Once you understood that I had to kill all demons, everything made sense. I killed all demons, and then killed some more. But wait - if I killed them all already, how would there be more to kill? See, that was where the madness lie. The job wouldn’t end. There were never any fewer demons, no matter how many I killed. Could I kill more? Yes. Yes, I had to. Could I kill fewer? Disgusting. No.

I wiped her blood from my face. Perhaps I should have left my mask up.

[Dare I ask?]

“Kill all demons,” I murmured.

[I understand… no further questions.]

He had a point, even without making one. Usually a person would reject another’s advances with a polite but firm no. Blowing her brains out leaned a bit more to the extreme on that scale. Probably a mercy compared to what Pearl would have done to her, but I shouldn’t let that be an excuse for my cold heart. I had let her live from the outset because it amused me, and she had outlived the joke.

“I’m sorry.” I shook my head at my patron. “Right now I’m being a bad Eric.”

[Corruption.]

I puckered my lips, unsure with how to respond to that statement. A simple ‘yes’ would probably do the job. Bloodthirsty. I could be at home, relaxing or doing something more productive with my time than punching down at who knows what, or why.

“At least that’s a name to rub off the whiteboard, Rodney.” I shrugged, deflating slightly at allowing myself some introspection. Ironically, her blood had a cooling effect on me, made me hold myself to account. Thanks, I guess.

//Yeah. Passage says to bring the shotgun back with you.

My brow furrowed, and I looked down at the discarded weapon. Wight picked it up and handed it to me. Powered by demonic ammunition, but I couldn’t seem to put my own in there to load it. It was frustrating.

//He can… we’ll talk when you’re back.

“Roger that, home base.” I clucked my tongue and tried to find my momentum.

Did I even want to continue now? I felt like I took a joke too far and now nobody was laughing. I was just the fool.

[You can blame me, if you like. I need to go home and work on my drawings.]

I smiled at the bird-demon, and exhaled through my nose, deflating into my normal self. “Let’s go, Wight - but it’s my call. We killed the target and there was some collateral. Job done.”

He nodded to me and handed me his knife. Remarkably clean, considering.

I stepped back through into the basement, the brief inertia barely registering.

Rodney looked up from his tablet. “Thanks for letting Passage and I have a proper go out there, Eric.”

There wasn’t much I could do but shrug and go to sink into the recliner. I placed the shotgun on the floor as Wight joined us on this plane.

[How did you find it, the Rodney?]

“Pretty great, actually.” He rubbed his chin and paused for a moment before disconnecting his earpiece. “Some of it is things being said in my ear, like someone else is on the call - but some things I just know innately now. It’s odd.”

“Is it… concerning?” I narrowed my eyes at him, but the rest of my body seemed unresponsive.

“Compared to what you get up to, no.”

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[Early days.]

Wight dragged a box over to us to sit down, his clawed hands reaching to pick the gun up onto his lap. Maybe I should get him a little chair or something. Seemed unfair to have him relegated to storage boxes.

“Didn’t want to say it on open comms,” Rodney began, “but Passage said he used to work with the Org on pact weapon stuff before being changed to Recon. He’s retained some knowledge… that he shouldn’t have.”

I exchanged glances with Wight. Patrons going beyond their supposed rigid limits weren’t anything new to the gang - but had the potential for either greatness or trouble. Probably both, depending on how loyal Passage was to us.

[Passage can make another pact weapon?]

“Almost. He said he would need to look, but probably not a proper pact weapon as that ties into your pact vessel and all that… bullshit - his words.”

“He can make it at least accept our demonic energy, then?” Even if we couldn’t use our abilities through it, having another tool in our arsenal would be a huge boon. I imagined Wight wielding it as my sidekick - maybe a little fedora on his head.

“That’s my understanding.” Rodney nodded and continued to unhook the rest of his gear.

I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair. New shiny toys aside, there was something I was missing. The corruption was sinking away again, the tide of insanity slowly withdrawing from the shore of my mind. With it, it had taken away some key information - like what time of day it was. Did I have another Quest to do before promotion? What was I supposed to do about the whole Isaac-Church thing?

Maybe I just needed some food. That was it - Isaac had interrupted breakfast. We’d thrown him out and Rodney came back. Lots of cleaning and then a little shooting.

“Food,” I said, clearing the air.

“Uh… yes?” Rodney wrinkled up his face, unsure whether I was demanding or suggesting. It was the latter.

[I could also eat.]

Somehow, I managed to scrape myself from the chair and stumble my way toward the stairs. I needed to get a grip on staying safe and sane. Going after Claude was a mistake with how corrupted I was, compounded by delving into the devils. It was only thanks to my specialization that I wasn’t a pool of muck on the basement floor. We needed to be smarter about this if I was to survive.

But how to unlock my divine powers? I cupped my jaw in thought as the other two followed me up the stairs. Patron, demonic, and balance forces all had a clear instance where they entered my life - but the source of the divine I couldn’t place. When was my first use? Last Light against Cherub?

Certainly, that was the most overt use. Was there anything more latent that had carried me through Hell and back? It was a lot of thinking, for a brain turned weak by oblivion.

I turned at the kitchen doorway as the pair stopped in the dining room. Somehow, it felt like the answer was right in front of me, but I just couldn’t see it yet.

[Is there a reason you are glaring at me, Eric?]

“Yeah. Not sure why, yet.”

He shrugged his bird arms and turned to look at the rather sorry looking table. Part of me considered replacing it or telling Rodney to add it to the online shopping list, but if Pearl had found us a potential new home, I doubted we’d be doing the normal furniture removal charade.

I stepped into the kitchen with a sigh. Destined hero of the mortal world and I couldn’t even decide what I wanted to eat. Did I even want to cook? Or just ram down all the core ingredients of a dish, and let my stomach figure it out?

“What does everyone feel like?” I called through to the other room.

[A demon.]

“Whatever, really.”

My tired eyes moved over to the block of wood that housed all the good cutting knives. And by good, I didn’t mean morally. I closed my eyes to get the vivid imagery of flashing silvers and bright red blood out of my head. I was in control.

I used this moment to search around my internal space for the divine thread of power. The demonic stuff reacted immediately, like I had just disturbed a rather gothic-looking jellyfish within me. Move away, I tried to gesture to it, as if it was obscuring my view. Below it sat the bowl of true names, still the only one wiggling grub left standing.

Mentally I picked it up and moved it, surprised briefly to be met with an expanse of pale gray. A flat wall that was leaning to one side. Unbalanced. Even with my eyes closed, they rolled hard. As if the metaphor wasn’t blunt enough, my jellyfish of dark power swam over to the right-hand side where it was tilted. I played this little game and looked down at the left.

At first, there looked to be nothing. Then, a small glowing orb caught my attention - something barely an inch across, sitting on the floor of my infinite void. It looked just like the Last Light shot, just hanging about in the darkness. I couldn’t seem to manipulate it or get any closer to make out more. It was infuriating. What really was it? How could I make it larger?

All questions left to the wind, as my brief meditative state faded away. My stomach growled - clearly thinking was a bit too much for my present state without some sustenance.

“Fuck!” Rodney’s voice came loudly from the dining room.

In a flash, I stepped through to them and raised my eyebrows. I looked over at the Blank. He was pale, shaking a little.

Immediately, whatever calm within me was replaced by the harsh winds of panic. “What? What is it?”

He held up his phone, eyes wide. “Org. One of the portals has been activated.”