not there, hidden among the customers.

"A double black rum with lots of ice, please," he said aloud when he caught the bartender's attention.

"Right away."

Eliad focused and tried to detect the magical currents to see if any trace of corruption had remained in the room. All the sounds around him diminished until they fell silent, and gradually he began to notice the thousands of magic particles floating throughout the floor. Coming from the staircase in the corner near where he was, he noticed a current of corrupt magic particles descending from the first floor and fading among the magical particles of the ground floor. This confirmed the theory that the Born must have taken over its victim's body on an upper floor and then come down in its humanoid form. Any of those present could be the demon.

The question was which one of them it was.

The possession process of the Born was the simplest of all demons, but at the same time, the most imprecise. This was because the Born were attracted to mortals who, regardless of the species, shared some of the traits of the so-called "Original Demons," such as anger or greed.

"Here you go," said the bartender as he set the glass on the bar.

Eliad opened his eyes and took the opportunity to study the bartender. He looked tired and pale, likely from working too many hours in a poorly paid and often unappreciated job. Such a person could be possessed by a Born of Sorrow. These were among the most disturbing, as contrary to what their name might suggest, demons with a core from the Original Demon of Sorrow not only wallowed in their own misery and used it to lure their victims, but they also enjoyed making others feel sad and miserable. However, the bartender didn't seem to behave like one of them, so Eliad initially ruled him out.

"Thank you."

Eliad grabbed the glass with one hand and took a sip. He savored the rum, set it down on the table, and glanced sideways at the Savages. Both had the same face paint, so they must belong to the same band or army.

One of them, a grok, was drinking a huge mug of beer as if it were water and he had been without drink for days. Standing around one ninety-something, groks were taller, bulkier, and more muscular than humans. Their voluminous heads had fierce, marked faces with ears ending in two uneven points and mouths full of sharp teeth.

The other, a tralf, stabbed the remnants of food on his plate with his knife while watching the rest of the patrons with interest. Tralfs, who averaged about one sixty in height, were shorter and slimmer than humans. Their heads were elongated with prominent chins, pointed ears and noses, and wide mouths. Their faces often bore expressions of amusement and malice.

One thing all the races that made up the so-called savages shared was that the tone of their skin varied similarly to mud and clay, and their eyes were usually red, yellow, or blue.

As for demons, groks were often possessed by Born of Anger or Gluttony. The former were the embodiment of pure violence and had the least endurance, often leaving true rivers of blood in their wake. The latter were demons that relished feeding on all kinds of living beings and could rarely resist indulging in such delicacies.

Meanwhile, tralfs were more often possessed by Born of Spite or Greed. These demons, after succumbing to the ecstasy of possession (which was common among all types of demons), would typically hide under their mortal skin while concocting malicious plans to achieve their ends.

The Black Cross Hunter dismissed the tralf as a potential candidate, and his gaze shifted to the humans at the bar. Unlike most of the savage races that had more defined and simple personality types, humans were one of the most complicated species due to the fact that while some humans were black or white, many others were various shades of grey. This meant that there was a wide range of personalities with all kinds of feelings. In other words, they could be possessed by all types of demons.

Eliad drank again and observed the humans in front of him and the savages. They were dressed in leather jackets with iconography on the back, chains, rings, and striking hairstyles. They drank and laughed like brothers, and occasionally shouted at the bartender. They were likely Raiders, who generally were possessed by violent, sexual, or Machiavellian demons. If any of them had been possessed by a Born of Anger, there would be more than one body lying around and some broken furniture, and if it had been by one of Lust, they would likely be trying to fornicate with the woman at the bar or some man. So, for the moment, he also dismissed that idea, but he did not rule out that one of them could have been possessed by a Born of Spite, or Greed.

"What's available to eat?" asked Eliad as the bartender passed by his side. This could take a while, and he wanted to make the most of the fact that the apparition had led him to a bar. It had been a long time since Eliad had felt nervous about the possibility of being near a demon lurking from inside its mortal body.

"At this time, pastries or toast..." the bartender began to say, then suddenly stopped as if he had remembered something. "But in a while, we start with lunch, so if you wait a bit, you can order a sandwich. The cook is making meatballs, meat in sauce, and roasted peppers."

"Thank you. I think I'll wait then."

Eliad turned and observed from his seat the customers at the tables. Near the stage, there was another group of four humans who appeared to be Raiders. He moved past them and focused on two humans occupying one of the central tables. They wore suits and were reviewing documents while smoking and drinking. They must be businessmen or corrupt politicians conducting some of their deals away from the eyes of the members of the National Defense Corps and nosy journalists. Their kind often were possessed by Born of Greed. Other possible suspects.

At tables nearby, two different groups of humans dressed in bulletproof and blade-proof armor drank beer while talking and watching their surroundings. All of them carried a holstered pistol. Mercenaries. Another type of people who posed a wide range of possible Borns. Eliad cursed inwardly. Not knowing what type of Born had appeared was a major nuisance.

Finally, the Black Cross Hunter glanced at a group of twenty-somethings seated at a table near the door. They were taking pictures with their cyber tablets while drinking coffee and laughing as if the world was not a cruel and ruthless place. They exuded so much innocence and happiness that it almost seemed suspicious. Eliad wondered if they would still be alive by the end of the day.

"So meatballs and meat in sauce, huh?" The high pitch of the words caught Eliad's attention. It was one of the Raiders at the bar. "I bet you've used rat meat again, right?"

The bartender wiped the sweat off with a handkerchief and turned to answer the customer without looking him in the eyes.

"No, no... I assure you it's not rat meat today. Why don't you stay and try it? I'm sure you'll like it."

"And bullshit, idiot. You can't fool me, I'm sick of your damn rat food."

"Well, if you don't like it, you don't have to come..." murmured the bartender.

Suddenly, the customer grabbed the bartender by the shirt and pulled him close. Half of his body leaned over the bar. Their faces were barely apart.

Eliad took another sip of his rum, swirling the alcoholic liquid around his mouth. The situation was getting interesting.

"Are you trying to screw me over, Nil?" the customer asked angrily.

"No, Steson," replied the intimidated bartender.

Then there was a loud thump of some kind of glass against the table and a deep grunt. It had been the grok. Eliad turned his head slightly and glanced at him.

"More beer," he gruffly demanded in his savage accent.

"Better hurry, human," added the tralf in Ibelirian while cleaning the dirt from his nails with his knife. "Gulshag does not like to wait."

"I'm sorry, Steson, but the gentleman wants more beer," said the bartender, placing one of his hands on the forearm of his aggressor. Clearly, he was more afraid of the savage than of him. "Please, let me go."

Steson saw the grok's face wrinkling more and more with impatience for his drink, and after clicking his tongue, he released the bartender.

"Go, idiot. And if we haven't left yet, it's because that bastard Treor hasn't come back since he went up with Esla."

That caught his attention. Eliad was sure that the Born had possessed its victim on one of the upper floors, so there was a possibility that either Treor or Esla had become the demon, and in the ecstasy of possession had killed the other. However, the trail of corrupt magic disappeared on the ground floor, indicating that the demon had descended at least once in its humanoid form. Most likely, one of the two had been possessed earlier, and after killing a first victim, had come down and invited the other to draw them away from the view of others.

The bartender did not reply and hurried to serve another beer. The grok grabbed the mug tightly and drank.

"Esla! Where the hell is Treor?" Steson asked a few minutes later to a human woman who had just come down the stairs near the bar, a few meters from where Eliad and the Savages were sitting. "We've been waiting forever!"

Eliad turned and studied the woman. By the way she was dressed, she was undoubtedly a prostitute. The human was not overly beautiful, but she had a good figure and a look of vice, which was undoubtedly a dangerous combination for any drunken client.

"A Born of Lust, perhaps?" Eliad thought. The gender of the Born was determined by the gender of their victims.

Demons with the core of the original demon of Lust enjoyed having sex with all kinds of mortals the most, and many of their victims left this world with a final scream of pleasure.

"Treor? He left the room as soon as we finished." Esla looked at Eliad and winked at him.

"Are you saying he left without us?" Steson kicked a stool away and headed towards the woman euphorically, followed by his friends. "Do you think I'm blind? Treor hasn't come this way! Plus, our damn truck is still out there, so no matter how you look at it, it's impossible that he's gone!"

"And what do you want from me? Do you think I'm his mother? I'm telling you, I fucked him and he left."

"Lying bitch!"

"Ooh," said Esla with a pitiful face. "Are you going to cry because he left without you?" Laughter echoed throughout the bar.

"Damn bitch!" Steson shouted, raising his fist. "I swear you're going to regret this!"

"What’s wrong? Going to hit me? Want me to tell the security and have them put a bullet up your ass, clown?"

Eliad thought that undoubtedly her bravado must be one of her charms in bed. However, if she really was a Born of Lust, this could end very badly.

"Well, she'd get what she deserves…" he thought.

Far from feeling threatened, Steson pulled out a knife and stepped forward. But before he realized it, Eliad put the hand holding the weapon on his back and smashed his face against the bar. The loud noise attracted the attention of all the patrons. Drops of blood mixed with the stains of alcohol.

"Fight!" shouted the grok, who smashed his mug by slamming it on the table.

"We're going to kill you, bastard!" screamed one of Steson’s friends.

Eliad delivered a rear kick to the stomach of the first assailant who approached him, then threw Steson's body to the ground. The other assailant, not making the same mistake, tried to strike him with one of the spiked metal knuckle guards he wore. Eliad dodged with a spin and elbowed him in the eye.

Steson, in pain, got up slightly and tried to approach Eliad with the knife, but the Black Cross hunter pulled out one of his semi-automatic pistols and held it almost to his forehead. With the other, he aimed at his friends.

"Get out of here if you value your lives."

"This isn’t over, you freak," Steson said as he moved out of the path of the gun and approached his comrades. "I swear we'll meet again and next time I won't hold back."

Steson and the other two left the bar, and Eliad turned his gaze to the bar. The grok was standing, ready to also engage in a fight.

"Not today, big guy," Eliad said, looking him squarely in the eye. The grok met his challenging gaze, and for a few seconds, the tension was palpable in the venue again.

"More beer!" the grok finally grunted after looking away and slapping the savage next to him. The tralf touched his inflamed cheek, and for a moment, seemed to hesitate whether to stab him with one of his knives or not.

"Oh look, we have a hero here," Esla said as she slid her finger down the coat of her savior and gazed into his grey-green eyes.

"Heroes don't exist."

"Well, you've been one to me, and I know just how I could thank you." Esla grabbed his arm and turned around. "Come on, come with me, handsome," she said before moving erotically and pulling him along.

"It's her. She's trying to seduce me to kill me."

Eliad decided to play along and they both went upstairs to the second floor. There, the staff rooms were located, which also accommodated the companion girls. As they entered the pristine room, Esla began to kiss him passionately and he firmly grabbed her buttocks. They moved, bumping against the walls while groping each other, and then she pulled down his pants and began to suck him off, feeling it grow larger and larger in her mouth while she touched her private parts. Then she placed it between her large breasts and began to stroke him with them. No doubt the excitement and lack of sex for quite some time made him feel like releasing everything as quickly as a novice might.

"I think I'm going to..."

"Give it all to me, darling," she said with a lascivious smile.

Eliad slid one of his hands over the hilt of the sword he carried on his back, preparing to finish her off. Born of Pleasure transformed after their victim or they themselves had an orgasm, and the hunter was about to have one.

But it did not happen. Not even when she brought herself to orgasm a few seconds later.

"Whew, I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did," said Esla. "This one's on the house for saving me, and because, why lie, you turned me on. But next time I'll have to charge you, room rent isn't free. But I promise you a discount."

"It can't be, if it were of a higher rank, it would make more sense, but a Born of Lust can't help transforming after having or causing an orgasm. Unless... Esla is not a Born of Lust. Damn."

But if it wasn't her, then who was the Born? The tralf? One of the suited men or their bodyguards? One of the other humans who seemed like Raiders?

"Today it's not rat meat, I assure you." Suddenly, the bartender's words came back to him as he fastened his pants.

Could it be that the bartender had been possessed by a Born of Gluttony? Those demons liked to eat their victims, whether raw or cooked. But then, why give the meat to the cook to prepare food for others to eat? Something so twisted was more typical of...

"Are Steson and the rest regulars?" Eliad asked.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"And are they always such assholes?"

"Yes, they've been a real pain for poor Nil. More than once the security had to throw them out. One time it almost came to gunfire. But that's what you get working at a roadside bar. You meet customers like that or worse every day."

Then Eliad was clear. It was not a Born of Gluttony or Lust, but one of Spite. Theirs were among the best at camouflaging among mortals until they achieved their cruel revenge. And what could be crueler than killing one of the bastards who had abused him and then trying to make the customers who had made his life miserable eat him?

Eliad left Esla in her room and started down the stairs. If Nil was a Born of Spite, he would try to take revenge on another customer sooner or later. And then he would be there to finish him off.

But to his surprise, Nil was no longer behind the bar. In his place were two other bartenders. In one corner, there was an armed guard.

"Excuse me, where's Nil?" he asked one of them.

"His shift has ended."

"Did he go up to the staff rooms?"

"No. That's the strangest thing of all. He left with Steson as if they were friends for life."

"Damn! Have those idiots come back? "

"Did you see which way they went?"

"Toward Catlon."

Eliad dashed out of the bar and jumped onto his motorcycle to chase after the bartender. He briefly checked his device and saw that it hadn't beeped again, so at least he knew Nil hadn't transformed yet. He twisted the throttle hard and skidded out of the parking lot, attracting the attention of the rooftop guards and the occupants of a car entering. He continued down the road toward Catlon, and just as he saw a van appear by the roadside, a red dot appeared on his holographic display near his location. He accelerated even more, and as he drew level with Steson's vehicle, he swerved off the road into the dirt.

From a distance, he saw a greyish creature surrounded by three humans who were slowly walking away, fearful of turning around. As he approached them, he could make out the features of the demon. It was the size of a human but walked slightly hunched over. A thin layer of black scales covered parts of its taut skin. A line of tiny horns circled its broad head with a prominent chin, flat nose, and sharp teeth. Half of its left arm was a mix of blade and flesh, and from the hand of its right arm, long, curved claws protruded. Standing before him was Steson, flanked by his friends.

Eliad pressed a button and two rifle barrels emerged from a compartment at the front of the motorcycle.

Suddenly, the demon that Nil had become lunged forward, embedding the claws of his right hand in the head of his former tormentor, and with a single swipe, severed it from the body. Then, he raised it and looked at it maliciously. The terror screams of Steson's friends merged with the sadistic laughter of the former bartender.

Eliad pressed another button while continuing to approach, and a burst of bullets flew from the barrels, hitting several parts of Nil's new body. The demon groaned in pain, and seeing a motorcycle speeding toward him, he turned around, threw Steson's head to the ground, and started to flee.

However, Eliad had no intention of letting him escape. A new barrage of projectiles pierced the demon's flesh, and it rolled on the ground as its pursuer sped past. Eliad turned with another skid and faced his bike towards his prey, who was beginning to get up.

"Damn cheater. Get off the bike and fight like a man!" Compared to Nil's voice, the demon's was higher-pitched and seemed somewhat distorted.

"Funny for a demon to say that. Especially one of the Core of Spite." Eliad shrugged. "But fine, we'll do it your way."

The Black Cross hunter dismounted his motorcycle and unsheathed his sword as he slowly approached his rival. The demon smiled and met him at the same pace. When they were just a few meters apart, the demon lunged at his opponent with superhuman speed. Eliad leaned slightly backward, and the demon's claws passed in front of his eyes. Then he saw the demon's blade arm swing in an arc, and this time he used his sword to block the attack. The blades collided and a metallic sound echoed. A few seconds later they separated, and Eliad counterattacked with a swift movement of his wrists and hips. The Black Cross hunter's sword tore through the belly of the former bartender, and a scream of indescribable pain spread across the clearing.

The demon stepped back several paces, hunched over and clutching the wound. A thin stream of purple blood began to trickle down his stomach.

"What kind of sword sorcery is that, damn human?"

"It hurts, doesn't it? It's a demon-slaying sword. They're made from a special material capable of tearing through your very essence."

"That can't be!"

"Die." Eliad approached his prey, ready to deliver the final blow.

"Wait!" the demon suddenly said, raising his hand in a gesture of peace. "Why do you stand in my way, human? Those wretches deserve to die."

"Perhaps. But it's not for me to judge them," said Eliad. "My job is to end those of your kind."

"Damn you!" The demon lunged again at the hunter in a desperate attempt to finish him. However, Eliad was quicker, and the blade of his sword plunged into his heart.

Nil fell to his knees and watched as his body gradually disintegrated until there was nothing left of him.

"What... what the hell are you?" asked Steson's other friend as he passed by on his motorcycle. He had wet himself.

"A forgotten one."

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This chapter is a translation done with chat GPT from my original work in Spanish "Anlova en Llamas" (Anlova In Flames).

Any correction for something mistranslated would be appreciated.

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Novel written by Javier Martinez Soliva. All rights reserved.

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