A word wasn't spoken among them. There was nothing to say, for all of them were withdrawn in their own thoughts.

Virgil, righteous revenge.

Noel, the saving of his savior.

Lucius, the impending plummet into the gaping maw of the beast that is guilt.

The only sounds filling the hunter's ears was their footwear crunching dirt with a thirst yearning for any semblance of hydration. Surrounding them was the flourishing vegetation of grass. The only proof of any human having been among the semi-barren field were the discordant collection of skeletons strewn about; withered skulls and rib cages shattered like porcelain beneath the group's steps.

The only light befalling the band of demon hunters' path was the radiance of distant stars tainted by bloodshot moonlight– the only thing the nyctophilic sky had always offered.

The walled city was within sight. It was heavily fortified with knights donning an upside-down cross as their garment's crest. A symbol of allegiance to demonkind. A symbol that, worn by people, spat in the face of what they stood for.

Conviction fueled the fire in their eyes as much as it did their trek to approach the settlement to begin with; it was not "close to here". Lucius questioned the entire groups' sense of distance. It would be that same conviction, though, that would drive them in combat.

For Michael.

The demon hunters drew closer, and the knights drew their blades. An equal number of them, and an equal number of hunters. An all-out battle. They would fight the unholy knights, and the unholy knights them.

The knights stood their ground. They were ready to guard the wall with their lives. They knew what it meant for the rest of the city.

If they didn't want to advance, then the bastion of bastards would bring the fight to them. It began with Virgil's pace picking up. He let out a battle cry before breaking out in a full sprint; his brothers-and-sisters in arms followed suit.

It was here. The fight. The place where Lucius would have to shed human blood. Would it matter if he felt bad about it after? Would remorse absolve him of his sins? If there was no God that loved humans, who could forgive him? So many questions, and Lucius didn't have time to think about the morality of his actions– such is the cruelty of violence's nature. All he could do is focus on the person in front of him and take his blade to them, lest the same thing happen to him.

Blades balladed, flesh was rend, and the sounds of dying breaths vacating vocal chords all filled the battlefield. In the midst of the bloodshed, locked in a silent standoff, the demon-worshiping knight and Lucius circled each other like a binary star system. Two gazes interlocked; fiery determination met with a desolated spirit.

The knight's blade was much smaller, and so he'd need to be quicker. Deadlier. He had one shot. He'd have to kill Lucius before the man swung his titanic blade and divided him in two effortlessly. Divided in two effortlessly. The prospect of getting cut by that monster sapped the fire from the knight's eyes and replaced it with horror.

That was all the demon hunter needed.

Seeing fear in the man's soul, Lucius moved only a bit, causing the knight to overreact by shutting his eyes and slashing empty air with a belligerent yell– a yell that was succinctly silenced by Lucius's gargantuan weapon coming down and splitting him in two. With one stroke, he had reduced the unfaithful knight to a profane form of gore. He did not fade away as a demon would, no; the testament of what he'd done was laid before him.

And he loved it.

Lucius couldn't help it, that uncontrollable urge he'd been suppressing. It'd been the whole reason why he never took his blade to another human, and now that sanctity had been violated. The bloodlust within him climaxed, and all he could do was burst into a fit of laughter.

Back-to-back, Noel and Virgil heard Lucius's manic laugh.

"... Sheesh. Someone's enjoyin' this, am I right?"

"Focus," Virgil demanded as a knight approached each of them.

"Right."

They made quick work of the knights; all Noel needed was a knife throw with the knight's eye socket as its target, and all Virgil needed was a swift lop of the head before the knight could perceive what happened.

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Lucius's laughter dwindled down, and so did the chaos of the battle– the dance of death had its curtains drawn on it with one last decisive blade plunge through a knight's heart.

And it was silent once more.

With a steady exhale, Lucius hoisted his blade back over his shoulder. He didn't want to think about what he had done. Not right now.

As though killing knights gave the group–with no casualties suffered–permission to enter, the doors creaked open before halting with a DOOM sound, as one would expect woodborne doors of such a proportion to do. The doors opening revealed that the city's insides were an expansive neighborhood interconnected by a stone road. The only signs of inhabitants were the worried, watchful eyes of civilians from windows. Furthermost from the entrance was a castle which peeked over the walls.

The doors also revealed even more knights waiting for them.

And so the band of demon hunters pushed forth, and fought through.

"Noel," Virgil called out, "Michael has to be in that castle. Go save him. We've got these guys."

Noel, being commandeered as the one to save him, couldn't contain his smile. He then turned to Lucius.

"Come on!"

And so the duo pushed ahead, spilling even more blood, until they were no longer in the battle's vicinity, placing faith in the rest of the group winning. Their objective now was the castle where Michael is theorized to be held. They were on the precipice of victory, and high morale was mutually shared. Lucius especially felt unstoppable; he'd never known defeat at the hands of man or demon.

As they made their way through the castle, they began to feel an aura of such wickedness, a thousand demons put together couldn't replicate it. A strong demon– a really strong demon dwelled within the castle. Neither Lucius or Noel had ever felt this potency of evil, and so a look of concern inscribed itself within both of their faces.

Nevertheless, they pressed on to the uppermost floor. The throne room. By now, the sinister atmosphere was potent, engraving itself in the crevices of the minds of both hunters. It planted seeds of doubt, but the willpower of both men uprooted the seed before it could blossom.

They were now at the throne room's door, and an organ playing a sinister tune was audible– yet muffled from behind the door.

Finally, what they came here to do. And Noel couldn't wait. With a shoulder charge he barged open the throne room's door, and the organ's sounds were given clarity. The tune perfectly encapsulated the shock of the horrific sight both hunters were greeted with.

Their leader, Michael, was shackled by chains, and had a blade lodged in his chest– sword impaling his heart. His blood was being collected in containers.

Playing the organ a good distance ahead of Michael–and closer to the demon hunter duo–was a shirtless man, eyes shrouded by corvid-colored hair. Multiple patterned scars riddled his body.

That was the man who killed Michael.

And unparalleled rage boiled within Noel.

"What the fuck did you do to Michael?!" he bellowed before he sprinted full-speed at the man.

"Noel, wait!" Lucius called out– all he could do was reach out an arm to a man that was already out of arm's reach.

With an ear-piercing crescendo, the man's organ solo concluded and he rose from his chair to face his attacker. Noel, with feral yells, slashed at him several times– all were effortlessly dodged. He then brandished his gun to spill the contents within his skull. A gunshot rang out, but to no avail, for that was evaded too. Noel's desperate cries of rageful revenge alongside his blade speeding past the man's face filled the room. Lucius couldn't watch as his comrade fought alone, so he ran in to help.

But it was too late.

The man's hair swayed aside for a moment, revealing eyes like the moon. This was no man of evil. This was a demon who looked like one. And the demon's hand tightened into a fist before it was driven into Noel's abdomen with a gut-wrenching thud.

What followed after was glass shattering.

The demon's punch sent Noel through one of the castle's windows, and the only thing he could do was reach his hand out to catch himself onto something– anything. But he couldn't.

"NOEL!" Lucius screamed with widened eyes.

He had not the time to grieve, for his heart sank when he realized he was alone to face this demon of insurmountable strength.

He was alone.

Sweat coagulated into beads which slicked down his face. His heart went arrhythmic. His palms felt uncomfortably moist. His breathing became labored. This was it. For the first time in a while, Lucius felt something from a demon:

Fear. And it was exacerbated by him attempting to hide it.

And this demon made his way to the throne room's opposite side– towards a collection of weapons. His index finger glossed over the blades without a nick before he picked up a lengthy sword and pointed it at Lucius.

Then came a scoff from the demon as he put it back.

"Never really liked using weapons," he spoke, making his way towards a frozen Lucius with decisive steps. "There's no thrill in that. The real fun? That's in these," he emphasized while holding his hands up.

The only thing the lone demon hunter could do was listen. He knew a preemptive attack meant a preemptive death.

"I am Cain. I am violence incarnate. The scars on my body are not from battles. They're scars I etch into myself to count the demon hunters I've killed. You are no different."

Cain outstretched a finger towards Lucius, whose hands were white-knuckled, glued to the hilt of his blade. This is a different stratosphere of demonic power; one that Lucius was not sure any man could best.

"Land one hit. Just one. If you do, you win."

And so their gazes locked; wickedness piercing fear.

It was now or never. Inaction would be his demise. So, he gathered all the bravery within him, and bellowed:

"CAAAIN!"

Before sprinting at him with a life-preserving resolve, blade poised to cleave the demon in two.

And Cain was ready for it.