Corruption affects us all in different ways. To exist in the Hells is a torture on the mind, body, and soul. Many Hunters come away from the experience changed. Others more harshly than they deserved or too terrible to live through. In this aspect, I had hit the figurative lottery jackpot.

I had endured more than most my Level, and come out the other side with most of my mental faculties still intact. If anything, the smooth edge worn on the wheel of my existence had turned into one of acceptance. Apathy or dissociation, perhaps. There was an understanding that demons existed, and my duty was to kill them. Aside from the one I shared a bed with - and the one that occasionally possessed me. Maybe I wasn’t so unscathed.

The portal was brief; my resistance seemed to have shortened the maddening ride through the tunnels between realities into a second of discomfort.

And then, there I was.

Amber and red illuminated dried stone, wide plains of barren rock scorched under the constant heat and light of the impossibly tall walls encircling the Lower Hells. With a brief sigh, I withdrew my silver revolver and pooled my own demonic energy inside the five cylinders.

The flash of pink beside me signalled Pearl’s arrival. She gave me a slight smile and nudged me to look almost behind us as though I had been clumsy with my landing.

I couldn’t help but let my jaw drop at first sight of our intended quarry. With a whistle, I gently shook my head. “A Titan? How’d you manage to get the locale for one of these?”

Calling it a Titan was a discredit to the sheer enormity of the monster. Somewhat rare within the Lower Hells, these gigantic spawns lumbered through the unending horrors that lay within this plane, consuming or destroying all in their wake. Sometimes worse.

This particular one looked like a bulbous goblin shark, with six stocky legs scarred by the potential aeons it had cruised this barren land. By my estimation, it was around fifty feet tall, possibly one-hundred-and-twenty long. Although, I had never been good with numbers. On the side we were facing, a large black eye stared off impassively towards the horizon.

“I don’t just spend my time washing your dirty socks, Eric Redd.” She rolled those pearlescent eyes at me.

“Huh, I thought the washing machine did that.” My obsidian mask slowly rose over my face as her expression became a scowl.

She adjusted her grip on the sword. “Perhaps next time we go home covered in gore and ichor, I will strip us both down and watch you scrub them clean instead.”

I worked my jaw in brief contemplation. “I can’t tell if you’re mad or just flirting now.”

“Good.” She turned away to look at the monstrosity but was unable to hide the hint of a smirk.

Annoying each other aside, I wasn’t too sure about the prospects of taking Jaws down. Not when I could fit easily under one of its feet. Wrinkling my nose beneath my mask, I raised my hand over my glasses to try and see better.

“It has a platform built atop it, can you see?”

I nodded. “A howdah.”

“What was that?”

“Howdah.”

“How-dah, partner,” she snorted and pushed my shoulder.

Despite my groan and hidden grimace, I was somewhat impressed. That was a cowboy jibe I hadn’t heard before. Part of me started to wonder if she had presented this whole set-up as an excuse to make that joke. That would be an especially demon thing to do. Well, perhaps if I did end up as an Eric Redd pancake.

I eyed her up to make sure that wasn’t the long con we had been slowly leading up to. She seemed to be too focused on the Titan and not playing along with my mental delusions. Back in the box, paranoia.

“Who’s up there then?” Even with my ability to soak up more corruption unaffected, it didn’t make my eyes super-powered. The platform had a covered top which managed to shadow the occupants.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Pearl shrugged. “Want to go find out?”

It would certainly beat languishing around the house. Most might find me crazy to shirk the easy life of a day spent in great company with good food. To willingly dive into Hell and face whatever dangers were within. Languishing made you soft, a terrible weapon. Doesn’t matter if it was sex and overindulgence or misery and depression. You stop moving, and the tide overtakes you.

Drowning was something that-

“Hey, Eric? We’ll keep score again. Loser has to wash up later?”

It was hard to settle within the filthy muck in my head. Anytime my inner swine was content to wallow in the overcooked mud of my dour imagination, there Pearl was with a hand outstretched to lull me away. Not that I could complain; life had certainly smelt better recently.

“You’re on,” I grinned as we started to run toward the colossal beast.

I knew she would win, but it was the taking part that would count. A dance we wove to hone each other - although, I felt like it was more for my benefit, seeing as she was much higher Level than I was currently.

Approaching the Titan was humbling. The old Eric would have been terrified, and the amount of Hell corruption the monster exuded would be maddening. At this point in my life, it was uncomfortable and unsettling. Solo, with neither Wight nor Pearl, there wouldn’t be much chance of me taking it down. I had basic demonic ammunition - and if sufficiently damaged, then I could activate my berserk state - but no other special abilities.

It had made grinding away at the Lowers a little more of a struggle, but Pearl had carried her fair share of the burden. She wouldn’t tell me her actual level, but it had to be at least Twenty, seeing as she originally came from the High Hells. Maybe even closer to Thirty. Despite the amazing power she held over me, it was never something I felt in our day-to-day.

We slid to a stop a good two dozen feet from the monster, our tiny forms too ant-like for it even to register us as a threat at this stage.

“Hey!” I yelled up. “Nice horse. Any demons up there need killing?"

“Really, Eric?” Pearl rolled her eyes.

A few seconds of silence passed as a lumbering foot stomped against the dried ground. I could feel the vibrations of each step up through my bones. Now that we were closer, the smell of the thing became an almost tangible presence. Unsurprisingly it stank of rotten fish. And then, from the shadows of the how- platform, a blue head stuck out.

“Who the fuck- oh, a Hunter? You got a death wish?”

Perhaps.

“Come down here and find out!” I wasn’t a huge fan of yelling - although I wasn’t the most self-conscious of people, raising my voice in this wide-open hellscape felt like I was inviting trouble from every dirtied crack of oblivion. Nothing new there, I supposed.

The head vanished back into the gloom.

“Either we are being ignored,” Pearl sighed, waving her sword in the air for a few test swings, “or they are rallying the troops.”

I hadn’t seen demons like these before - but I’d heard of them. Essentially part fish themselves, although it seemed a bit reductive and cliche to call them fishmen. They were the pirates of the Lower Hells and… I shook my head, realising how far the absurdity could stretch when you allowed it. There must be things even weirder that still lay undiscovered.

Then, the Titan stopped. The last step shook the dust from nearby rocks as it stood motionless. From the platform above, five ropes were thrown down for the occupants to descend.

“That seems really dangerous.” I scratched my nose. “For them, I mean.”

“Agreed. If they just plan to slide down into our waiting-“

A cracking sound echoing around the area stopped Pearl’s train of thought as dark shapes sprung from the top of the platform. Briefly darkening the sky, faint shadows briefly kissed the ground around us.

“Nets,” Pearl titled her head.

As the handful of black shapes descended down towards us, figures began pouring out from the darkened depths, grabbing onto the ropes with spears and tridents held. A couple stood at the edge of the platform to ready their long weapons to throw down at us.

Wrinkling my nose, I took aim with my revolver. A demonic shot rang out from my gun and shredded one of the ropes about a foot from the platform. In an almost cartoon manner, the dark, sinewy threads started to unravel one by one until it snapped, sending the three fishmen to crash to the ground nearby.

“That’s a bit unsportsmanly, Eric.”

I gave an exaggerated shrug to her. If I had wanted to, I could have shot down another two before the nets landed upon us.

Which they promptly did. I barely managed to keep my footing as they collided with our waiting figures; despite their size and the width of the rope, they were reasonably light. If anything. That just made me more worried about what kind of depraved or insidious material they could be made from.

The first of the fishmen had arrived at the floor now and whooped and hollared at their fresh catches. I appreciated the irony. Their odd fish heads were contorted in strange approximations of joy, and I was unsurprised to notice their wide gaping mouths were filled with razor-sharp teeth. Those almost came as standard down here.

“I’ll let you get a head start,” Pearl purred, “if you want me to play the damsel in distress?”

I looked through the thick netting to watch her coy smile. The part of Eric Redd that constantly screamed what the fuck over and over about my current situation had gotten smaller and smaller over the weeks.

Here I was, captured by demons, courting a demon and having a game of killing demons to blow off steam casually - all while being part demon myself now. It was inconceivably beyond imagination.

And I loved every second of it.