An abandoned warehouse, the best place to hide evidence. No one but the stupidest of people would ever come wandering into a place like this. And those who did would bear witness to the most horrific creature imaginable sink its fangs into their bare flesh for what lies beneath. Today, however, one explorer was stupid enough to walk into the den of a monster. And now, he stood in dried puddles of blood.

The Leech Demon, a being of gore made from the freshest horror one could ever imagine, impended upon Bell with all of its ferocity. The Leech Demon lurches towards the boy on all four of its limbs. The ground beneath them was a mix of dried up blood from victims long past churned with slight fragments of viscera.

Slowly, its upper jaw raised itself high while its lower one went slack. The display was complemented by the sound of flesh tearing apart until there was a loud crack. And in a flash, the creature's neck extended forward and swung out in a horizontal slash. The boy was sent flying into a pile of wooden crates, only leaving sawdust and splinters under him. Whatever bits and pieces were left over started to grate against his clothes and skin. Cuts. Bruises. They were irritating painful.

But they weren't enough.

Feet were planted down first, lifting his scarred frame from its resting place into an upright stance. The residual grogginess from blood loss had not been washed away quite yet, putting his perception of the world around him into question. Like a grey haze that stained his eyes.

The whiz of a striking tail makes him glance up and flip backwards out of the attack. The accompanying shockwave knocked his body into a violent tumble off to the side. Not even a second later, the Demon pressed its hand down on his back with pressure so great that is drew out the precious liquid.

Another good stomp just in case, and it backed up a little to ensure that it would be able to drain whatever faint life was left. Its still gaping maw started to draw in all the blood in the area, from the miniature red sea it had made to little remaining fragments that remained in the old lady. She had served her role well, but as with all things, it must come to an end soon. The decomposing woman would not be a suitable disguise for too long, with repeated entry and modification to her innards distorting her frame more and more. It'd have to move onto the next prey, preferably younger and much more athletic. Something that could give a little trouble to much bigger prey, much heartier and much more filling.

The old lady… she's in danger… Bell thought to himself. His heart started to beat faster, less in rage but more in determination. Muscles started to contract to move and extended his arm up to try and gain some balance. Cuts and tears had greatly damaged their integrity, with more and more pain filtering onto Bell's brain to try and get him to stop for even a moment. That wouldn't be enough.

All the red fluids flowed back into the Demon; all but the boy's. A few ounces of blood had been absorbed, sure, but much of it simply floated upwards as if the flow of gravity had been reversed yet were never pulled into the maw. Like it was trying to defy its magic…

I need to worry then… I need to care about that… I almost… almost…

The familiar rise and descent of the stomping foot was halted by the push of an hand. In moments, surprise ran through the demon's body as it felt the boy slowly and steadily start to overpower the pressure of the stomp. He started to stand up, one leg heaving itself through the stained blood and the other following.

I have to keep him in the warehouse… I have to beat him right here and right now. To keep her safe…

Another arm clutches the Demon's legs, clutching it tight with each finger clasping down straight into the jelly-like skin. He staggers back to pull on the wrist of the demon, the first tug stretching the skin apart like melted cheese, the second split into the muscle underneath, and the third one severed hand from limb.

Tendrils of red jettison out of the Demon's back as it roars in fury. They rain down upon him like bloody raindrops as Bell tries to navigate away from the attacks. Two spears pierce him, one through his arm and one through his hand and he's sent right back into the dumpster that he had arisen from. No time is wasted with Demon pouring out a torrent of blood. Extending out a facsimile of a hand that glows with a red aura, the large stain erupts into a massive fist. It slammed its arm onto the ground and the construct followed suit… only to be shattered in an instant.

Terror was all that it felt as out from the trash, Bell stood. Covered in his own blood but his skin had a much healthier hue, as well as his demeanor being much lighter than before. As he walked towards the beast, a glow radiates from his hand, surging with energy continuously to a drumming beat.

"Prepare to face the might of…" Bell pauses for a little bit, trying to think of a name for himself. A lot of thoughts raced through his refreshed mind, yet its not long after that he gives up and says, "Me!"

Quickly looking around, the Demon looks towards the old woman, life slowly fainting from the deprivation of blood. It needed leverage over this human. Threaten him with the life of another. A common human trait, commonly seen with humans with smaller humans. Before the hand could even wrap its fingers around her waist, Bell quickly rockets over and delivers a strike onto the hand, caving it inwards. A roar bellows out as Bell scoops up the woman and leaps high onto a nearby ledge. He gently sets her down, feeling a faint but steady heartbeat the entire time. She still lived, but just by a strained thread. He had to finish this quickly was all on his mind as he lept back down.

Now panicking, the Leech demon raises both of its hands and spawns out blood constructs of all kinds of things, ranging from animals to people. However, the constructs were melting right after they had just formed, clearly from the strain their master was experiencing and how hard it was to even maintain magic at its understanding. That wouldn't be helped by how much strain was being put upon the monster. It couldn't keep its composure for long, constructs falling apart and melting at the moment of birth on worsened its mental state far beyond repair.

It instructed its mini-army to attack, with Bell quickly dashing through them. The glowing hand of power slammed into the first construct, getting lodged deep within the construct. Struggling to pull it out, Bell takes notice of the blood thing swinging a tendril at him. He manages to rip his arm out in time, flipping backwards as the tendrils slices through its ally instead. Right behind the creature, Bell cuffed his fist into its back. The wound isn't deep enough to bisect it, only enough to send it stagger. A side kick is all it takes to send it onto the ground, with it slowly starting to build itself back up from the puddle.

An arrow whizzes by his head, followed by a swarm of them. Tries his best to repel the onslaught of spikes away, breaking several that got near him. Every now and then, a spike would get to close or slash at him, making him wince in pain. He couldn't lie, he could really go for a weapon right now instead of punching. Mors and Azrael did train Bell to be able to swing a scythe, but he was far from a master at it. His technique was pitiful in comparison to his sisters. But being able to slice these things into puddles of red would be much preferable to whatever this is. He would have to make do with the tool he was given.

The Leech Demon finally runs out of projectiles, and Bell took this as his chance. He rushed towards the thing, through each blood construct. The first one, he got his fist stuck in again, pulling with even more force that split the blood monster into twos and onto the floor. The next three were similarly hard, going for a diving thrust with the first one, followed up by a beheading. Then, repeatedly jabs into the just of the next one, causing it fall to pieces more and more. The third one had him bring his fist down on its head, splitting it apart.

There were still several ahead, and Bell kept pushing. Weirdly, while his technique never changed, Bell could feel it get easier and easier to hack away at the constructs. His hand never got caught in their bodies after a while, punching through them like a hammer through a wall. Even more uniquely, they never regenerated after he destroyed them. A strong enough hit was enough to cause these things to liquify and be rendered useless.

As he approached the Daemon, it got desperate. It started throwing chunks of itself at Bell. The first cluster clung on with its suckers, trying to drain his blood again, but Bell swatted them aside. He would be faced with the next cluster, with him simply slicing the leeches into nothing but goop.

With enough momentum built, Bell kicks himself off of a nearby crate and jumps high up, aiming to impale the Demon. The Leech Demon panics and unleashed a massive tendril made of leeches straight at Bell. He catches the boy mid-air… with the tendril being torn right threw as Bell glided on by.

Feet were planted on the Demon's face as all it could do was wait and watch. In the motion of stabbing, Bell jabs right into the Demon's head. It roars in pain, only amplifying as he slid right down the middle.

And once at the bottom, the Demon's halves fall down and onto the ground. Bell stands over the severed halves, looking down at the meatly remains with a twinge of disgust. But also… intrigue. Every blood construct pooled together then evaporated in an instant, fading away into magical particles. They're blackened, but they carry a little gleam Bell looks on at the spectacle of magical energy floating high up into the air. That brief distraction almost made him forget the old lady, with an immediate surge shocking him back into realization.

Taking her from her resting place, he lift her onto his back. In a dash and a flash, he rushes off to the nearest direction of a hospital. He tried to be as gentle as he can while going as fast as he can, with drips and leaks of blood staining his already bloodied clothes. It would be hard to explain what happened.

But that wouldn't stop him.

The Lin Residence

Azrael sits at a table, tapping his finger in a worried motion. Those two hadn't come home yet. Mors would still be at STARS being debriefed on her mission. But him… Normally, Bell would have shown up after his typical walk around the town. But to be gone 2 hours longer than usual… the sun was nearly down. The Angel was considering spreading his wings to go looking for his son.

Just then, the ringing of the house phone shook the house for just a few seconds before Azrael dashes over to pick it up.

"Lin residence. Mr. A speaking." He listens for a little bit to the voice on the opposite end of the line. And in an instant, dread runs into his spine as he heard these words;

"Your son has checked into the hospital, sir."

Doors slam open as Mors rushes into the waiting room. She's covered in bandages, as a sort of precaution to her damaged body still being in a state of disarray. At the front desk, she slams her hands down, asking, "Where's Bell Lin?" The lady at the front desk was a bit worried at the sight of a tall bandaged woman asking to find a person, with the only thing she was told to do was to wait and she would send for him.

Slowly, Mors inched herself back, closer to a chair behind her as her legs give way and she falls back. Waiting sucked. That's all that could race through mind. Concern was there too, but frustration was king among kings. Even in this chair that'd be too small even for that midget, all that negativity boiled until…

Her father walked through the door to the ER. On her feet, Mors starts to bombard him with question after question. He didn't answer a single one of them, all but the single ask,

"Where was Bell?"

Behind him, Bell walked forward. Slightly bruised and some patches on his skin, but otherwise safe. Immediately, Mors goes to chastise him for getting into a fight, getting himself hurt and making her worry, but she didn't even utter a noise before the raise of her father's hand told her everything that she needed. A heavy sigh was all that she could muster before resigning herself outside.

Several grueling minutes of time seeming to halt passed, the two walked out of the hospital. In the parking lot, Mors' bone-themed motorcycle quietly sat, with room for two.

"You two go home. I have to finish some paperwork." Bell was the first to move to the vehicle, but as Mors was about to follow, she felt a hand grasp her shoulder, Azrael finishing with, "Mors. Please don't be hard on your brother. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

Those words would be burned into her psyche as she sped off in the night.

From the road, to the steps, to the front door. Not a single word was uttered between the two siblings. Not until Bell reached the front door of his room. The two exchanged glances, eyes like a new born pup gazing at its worn and tired elder. There was pause, before Bell slipped into the room and the door was closed shut.

Leaving Mors waiting for Azrael to come home. The couch would be her only friend until then. Even that voice she'd been hearing from recently would not make a singular peep to even poke fun at her or insult her. No, what remained quiet. Silence wanted company, and she would that until the warm smile of her dad walked back into her life, with some drinks in tow.

"What happened?" Mors, asked.

A big long sip from the fruit-flavored beverage yielded the answer. "An old lady was being used by a Daemon to kill people. Used her as a meat suit to lure people. Bell was to be its latest victim. He said he defeated it… and now that old lady is hospitalized."

"Will she… be ok?"

"A wiping of the mind, and some months in rehab should mend some of what is broken."

"And him?"

The worst part. No answer. Her father just kept drinking until he was done, and went back for another, only this time, handing it over. It was orange flavor, not her favorite but it wasn't half bad. She slowly took the drink from his hand and started to sip it.

"Mors. Take Bell to Stars tomorrow. We're going to get to the bottom of what he can do."

And so, with that declaration. The two drank the night away with sugar-filled pop drinks. Maybe to take the worry out of their minds. Maybe to just have a minute to themselves. Only they would know.