Crusade (Mobile Legends Fanfic)

6: Demon Hunter

Another one

Hardened flesh grated against enchanted steel, the sound resonating throughout the walls of the cavern. Unlike it's weak underlings, the Kovold king was nothing to make fun of. A monstrous incarnation of sheer strength and malignancy, the demon hunter found it difficult handling this insane beast.

But unlike other people, he had a different definition of difficult.

After successfully tracking down Earth's most vile for a week, he had chanced upon the great cavern. Although he had no prior intentions of exploring, curiosity bested him and he journeyed inwards, thereby setting the stage for his untimely encounter with the beasts. The lesser Kovolds proved too easy for the Hunter but their numbers soon overwhelmed his expectations. In fact, he had felt a striking thrill as he weaved his way through the throngs of demon fodder. Gremlins were worthless in the face of an actual mass slaughter.

He had just tidied up the place when he had just the luck to meet King Beasty himself.

The creature bellowed with rage, allowing the man to slip under and strike upwards. His blade cut through flesh, and he heard the satisfying mashing of internal organs.

The Kovold King fell dead, it's bloody entrails splayed all over the floor. Blood seeped into the cracks of the stone, stopping to pool right before the hunter's feet.

He grimaced, flicking his blade to ease off the blood. Though he had this kind of occupation,the hunter had always hated blood.

He sheathed his sword and took a step back. Sooner or later someone woulf find the desecrated cavern. There was no need for him to clean up.

The hunter stepped over the fallen bodies of his prey, and finally emereged beneath the benevolent light of the moon.

Night time already huh? He thought. Sighing, he set his sights towards the nearest town and trudged off.

Though it was forbidden, he needed a drink.

----------------

Harbor Town was situated at least 10 kilometers south of the Unnamed Mountains. Unlike the Lodging's profoundly disinteresting location, Harbor town was a place filled with raucous individuals and unexpectedly sordid happenings. Also, unlike Boff's stuffy inn, Rook's Tavern held much more affinity towards customer care.

Miya was resting atop one of the tavern's creaky barstools. Her serving tray lay idle beside her. She had spent a good half of the afternoon waiting on drunken patrons in order to repay the owners in kindness. Layla had insisted on her resting, but a week of sleep had been more than enough for the moon elf.

"Honestly alcohol attracts them like flies..." A voice grumbled beside her. Miya turned to see Layla's sour grimace, her own tray tucked beneath one arm.

The elf couldn't help a chuckle. "Is that not the way of men? To drink is to forget and more often than not, they like to forget."

Layla shot her a dry smile. "Men trying to forget that they're idiots is like them trying to preach Argus." She laughed. "Nah, these guys just want to get wasted."

Miya sighed in agreement. Looking around, she noticed Nana near the entrance, jovially chatting with a group of gruff-looking sailors. Despite their appearance, the cat elf seemed to have no qualms whatsoever and talked excitedly, waving her arms up in the air. Miya smiled at her innocence.

"Ow!" Miya yelped, turning to look at Layla in alarm. The gunner was smiling, her sly eyes glinting in mischief.

"Red coat, two o' clock. Now that looks like a man drinking to forget." The blonde mused.

Miya scanned the area and spotted the red coat. He was sitting by himself near a dim corner of the bar, his collar turned upward to hide half of his face. What really caught the elf's attention though was the blade he carried with him. Usually weapon bearers removed their blades and put them down upon entering, but this man had his strapped across his back. He gave no indication of putting it down.

"He's... quite suspicious." Miya murmured.

Layla laughed again. "I think he's interesting. Im gonna head over and give him his drink. You can stay here and rest."

Miya watched as her companion made her way over to him. She wondered how Layla could look so confident. Even as she waded her way through throngs of drunken mishaps, she never did once falter at any call or remark. Truthfully bar serving was a trade that was pushing Miya to her limits (she hated drunks in general) yet she marveled how the blonde still had her wits about her.

Was it the difference between human females and elves? Miya would never know.

A sudden crash caused Miya to jump. She turned halfway and looked worriedly at the entrance of the kitchen- the source of the tavern's chaotic babel.

"Ah flubber, that's gonna leave ay mark." A plump-looking man emerged from behind a tassel curtain, griping as he held two pitchers of frothing ale. His slight eyes surveyed the room and, upon seeing Miya, lightened.

"Well how's our lil' elfy? You doin' well Miya?"

"Yes." The elf smiled. "Thank you for your kindness Mr. Rook."

Rook guffawed, his coarse laughter seeming to shake the room. "Now you make me blush, elfy. But i ain't no gentlman, an' i certainly ain't no mister. You can jus' call me Rook like everybody else."

Miya nodded. "You're too kind."

"I try to be elfy, i try to be." With a clownish wink, he set the pitchers on the counter then ambled back into the kitchen.

Miya watched him go, then stared off into space. She liked Rook. He was much more agreeable than other retainers.

Find me

Miya felt her breath weaken a bit, her mind remembering fragments of her dream. It's been a week and yet she still couldn't figure out who the battered elf was. She could only recall bits and pieces. She did, however, have frequent  anamnesis of the man's eyes. Milky white with no pupils.

What she could recount from their Shaman's lectures was that dreamwalking was a highly advanced form of magic. Very ancient and very ornate. It ceased to be practiced after the 2nd Plane War, after nearly a quarter of the elven magic-weilders were brought to their graves. Most of the survivors were feeble old elves who could barely cast runes. The only ones left she could ask were all dead.

This seemed impossible to solve.

Groaning, Miya thumped her head against the counter and closed her eyes. Unfortunately, rest would not come. The bloodied form of her kin came into view behind her lids and beckoned for her.

Find me.

It was an intense pull, one she could barely understand. And yet she found herself subconciously thinking that it was a sign. If she were to find him, maybe Miya would finally be able to gain her first clue to the perpetrators of the attack. Maybe she could do justice.

She closed her eyes again, the image of her burdened kin burning into her subconscience.

She didn't know where to start, but she'd make sure to find him.