Demonbound

13

The study door shut behind them with a heavy thud.

Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling, old leather and older dust. A single lamp burned on the desk, its light catching the sharp angles of their father’s face as he looked up.

“What happened,” he said.

Not a question.

Corvin stood straight.

Scott leaned more heavily on his bad leg than he’d admit.

“We encountered the demon,” Corvin said. “High-tier. Fire-based. It ambushed us in the city.”

Their father’s eyes flicked to Scott.

“Injured.”

Scott lifted his chin. “Nothing permanent.”

“That is not the point,” their father snapped.

He rose from his chair.

Slowly.

Each step deliberate as he came around the desk.

“You sensed a high-tier demon,” he said. “Confirmed it. And instead of calling for backup, you engaged.”

“We had an opening—” Corvin began.

“You had arrogance,” their father cut in. “And luck. That is not a strategy.”

He stopped in front of them.

“Do you have any idea what could have happened if it had decided to stop playing?”

Scott shifted. “We could handle it.”

Their father’s laugh was short. Bitter.

“Clearly.”

He turned away, hands clasped behind his back.

“I raised you better than this. Hunters do not rush in alone against unknown threats. You assess. You call. You coordinate.”

“We didn’t have time,” Corvin said quietly.

“You never think you do.”

Their father spun back.

“Get out of my sight.”

Silence.

Then Scott straightened and gave a small nod.

“Yes, sir.”

They turned and left.

The door closed again.

The study fell quiet.

Their father stood there for a long moment.

Then he reached into his pocket.

Pulled out his phone.

Dialled.

It rang once.

Twice.

Picked up.

“We have a demon on the loose,” he said.

A pause.

Then a voice, calm and amused.

“Demons are always on the loose. That’s the point. There has to be demons for there to be demon hunters.”

“This one is different,” their father replied.

“How so?”

“It hurt my sons.”

Another pause.

Longer this time.

“So our initial plan is taking a back seat then?” the voice asked.

“Yes. For now,” their father said without hesitation. “I want this one dead. As soon as possible.”

“Understood,” the voice replied. “I’ll make arrangements.”

The call ended.

—

Outside the study, the corridor stretched long and quiet.

Scott exhaled slowly as they walked.

“Sorry about your leg,” Corvin said.

Scott waved it off. “I’ve had worse.”

They walked in silence for a few steps.

Then Scott spoke again.

“But wasn’t it weird?”

Corvin glanced at him. “What was?”

“The demon,” Scott said. “It was powerful. Stronger than both of us. Could’ve finished us easily.”

“Demons like to play with their prey,” Corvin replied. “Especially when the prey is weaker.”

Scott frowned. “Yeah. I know that. But after it injured me—after you were the only one still standing—it just… left.”

Corvin slowed.

“That’s true,” he said.

Scott nodded. “It didn’t even try to finish us off.”

They reached the corner.

Corvin leaned against the wall, thoughtful.

“Demons are evolving,” he said finally. “They don’t attack blindly anymore. There’s restraint. Intent. Direction.”

Scott snorted. “You told Dad that?”

“He didn’t listen.”

“Dad never listens,” Scott said lightly.

He slung an arm over Corvin’s shoulder.

“If you have a plan to stop the demons, just do it. You don’t always need to seek permission. Do what you have to and apologise later.”

Corvin smiled faintly.

“I’ll try that more often.”

“Good.”

Scott’s grin returned.

“Now. About our earlier discussion.”

Corvin groaned. “I was really hoping you’d forget.”

“I have an excellent memory,” Scott said. “So. When are we sneaking out?”

“You should heal first.”

“Hunters heal faster than the average human,” Scott replied. “I’ll be fine by evening.”

“Okay. If you say so,” Corvin sighed. “Tomorrow then.”

“Splendid.”

Scott clapped him on the shoulder.

“This is why you’re my favourite younger brother.”

“I’m your only younger brother.”

—

The grassland was quiet.

Too quiet.

Charred earth stretched in uneven patches, blackened scars cutting through new green shoots already pushing up through the soil.

Nature was resilient.

Hunters, too.

They’d clearly done something here.

Lumi stood at the edge of the field, hands clenched.

[So what are we doing here?]

“I’m training,” Lumi said.

He stepped forward and threw a punch, fire flickering weakly around his fist before sputtering out.

[That was embarrassing.]

“Shut up.”

[Gladly. After I laugh.]

Lumi scowled and tried again.

Another punch.

Another poor stance.

Fire flared crookedly, licking the air at an odd angle.

[Your footing is wrong.]

“I didn’t ask.”

[Your shoulders are tense.]

“I said shut up.”

Ashen didn’t.

[You’re punching like you’re giving a fist bump.]

Lumi growled and swung harder.

Missed the stance completely.

Nearly lost his balance.

[Ah. There it is. Rage.]

“Why do you always do this?” Lumi snapped.

[Because it’s funny.]

“I need to get stronger,” Lumi said. “Strong enough to help with the hunt.”

[You want to join them to hunt weak demons? How dull.]

“I’ve never hunted before,” Lumi replied. “Of course I’ll start small.”

[You humans and your caution.]

Lumi tried again.

Punch.

Kick.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Ashen laughed in his head.

[You’re doing it wrong.]

“I know!”

[Then listen.]

“No!”

Lumi’s frustration boiled over.

He screamed and slammed his foot into the ground.

Fire exploded outward.

Not focused.

Not controlled.

A ring of heat surged through the grass, flames rippling in all directions before dying out harmlessly.

The field went still.

Lumi stared.

His chest heaved.

“…I didn’t mean to do that.”

The grass was singed.

But intact.

He lifted his hands, shaking.

“That was… a lot.”

Ashen was quiet.

Then—

[Now that’s how it’s done.]

Lumi swallowed. “What?”

[Fire doesn’t come from technique alone.]

Ashen’s voice lowered.

[It comes from rage. Passion. Desire.]

Lumi looked at his hands again.

[Harness your emotions. Feed the flame.]

The wind rustled the grass.

Lumi took a steady breath.

He stretched his arms and the fire finally answered.

“Yes! I did it. I’m not powerless anymore,” Lumi jubilated.

[That’s great. So can we burn something bigger now?]

“No.”

[Till later this night then.] Ashen muttered.

“What?”

[I didn’t say anything. Keep training.]