He glanced at the supposed demon, who was a balding man that clung to the last tufts of his red hair, then at the tattooed man spotting the mullet. There was still one thing left to do before he got down to business. As he drew near, the terrified man staggered back, clutching his pistol with whitened knuckles.

“The unfolding of events since my entrance should have caused you great caution,” he said. “Instead, you were blinded by your ego.”

“Please.” The tattooed man dropped to his knees, discarding his gun, and rubbing his hands together in plight. “Spare me. P-please. I made a... grave mistake. I can make it right.”

With his arms folded behind his back, he stood before the man. “It’s too late now. Stand up and die like a man.”

The man broke down, tears leaking from his eyes.

“You can either obey my instructions or die in an infinitely more painful manner.”

In the face of a horrifying demise, the man gradually struggled to shaky feet, too scared to even meet his eye.

“In the afterlife, when you next think of spitting on someone, make sure that person is dead and ill-equipped to respond,” he said, his eyes burning with his Cosmonar life force. Then one thin beam started its journey between the man’s legs, traveling up his groin. The man shook violently, sweating profusely and gritting his teeth as an unbearable pain burned in his veins. The sizzling cry of blood evaporating when it came in contact with his beam rippled in the air as he split the man in half from his groin to his head.

“What the fuck are you?” the supposed demon asked.

With the clubhouse quiet and the scent of blood hanging thick, he inspected the man closer. Like every other man before, the supposed demon wore a red and black jacket with the Grimshaw insignia. The man wore a handlebar mustache and a long beard. His visage screamed the stereotypical biker gang leader. There was no ounce of demonic flare.

Regardless, Jalen shrunk into his human form and walked forward, pivoting to an unscathed table only marked with a few streaks of blood, which stood in stark contrast to the surrounding carnage.

He motioned to an empty chair after sitting down himself. “Take a seat.”

The man, baffled by the entire situation, came closer, navigating past the maze of strewn bodies and severed body parts.

“Who are you?” The man asked again after claiming the seat.

“My identity hardly matters,” he said. “All you need to concern yourself with is having the right answers to my questions.”

He held the man’s gaze, gauging his reaction. To the man’s credit, confusion laced with a sliver of fear was the expression he read.

“If you are a demon, prove it,” he said.

The man’s eyes darted in a random direction. Following his eyes, Jalen spotted Dredge, who somehow survived, hiding under a table in the far corner of the expansive room.

“Can’t do that,” the man said. “It’ll blow my cover. After cleaning this… mess, I still plan on leading whatever’s left of the gang. I could offer some information only a demon would know as verification.”

He nodded.

With that confirmation, the man spoke, his tone lowered to a few octaves above a whisper. “The name’s Ratum. I’m an imp hailing from the forgotten lands on the outskirts of Ira, a land of molten rock and ashy air, ruled by a particular demon I cannot name, less I notify him of my location, however insignificant I may be.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. “So why did you leave Hell?”

Ratum opened his mouth, then closed it, a look of utter bewilderment crossing his features. “Ain’t that fucking obvious?” The demon leaned in. “There’s a reason the assholes at the top have free rein to descend from Heaven while we have to wait for the fucking stars to align for a chance to escape. You see, I think it’s a ploy by that giant asshole, Satan, to keep us normal folks down and in the gutter, but… Anyway, let me not bore you with Hell’s politics. You drink?”

He couldn’t lie. The inner workings of hell intrigued him. He even had half a mind to urge the demon to continue talking while almost forgetting his reason for coming here. Furthermore, Ratum appeared increasingly unfazed by the dead bodies scattered around them.

Ratum, not waiting for his answer, turned toward the bar. “Hey, I know you’re hiding under that counter, Lucy. Get up, will you? Get up!” When a frightened woman, shaking in her bones, peeked over the counter, Ratum spoke again, his lips curling into a smile. “There you are. The fellow won’t hurt you, so why don’t you fetch me a tankard of mead?” After the woman rushed off, Ratum turned to him. “Anything?”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“No.” He elected to remind the demon of the circumstances that led to their meeting in an empty clubhouse littered with Ratum’s dead men and perhaps breed some fear back into the demon. “If you had answered my call when I first stepped into this establishment, none of this mess would’ve happened.”

“This?” Ratum pointed to one such decapitated body. “Shit happens. I thought you to be one of the Archdevil of Ira’s boys, here to apprehend me and toss me back in Hell for illegally making use of their portal. Besides, this sight passes for a mundane Tuesday morning in his domain. And life for these men, unfortunately, just began.”

“What do you mean?”

The woman returned, creeping in behind Ratum while still shaking.

“Jesus, woman!” Ratum exclaimed, snatching his mug. “You are spilling the damn thing. Now, take Dredge with you into the back room.” Ratum downed a mighty gulp of the mead while Jalen drummed his fingers on the table. “Now where were we? Oh yes, let me put it for you like this. You see, concerning the mortals, their time on Earth is a momentary glimpse of their life. A blink-and-you-miss-it type of deal. The actual living begins when they go down or up. Or whatever afterlife they believe in. Either way, I hear they don’t like it much in heaven. Still can’t be worse than eternal damnation. The ungrateful fucks.”

He knew what Ratum said to be true, matching the teachings of Christianity. However, it was one thing to read it from the dry scriptures and an entirely different thing to hear it from the mouth of a demon who had experienced it firsthand. That brought forth another troubling thought. Since his mother had passed away and followed the Catholic doctrine, her fate was either heaven or hell. He truly hoped it was the former. Moreover, Abigail and the other sisters were also in the afterlife. If he desired to reunite with all of them again, how would he go about achieving that feat?

With those thoughts swirling in his mind, he asked Ratum a question.

“If someone I know dies and their soul goes to hell, how would I find them?”

Ratum, one hand holding his mug, eyed him with a serious look. “If that is the reason you’re here, let me save you the headache and torment. You can’t.”

“Surely there must be a way.”

“Of course. Like there was a way to reach heaven by erecting a fucking tall-ass tower before the angels punished the Babylonians for their rampant stupidity.” Ratum pushed his mug out of the way toward the edge of the table. “How many mortals do you think have passed through this realm into the afterlife? I did some digging a few years ago, just out of curiosity. Over 100 billion! And most of ‘em end up in Heaven or Hell. Every damned soul in Hell is spread across multiple planes, each ruled by a different Archdevil, who don’t like each other much, putting it likely.

“So, how do you even find a damn soul? First, you gotta know which plane they fell on. Next, you gotta get the Archdevil’s blessing to even think about searching in their territory. Then you’re on the lookout for one individual among billions! And we don’t keep records like these mortals. Plus, here’s the catch: you gotta hurry before they become a demon and turn unrecognizable.”

“Ok, I get it,” he said, sighing. “It would be very difficult.” He leaned back and stared at the smoke-stained ceiling before leveling his gaze at Ratum again. “That wasn’t my reason for coming. I’m looking for a demon.”

“Aren’t we all, some way or another? You got a name?”

“Yes, but I can’t say it. Like the Lord of Ira, the demon will hear her name. And I can’t have her expecting me.”

“Ah, I see.” Ratum retrieved his tankard and took a sip. “She must be rather powerful then. Any identifying details?”

“Yes, she looks like a giant spider with a female upper torso. Golden and black carapace.”

“Ah, yes. You speak of a Tsuchigumo. Very proficient assassins employed by Archdevil, you know who.” Ratum stared at the ceiling, evidently in deep thought. “I pay very close attention to the movements of his demons because my existence here depends on it. Over the past month, word is they’ve been clashing with another powerful demon who uses spawn extensively. That your demon?”

He nodded.

“I see. Well, I do not know her exact whereabouts, nor do I even know if she ever stepped foot in this city. You see, a Tsuchigumo is damned slippery. More so than my kind. If she doesn’t want to be found, you’ll need a miracle to even catch a glimpse of her. However, that stealth doesn’t extend to her spawn. And she has been rather careless with them. Hold on.”

Ratum vacated the table and slipped into a side room. Minutes later, the demon returned with a piece of paper, which he handed to Jalen. “That’s all the locations I know of where her spawn are hiding out.”

He glanced at the sheet of paper. “Thanks for the help.”

As he stood up and went to the rack to retrieve his coat, Ratum said. “Next time, please refrain from cutting down this many of my men. They are hard enough to replace as it is.”

“Noted,” he said. “I may have gone overboard there because of the spitting. Have a good day, Ratum.”

By the time his feet reached the snow, he had already transformed. He read the sheet of paper again, committing the badly scribbled addresses to memory. Thankfully, Ratum knew his geography, unlike Prillon. His next course of action had never been so straightforward—head to the nearest location.

Prillon reappeared sometime on his flight over, struggling to keep up, so he slowed down.

“That right there is how you get shit done.” Prillon beamed with a palpable joy. “Oh, I was so impressed. It nearly moved me to tears.”

Shaking his head, he asked. “You were there?”

“Of bloody course! First, I became a fly to gain entry unnoticed. Then I was a piece of modern art hanging on their wall. How could I miss that showdown? The only thing that could top that now is heading to hell, finding those fucking bastards, however impossible that may be, and pissing all over them while they’re forced to wade through a river of molten lava. It’ll be so worth it. Oh, I miss home.”

The fuck is wrong with his guy?

He glanced at the daydreaming demon. “You like Hell?”

“Of bloody course! Why wouldn’t I? I could barely stand the bullshit that failed excuse of an imp was spilling. Living amongst the mortals? I’d rather be a slave in Heaven than sooner debase my… Wait. I take that back. Where are we headed, anyway?”

“We?”

“Yes, we. Until this entire ordeal is done, I can’t exactly return to my master with no answers to her request. Besides, I offered my help for your cooperation. Remember? So where are we going?”

He expelled a tired breath. “To the gym.”