One Week Ago.
To Lucy, returning to Hell was a risky proposition.
Yes, her Lord had specifically tasked her with infiltrating her former home, her young age as a demon leaving her plenty of memories to draw on for how humans still acted.
As shitty as those memories were…
The older Succubae had complained but in the end, she had been the one sent to New York, the city where she was born in.
The city where she had killed in.
The city where she had been killed in.
From the second she had stepped out of the portal into an abandoned alleyway, she had been hit with the enormity of it all. For once in her unlife she didn't taste blood and smoke in the air. She could feel a gentle breeze in the air. She could even smell the aroma of sloppily made food, left to rot in the nearby dumpster.
Despite it being over ten years since her death at the hands of some drugged out gangster it had felt like she had never left, like she had never died in the first place.
Except of course of how she had changed.
And how the words of her Lord still echoed in her head.
She could remember of how much the PRT used to boast about its ability to find Changers and Strangers of all kinds, Parahumans who had powerful infiltration abilities. Thinking back, that must have been why she had been so nervous in those early days as she made her way into Los Angeles, shapeshifting into others often and only feeding occasionally. However, after tons of careless mistakes and silencing witnesses, it turned out that those boasts were nothing but a bold faced lie to her.
It had especially become clear when she had managed to enter the office of, arguably, the most powerful woman in America's office without incident, at the exact time her master had ordered her to be there.
It was a success on all counts, her task was successful and she had even got a small reminder of what it was to be human again.
So why, kneeling on the floor before her master's throne, was she so nervous?
"I assume you know the source of my ire." The deep voice of her Lord felt like it penetrated her skull through her ears, such was the power he commanded.
"Yes, my Lord, but I assure you it was for a good reason." she answered as meekly as possible.
The following silence grew to a point where she had to look around the room if only to avoid the insanity that the angered, silent, gaze of her master threatened to bring on her if she focused on it too long.
A Demon Lord's keep was always in contrast to what the rest of Hell was like. They were one of the only actually maintained spaces in the Realm. Instead of caves, ruins and blood there were walls, rooms and possibly even more blood depending on the Lord's preference.
Her Lord was different from the others. While many wished the floor of their throne rooms to be carpeted by the corpses of their rivals and sit upon a throne of skulls, her Lord had gone for a different aesthetic.
The walls were clean and painted bone white, the almost pristine floor was bereft of corpses and the throne itself had been made of solid gold, mined from some decaying world still in the process of integrating into the fields of doom. The only signs of it being inhabited by demons was the Demonic runes on the walls, the Urns of Hellfire that illuminated the hall and the collection of hooks that hung at the sides of the room, each impaling the skeletal form of those who displeased her Lord.
A sympathetic pain blossomed in her rib cage as her gaze passed over their still forms. She knew from experience that those on the hooks were not as dead as they appeared.
Her attention was suddenly brought to the present as she felt her master's hand grab her by her neck and lift her into the air, forcing her to look upon her Lord's armoured form.
Her Lord's size belied his power, only being slightly taller than her but that didn't matter. Her Lord, clad in his robotic black armour, was more terrifying to her than any three meter tall Demon. Her vision was filled by her Lord's vision slit in his helmet, a thin strip that glowed with red Hell energy. The rest of the helmet, the jagged but shaped steel failing to bring her attention away from her Lord's burning gaze. Her Lord looked to one of the hooks in the room as its occupant made a sound at her master's wrath, dragging Lucy's attention away from his hellish gaze and allowing her to see the rest of the Demonic but expertly crafted armour.
"My plan ruined. The entire incursion delayed..." Her Lord spoke softly as though talking to himself more than her.
"THEIR SALVATION DELAYED AS WE STAND AROUND DOING NOTHING!" Her Lord suddenly roared as she felt his grip on her throat magnify tenfold."NOW, THERE IS MORE TIME FOR THOSE PARASITES TO TAINT THEIR SOULS AND BODIES FURTHER!"
She let out a strangled gurgle as she felt her spine strain under the pressure and she felt her fear for her Lord spike once again, along with… something else.
Maybe she was becoming more like her sisters than she thought?
He was furious and Lucy feared for her soon to collapse spine. Death was… Unpleasant but her Lord wouldn't stop for something as trivial as biological death.
She had died once before after all.
Suddenly, Her Lord's attention returned to her and she winced at his gaze.
"Explain what you were doing on Earth for a WHOLE week and why I shouldn't feed you to your sisters. Piece by piece." He commanded, thankfully quieter but that was a cold comfort to Lucy as she registered what he said.
A hundred excuses and explanations ran through her mind but her Lord's grip was tight, too tight to provide any sound to her rapidly opening and closing mouth. She couldn't speak and her mind went blank with the implications with that.
…
Before she could even imagine her possible punishments, her Lord seemed to realise her trouble and released her, letting her fall to the floor. She took a few grateful breaths as her throat repaired itself, silently thanking her demon biology. Explanations of her absence ran through Lucy's mind. Did she tell him about merely enjoying life as a normal girl for a week? Did she tell him about how many young men and women she had fed on and how they were all important in some way or another, now unable to oppose her master in the future?
Did she tell him about how many Parahumans lay in that list?
Or did she tell him about Him.
"I know who stopped us the first time." She said, choosing the words that would give her the largest chance of survival.
The silence permeated the throne room until her Lord asked one question.
With one word.
"Who?"
Lucy opened her mouth to speak...
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Whether it was the advanced state of decay on the steel door or the strength of my foot, it had only taken one kick to shatter the door's lock and hinges, throwing the door into the warehouse.
Under normal circumstances, I would have probably found another way in, looked for a suitably large hole in the wall or even tried opening the door normally first. However, there were demons involved. That meant that speed was best, kicking down the door was faster and using the door handle was for people who wanted demons.
And no one wanted demons.
Still, the sheer velocity that the door went flying surprised me. I watched stupidly as the door flew through the air and landed in the middle of the room.
Right on top of a glowing symbol.
Yup. I was in the right place.
I stepped into the warehouse slowly, scanning around the room for anything that didn't feel right or looked slightly demonic.
I wasn't disappointed.
The inside of the warehouse was literally a charnel house. All over the room were brutalized corpses, many of them hang from chains connected to the ceiling but many more organised in small gorish piles on the floor, dimly illuminated by glowing symbols on the walls and floors. It was honestly disgusting. I wasn't unfamiliar with things like this, having seen a gruesome scene like this in every game where there were demons or where the writers wanted you to definitely dislike the antagonist.
While I never reacted much while seeing it through out almost every level of Quake, I couldn't help but feel a queasy feeling in my stomach as my eyes roamed over a bloody pile that was definitely not made out of pixels.
I took another few steps, wincing at the sound of blood squelching beneath my trainers. I would definitely have to clean them before I got home but from my new position, I had a better view of the grisly warehouse. It only served to stoke the anger that was already brewing under the surface. Unlike a video game, grisly corpses weren't always like that. Every single skull in this warehouse belonged to a unique person and from what I could see, whoever was using this warhouse as a bloody ritual circle had used hundreds.
They had been doing this when I had been sitting around my house for the last two weeks.
Over a hundred people had been sacrificed as I replayed Space Opera 4 for the tenth time.
…
Fuck.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I had originally thought that the cultists, because at this point it was obvious, that had done this were out looking for more sacrifices for their impromptu slaughterhouse. It was only mildly surprising to find them in the center of the room, with their throats cut and a bloody knife in everyone's hand. It was hard to be anything but angry next to what looked like a massive, glowing ritual circle on top of a huge puddle of blood after all.
To me, it was obvious what had happened here. The cutists didn't have enough sacrifices to finish whatever they were trying to do and had started sacrificing themselves in order to make up the difference.
From the lack of stupid demon shit besides the glowing runes, I decided it was okay to assume that there weren't enough cultists to make up that difference and left nothing but a mass grave compared to the undoubtedly apocalyptic Hell spawn that they probably wanted.
After what seemed to be an hour of searching, I had found nothing particularly demonic sans the obvious glowing runes and corpses.
Nothing, except for a particularly demonic book.
The book itself looked okay. It had a normal, brown leather hardcover and from what I could see, it didn't have any runes on it and it's pages weren't made from human flesh or something like that. In fact, I thought I could remember some old history text books used to look like that.
Nothing survived long in the hands of Winslow students…
So why did I know that the book was demonic?
Mainly because it was lying in a perfectly clear circular section of floor, surrounded on all sides by the puddle of blood it was supposed to be resting in.
Yeah… A book preventing itself from getting bloodstained is pretty demonic in my book, ironically, which was why I had been pointing Retribution at it for the last ten minutes or so, waiting for it to make a move.
Taking another look at the cover of the book, I couldn't help but yawn as I used my free hand to cover my mouth, out of reflex rather than anything else. I felt a vague wariness as I stared at the book, watching its immobile pages for any sign of demonic nonsense.
Maybe it was okay too…
…
Ooh.
That was clever…
I stepped towards the book, raising my foot to prepare a massive stomp on its cover. If I was right...
My foot slammed down on the book, crunching its hardwood cover into the floor an crushing a few of the pages. Almost immediately, I felt what wariness I had been feeling evaporate almost immediately.
"So, it was you." I admonished the book. Honestly, I wasn't sure if the book had been that demonic to have a mind of its own, it had honestly sounded like something out of a fantasy story.
But hey, that was if my foot wasn't already crushing such a book.
"I'm going to lift my foot up and you aren't going to do anything. Otherwise, I am going to keep stomping until you are nothing but scraps of paper."
The book didn't respond.
"Understood?" I asked it, Pressing my sneaker harder into the shattered cover.
I heard the rustling of pages, despite not seeing the book move. Nodding, I took the disembodied sound as a 'yes'. If the worst came to pass then I could always just stomp down again.
I lifted my foot and almost immediately, the book's cover somehow unshattered itself and the crunched paper… uncrunched itself…
In a single moment, the book had returned to its previously pristine condition.
Huh.
I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised. If I was a book, then I wouldn't like to leave my cover in pieces and my paper all over the place.
Unfortunately, that meant that the book had a sense of self. That it just didn't have a sense of self-preservation but pride as well.
That meant that the book could think for itself.
…
Or I had read too many stories about talking books.
…
Nah. Better safe than sorry.
I considered the book on the bloodless circle. It had done nothing since reforming itself, which was good, but it was still a thinking being. Considering it was right next to the massive ritual circle as compared to somewhere on the side of the warehouse, it was obviously used by these cultists somehow. While that spoke to the possible "demoness" of the book, I did note that it only sat there instead of flying around and annoying people on the street. From the circle around the book, I think it was safe to assume that the book did not want to be damaged in anyway, soaked in blood included. Did that mean that it took a lot of power to fix itself? Or was it simply a matter of not wanting to get dirty in the first place? What if it was more power to fix damage than prevent it?
Was it even a matter of energy?
Well, there was one thing for sure. That was a demon book and it could most likely think. Ive seen to many movies where some random pedestrian is tempted by an evil artefact to release its evil McGuffin. I couldn't leave it here, so I hanged the shotgun off the strap on my shoulder and reached down to pick it up.
Then I stopped as I was about to grab it.
Was this what it wanted? Did it just try to play the "Only you can prevent evil" trick? Am I just being paranoid, as valid as that feeling is when literal demons exist? Could I punch the book if I was being duped?
It took me a second to think about it but, in the end, I just grabbed the book.
If it was some big trap, I was stuck in it anyway.
Standing up to my full height, I investigated the book I was now holding. It didn't feel any heavier than a normal book, in fact it felt slightly lighter but that could be because I hadn't picked up a book since Winslow. Opening the book to somewhere in the middle of it, I was greeted with writing that was definitely non-terrestirial.
Flipping through the pages, I saw that on each page was filled with what looked like symbols that seemed to have no rhyme or reason to them. Some seemed to read Right to left but then the symbols below it seemed to be the same but mirrored the other way. On one page, it seemed that the collection of symbols went in a spiral, whether it was an inward or outward direction I did not know. Dimly remembered knowledge from my English class told me that this collection of randomly arranged symbols with almost no discernible structure was probably not a language I could read anytime soon.
So, If it was unreadable, why did I sort-of understand what it said if I just focused a bit?
…
Oh, Magic book. Right.
So, If the magic book idea was correct, then the symbols must be some type of Rune for demons or something. Then, why could I read it? Was it something that the book did for the reader or was it somehow related to what I did at Winslow?
"What are you?" I absently asked the book, not expecting an answer at all.
The book answered… Kind of.
As soon as I had asked the question, the book came to life. The pages flipped themselves until they stopped somewhere around the end of the book where a symbol on the page got significantly darker until it was easily distinguishable from the other runes on the mess of a page. I focused on the specific rune.
A Book. It said.
Haha. Very funny.
"Seriously this time?"
The book flipped to a different page and highlighted a different rune.
Small animal.
Tired of the book's nonsense, I started loosening my grip over a particularly dirty section of floor. Before I could drop it, the book quickly flipped to a page in the beginning of the book and Highlighted and underlined two very specific runes.
Codex Demonalis.
Huh. Interesting. I thought to myself.
"Tell me more." I commanded the book.
And it did.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It turns out that I was right about what happened to the cultists. They had been attempting to open a portal to the Hell Dimension, which was apparently actually a thing and not some sort of alien dimension but a place where souls went, and had failed miserably.
Or more, succeeded miserably.
What they had wanted to do was make something called a "Gore Nest", a sort of bizarre organic, living Idol that would create a small portal to Hell. This portal wasn't big or powerful enough to allow things to come through. It would have been more like an umbilical cord to this dimension, providing something known as "Hell energy" to make future rituals easier and less resource intensive. While my mind was still reeling at the implication that, yes this was all satanic stuff and not some sort of eldritch extra-dimensional science, I could see that the requirements to make a Gore Nest were small, like five people small. The cultists, either compensating for some sort of interference, which the book noted that it does happen often, or simply being overzealous, had overfed the Gore Nest ritual.
As it turns out, over feeding a Gore Nest turned it into a Gore Hive, a sort of inferior version of a Hell Mouth according to the book.
Gore Hives were like a Gore Nest but their portal was capable of physical transport. This pretty much meant that entire armies of demons could travel physically or teleport through. However, the Gore Hive needed a Demon to act as an anchor for the tunnel to connect to, something which the cultists didn't have access to thankfully. This was different to a Hell Mouth which was a straight tear between dimensions with no limits to It, maintained by an artefact or demon on the Hell-side of the Mouth. I could only assume that the Cultists had misread the book's instructions and decided to kill themselves to complete the ritual, even though it wouldn't help at all.
So where did the book come into this?
According to the Codex's forward, the "Demon Lord" had commissioned that these books were to be made for the cultists working on Earth Bet. Not trusting the Zealots to actually read the book, it was made sentient as a sort of assistant, translator and search function for the user of the book. Armed with intelligence, the Codex was to ensure that the Cultists were actually successful with their demonic endevours.
As efficient and clever as that plan is, I was somewhat happy that people still didn't consult the manual.
After learning all this, my next thought was that the book must have had something to get rid of the Ritual circle. Literally any cultist could come along and finish the ritual properly so It needed to be destroyed.
That was how I was now outside in an alley facing the riual warehouse, looted backpack on my back to carry the book I held in my hands.
"Okay Codex," I started, avoiding the same mistake the cultists made. "How do I get rid of the Ritual?"
The book flipped to the page detailing how to do the Gore Hive ritual.
"No, not complete the ritual." I sighed. While completing it would technically get rid of it, it wasn't what I wanted. Like any search function, I guess I needed to use very specific words.
"How do I destroy a ritual?" I asked.
The book flipped to a page about summoning something called a Titan, the book then highlighted that it was known to destroy everything around it.
"No… Codex, How can I destroy a ritual rune?"
The book flipped to a page detailing how to draw runes and highlighted something in the warnings section.
"Runes are very precise… not a physical entity…" I mumbled as I skimmed through the section. "able to be damaged by excess sorcery…"
That was It!
…
Although I had no Idea how to do sorcery…
"Book, What spell can destroy non-physical entities."
The pages of the book started flipping and I could only hope that it actually had a section on sorcery. I let out the breath that I was holding when the book stopped on a page close to the end of the book.
Hellfire.
A basic technique used by most of the Forces of Doom. While Instinctual for the chosen of Hell, a simple incantation and a source of Hell energy, such as a sacrifice, is all that it takes for one of the devout to use the most base of gifts.
I stopped reading there. Even the level 1 spells of the book needed a ritual sacrifice…
I felt a mixture of relief and mild disappointment at the fact that literal spell casting was to be forever beyond the reach of anyone who wasn't an omnicidal maniac.
"This doesn't help." I told the book, pointedly.
The book didn't flip to another page but simply highlighted a small selection of the runes.
Source of Hell energy.
"What do you mean?" I asked the book. "I'm not going to kill someone to act like a pyromaniac."
The runes simply got darker and were underlined.
…
Oh.
It meant any source of Hell Energy and I was standing right next to a building that was covered in it.
That was what it meant right?
Only one way to find out I suppose.
I quickly read the instructions, eager to do something I had wanted to do ever since I had played my first fantasy game.
"Okay, the book says I should stand like this," I spoke softly to myself as I positioned my feet so that my right foot was closer to the warehouse than the left so that I could handle the recoil of the launch of fire.
"Now, to say the incantation and point my dominant hand at the target of Doom's wrath." I mocked the wording of the instructions. If you looked beyond the religious-like speech, it amounted to speak and fire. Ignoring the fact that it did not explain how you were supposed to sacrifice someone and do all the flame steps, It had honestly felt like I had just picked up An Idiot's guide to being a Warlock or something like that.
I raised my Right hand in the direction of the Warehouse, placing the book down at my feet, and spoke the magic words of power…
"Far Fumek"
And proceeded to butcher those same words of power.
I looked down at the incantation again. Dammit, how did you pronounce that?
"Come on. Far Fuumeck"
Nothing happened as a result of both my inability to pronounce the language of Demons and my wild flailing in the direction of the still unignited building.
"Dammit." Maybe it was my stance that was wrong?
I aimed both hands at the building like that one sorcerer I had seen in a cartoon once, with my fingers in a clawed pose and my hands closer to my face.
"Let's try it again. Far…"
"What the fuck are you doing?" said a heavily accented voice next to me.
Turning my head, I saw a large Asian man in red and green clothes. Behind him were many other people, some of them were looking at me like I was insane and quite a few of them were grinning with malice in their eyes.
All of them were Asian with red and green clothes.
Damn. This was ABB territory wasn't it.
I was currently wearing a red and black jacket and I suddenly became aware of how much blood I had gotten on my shoes by wondering around the warehouse.
"…Fomuk." I finished with a combination of what I was trying to say and a profanity at how much this was going to suck to explain…
Suddenly, I felt a burning sensation in my left hand and a tingling sensation throughout my body as though something was collecting in my hand. Looking at my hand, I was shocked to see a large glowing ball of red fire collecting in my hand, tendrils of flame erupting from my hand to feed the ball so it got even bigger. That was only for a second though as soon as it had collected in my hand, the next second it launched from my hand, almost throwing me from my awkward standing position from the sheer force of it.
I could do nothing but stare as the ball of fire swiftly collided with the warehouse's steel walls and immediately set it alight. I watched dumbly as the steel grew red hot and seemed to melt away, the fire spreading all over the warehouse.
In a few seconds, the whole building was in the process of melting.
I turned to look at the gang members and was surprised to see that they weren't staring at the casual dismissal of physics that the Hellfire was partaking in but rather at me with sheer horror on their faces.
"Cape…" The lead one breathed out.
"No." I felt the strange need to correct him.
With that, the horror spell they seemed to be under shattered as someone in the crowed screamed.
"Cape! Run!" and other variations of that were screamed as the group ran away, leaving me alone next to a melting warehouse.
Huh… Hopefully that won't bite me later.
I look back to the warehouse, noting that the roof had collapsed and I could see that there were even more fire coming through the now missing roof. I looked down to the book, wondering if there was some sort of limit to the fire, noticing that it was currently burning steel which wasn't exactly flammable. Reading on, I felt my face grow slack as I read one passage in particular.
The Flame takes sustenance from the very life that it consumes. It will not stop until the very essence of its foe has been consumed in the essence of Hell.
If that's true then…
With the…
Hundreds of bodies…
I looked to the raging inferno, apparently being fuelled by the life force of over a hundred people. Maybe having a it just in the open like that was going to be just fine?
I spotted a trail of fire casually igniting the concrete of the side walk.
Yup. Just fine…
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
In the End it had only taken the Fire department a few minutes to get to the warehouse.
I guess a blazing red fire was hard to miss.
That having been dealt with by people more professional than I was, made my way to the second place that I needed to check out.
With a quick rinse of my shoes to get the blood off them and stashing away the magic book in my looted backpack along with my gun, I made my way to a specific townhouse in the suburbs next to the docks district only to find two PRT vans outside with assorted, heavily armoured troopers milling around outside.
Standing outside the crime scene, I noticed that the PRT officers had a new type of badge on their armour. It looked like they had added a white skull just above the standard PRT logo but the skull's mouth was slightly open, making the badge look a whole lot more sinister.
My thoughts were interrupted by a ruckus inside the house as a trooper dragged out a struggling dark-haired woman in handcuffs. It was admirable to how stoic the trooper was as he struggled with the screaming woman to direct her to one of the vans.
"You do not understand!" She screamed to everyone who could listen. "The Master will save us. We will all die and you are damning our souls to Purgatory."
With a single shove, she broke free of the trooper's grip and fell to her knees. The trooper tried to grab her again but the cultist was too quick and managed to scramble away.
Looking around, she froze when she spotted something and an expression of pure rage formed on her face. I dimly realised that she was staring at me.
"YOU!" She yelled at me even as the Trooper got a hold of her again and began dragging her to the vans. "Your blasphemy doomed our world's safety. You let the Parasites feast on even more victims for what? You will die first and then this world will be saved!"
"Yeah, yeah." The trooper said as he finally got her to the van and shoved her in. "I'll be sure to put threatening someone's life as an extra next to the huge amount of murder charges you nutjobs are getting too."
Wait…
Damn. I had forgotten to actually talk to the PRT about what had happened two weeks ago.
I hadn't even talked to them when I left Winslow.
How had I forgotten this?!
Hearing a familiar voice, I turned my head to see a red-haired trooper, holding her helmet in her hands and talking to a masked trooper who was taking photos of the house. I recognised her as the trooper that had talked to me before I had gone into the school to stop that portal.
Deciding to leave before anyone took notice of me, I quickly made my way down the street, trying to make myself as unnoticeable as possible.
No! Why was every trooper starting to look at me now?
"Greg?" a voice to my side asked.
I immediately had to suppress the urge to rage punch whoever had snuck up on me and simply look in that direction instead.
"Ye… Jessica?" I recognised the girl who had spoken my name. She looked different from back at Winslow, having replaced her previous mode of dress with Jeans and and a grey hoodie. Her hair was also back in a bun behind her head, allowing her brown eyes to stand out more than usual to her pale face.
"Greg." She confirmed. "I haven't seen you since the…"
"Yeah…" I answered, not wanting to mention it to her. I was fine with what happened, strangely enough, but I knew a lot of people weren't. I didn't know where she stood on it.
The silence between us dragged out until Jessica cleared out her throat with a cough.
"Blood on your shoes." She blurted aloud, gesturing towards them. I looked down but I couldn't see anything but the dim stains on my pantleg that I had reduced to the point that it kind of looked like mud.
"There is also little splatter," She continued. "Which means you stepped in it after it was on the floor. There are only a few places in the Bay where you can find that and you didn't go to a butcher shop."
"What are you-"
"You're here to find the circles aren't you?"
My mind stopped.
"How did you?"
"Know?" She finished for me, getting visibly excited as she kept speaking. "I guess I'm just good at observing things. But your shoes say that you've already been to one of them so what happened?"
I felt my eye twitch as I remembered the Hellfire.
"That bad huh?" Jessica asked. "Well. I'm not surprised. These people are more violent than over seventy percent of cults in history. The fact that you had to use violence to…" She stopped as though she was listening to something. I strained my ears to listen too but I couldn't hear anything past the nearby cutscene.
"You didn't deal with them. You found them already dealt with." She stated with a shocked expression.
"Never mind that, how are you finding these… people?" I said, eager to change the subject from explaining the arson.
Jessica looked to see if anyone was watching and, after seeing that no looking at us, reached into her pocket and pulled out what looked like a child between a calculator and a radar.
"This is a scanner that can detect Energy not conserved by the laws of entropy. I used it to find this place but the PRT got here before I could."
"Woah." I breathed out in amazement. If anything could find some metaphysical demon force then it was that thing. Part of me was sceptical that it worked on all things demon but it got her here though.
So good enough maybe?
"What were you planning to do when you found them?" I asked her, curious as I couldn't see any obvious weapons on her.
Unless she gained powers or something.
"I… was going to call the PRT." She said sheepishly for some reason.
"I guess its convenient that you didn't have to."
"That's not the point!"
"What is the point?" I asked legitimately curious.
"I… Never mind." She answered vaguely. I was about to press her about it before she suddenly asked me a question that I had been dreading.
"So how did you find these places?"
She built something that found Hell energy, something that probably required time and effort. How did I tell her that I had found these Sacraficial sites through a thread on PHO that complained about a bunch of these places, including the place we were at, with minimal effort on my part.
"Oh, you know… Just research."
"Research? Really?" She asked with a face that told me she wasn't buying what I was selling.
"Yup."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Okay then. Well I have one place to check out? Would you like to come along since you were doing that anyway."
"Sure, Let's go" I turn to walk away and I almost shoulder check someone on my way to do so.
"Oh , sorry man." I shout as he turns and waves at me.
Wait… That was the homeless person from earlier.
"Hey! How's your ribs?"
He looks at me with a quizzical look.
"Ribs…" he almost whispers before getting a look of realisation. "Oh, yes. Those are fine!"
"Okay. Have a good day!" I shout as Jessica directs me down the street, pulling on my arm as she did so.
"You as well!"
As I walk down the street I rub my left hand, checking for any possible damage from that fireball earlier.
Because as I touched that homeless man, it almost felt like warm steel.
…
Magic, am I right?