Eric Redd stepped out of the other side of the demonic portal, confusion painting his face.

Perhaps he was alarmed as to why he had gone to Hell alone without waking the others—especially in as little as a pair of shorts and his ridiculous hat. Or it could be that he didn’t know this location, an office of rich wooden furniture dimly illuminated by nothing more than a lantern.

Most likely, it was more the inability to hear his own thoughts. The drab introspection he was usually familiar with now disjointed, as if his brain truly had been emptied out in a room quite similar to this not so long ago.

“Who are you, and what have you done to me?” the cliche gunslinger asked, hand reaching down to his oversized pea-shooter.

The truth was sitting in a large leather chair behind a wide desk. The answer resting on a snake-like tongue behind a wide grin of sharp teeth. Eric’s right eye twitched, the revolver not drawn yet—either a sign of fear or perhaps these sorts of things were so rote to him he need not escalate the situation until necessary.

Even so, his jaw worked as the demon before him stood up from the chair. Easily eight feet tall, with skin of a foul yellow that bordered on green, his pale eyes seemed to be more pits of white light rather than traditional orbs that could be plucked or burst. Not that Eric was currently in such a mind to enact violence on this figure.

Wings of an ash-gray color expanded from behind the demon, their expertly tailored black suit barely containing a clearly well-muscled physique. Horns of black curled up and around the side of their head. An impressive demon, all things considered.

“To answer your questions,” the demon spoke, his voice oddly smooth and comforting, “perhaps first, you’d like to take a seat?” With talons like polished daggers, he gestured towards a chair.

Eric nodded briefly, but said nothing. Still trying to scream through his inner monologue, but unable to hear it. A fate worse than death for a man so tied to his constant noir musings. His limbs stiff and barely responding, he went and sunk himself down onto the crimson leather seat opposite the speaker.

“My name is Hollag’krep-za, but you may call me… Frank” He smiled, seemingly amused at himself for the choice.

“Eric,” the Demon Hunter responded, “but I’m sure you already knew that.”

“I’ve heard many things about you, that is for certain.” Frank sat back down in his own chair. “Forgive me for wanting to meet you in person outside of your normal business hours.” His eyes ran up and down Eric’s lack of clothing.

“You are forgiven,” he responded.

The response seemed to elicit more humor in the large demon. “I can see now that you are unlike most of your kind. Consider me surprised, and intrigued.”

Eric sighed and deflated into the chair. “If you’re going to offer me further power to do your bidding, then I’m already fully booked on that sort of thing. Is this going to be a common occurrence in the Mids?” His eyes lazily looked around at the furnishings of the office.

“Oh? You think you are in the Mids?” The sharp-toothed grin widened further.

The Demon Hunter furrowed his brow. “Some kind of Domain then? Something that messes with my head and sense of person?”

Frank slowly shook his head. “Oh, Eric. If only I had a window in the office, so that I could put my arm around you and say ‘Welcome to the Higher Hells, kiddo’.”

“Higher Hells,” the man repeated, a blank expression on his face.

“Forgive this insinuation, but your mind is out of sorts due to not being used to… the amount of power I wield.” The grin turned into more of a smirk. “Your mortal soul is trying to dissociate from being here.”

“That makes some sense.” Eric nodded, although his face didn’t seem to sell his belief in the idea very well.

The demon tapped the tips of his talons on the desk and tilted his head. “Honestly, at first I wanted to bring you here to sate my curiosity. A demon from the Highs in cohorts with a human is as odd for us as I’m sure it is on your side of the planes. Some view it with complete disdain.”

“How do you see it?”

“It is not for me to judge who another demon fucks. Both love and lust can be as powerful a force as hate and anger, and we thrive on such petty emotions, just as the mortals do.” He smiled again, his eyes flickering. “Now that I’ve seen you in the… flesh, I can understand it. Even now, I can feel you trying to think of ways to kill me—if it can be possible with the pitiful skills you have now.”

“I can hardly even hear myself think that, so I’m glad you can.” Eric gave him a wry grin.

“Hold up your non-dominant hand.”

The Demon Hunter did so, raising his left into the air with an eyebrow raised. A couple of seconds passed, and then a line of crimson circled around his wrist. Without ceremony, his severed hand dropped off from the rest of the limb and onto the floor.

“If you did not see me attack, then perhaps that sweeps away your notion of fighting me. Humans can regenerate limbs, correct?” His brow furrowed.

“Not usually, but I can.” Eric stared at the wound. It was a clean cut, almost surgical, and already cauterized. He hadn’t even felt the displacement of the air from whatever weapon was used. Perhaps it wasn’t a traditional weapon at all, but some kind of demon… magic.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Frank narrowed his eyes. “That’s… interesting.”

I wasn’t sure whether he meant that normal humans couldn’t regenerate, or because… oh, hello again, me. A calm washed over me, even despite losing the limb I’d now have to explain to everyone tomorrow. Pain in my ass, these demons. Pain did always help sober my thoughts, though. Now I knew what was at stake and where I stood. My soul had found some peace with the difference in power.

“Generally dismembering people has the opposite effect on their psyche.” Frank grinned once more. “How unique you truly are, Eric.”

The Frank was a lot more cordial than I was expecting a demon from the Highs to be—even despite my only other experience with someone like that was the Pearl, who I was plenty more than cordial with. Perhaps he was… wait, when did I start adding ‘the’ to the start of names? My brow furrowed again.

“You are wondering why your patron is influencing you, correct?”

My eyes went back up at him, confusion mixing with odd feelings that I wasn’t sure how to unpack under duress.

“You may not be hungry for further powers, Eric. But you are thirsty—nay, parched—for knowledge. Am I not right?”

“I’m missing out on my beauty sleep. How about we cut the theatrics and get down to what you’re offering and what you want from me?”

Frank clicked his tongue and leaned back into his chair, the leather complaining from the movement. “And here I thought Hunters liked a cliche. My request is a solitary, simple thing. Something close to your heart already, I presume.”

I narrowed a glare at him. Nothing good, no doubt. There was still a whirr of questions and problems circling inside me without being further labored over whatever this demon felt like I needed.

“Eric, I want you to destroy the Org.”

Despite my location being presumably at the deepest—or highest, depending on how you orientated it—part of Hell, I shivered. Who didn’t want that at this point?

“Not that I really need the exposition, but you could tell me why?” The question left my lips despite feeling tired of the inevitable explanation.

He grinned. “The Org itself is not a threat than concerns us. You Demon Hunters are amusing at worst, and help keep the dregs in the Lowers on their toes at best. I am of the belief that the Org themselves are preventing the Divine from being connected to the other planes.”

That wasn’t a new theory, but it felt odd coming from such a demon who was presumably evil. “You seek balance across the planes?”

Frank snorted and rolled his bright eyes. “Nothing so selfless, I assure you. Most demons up here are content to lick their own assholes for amusement, thinking the smell of shit was the height of culture.” His talons once again drummed on the desk. “I seek bloodshed, and there is no greater equal in battle than the Angels.”

Something remarkably selfish and violent, then. That made more sense and was understandable, almost. If I had to fight base pigmen for the rest of my career, I’d be pretty bored after so long as well. “There’s a lot of complications with your request.”

“Of course. If it was something easily done, I would have some Mid jack-offs do the deed. A lot of them are currently wetting themselves over some resurrection plan.” He shook his head.

I felt like he would get on well with Partridge, perhaps. If the latter’s head wouldn’t explode on being here. “You know of the plan, but aren’t assisting or invested?”

“Mid plans are always doomed to fail, especially when the goals are so lofty.” His smile was like that of a disappointed parent.

Easy for him to say. It was poor saps like me who were the ones to ensure that the plans failed. Knowing how incompetent a lot of the demons in the Lowers were, it didn’t seem too out of left field an observation though, and he may have more experience on the subject that I did.

I clenched my eyes tight and sighed before relaxing. Would much rather be in bed. “So let’s circle back to the top. Let’s say I’m on board with the idea. The main sticking point is my pact demon.”

“Wight, yes.” Frank tilted his head. “I do hope you’ll forgive him for dragging you here.”

Wight did this? But how? He went up to his room. I had been alone and hadn’t felt his presence. Frank must have been able to read the confusion on my face, like a particularly under-dressed book.

“Nothing so insidious or backstabbing, unfortunately. There is part of him within you that I was able to draw on, like a leash.” He wrinkled up his face and rubbed his chin. “It’s not something I would usually busy myself with, but you are in a unique position, Eric.”

“Powerful enough to destroy the Org?”

“It’s not often so many great powers invest in a single, lowly mortal.”

I took some offense at being called ‘lowly’. Eric Redd was the pinnacle of… uh, okay, maybe he got me there. “Alright, so what’s in it for me?”

“Aside from saving the mortal plane and maybe all of existence?” He gave me a coy smile, as if heroics alone should satiate my appetite.

“A lowly mortal needs a little more than that. I am sure you can understand that I crave something greater.”

An eyebrow raised. “Naturally. I must say you are remarkably refreshing to speak with, Eric. I can see what Pearl finds so alluring about you. You seek some manner of safety and permanence after the deed is done, and answers to questions that have hung on your shoulders for so long.”

I nodded. That about settled things. A life beyond the Org, if such a thing could be imagined. A chance to relax and decompress from the traumatic life I led. Live my life with my found family without the constant pressure to go and kill all demons. A pipe dream long clogged with the misery of reality.

“What kind of answers?” I asked, to see if we were on the same page.

“What Wight really is. How you both may survive once the Org lays in ruins.”

My mouth dried. Demons liked to ply you with deals when you were the most desperate. Grab what they could in their favor while giving you the bare minimum. I knew when I was being manipulated, Higher Demon or not. “If you truly know what he is, then you know that we both can’t survive the separation.”

“Eric Redd,” he tutted, “if you truly knew what you were, you have a little more… faith.” The phrase seemed to amuse him, but didn’t have the same effect on me.

“Alright, alright.” I waved my right hand at him. “No need to lay it on so thick. Destroying the Org was an inevitability, but it’ll have to wait until I’ve dealt with the Mid demons and their bullshit.”

“Acceptable.” The amusement faded from his face. “I couldn’t expect you to turn on them on a dime, but I appreciate that you’re already onboard with the plan. If you want to earn my favor, I have some smaller requests. Perhaps then I can tilt the scales when you finally agree to… do what is needed.”

I rolled my eyes. Side-quests. “How do I know you’re not an Org plant ready to out me as a traitor as soon as I’m back home?”

He smiled and stood from his desk. “I will show you something, but I suggest you use your pact ability immediately. You are not ready to exist here.” Frank held out his arm and clicked his fingers.

I returned home, falling to the floor as my eyeballs burst violently across the gray stone. I took a deep breath and fought the full force of corruption trying to break my mind. It was only a brief flash, but I had seen it all. The pinnacle of Hell, a palace of mind-bending proportions, and the completely overwhelming power within it. The half-eaten burger came back up, as my right hand clenched at the basement as if it could help tether me to reality.

Soft footsteps walked in front of me.

[Well then, just where have you been, Eric?]