Chapter two
Dead zone
Dante stands in a small clearing. Somewhere in the Old Lands but he's lost concentration when it came in grasping the fleeting information of where exactly he is. It's a mountaintop with imposing pines and shriveled leaf-trees and shrubs – because rain is a very rare guest here it seems. The ground is shrouded in a dense fog that rolls about the devil hunter's feet and the sun is absent from the sky. There is a stone altar with two unhewn rock pillars about it. It's not an eerie one with blood stains, slain corpses and all that. The place looks like a decent tourist attraction but the fact that he's here clearly indicates that it's no ordinary site. Include an 'extra' in front of that 'ordinary'.
This location is plenty weird and the half-devil's seen some pretty weird shit throughout his years. Fuckin' Babylon towers rising straight outta the ground, old-ass castles that just scream 'haunted' with floors waving like the sea, domes that have puzzles, which if you won't solve you won't go no further – and it doesn't even have anything to do with demonic enchantment. Also portals that deny the very existence of the three comprehendible timelines, and if you enter – you'll have to face enemies you've already slain – it shocks you into the realization that the universe is not really singular. Reason to why the term 'multiverse' was created. Yeah, all that's well enough to be creeped-out but this, oh this place deserves a ranking in that list of unexplainable things.
It's one of those places that are in this plane and it's no void or a gateway to a different dimension. These kinds are the opposite of 'otherworldly', no connections to demons whatsoever. Sort of like the Bermuda Triangle – lots of small areas like that are littered across this world.
The half-blood remembers vividly the warning he had received from his partner before going here: The place is inversed, everything is completely opposite of what it is and by everything – I mean everything. And he's all giddy because of that, hunting a demon in a lost area is going to be epically awesome. No need for a strong opponent, this place is fucked-up enough to make it a mission impossible. It's like Mundus all over just minus the blinding rage. And every time the half-breed recalls it a nasty aftertaste and a clench in his gut follows – shouldn't have compared it to that, the waiting man thinks.
Remember, Dante, we're talking about chaos inbound here, don't get carried away – it's not like he doesn't appreciate the advice from the huntress, oh no, far from it. Alas now that the hunter is standing in the place, he thinks that it may not do him any good. Still, if he had rushed here without heeding anything, he'd likely be healing wounds right about now. He corrects himself – don't say that too soon, he hasn't yet begun his fight and he's already thinking that he won't have a scratch on him.
Dry sand beneath his boots, the hilt of his sword Rebellion already held in hand. If everything's upside-down then his rationale telling him that it's too early to prepare for such a measly opponent is wrong. He knows the creature is out there. If judging by what the sensation is, then feeling so utterly alone and isolated means that he is already stalked. A bundle of emptiness is somewhere on the right, northeast from the altar. …is inversed – he hears the warning repeat in his head, well then it's probably left and not… Well this is going to be interesting – if everything is so warped, denying reality of his senses, then he's already tangled in his estimations, more like guesses really. The demon hunter grins maniacally although experiences wariness as well. He decides that it's better when the demon will actually appear in sight to try and twistedly judge then.
From what he's gathered, it is possible that his prey has toxins in its arsenal. So feelin' cocky and receiving a few gashes would not be the wisest thing to do. It would be even worse if it's the hallucinogen type of poison as well. Because getting out of this godforsaken place would be fun then. Yeah trippin' and neon-high like on some magic mushrooms when descending from the mountain – Trish would be so ecstatic when she would see him! He would tell her of the fairies he'd seen, the damn arguments with the color purple he had and then he'd even tell the demoness that she smells like strawberries. The huge frowning demonic strawberry would probably look hilarious to him then. At best he would be bitchslapped into coherency, at worst – he'd be impaled on Sparda, vertically and through the ass of course. And he'd even motherfucking like it in that state. The half-devil has no plans of spurring on abuse of his intoxicated self – nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope – definitely not a good idea. He makes a mental note to never, under any circumstances, go to the demonette and tell her stuff for reasons because the little people told him to.
One thing's for certain though, if this demon is from around and completely adapted to this strange secluded area – then Dante's fucked. Then just 'tactical retreat' would be all that's left and he doesn't perform such, ever. 'Run, bitch, run' is just not the half-blood's motto. But from what his hunting party (the babes) has gathered from the locals – it isn't so. He hopes that the hunted being at least slightly comprehends where it's at. Because executing his pay (and it's not all about the money right now, it's about the play) when it's all seizuring due to sensory overload would be no fun. The half-devil knows though that if he doesn't get his hide away from this place soon, then it'll be his brain that will go all 'does not compute' on him. He guesses that it's one of the reasons why he finds this hunt so appealing. It's like completing a game on hard mode with unfair and impossible settings. And that's just perfect with him.
The demon is near, so it probably is still far. 'Twould be bad if when it enters the half-breed's visuals things would turn out to be the polar opposite and it wouldn't really be there... Damn paradox-land, it is but it isn't – peachy in a sense. Like getting shit for Christmas, literally. Fucking Play-Doh from the 1580ies, oh happy day!
The demon hunter's psyche takes a more pleasurable route. Because minus the monster behind the plant shades this would be a place the deviless would like. With its not-really-what-you-think nature and all that. He should be alert but he's relaxed for the moment. Hey, maybe if he does everything while rebelling his logical understanding he might get this location better, might get a hang of the upcoming battle without bruises and cuts not worth bragging about. The huntress would love this place, oh yes she would. And he thinks of making love to her on that stone altar. Atop of his demonic lover or beneath, whichever they'd both prefer at the time. The demoness would not oppose the idea because concerning these matters they're both on the same wavelength. He contemplates whether it would feel like taking and receiving instead of giving in the physical sense. Although mentally, since she's such a dominatrix, it is not a feeling he rarely experiences. The idea is inviting and it sends a shiver – the good kind, down the half-devil's spine. Yeah, they should definitely do this sometime.
The idea that had encompassed him so fully just moments prior disappears instantly. And the imaginary visage of the midst of passion dissipates like it had not graced him at all. The mind of the hunter is now lost in a much darker cavern. His thinking process is often swift but not like this. He knows that it is the effect of this place. So he sees it now as limbo, for that is what it has all the propriety to be. None of his previous purgatorial and hellish journeys equal in their dreaded-ness. It chills the man to the very core. No different than what limbo should be... Not anything similar in comparison to a void. Here you'd be stranded, not knowing whether you're dead or alive, such a state for eternity. Your mental processing so jumbled you could not possibly make out heads or tails of it. The physical world would be also much too the same. Conflicts with yourself and the surrounding would arise from nothing and actual opposing would be viewed as non-threatening occurrence. Living dead – there and not, nonexistent yet existing, thriving beyond the end. Oxymorons, oxymorons everywhere! And there's the 'fuck this shit, I'm out' – all loud in the half-blood's head.
So Dante waits in this dead zone, not able to not zone-out himself. There is the want to light a cig, relax and enjoy the view – 'cause all the haunting thoughts are gone. But he's not that spaced-out to miss what this means – the monster is very, very close.
And soon enough he gets his awaited visuals. The thing creeps out from a distant corner and sets its buggy eyes on the slayer with the sword. The demon looks something akin to a mutated praying mantis, green and with insect-like limbs.
Perhaps the demon hunter had caught the end of the string because the creature crawls out from the left, as he had tried to guess before. The half-devil raises his weapon in a defensive pose – not his style at all. And although his prey seems to be stalling – it's probably ready to lunge. It happens quicker than expected, which is exactly what he had anticipated. He manages to swirl and block an incoming bug-claw or whatever the thing's called. The attack was from the front, so he defended his back. Looking to be a swing from left to right, so right to left in reality. The big bad insect had jumped in the air, Rebellion was brought down to protect from a low strike.
The monster bounces back and the half-breed tries to track him, although he shouldn't. It seems confused and shakes his head as if to clear it, even though there was no blow inflicted to its skull, yet. He grins but spares any taunts he has up his leave. This scenario is of his liking – clearly the bug is not outta here but it ain't totally disoriented either. Well hallelujah! There's going to be a fight after all.
The hunted one angers and the hunter barely contains the say that wants to roll off his tongue. Then again 'kitty, kitty, kitty' is probably not the way you beckon an insect to yourself. A mental sucker punch is struck – he should not think about this shit now! No matter how much everything tells him that he should do it, this place is backwards and the half-blood should not give in.
A hit – too late. He sees it come and barely manages to evade, achieving that only by leaping away. Directionless the motion is for he was too slow in coordinating how to harm the being or block his attack properly. Dante hisses, that was too clumsy for him. But his usual grace is not retrieved for the battle continues without a wasted breath. The show from this all would be bad, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins is plenty enough to be worth the lack of the usual visual awesomeness.
Block, hit, jump, kick, slash, evade and repeat. When the demon fails to grasp where its opponent is actually at – the half-devil wounds it; when it does sort it out – all there's left is to defend or lengthen the distance.
The exertion is immense, breathing heavy and labored much, much, much earlier than it should be. But that's all fine and dandy because the thrill of the kill is there. And now he knows that there's no hallucinogen, at least not in the monster's spindly limbs. The half-blood can prove it, although begrudgingly, the cuts on his leg and arm speak tomes themselves. He wants to laugh though because the bug's looking worse for wear, its blood is red and there are wounds all over.
Well what do you know, the red-dressed man whistles – his prey is not all that steady on its legs. Drunken mantis style, hey maybe it'll be a new mainstream thing! Nah, there's probably already a kung-fu flick or several about it, with funny English-dubbing 'n' all that.
Hours pass and the fight's not finished yet. How much time has really gone by already, the demon hunter gives – he won't even attempt to estimate that. Waste of good nerves, he concurs.
Severely injured but the demon still persists and its attacks are not too hindered by the fact it seems. Or maybe it just seems that way. He'll need a good rest after this – there's a limit on how many paradoxes, oxymorons and the sort his brain can handle. The limits are long since passed though.
The swiftest of the creature's offences is its lashing long tongue, so he looks out for it with uncharacteristic care. Several takes are required and the half-devil uses a lot of 'evade' moves, before he spies an opening and chops off the slimy appendage. The squealing sound of pain is not easy on the ears. The hastiness of the being is doubled, now it's really pissed-off.
A couple more cuts (along with bruises from careless getting-away tactics) adorn Dante. And he's all frowns because he can't quite foresee the movements of the demon mantis to cause some real damage. Just shallow scrapes – now that won't do. Not long after the demon hunter turns so agitated and sour for the fact, he loops off one of the monster's limbs – success!
Tick tock – another hour gone bye-bye. Finality is attained with a powerful slash from Rebellion and the huge insect is sliced in half. The spray of blood splashes across the sandy clearing, only the hafling standing is not specked with the sanguine liquid of the last blow. The half-breed huffs heavily – satisfied. It's been a while since he had so much fun and it was indeed a first – fighting in a lost dead zone. And now he actually feels like he's not alone.
He stands in place for a minute or a few, making sure that he's not affected by any poison. No signs of such and the hunter decides to idle some more (just to make sure) before he'll cross the blurred out boundary between this area and the rest of the small mountain/rocky hill.
He looks over the carcass of his kill. Nodding he agrees – he has to take it with him, both of the sides. Hell, and what if it's actually still living? What if it'll like become two monsters and then effin' split and multiply or something? Roaches are hard to exterminate perhaps this demon bug is too. He won't risk failing to get rid of it and losing his pay as well. And so the half-devil grabs both sides of the demon, an antenna and a leg, and starts dragging them behind him. Trekking back the opposite way he entered since the right path should also be upside-down 'ere. One way or another, the half-blood will get out of this crooked place.