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Blood dripped down, leaking out from the twin slices in Gyoumei’s arms as he stood, facing out into the night. He knew this would probably get him killed - the creature he was here to parley with was not known for treating those with frivolous concerns well. If he even came. However, Gyoumei needed to have hope. The thought of his children under the thumb of that warlord? No, it could not be allowed to continue.
Drip, drip, drip. The small pool of blood was spreading on the floor. Gyoumei was all too aware of the burning, hot life that was escaping his body, but still he stood impassively. It would not do to show weakness.
“Why have you brought me here, monk?” The voice was patient and kind, but that didn’t stop all the hairs on Goyemi’s arms standing in alarm. After all, a true apex predator had just made itself known.
Gyoumei dropped to his knees in supplication. “Please, Lord, my wards, my children. They have been taken by a warlord for his army!”
Soft hands reached forward and took Gyoumei’s large, calloused palms in them. Delicate fingers wrapped around his wrists and pulled him gently to his feet. Despite the kind, gentle motion of the creature, Gyoumei’s senses were far more heightened than any normal humans, and he could feel the restrained violence in those hands. It had taken incredible control for the demon king to gently raise him to his feet, rather than tear his arms from their sockets in a violent tug.
The gesture both warmed Gyoumei’s heart and filled it with fear. An interesting, and new, combination of feelings for the large man. While he may be no stranger to fear, what with raising multiple children who all seemed to find no end of chaos and danger to place themselves in, he very rarely found himself in true physical danger. But stood in front of this creature, he was painfully aware that any wrong move on his part and he would be torn apart and eaten.
“Have no fear, gentle monk. The use of children in war is abhorrent. I shall go and speak to this warlord, and return your children to you.” Gyoumei heard the demon take a deep intake of breath, before the sense of him vanished in an instant. No noise altered him as to where he had gone, nor did he leave any smell behind in his wake.
Sighing, Gyoumei turned and returned inside to staunch the bleeding. While barbaric, the knowledge that at any time a demon could descend on bloody scenes kept thugs and criminals weary at night. It was a rather strange world to live in, nowadays. It was as recent as his mothers generation, before him, who had spoken of the night in hushed whispers, and of the demon king who would appear to punish any foolish enough to leave their homes while the stars held court.
But something had changed, maybe twenty, or perhaps thirty years ago. The random demon attacks had ended, and instead targeted assaults on those who harm innocents had begun. The powerful and the rich, who had escaped mostly unharmed from the previous demon king, were the new most common targets. Fearing this, they had officially recognised an organisation called the Demon Slayers to hunt down and destroy this monster who preyed on them under moonlight.
The poor folk, the dregs of society, had a rather different outlook on it all than that. Now, there was something to pray too if unjust, corrupt men came to take your children for their wars, or destroy your livelihood to repay debts for medicine and care. Fear still surrounded the demons in a shroud, but a desperate man could, and often did, take the risk to call on them for aid.
Desperate like Gyoumei was. The warlord had a most unsavoury reputation for barbarity, in both training and war. He shuddered to think of his kind hearted boys being forced into the mould of beasts that they would be forced to take in order to survive.
Gyoumei knelt and began to speak, going through his mantras praying for protection and fine fortune. The rituals grounded him, preventing the man from sinking into prophecies of doom, and thoughts of despair. What if it was too late? What if they had been harmed?
A sliding door slammed open, immediately alerting the praying monk to an unwanted presence. The demon king had a reputation for never entering a home without being invited, unless the most dire of circumstances was forcing his hand. Also, the thud of heavy, armoured boots was completely at odds with the undetectable footfalls the lord had used.
He was grabbed and roughly forced to his feet, and a fist driven into the soft tissue of his stomach. Grunting, winded and blind, Gyoemi cast about, making heavy and satisfying contact with one of the men’s helmets. He heard his opponent go crashing to the ground, in a tumble of metal and bone. The helmet had given under Gyoumei’s prestigious strength, as had the skull underneath, leaving the man's head a crushed, bloody remnant.
Pain blossomed across Gyoemi’s body, lancing out from his shoulder. Something cold and metallic had pierced deep, slicing clean through him and embedding deep into one of the supporting posts of the monastery. Roaring wildly, the monk lashed out again, making solid contact with another opponent. The blow sent the man flying out of reach, followed by a sickening crack as he broke his neck crashing to the ground.
A charging set of footfalls sounded out next, and a deep agony echoed out from the slash that had just been carved into his forehead. The pain was beginning to settle in now, dragging down Gyoumei’s will to fight. In his mind, he heard his children calling out to him, pleading for him not to surrender and the calls strengthened his resolve.
Starting a mantra of concentration, Gyoumei ripped the spear from his shoulder and slashed at the man who had just struck him. A cry of pain sounded out, as Gyoumei’s blind attack found some kind of target. The bear of a man leapt forward and tackled his last opponent to the ground.
A sickening cold spread out from Gyoumei’s stomach, like a water stain on cloth. Shifting slightly, the cold was replaced by a sensation of burning hot rushing to escape him, through the deep, lethal stab that had been the man’s final act.
A fourth pair of boots echoed out, ending any hope of survival for the monk. The footfalls stalked forward, through the open door and kicked Gyoumei up, and onto his back, off the fallen man. “Scum like you shouldn’t be allowed to live. This might not be the execution you deserve but I’m going to enjoy watching you bleed out in agony, with your guts spreading across the floor.”
Another blow, this time breaking his nose with a mailed fist. “Summoning demons to fetch your brats for you? What kind of a man do you think you are? What kind of monk would consort with filth like that?”
Tears escaped Gyoumei. Not at the pain, that hardly mattered to him at this point but at the knowledge he would never hold his children again. Never see them grow up. Never walk his girls to their weddings, or tell his boys how to treat the wives they would bring home. He may have saved them by sending the demon lord to protect them, but they would return to find him dead.
The stench of an unwashed body stalked closer. “Crying now? After killing three of my men, you cry? We were to stay and watch you, make sure you didn’t try anything. It was supposed to be something like calling on old buddies to come take them back, not selling your soul to a demon!”
A blade unsheathed, and part of Gyoumei rejoiced. This would be over soon, and he could wait painlessly, watching over his children as they grew. But the knife didn’t bury itself in him anywhere, instead a strong grip took him by the hair. “I don’t know if I think you are suffering enough, monk. I think you deserve more pain, like what you dished out to my men, before being sent to hell for your sins.”
The blade dragged down Gyoumei’s face, following the salty trail of his tears. The pain was immense, all consuming, and Gymoei began to understand hatred in a way the kind hearted man never wanted to. He tried to reach out to strike at this last foe, but the blood loss had robbed his muscles of their strength now when he needed it the most. Again, he felt the drawing cut of the knife as it sliced down the other cheek. The salt of his tears was turning this torture into something past that which mortal flesh was designed to comprehend.
A sickeningly wet noise echoed out, followed by the sound of bouncing. Gyoumei fell forwards, only to be caught by soft, gentle hands. “Monk, monk, can you still hear me?”
With flagging strength, Gyoumei whispered out, “Are my children ok, Lord? Did you save them?”
Before the demon even replied, Gyoumei felt the sadness pulse out from the man. “I’m so sorry, they were all dead by the time I got there. I was too late. One of them had escaped, and the rest were executed for it.”
Tears fell even faster into the open wounds. “Did… Did you find the one who escaped?” Goymei stuttered, finding words hard to grasp. Cold was spreading up his body now, taking the pain with it. Only the agony of his tears was left as he gargled out his last questions.
“The
boy was clever. I lost his scent in a nearby stream. He could be miles away by now - they were dead by noon.”
Gyoumei keened in loss, feeling the demon wrap his arms around him. “Turn me into a demon, Lord, let me track down my lost child!” He knew that was the only way he would survive the evening, and get a chance to hold his last child again. His wounds were fatal otherwise.
The lord hesitated. Gyoumei felt the demon stiffen in repressed pain. “You don’t know what you ask, monk. This is it for me. No reincarnated. No afterlife. When I die, much like the demons before me, I go to hell. This is the curse of demonhood. All your good karma, everything you have worked for? If you do this, it's all gone, whipped out in the red that will stain your life.”
Gyoumei nodded. “I know. Let me find my child, let me make sure he is ok. Let me protect others as you tried to protect me.”
Sweet, honey blood dripped down into Gyoumei’s mouth, and when it hit his stomach, fire like he had never known awoke in him. Gone was the cold, the numbness and the pain; replaced by a hunger greater than anything he had ever known. The delicious scent of spilt blood and exposed meat dragged him forward with a singular purpose to consume.
After gorging on the corpses, Gyoumei knelt before his new master. Before his liege. “What do we do next, Lord Kamado?”