Phew! At last! Sorry for the long wait, guys. Pokémon Scarlett came out and I've been playing it like crazy because I'm a big fan of Pokémon games.

From this point on, the story will go in a more original direction, as you've probably noticed by now.

Hellwalkers

Chapter 18— So You Wanna Play With Magic

Being awake all night was, perhaps, one of the hardest things Moxxie has ever done. He's had sleepless nights before, but having to keep your eyes open to avoid transforming into a hellbeast is something completely different. By the next morning, although not exhausted, Moxxie did feel a little bit drowsy. But he was able to get on his feet and move around as normal.

As the thespian moved around the house doing chores, he began humming a small tune, as usual. He was in the middle of dusting some of the shelves when he noticed a flash of golden light in one of the potted plants; more specifically, the one that had withered. When he turned around, it was gone, but the leaves seemed a little greener.

Moxxie resumed his tasks and humming. And so did the golden flash. This time, he briefly spotted the familiar golden swirls of Hellwalker magic in the plant before they faded away. Thankfully, Blitzo was still knocked out by his alcohol-intoxicated state.

What just happened? He hadn't meant to use any magic, but why...?

Wait, he was humming a few seconds ago. Perhaps it sounded a bit too much like a hellbeast purring? Striker had sometimes purred when using his magic, and the pack mimicked the sound.

Tentatively, Moxxie began humming gain, eyes focusing on the pot. This time, he saw the magic tendrils swirling on the stem and leaves. The plant gradually became recovered its healthy green color. Once he stopped humming, the magic disappeared.

Is this what Striker meant with the 'leaks'?

Moxxie thought about last night. Striker actually offered to give him Hellwalker magic lessons. Should he take up on it? It's not like he'd actually use it, but it's best to know how to avoid using it inadvertently, like now.

But this means he'd have to sneak out of town and into the forest. And just how long would these lessons last? He'd have to make a believable excuse as to why he's spending so much time out of home.

A loud groan from the sofa caught his attention. Shortly after, Blitzo sat up, hand over his forehead.

"Shit..."

"Good morning, Blitz." Moxxie greeted, casually placing a bucket next to his companion. He knew what was coming.

"Mox, is that—?" Blitzo didn't get to finish. He quickly picked up the bucket and threw up in it.

"There's some pills for the hangover on the table."

"What the fuck happened...? I-I don't..."

"Nothing in particular. You just got arrested for altering the order last night and we had to bail you out." Moxxie added a hint of bitterness at the last part.

"Altering the what?" Blitzo squinted his eyes. "...I kind of remember something... I thought I saw a hellbeast. I must have gone crazy with the bullets."

You certainly did, considering that you almost shot me.

"That was probably just your mind playing tricks on you, Blitz," Moxxie said quickly, serving up the omelets on the table. "Anyhow, I don't think you'll be able to go hunting today in your current state. You should probably go home and rest—"

"Rest?! No fucking—!" Blitzo threw up again. "I'm not letting that dick-sucking Travers win! Not when I got a lead on the Pale One's den!"

"Blitz, you're in no condition to go anywhere, let alone the forest."

Thankfully, Millie finally came downstairs and helped him keep Blitzo on the couch. It took them a while, but finally, they managed to convince him to stay at home and rest at least for today.

With that in mind, they proceeded to have breakfast in peace—sort of. Blitzo declined to eat for now in case his stomach wasn't done puking just yet.

"Feeling better, Blitz?" Millie asked after some time.

"Well, I haven't thrown up in Moxxie's fanny pouch, so I guess I'm getting better..." Blitzo sneered, earning a frown from the thespian. "Mills, do me a favor and kick that hellbeast's scaly ass in my stead."

Millie laughed. "You got it, Blitz."

"Any plans for today?" Moxxie inquired, trying to sound casual.

"Stay in bed and watch horse movies," Blitzo murmured. He rolled his eyes at Moxxie's half-accusing look. "In my house, you killjoy." Moxxie internally sighed in relief.

"I think I'll join daddy and my brothers on today's hunt since Blitz is out of commission," Millie said.

"Well, today's my evening shift at the castle. I might get home a little later, so I'll run the errands before." Moxxie half-lied.

Blitzo and Millie left not long after, the latter giving Moxxie a peck on the cheek. Moxxie waited ten more minutes to make sure they were a good distance away; to be safe, he also checked that Blitzo didn't sneak back to the house to spy on him. Once he was certain that he was alone, the thespian picked up the picnic basket for outdoor lunches and left the house.

The townspeople looked a bit livelier than usual. It wasn't hard to figure out why, though. There were posters of the Harvest Moon Festival all over the stone and wooden walls. They were probably looking forward to the annual Pain Games that came alongside this event. Wrathian Imps do have a thing for violence and killing, after all. Just look at his Millie.

Moxxie couldn't say he was too excited about the Pain Games, though. Being the 'runt' that he was, he didn't have the muscle nor physical condition to partake in the violent activities that take place in it. He actually looked forward to the 'cursing' of this year's harvest by Prince Stolas, who would open up a portal in the sky to show them an actual harvest moon from the living world.

Meow!

Moxxie looked down. A black, mangy cat sat in front of him. He's never been fond of felines, especially street cats that potentially carry lots of germs and diseases.

The thespian warily moved around it and went on his way.

Moxxie made a stop at the marketplace to purchase some treats for the Hellwalker family, but mostly for Jane and her unborn child. He just hoped that Striker wouldn't take a wrong impression of it. The snake imp was mistrustful towards him when it came to his wife, especially in her state.

Yet Moxxie couldn't bring himself to just ignore it. Not after—

Meow!

Moxxie was just done packing the bread into the basket when he spotted the same cat from before right next to him.

It was following him.

Meow!

Another cat approached.

And another.

Then a couple of chickens, a goat, a pig...

Moxxie tried shooing them away, but they just kept following him around town. He almost got into a few altercations with people who thought he was stealing their livestock despite the fact that they were the ones following him.

By the time he made it out of the gates, he was sure that most of the town's animals were on his trail. Moxxie thought it couldn't get worse than this until he heard the distant echo of mooing, bleating, and hooves pounding on the ground.

Oh, crumbs.

Even though he'd been a Hellwalker all his life, there were a few things that Striker would never fully understand. One such thing was the body's natural need for food and water. They felt hungry in their Imp bodies, but never in their hellbeast forms.

Then what would happen to a Hellwalker's body when they spend too much time away as hellbeasts? Is it even possible to starve or get dehydrated when out of their 'shells'?

Striker remembered one time Mother went off as a hellbeast for an entire week; he and Brash were instructed to give water to her sleeping Imp body to keep it hydrated. They didn't fully understand it, but nevertheless did as told.

And now he found himself doing the same with Brash. With a wooden bowl, Striker carefully—little by little— poured sips of water into his brother's lips. The older Imp didn't seem to react, but Striker knew otherwise.

"...Yeah, I know what ye're gonna say, but I kind of offered to teach the townie how to use magic." Striker imagined Brash lashing out at him. Oddly, the image made him chuckle. "Considerin' that it was my boy's fault that he got turned, it's the least I could do. I know ye don't like town imps. Trust me, I dont' either. But... there's just somethin' about this one... I don't know how to explain it, but he ain't like the rest. And I don't only mean it physically."

Brash's body made no gesture other than the rising and deflating of his chest. Striker ran a hand through his hair, sighing sadly.

Could Brash even hear him?

"Ye're certainly takin' yer time, ye know..." he whispered. "If I didn't know ye, I'd say that ye got lost or that somethin' happened to ya, but I know that ain't the case. Ye wouldn't stop braggin' that no one could catch ya, remember?"

He wasn't sure if Moxxie would show up or not, but Striker wouldn't waste any time waiting for him. He'd promised Jake that they'd resume the magic lessons. He would have rather waited for Brash, as his brother was more experienced and knowledgeable about magic, but a promise is a promise.

Sides', it'd be a good distraction to keep his son out of trouble.

"Mom, do ye know any cool spells?" he overheard Jake asking his mother.

"Not much other than the basic healing, sweetie."

"Why? Didn't dad and uncle Brash teach ya?"

"It's not like that, pup." Striker sat down next to the impling. "Hellwalker magic ain't as potent on those who were converted via bite than it is on born Hellwalkers. Yer mother could try to use the advanced spells, but they'd most likely not work unless she's got help. In fact, it took her a while to properly cast a simple toghairm spell."

Jane ran a hand through her hair. "Don't remind me! I had squirrels and bunnies following me around for two days."

"Well, on the bright side, we had plenty of food."

Bombproof suddenly raised her head and sped out of the cave, followed soon after by the rest of the pack. Striker was momentarily confused until he heard the unmistakable, high-pitched voice of the vermin from the outside. Guessing what was going on, Striker shook his head as he made his way out of the cavern.

He turned out to be right. The vermin was surrounded by both domestic and wild animals all crowding around him. The pack walked around the animals, but they didn't seem to be interested in the potential meal; rather, they seemed to be trying to get close to Moxxie.

Moxxie barely managed to stick his head up from the herd.

"Hey, Striker! A little help here!" was all he managed to say before he was pulled under. Striker snickered at the sight.

"Clayton, what's going on?"

"Remember the toghairm spell thing? Well, the same thing happened to the vermin and he didn't even realize it." Striker said with yet another chuckle.

"Well, go help him before he gets hurt!"

Striker rolled his eyes but nevertheless did as told. The Hellwalker raised a hand; his eyes were glowing as he spoke.

"A chréatúir an fhiáin, scaoilim as bhur gceangaltais sibh."

For the briefest moment, the animals' eyes glowed. Afterward, they lost interest in Moxxie and stepped away; right in the middle was the thespian, curled up and covering his head with his arms.

Striker gave Bombproof a small gesture with his head. The hellbeast started snarling 'orders' to the other hellbeasts as they began to lead all of the animals away.

"Dad, could ye teach me that one?" Jake asked.

"Sure, when ye turn seventeen."

"Hey!"

Striker tapped Moxxie with his foot. Moxxie shyly peeked his head to make sure the animals were gone. Then he rolled unto his back with a loud groan.

"Why is this happening to me?"

"Quit yer drama, vermin. Ye're still in one piece."

Moxxie got back to his feet, still looking scared out of his wits "What the fuck just happened?! All of the town's fucking animals began following me when I stepped out of my house and it got worse when I tried coming here! I thought they'd stamp me to death—!"

Striker's tail rattled. The town imp seemed to recall their first meeting and went quiet. Good, he's learning.

"That was a simple toghairm, vermin. When cast properly, it'll attract an animal of yer choice."

"The thing is I didn't want any animal following me around! Besides, I didn't even mean to cast any spells at all!"

"Ye didn't use any magic?"

Moxxie paused as he was about to retort. After thinking for a moment, he said. "Well, I kind of did. I was humming while I was doing the chores around the house and a withered plant started blooming again. I realized that the magic 'activated' whenever I hummed."

"Because hummin' sounds similar to a hellbeast's purr. In any case, ye probably cast the toghairm during that time without realizin' it. Since ye're newly transformed and aren't used to magic yet, it'll often do more than... intended."

"Those are the... leaks you were talking bout yesterday?" Striker nodded. Moxxie smacked his forehead. "Great, now I can't even hum in my own house. Jane patted his shoulder.

"It's not that bad once you get used to it," she said, smiling sympathetically.

Striker cleared his throat impatiently. "Well, vermin, are ye joinin' us for the lesson or what?"

"Oh, wait." Moxxie looked around for... There it is! He quickly picked up the basket from the ground—probably got knocked off by the animals—and checked its contents. "Phew, thank Satan!" he sighed in relief. "I brought something for Jane."

Striker snatched the basket from Moxxie's hands before Jane could grab it and took a peek inside: freshly-made dumplings and bread with a pleasant aroma alongside some containers—food toppers, Jane called them—with dishes inside.

"What's this?" the Hellwalker asked suspiciously, to which Jane rolled her eyes and snatched the basket back. Moxxie swallowed.

"I figured your wife could use some extra protein, that's all!"

"Seriously, Clayton, can't you just accept one gift without expecting some underhanded intentions?"

Striker would have made a comment such as 'better safe than sorry', but he knew when not to cross that line. Jane's warning frown told him everything he needed to know.

Sides, they'd already wasted too much time. The sooner they start, the sooner the vermin can go back home.

Striker led the party to a nearby treeless area with some rocks to sit on. Jane was merely an spectator, so she opted to sit down against one of the nearby trees instead as she enjoyed the treats.

The hellbeasts returned shortly after. Some of them carried dead rabbits and pigs. Moxxie gulped as he saw a fat, big cow dangling from Bombproof's jaws by the throat. That hellbeast was really something.

Ow! Something smacked him in the back of the head. Moxxie glanced sideways; Jake's tail was twitching.

"What was that for?!"

"Pay attention! Dad doesn't like repeatin'." the impling said.

"Thank you, Jake," Striker cleared his throat. "Well, vermin, since it's yer first time, we'll have to go over the basics. The first thing ya need to know is that Hellwalker magic is connected to nature. It mostly affects objects and creatures of the natural world, which I'm sure ye have seen firsthand."

Moxxie crossed his arms. "You mean the time you used it to leave me hanging on that tree for hours? Yeah, it's hard to forget."

Striker chuckled. "Indeed. Manipulating plants is actually quite advanced, so we'll start with something easier: a simple healing spell."

Jake groaned. "Daaad, ye promised ye'd teach me somethin' new!"

"I will, pup. Just let me teach the vermin somethin' he can handle first."

"For the hundredth time, my name is Moxxie!"

The Hellwalker slipped out his knife and made a small cut on the palm of his hand.

"What the fuck, Striker...?!"

"Shut up and watch." as Striker began to purr, flows of magic snaked around his fingertips as he pressed them over the cut. The wound healed in a matter of seconds.

"Looks easy enough," Moxxie murmured. "But why do the hellbeasts tend to... well, purr when you use this spell?"

"Hellbeast packs will react to the magic of nearby Hellwalkers, townie. How they react depends on what type of spell is being used; the purring comes with basic healing, but for more powerful spells they will roar or howl. In other words, our kind shares a strong connection with the hellbeasts under our care and command. Now give me yer hand." Moxxie quickly pulled said limb away from the snake imp's grasp.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute! You're seriously going to cut me?!"

"How else are ye gonna practice the healin' spell?"

Moxxie gulped. "S-Seriously?"

"Ohh, I wanna try it out, dad!"

Striker handed the knife over to Jake—Moxxie couldn't believe that Striker actually let his nine-year-old child handle a knife. The thespian swore he was going to faint when the impling made a small cut on his palm, just like his father, and didn't even wince. Then he used the same purring to heal it.

"Okay, townie, are ye goin' to try it out? Or are ye gonna faint like an old lady with a little cut?"

Frowning, Moxxie tried to put on the bravest face he could as he was handed over the knife. Damn it, he's never been good with knives. That's Millie's specialty. He'd rather use firearms to keep a good distance away from the target and avoid getting hurt.

Okay, Moxxie, it doesn't seem that hard. You've cut yourself while cooking, so it's nothing out of the ordinary. It's not like the hellbeasts will want to eat you after smelling your blood... right?

Moxxie bit his lip when the sharp tip of the knife cut into his palm—sweet satan, this blade is sharper than an imported Yomi knife! Black blood oozed and pooled into his hand.

"Piece of cake..." Moxxie said through grit teeth, barely able to hold back a whimper.

"Alright, vermin. Now place yer fingertips on the wound and focus. The magic will do the rest."

Moxxie did as told again. The tips of his fingers felt warm and ticklish when the magic flowed from them and into the cut. The aching sensation disappeared, as did the wound.

That felt... odd.

"See? It wasn't that big of a deal. Small wounds such as these can be easily healed, but more grievous injuries require the assistance of more Hellwalkers and the pack."

"Daaaad!" Jake whined, tail wagging impatiently.

"Okay, okay, we're gettin' there, pup." Striker chuckled as he ruffled the impling's hair. "The next spell is a bit... harder, but it's good for communicatin' over short distances. I'd use it with yer mother when she couldn't come to the forest. First of all, ye need to find an animal, preferably a bird or anythin' that can fly."

Striker looked around until he spotted a small gray bird on a nearby tree. Having more experience, all he had to do was to hold out an arm towards it and whisper:

"Thar thugan."

The bird turned its head towards the Hellwalker and flew toward him, landing right on his hand.

Moxxie stared at the scene, agape, while Jake watched the non-verbal spell with wonder.

"How did you...?"

"The same spell that drew all of those animals toward you. Used properly, that is." Striker snickered at the embarrassed look on the thespian's face. "Once ye have yer animal, ye can tell it whatever message ye wish to send and describe the person ye're sendin' it to."

Striker whispered something to the bird and sent it flying. The critter landed on Jane's lap.

"Ye look stunnin', doll." Jane giggled as the bird spoke in her husband's voice, shooting Striker a coy look.

"Did... Did the bird just...?"

"There are two downsides to this spell, though." Striker continued, ignoring Moxxie's baffled expression. "The first is that ye have to be very specific when ye describe the person to the bird; otherwise, there's a risk that yer message might be delivered to the wrong one. Secondly, the spell will only last fifteen minutes, so ye cannot use it over too long distances. If time runs out before the message is delivered, the spell will end and it will be lost forever."

"Only fifteen minutes?" Moxxie repeated skeptically. "That's too little if you take various factors into account, such as the time spent searching, how much it takes to arrive at the location—"

"I didn't write the rules, vermin."

The same bird landed on Striker's shoulder. Instead of speaking its message out loud, it whispered into Striker's ear. The Hellwalker's face turned red, tail rattling.

While Jake didn't understand what just happened, Moxxie had an idea as he happened to look in Jane's direction and saw the mischievous grin on her face.