It took a great deal of effort, but the demon began to really see. This human had been picked for a reason. It was in his blood. For generations the factions had steered events to this place, this intersection in time, for the great unsealing.
This is the one who woke me. He who has broken time. He must be the champion. I will use him, then I will destroy him.
Sudden forces shook the tree. Energy struck the demon in the chest. Claws tore through bark as it was knocked from its perch in the tree. Spreading leathery wings, it glided to the ground silently. Landing, hunched, it tucked its wings in tight and waited. The living Hunters had not heard the commotion.
A flickering ghost appeared before the demon, dressed in the leather armor of a turn-of-the-century Hunter. The spirit was ready to battle. "Y'all ain't welcome here. This is a private ceremony," he ordered.
The demon prince recognized the dead man. They had fought long ago. It spoke for the first time as it drew itself up to its full height, towering over the ghost. "I know you. I helped kill you."
The dead man gave a slow nod. "I reckon you did, but don't you worry your pointy little head on it. My folks will even up that score eventually." He pointed to the northwest, the direction the demon had come from. "So get off my land."
It weighed the options. There was not much that a lone spirit could do to harm it. Yet, the nearby Hunters with their physical bodies and silver weapons could prove troublesome. More ghosts had appeared and the prince realized it was badly outnumbered.
It is not time, child, the master warned. The end of the world is near, but it is not yet upon us. Leave the Hunters to bury their dead for now. There is still much to prepare.
Frustrated, the demon dipped its curled horns in acknowledgement to the gathering army of spirits, turned and stomped away, leaving nothing but a trail of cloven prints in the red soil. Along the trail, it passed the shimmering ghost of a bent old man, leaning upon a wooden cane. The dead Hunter was studying the intricate symbol branded on the demon's chest.
"Seen that sign before," the ghost said with a thick accent. "Drawn in the dirt by father of my friend, just the other day." He pushed the glasses back up his nose, hawked, and made a big show of spitting on the ground at the demon's hooves.
"We are not done here," the demon hissed.
"No. We're just getting started," the old man replied with a smile.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Larry Correia, Monster Hunter Vendetta
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