· · · · · · ·

Author's Note : initially born from disappointment at the lack of attention to the interesting scenario with the demons. Then writing these point of views turned out fun, and it was also interesting to see how telling a similar story in different format exists cause it allows me to expand on some details that the tv time limit doesn't. This is a really interesting setting to explore and there's a lot of different stuff to be done with the characters, so it may not be entirely a waste of time?

· · · · · · ·

— "A good guy, eh?"

"No way a bounty can be a good guy, you fool."

When Nina had come to Anatae with dreams of earning money for her mother and hopes for an awesome life as bounty hunter, she had not imagined the first thing to learn about the only bounty left would be that he killed only bad people.

Of course, those people he killed had been hurting demons, and demons had a long history of hurting humans. So he killed bad people who hurt bad people. Nina just wanted to catch the murderous rag demon all the more after that and figure out what it really was about. It couldn't be good. Surely Bacchus, a god with a magical machine of crime detection, knew what he was talking about.

Besides, she didn't really want to send home money to her mother with a story about how she'd stopped someone who stopped bad people. So she better get his real reasons. Maybe he was plotting to kill less bad people later.

She had plenty of time to figure out how to question him, because the jerk was awfully hard to even catch a glimpse of. With no other criminals to hunt for, she had gotten a job at a construction site. It was only enough to feed her draconic appetite, so she lived in Bacchus's carriage for now. It was small, but she could swear it was roomier on the inside than outside. She'd never hear of any Bacchus god before, but his friend Hamsa was a talking goose with a crown, so they had to be gods. They were also drunk a lot, so they weren't always helpful, but staying with them was nice.

Every early morning, she stepped from the liquory room into the cool city air. By now the mixed human scents felt familiar and welcome. The city was her home now, and she knew almost everyone on the market between her and her work. It was full of wonderful people, none of whom knew enough about her to call her silly for what they didn't know she couldn't do. It was great, really, except for all the hot guys. There had almost been ... accidents.

Oh well. The fact was there hadn't actually been accidents yet, and she was sure she could keep it that way. The bounty on the rag demon's head was so massive, her mother might live years off of it, so she could just go home after capturing him. This was worth the risk.

As Nina ran through the streets, she greeted to everyone she knew and everyone she didn't know but looked her way. The latter wasn't many by this point, it was just so easy to make friends.

The baker Marcio threw her a cinnamon roll, which she stopped for to dig into. A heavy older man with pencil mustache, he was definitely not her type. Interacting with him was plenty safe.

"Your stuff really is excellent! Thank you!"

"You're welcome," he said with a wide grin. "But you really ought to thank Charioce XVII."

People had been saying that ever since she arrived. It was a little weird how they just kept saying it, really. It wasn't like this yummy cinnamon roll had been baked by the king. She doubted the king even knew how to bake, he had all those important war things to do. He'd just had a parade to celebrate his return and was gonna head out again soon. No way that was for a baking contest.

"Yeah, but he's not here though," Nina said. "So thank you for your skills."

"Oh, Nina," he said with a hearty laugh. "You're such a good girl."

"Mom says so too, but I think I gotta prove that a little more." She held up her wrist with Favaro's bounty hunter bracelet. "Tell me again once I got my first catch!"

"Oh child. Be careful of the demons!" Emeline from the next stall said. She always did that after the rag demon had murdered people again, but it was pretty pointless. There weren't much demons in any of the places a girl like Nina would be expected to go, and the rag demon only targeted the people who targeted demons. So far.

He's probably consider her a bad person if she attacked him, of course. Demons in the past had killed folks who had never hurt demons. Every knew this, even in her remote village. Once she caught him, the rag demon would probably turn out to be just less awful cause there were more mean humans to focus on.

Every late afternoon, work done, she hung around the city and tried to find out where the rag demon was most likely to strike. Initially her tactic had been to just run around the city hoping to find him, but once Bacchus got in a mostly sober mood he'd chewed her for that. Obviously, she had to go first to places he was likely to strike at. To achieve that, she talked to guards, traders and so on. Stories of where demons would be sold to or where lots of corpses were carted away were often indicative, and by now she'd seen him a number of times.

There were limits she'd never imagined. More than just speed and combat. She couldn't loiter too much near the aristocratic mansions and she was pretty sure the Orleans Knights were suspicious of her now. They were a bit like the people who kept guard, except much more intense. With all the people here, there were some bad folks and they were probably really necessary for safety, but they were so likely to assume the worst of everyone. They kept giving her looks and one had addressed her with a decidedly not friendly tone. They didn't believe she was a bounty hunter for some reason.

Nina would've cleared things up, but their captain was very handsome and never wore a helmet for some reason. According to the city folk, he never wore helmets because he was in love with his own hair. She could certainly see the signs of that, and she and everyone around would feel the results too if she risked talking. So she'd run from him a few times, and now she got the impression it was best to avoid them altogether.

Much easier was talking to the common guards anyway. They were as chatty as the people on the market and always up for a talk. Today, she got in a talk with the gatekeeper to the rich people district in the upper ring, from whom she learned the best way to make carrot pie as per a recipe of his wife, that swallows were a good indication of the weather, and that there would be a new cargo this evening so her dainty little self ought to steer clear just in case any nasty demons escaped.

Time to steer right into the upper rings, of course.

Scaling the walls to the upper ring was easy. She might suck with a bow, but her whip allowed her to scale a nearby building with shop plates, reach the roof, and jump on the wall from there. This place was so obviously built only for humans.

The place that would receive these demons was easy enough to find, everything had street names here.

The cargo carriage just drove off by the time she got there. While the rag demon never entered through the door, the screaming usually tipped her off. Somehow the monsters always escaped through a different exit though, she never got lucky. This place had only one exit, however. She waited around the corner of an alley that gave clear sight of this gate.

The area looked pretty quiet, and remained quiet for a long time. Nina had patience though, plenty of it.

Aaaaand ... there he was! For once she spotted him before he got there. Yes!

· · · · · · ·

Azazel leaped across the umpteenth frail roof when spotted a familiar bright spot at the incoming street corner. Pink and beige, with a determined frown.

Ugh. No. Her again.

Some wannabe bounty hunter with an obviously fake bracelet had been trailing him for the last few weeks. He always had to take precautions just to avoid her seeing where the escaped slaves went. She was fast enough to keep up with him when he ran, shaking her was more of a nuisance than the Orleans Knights. They at least had the curtsy to be late all the time.

He pretended not to see her, dropped at the door of his target and broke the lock with his black hand. After slipping in, he sealed it with a magic serpent turned wire; didn't want any damn human slipping out and sounding the alarm.

Or any getting in. The door rattled a bit behind him as that stupid girl tried to pass.

He'd have killed her any time, really. He just never had the chance, he was too busy killing the slavers and helping the demons get away before the Orleans Knights arrived. The knights had a protocol of blind open fire with their dragons and while he could deal with that, the regular demons could not. They were easy targets. Therefore, he absolutely did not have the time to deal with the nuisance. It wasn't that he'd lost his proud demon nature or anything.

The cobblestone walls reeked of fungus, human sweat and demon blood. Torches did a poor job lightning the place despite humans needed more to see. This wasn't a high end trading post, but it was prolific and new. He'd caught word of them after they delivered to a new construction site.

Most halls and rooms were deserted, but the sound of drunken laughter carried through them. He ignored it in favor of finding the demons first, he had to see how many there were and how to best get them out.

He kept himself wrapped in dark rags to blend with the shadows, and the rest of himself bandaged. They always thought they fought something weak that needed the shadows. One eye was enough to see, and it had the advantage it sent everyone suspecting the rag demon lacked an eye. Like today. The first guard who spotted him was the original type that tried to stab out his one eye. Anyone who tried that, he'd stab the eyes out of first. They'd die right after, unless there was more immediate to kill.

Him and his fellows disposed of slipped deeper into the place until he found the storage hall. Since this place had only one exit and was guarded, he had to clear the way.

It had become a routine by now. The faces of the humans were always the same : cold, greedy, greasy. He killed them without second thought, no longer bothering to even draw out their death. They weren't worth the time and there was no game in the same over and over.

The faces of the demons were always just a little different. Some feared him, others doubted, then there was disbelief, quiet joy, sometimes even an outright smile. Rarely did the last happen, even more more rarely was it meant for him so much as for the idea of freedom. This was a far cry from he had ruled demonkind once, except for maybe the fear.

At the first cage he broke open, he told the most healthy looking one what way the exit was. She was to keep the others in line, and keep quiet. That done, he moved into the next room.

The scent of blood was thickest here, accompanied by the early stench of rot. Wings dangled from the hooks and mangled corpses lay around. Most children and elderly. A hearth nearby still had the cauterization tools smoldering in the ashes. The wing amputation methods were needlessly brutal, as always. Azazel knew all about the fine details of torture. Everything here was made to ensure only the strongest survived. In practice that meant hiring those who enjoyed this work.

One day he'd do the same to Charioce.

In a far away cage were a few still living demons, who hadn't yet been 'processed'. He broke the cage open and let them get out. One of them sunk down on his knees at a nearby corpse, muttering and shaking.

Azazel grabbed him by the arms and hauled him up. That one was dead. It was better to accept that right away. They all had to.

He killed two more humans before they could incite the torture spell on the collars. By then the survivors had gathered around the appointed leader. Good, he'd picked a decent one this time. Herding people wasn't his best asset.

Without words, he told them to follow to the door, which he unlocked.

A little tuft of pink hair and a brown shoe tip stuck out of the alley to the left. Hell, she was persistent. Hmm ... there was no sound yet of encroaching knights, so he could afford a little play.

Pointing his thumb to the right to send the demons on their way, he turned to the left himself. He kept the door wide open, concealing the escaping demons from her sight while he himself stayed clear in the moonlight.

"Hey, you."

The girl startled, but then jumped out of hiding, brandishing a whip. "Hold it right there! You've gotten away long enough, you jerk!"

He sighed. She never did manage to sound intimidating. He's been referred to as prey, evildoer, bad guy, criminal and a bunch of more things in the kind of voice that sold candy on festivals. If he was gonna have a pest dedicated to him, couldn't it at least be a worthy opponent?

She wasn't even worth talking to, so he just teleported away right before her eyes.

Ghosting back into sight on the roof, he leaned over to the show. The girl looking all around herself like a fool, but never up. She even turned to look down. Was she ... was she looking for his footprints or something? Did she think he had shrunken?

How could he resist? Azazel dislodged a roof tile and dropped it on her butt, where she had a bag. It tore loose.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Now she looked up. Nice and loud, drawing the attention of the Orleans Knights whom he could now hear in the distance. Let Kaisar deal with this headache.

He made a show of moving backward, so she ran into the alley next to the building. He jumped across one street, then teleported back to where he'd come from while she ran on.

Teleportation didn't get him far and took a lot of magical energy, so he raced the rest of the the time he rejoined the escaped slaves, there were eight left. Well, he wasn't going after the fools who had broken loose, but he'd bring these as far as he could. What point in freeing demons if humans just caught them again?

He dropped down. "Follow me."

They never recognized his voice, if he hushed it. Ordinary citizens of Cocytus rarely ever knew him beyond the commands he gave.

The slums were always quiet, unless a fight broke out or someone died, because the Orleans Knights patrolled the area. Down one of the roads was the lament of a small group mourning the loss of a family member, if he understood right. The low wail matched a familiar melody, thought it lacked the words. Music of their own kind was forbidden, woe anyone who practiced it.

Slowly now, checking out every street, he led them to Rita's place. She let him in with little more than a sigh.

The group filed in after him, hesitating when they smelled her humanity. "She's not human anymore," he said. It wasn't really accurate, she was entirely human. Just kinda held together with dark magic. But she wasn't one of this empire and that was the most important thing.

"Everyone, sit down, I'll look over you. We're removing the collars in a minute. I have one rule : you never tell anyone you were here with those things on. Got it?"

Numb, they nodded.

Pffft, we? That was all Azazel's job.

He could break metal using his own raw strength, but doing so without any metal pieces landing in windpipes took care. The alternative was filing them off, which took forever and a lot of strength these demons didn't have. They were just commoners, after all.

Rita directed an old guy to a side room, which served as storage, waste disposal and kitchen. In the corner was a chair, towels for potential blood and a crude metal stand they'd crafted from scratch. The small opening in the wall was for getting rid of the green stones.

"Sit there," he said.

He turned the collar sideways, so the lock could be screwed into the hold and the hinges away to the side of the neck, away from spine and throat.

The rocks were magically programmed to activate if a demon touched them, to prevent them from being cracked or pried loose. To remove them, the entire collar had to go. The problem was, the collars were often just welded shit with heat; too much demons grew claws that could tamper with a lock.

Of course this wasn't a problem for him. He conjured up two of his black serpents, small as he could will them. He stuck his black hand between the collar and the flesh and started prying at the hinge with the snakes.

He got about halfway through the metal when the stone flared up. The old guy cried out in and agony. Along with the stand, he fell to the ground trashing.

Dammit! He had missed one of the slavers.

In the other room something fell over along with a chorus of screams.

"Azazel, quiet them!" Rita called.

Dammit, dammit. He shot into the front room while Rita passed to the back with a cloth in her hand. While he wrapped his snakes around the mouths and arms of the screaming demons, Rita tied up the mouth of the one in the back. It muffled the noise somewhat, but not enough. There was an echo in the ghetto due to how deep it went. The last they needed was the Orleans Knights following the screaming after learning of the attack.

Foregoing care, he grabbed the nearest collar and cracked is open with his bare hands. Blood from the metal and his sharp nails sprayed around. The lock fell off, but the demon clutched his throat still. In the moment of distraction, he lost control of two snakes behind him. One of them lashed out with their arms before clawing at their throat. Azazel jumped at him, took him in a hold from behind and grabbed the lock.

This time he used his other hand, which didn't lack in strength but had softer flesh. His nails dug into his palm when the lock cracked. No time for pain, he moved on to the next. After the seven in this room, he took the collars to the back room, where Nina had tied up the last one.

Rita held open the disposal and Azazel threw in the collars.

The old demon on the ground didn't move, while the collar still glowed. Azazel broke this one off too, not needing to be careful anymore. He had stopped breathing.

"Too late. He was old and already had an infection from the botched amputations anyway." Rita locked eyes with him, waiting whether he'd say something first. "I probably can't use him for organ transplants or anything, and you're behind on payment."

He hated it when she did this, but they had an agreement, so he kept his mouth. It was one of many thing he's needed to keep his mouth on ever since the fall of Cocytus, and had never stopped stinging.

"Kill some aristocrats next, you're not off the tab yet," she said.

He left through the back door while Rita knelt down and bit.

No sight of Mugaro on the streets nor in the back alley.

Had he moved locations without permission again, or had they caught him? Had it been a good idea to use that girl as diversion? What if they started suspecting any random kid now?

Azazel paced around and considered seeking him out, but what if he missed him and the knights came here?

The door creaked open. Out looked the demon he's appointed leader.

"We're done. I mean, she's done tending to our wounds."

He said nothing.

"What do we do now?"

Saying he didn't know felt too weak, but it was always the answer. There was nothing to do but survive. None of these seemed strong enough to join the rebels. "What you do is try not to get caught."

"And ... about the other ..." She looked backed. From his angle he could just see the door to the storage room. There were two sets of foot steps within Rita's back room, but nobody would come out.

"He's gone," Azazel said. "And you should go too."

He turned and paced down the dark end of the alley, just to be rid of the staring. They vanished the other way.

He'd failed one and saved the rest, if only for the slums. It shouldn't matter in the grand scheme. Saving the demons wasn't anything he could do alone, but he also couldn't just let the humans get away with this.

When the backdoor of Rita's place opened again he tensed up, but it was a familiar face. Mugaro managed a smile, but the bloody rooms behind him clearly bothered him. He gave Azazel that questioning look about how the mission went.

"It's fine," Azazel lied. "Did you spot any Orleans Knights?"

Mugaro nodded. He took out a map Azazel had drawn of the slums and pointed out where exactly they'd been : no more than five streets from here. Was it a coincidence, had they followed that girl, or had they heard something?

Not that he couldn't handle them — their metal armor was as fragile to him as these locks were — but Rita was friends with their captain. Kaisar was her little pet and the last thing he needed was to get on the bad side of the only qualified doctor in the city would treated demons. So he avoided poking at Kaisar too much. Any fight one got into with his knights inevitably resulted in Kaisar 'nobly' throwing himself to the front lines.

Besides, any knight he killed would be replaced, Kaisar included. It was a task with no end in sight.

· · · · · · ·

As the sun scorched the sand, it was hotter in here than outside. The stench of demon blood never really went away, but on days like these it rose to the sky to rile the crowd. Their screams blended with the bellows of the gladiators. The only one who ever was silent was the king himself. On the throne ahead of him, he might as well be absent.

The fight was utterly unfair : an orc with only a shield and small sword, pitted against an 8 feet, four armed reptilian with a massive saber in each hand. Nobody came to the arena for the tension or the art of battle, or even bets. It was all about the slaughter.

He turned his eyes to the ground. As if sending that, Charioce said, "Kaisar. Look at them. Fighting for life."

A small pause, then he added, "I'm told last night you failed to apprehend even an unarmed target."

She hadn't been unarmed and her strength was beyond any human, but one didn't argue with Charioce. Ever.

Right at that moment, the larger demon struck the orc off his feet. With a yelp, he rolled through the sand.

"Do not not disappoint me." Charioce never looked back at him, but his hand leaned strangely in the air, almost like a claw aimed at him.

"Yes," Kaisar said. Only a moment too late he realized he'd forgotten to add, my liege.

"I have been patient with your failure to capture the Rag Demon, but now it has come to my attention that you can't even capture a measly demon woman? Perhaps it is not the speed of the Rag Demon and the dark hours, but your incompetence," Charioce said.

It was a challenge to his skills now. Gone was the patience Charioce had had for years. Kaisar had expected this day to come, feared it ... and had thought about what to do. The answer wasn't savory, but he did agree the murders had to stop.

The battle ended and the funerary service came out. A tall demon and a smaller one loaded the corpse of the demon on a cart, along with the discarded weapons.

The idea struck Kaisar that Charioce would put him down there, if he failed too often. Look at them, or become a corpse to be loaded away.

The funary demon stopped and stared at Charioce for a moment. Charioce didn't flinch, but a familiar chill went through Kaisar's spine. He couldn't quite place it yet.

The moment passed and the match ended. Kaisar was excused to his regular duty of overseeing security when it was time for the races instead — the message all too clear : only the fight mattered.

This was not what he had imagined knighthood to be like.

He joined his second hands in the courtyard. Young, blond Allesand sported a massive bump on his head and an expression to match. Quite unbefit for the nobleman's son; Kaisar could imagine why they were alright with him being a knight rather than lining him up for marriage.

Old, somber Dias stood by, calm as always and patient with the complaints of the boy. "What did he want, captain?"

"We must take extra measures to capture the rag demon."

"Finally! That demon has been humiliating us for too long! And that girl just made it worse! What are we going to do, captain?" Allesand said all too eagerly.

Sometimes he worried about Allesand.

· · · · · · ·

Nina yawned again and almost tripped. Just barely she managed to balance the wooden beams on her shoulder. That required her to launched forward and she almost tiptoed into a cart.

Getting just to the brink of accident was a frequent recurrence in her life, and this wasn't even the worst it could be. The kids at home said she was born for trouble, but she hadn't ever gotten into any, and it would stay that way. Even if she spent the night hunting demons and dodging the law enforcers who just didn't get it.

"That was a close one, Nina," Anton said as he walked by, carrying much less than she did.

"Sorry," she said, smiling. "I'll look out better next time."

"You stayed up too late again, didn't you?" Athias leaned down from his work station, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I really think you're lying about having no boyfriend."

"I really don't have one!" she said, feeling a blush rise to her face. Athias had the kind of face and build she might like on a boyfriend — don't think about that don't think just think about anything else. "So how's the painting going along?"

"Uh, quite fine," he said. "See for yourself."

Of course that was a weird question. The wall featuring Bahamut Charioce was in plain sight of the construction site. In the setting sun, Bahamut seemed more ominous, while the king shone like the sun. Athias had brought out the dread and the glory with an art that required excelling control of one's own body — something she could do only for mundane matters such as walking and fighting as a human.

Athias's face was kind of glorious too. She'd spent a lot of time looking at the painting just to distract herself from that. This would be a bad place for accidents and it'd surely disappoint her mother.

"Maybe she should get a boyfriend for safety?" Gosing said from his spot at the racks.

"Since when does our Nina need protection? She's stronger than any of us!" Athias said.

"Yeah, but she's still a lonely girl and who knows. Maybe people are gonna mistake her for a demon or something. I wouldn't want any misunderstandings like that."

"Oh, I'm sure the Orleans Knights aren't gonna get on Nina's case. Why would they?" Anton said.

Gosing shuffled a little closer, and others huddled around to listen. "To be honest, I dunno what to think of the Orleans Knights. I heard they took demon women from the red light districts not too long ago. I know a guy there and he said they guided them out, not like an arrest. The owner hadn't called them on theft or anything. I don't think the Orleans Knights are as noble as they say."

"That does sound weird." Athias climbed down to join the huddle. "Are you sure of your guy?"

"Yeah. I'm sure of the guy," he said. "Anyway, I'm just saying Nina should be careful here. The knights are—"

"Shhh, we don't want anyone to hear we're questioning the knights of the king, Nina," Anton said.

"Why not?" Nina asked. "Everyone always says he's such a good king, why would he mind when someone points out a few of his people misbehave?"

Nobody answered that. Anton just shrugged and turned away, the rest followed. Athias patted Nina on the shoulder. "Don't worry too much about it."

· · · · · · ·

Cerberus was in the middle of a nice bath — one of the few tolerable places in this dirthole of a human city — when Coco reappeared. "Ruff, we get familiar guests!"

She stepped out and took the towel Mimi handed her, careful not to get her wet. Coco an Mimi never went into the bath with her because they were a pain to dry and wet dog stunk. She herself did not of course. She always smelled excellent.

"So, who is it?" she asked.

"Allesand Visponti, ruff!"

She shook herself out and got dressed quickly, letting Mimi and Coco slip on her hands only when she was sure she was dry.

Allesand was one of her favorite customers because he was prude enough to not really go all the way, but still heap her with cash (when sober). Today though was different. He showed up at the back door of the brothel with a scowl and a lot more cash than usual. He wouldn't come in, just stayed in outside.

"I have orders to ... acquire a bunch of demons for a scheme," he grumbled. "It's completely disgraceful to our name, but Kaisar says we have to. Can you get us some ladies that doesn't require us to buy them? Just to borrow."

My my, borrowing people, what a way to phrase it. Such a foul mind below that pretty head. She imagined he'd be right up her alley if he wasn't all hung up on this pointless honor code. Alas, the poor sod's pride was all human shaped. She still liked to play along.

"Of course," she said, leaning closer and holding out her hand with Coco on it. "Plenty of girls here who could use a break. Will you compensate for the time lost?"

He shoved that bag of coins into the grip of Coco and Mimi, while stealing a look at her chest.

She opened it and Mimi peaked in. "All real, ruff!'

"We have a deal. How much you want? Any preferences?" Cerberus asked.

"Uh, seven? It doesn't matter much. They're just bait."

"Ooh, you must tell me all about this later," she said. "Where do I send your order?"

"I've got a few men lined up."

"Have them walk in, I'll direct them who to take. I don't want to cause a scene, got it, darling?"

Cerberus gathered about six of the less popular girls, slipping out at a man's arm, as wasn't unusual for this establishment. They behaved quite fine, she didn't even hear any yelps outside. Good. This place had a reputation to keep. This brothel was engineered for the more respectable lot who nevertheless wanted to mingle that with the lovelier side of demonkind, so it pretended to be a more wholesome establishment. A ridiculous charade in the red light district, but well, that's how some needed it to be. It got her better cash than elsewhere.

Speaking of cash, she might as well fill the order with low profit cases all the way. One knight still remained and she had an excellent candidate, but she wouldn't walk out so easily. She sent the knight out the back door to wait there.

Belphegor was one of the most gorgeous demons, yet her head was filled up with innovation and glory. What a waste of her looks. Why the owner of the place kept her around was obvious, but it didn't get the cash flowing.

Cerberus peaked into Belphegor's room, which was thick with fumes, gears and simulacrum magic. "Belphegor, join me in the alley for a moment. We have a situation."

Belphegor stood up at once, eyes wide with worry. She'd be expecting one of the lasses beaten up, or worse.

When an iron fist closed around her wrist instead and jerked her out of the door, Cerberus smiled.

"What's going on?"

"Quiet," the knight snapped. His companion pulled out a rope and tied her arms behind her back.

Belphegor's eyes met Cerberus's, tinted with that lovely look of betrayal.

"How can you?" she spat.

Cerberus flicked her ears. "I can because your room can now be filled with someone better."

"You're not worthy of—"

"Now now, quiet," Cerberus said. "I'm the lady in charge here. Wouldn't want things for the lot of us to get more of a problem, right?"

No humans knew just how important Cerberus had been, and what power she had, but the demons recognized her. Belphegor would keep quiet. Cerberus wasn't sure whether that was out of respect, or whether she knew Cerberus was relevant to the future moves of the demons, but it didn't matter. Zip zip.

Once inside, Cerberus went to her room and stretched out. After taking a drink, she counted her money. Today had been a good catch. Much better than the lecherous guys she usually had to deal with. Rather, she got a prude who just wanted her to quietly help him confiscate a few ladies. That he was the leader of the Orleans Knights gave him the authority to just grab any demon he wanted, but his people frequented the red light district and they didn't want their name befouled. Pffft. This silly little pride was nothing, and Kaisar was a fool.

Perhaps she ought to send a message home though, because it looked like things were heating up.

Charioce had overthrown Cocytus, for crying out loud. The only reason that rag demon got so far is because Charioce knew how handy it was to have the people believe there was a serious need for his kind of order. Just the right amount of fear in the population to keep them from complaining about the taxes that went to all those invasions.

Cocytus had emptied out and the tribes had fled to a frozen wasteland, there were no more invasions of the demon realm needed. The occasional tribe was taken down, judging from where new slaves came from, but most attacks didn't bring in any new slaves.

She might not be a big fan of the invasion, the idea the gods were getting a hefty helping of death pleased her. After the inevitable fall of humankind, they would be left thinned out even more than after Bahamut. That would leave the demons in a better position overall. Until then, she was quite content with this easy life. She liked her scope out missions best if they let her lounge on a nice couch with plenty of food.

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Outside the city, at the edge of a cliff, lay an old monastery that had been devastated in the crisis of Bahamut. All roofs had collapsed, burned down, but the tall walls still stood mostly intact. It was the the usual started point for Azazel's little excursions, the destination unusually being another church tonight. If they were gonna choose churches, they might as well have chosen his own ruin.

Someone from the red light distract had come to the slum asking around for a bunch of missing women, hoping they'd just ditched the brothels rather than worse. Ha. Usually if anyone from the red light district joined the ghetto, it wasn't in such numbers.

Hearing around some more led to word the women had been seen brought to one of the lower cliffs at the edge of the city. This one lined the living districts closely. He'd have to be careful, so he landed before crossing any lights or human sight range.

The place had a gaping window in the front with two feeble towers aside and a collapsed roof atop. The left wing had collapsed too. There was no way to get near it without crossing in the open. He ran as far as he could, ghosting along the way. The backdoor stood ajar and he slipped in.

The women were below the window, tied up sitting on the ground, surrounded by armed but unarmored slavers. He launched his knives into them instantly, only for them to fall over stiff.

Wooden dolls. Huh, a trap. See, this is why he went through a routine of pretending to note have wings, magical snakes and explosive powers. They would always be caught off guard.

... the utter lack of movements might've given away it was a trap before he attacked, but uh, it was a bit on the dark side here.

The nearest demon looked up in fear. He cut her loose and dropped the knife before her so she could free the others. He had to find out who really was behind this.

Said person conveniently just announced himself.

"Come out, Rag Demon!" came from the outside.

Oh, great. Kaisar.

Wait, ... Kaisar? Kidnapping women?

Of course, everything else was losing its standards, why not him too?

"Go to the slums," Azazel told them. "I'll distract those fools."

Paying them no more heed, he walked past to the window, set a hand of the wall and exploded it with a spell. He jumped high out of the dust for a look — a swarm of knights on horse ahead — and ran right ahead.

He teleported to avoid the arrows, and knocked the knights over once he reached them. They weren't worth killing even as he manifested his dark sword.

Kaisar was right ahead sporting his most obnoxious self righteous look of knightly determination. Azazel just couldn't resist tackling his head on. Jumping over the unicorn's head, he brought both his blades to Kaisar's head like a scissor. Kaisar caught it with his sword, so Azazel just planted his feet in his stomach.

With a glorious arch, Kaisar fell not to the side, but launched five meters through the air and rolled on the ground. The unicorn didn't even flinch, well accustomed to the madness going on its back, no doubt. Kaisar always did have a penchant for dramatic falling.

Just to keep up appearances, he attacked Kaisar and for few moments they played swords in what was slow motion for Azazel. Kaisar managed to keep up, but only because Azazel held back.

In the moment their fight broke out, the other knights surrounded them.

"Surrender, rag demon," Kaisar said in that voice, his sword posed wannabe-nobly before him.

"The same guy forever," Azazel muttered. He hit away Kaisar's sword, grabbed his sword arm and twisted until the sword dropped. "Let's see whether you still fall the same way too."

Grabbing Kaisar by the cloak, he jumped over the knights in the direction of the cliff and dropped Kaisar in mid air.

He himself landed on his feet, while Kaisar tumbled down the rocks and landed face first. After groaning once, he stayed still.

Azazel ran ahead into the streets. He'd have an easier time dodging them there.

Or not.

Three roofs down, he slammed right into a giant metal hand that definitely hadn't been there two seconds ago. He crashed into the roof with the thing pushing down.

The living room he landed in was occupied by a terrified human family. They stared in fear at him, but it was the mecha's arm reaching in that threw them.

Azazel backed off out the door and ran out the other side, back onto the roofs. By now the wyvern riders had joined the ground knights. They didn't fire yet, but they would once the mecha herded him where they wanted him.

He kept running across the roofs, trying to reach the edge of the city. How far would he get before he'd have to drop his disguise and fly? They weren't enough of a threat yet, but ... no. He could do this. Some measly humans were not going to corner him into using his full powers and he wasn't going to be distracted again. Two times Jeanne d'Arc was enough.

Another mecha's sword tore through the entire roof. Azazel split just barely in time, leaping off a crumbling wall. Below, the citizens screamed as the house collapsed into itself.

What was wrong with Kaisar? Why had he trained them like this?

Some of the wyvern riders veered to the tower where Mugaro kept an eye out.

No. No no no.

They opened fire. He heard a distant scream as the first ray seared past the tower. Another one followed right away, then another one.

"Dammit, why is he being attacked?"

He leaped off the building and unfolded his wings.

They just kept firing over and over, turning the tower full of holes and fire until it started shaking.

Azazel put all his speed behind his wings. Faster, faster, go faster!

Another fireball hit the tower, breaking through the walls. The peak started to fall and another scream scream reached him.

Almost there, almost ... there, the silhouette of a falling body against the moon. Swooping through the debris, he picked up Mugaro and shot away, further and higher into the sky.

Once there was enough of a distance, he looked down. "Mugaro, are you okay?"

Wait ... pink hair?

This wasn't Mugaro.

In his surprise, he lost grip and the girl fell. Reflexively he closed his hand around her wrist, but her momentum tore them further down. She wasn't awake, so she didn't hold on. He'd have to. They fell halfway to the ground before his caught the wind under his wings again. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

Her eyes opened and he snapped, "Who the hell are you?"

Of all the times to be silent, she chose now.

A noise behind, he whipped his head back. The fireball seared right at him. On reflex he pulled her closer and let himself fall, barely avoiding the flames.

The next flares filled all air around them. He turned on his own axis, dodging as much as he could sense. He had to look behind to see what was coming, which didn't help his speed.

They'd catch up soon, but the wyverns would have a limit going right up with riders on their back. He sped ahead, then took a sharp angle right up into the sky.

The girl's hands dug into his cloak, she didn't do anything else. At least she was easy cargo. He fixed his eyes on the stars. If he could get above the clouds, they'd be clear soon enough.

More fireballs seared, but he kept the line straight for speed. He could take behind hit at his feet once or twice.

The girl's hands tightened and for a moment he thought she tried to push off, but ... she grew? A pink light engulfed her and disrupted his flight magic, causing them to sheer back to the ground.

They collided with a tower. He was thrown loose while the light remained behind.

When he collided with a roof several streets past the plaza, the force of impact and magic kept him in place. Numb, pained and with sudden clarity, he lay there.

The sudden lack of movement and noise hit him harder than the actual rock below. The edges of the buildings above stood out in his sharp vision, the stars beyond, the moon, and nothing else. Nobody else.

He didn't know where Mugaro was.

Why hadn't he gone looking for Mugaro? Stupid! He should have dropped her. With his hands free, he could easily take out those human flies, then find Mugaro. It'd have taken little more than a few sword strikes and the fire wouldn't hurt him. For crying out loud, he'd swam in Gehenna, why even bother fleeing from fire? For a human?

What even was that glowing pink?

Cries and deep roaring wrestled to his attention, not far away but muted through the buildings. Overhead the wyvern riders swooped right at it, only to be taken down by a ray of fire so hot, not even the wyverns could withstand it.

Oh, he had to see that.

When he tried to stand, he almost sank through his leg, but he refused Mugaro's support. He dragged himself to the roaring fight.

None of the knights at the end of the street paid him heed, caught in watching the terror before them. A split second later, Azazel saw the dragon : a massive, muscular beast on four legs with a horned crest with pink hair behind. A sharp magenta surrounded by fire and scorched corpses of both knight and wyvern.

Had she summoned that? Why only now?

Right now it tore apart a mecha like it was nothing. Little more than a minute to take everyone down who failed to retreat.

As soon as the knights were out of its sight range, the dragon reared up and turned into a pink flame. It vanished, but there was still a bright spot on the ground.

Azazel teleported closer, careful not to reappear in any fires.

She lay unconscious on her stomach, the pink hair with the uneven cut was unmistakable. The last shreds of that pink energy were still around in his demon sight. There was no mistaking this for a summoning, she herself was the dragon. Some distant tidbit from Lucifer came to mind, regarding shapeshifters. This had to be one of those rare demons.

And apparently had never learned to stay conscious or keep her clothes.

Okay, he could handle this. He took off his cloak and tossed it over her before scooping her up.

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Rita was in the middle of a brew when someone kicked the back door.

"Rita! Dammit, open!"

Oh goody, look who was off schedule. What, had Kaisar managed to somehow get those women hurt, or had Azazel screwed up again?

Barely the door was open or he pushed in with a woman in his arms, wrapped in his cloak. Rita assumed she was a demon until he put her down on the bench, where she got a clear look at the rather neat headband that wasn't typical to demons.

She wore no clothes below the cloak. Huh. No signs of anything else either, and by all accounts this appeared to be a regular human.

Azazel was already headed for the door because of course he was going to vanish.

Rita launched a disembodied arm to shut the door.

"The hell, Rita? I have to find Mugaro now!"

"First tell me what I'm dealing with here. She has no fangs, no marks of amputation or horns. Who is this?"

"That stupid girl who kept trailing me."

"Right, start from scratch. Mugaro will be fine, he always is."

The story she pried out of him made one thing clear : he really was hopeless as a fallen angel of his reputation now. Saving Kaisar and Favaro was one thing — she'd once assumed he meant it that he wanted to deal with them himself and then forgot. Now and here, he tried very hard to gloss over the part where his decision not to drop her was a thing. Good for him she turned out to be a dragon, so he could insist very loudly she must be a demon and he had just risked his sorry butt to save a demon, thank you very much, not a human.

Whatever, he could sort out his pride issues on his own. More important was the dragon part.

"If she's a dragon, this probably happened before and there's nothing to worry about. Why didn't you take her to the ruins outside the city?"

"I can't have a weird dragon girl in my place!"

Rita just slightly raised an eyebrow. "Remember Amira? I'm sure there's more examples."

"That was different! She was the god key. Why is this such a problem?"

"If she transforms again, right here, I'm out of a house. Or is she dog sized?"

He grumbled, "No. She's not. Look, just keep an eye on her till. I'll pay you."

"Fine. This time, you better bring me coins. Don't wing it with that jewelry and silverware crap that I can barely sell without raising suspicion."

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Kaisar woke up to loud crowing at his window. Groaning against his headache, he staggered to the window, letting in the foul reeking zombie raven. It was only the break of dawn and he'd been up all night, so he half hoped Rita had sent him one of her concoctions.

No such luck. It was a note.

A very angry note.

"Kaisar, put your knights in check. You owe me 20 gold coins for this, I had to cancel appointments."

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