Death to you. A phrase the demon "Bloodstrider" Mura knows all too well; living out his unusual life as a would-be assassin in an unforgiving world. But in a twist of fate, Mura is exiled to Earth, stripped of his powers and is now hunted by those h...
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Naraka sat in the luxury box overlooking the arena. He was with several other high-profile civilians, such as a few wealthy patrons who contributed large sums of money to the tournament. Above him was the box reserved for active Jikininki members, ten seats in total. Less than half of the Jikininki seats were filled. There were few faces he recognized, such as the spymaster ranked fourth named Grendel. Alongside him was the infamous 'Golden Devil of Yomi' ranked fifth, Kishin.
It made sense for them both to be witnessing the fights live. Grendel was a well-known hedonist that lived for the carnage of battle. Kishin was another matter altogether. Rumors persisted regarding the golden-haired man, with some telling that he tore apart a horde of demons with his bare hands. The general consensus was that he was certifiably insane.
Dagon Jinn hovered about the arena space like a trapped fly. Naraka crossed one leg over the other, his robes draping over his intricate ebony armor. He lifted a finger, calling a young woman over towards him with refreshments.
"Here you are, Lord Naraka!"
Naraka thanked the woman as he chose a goblet of fermented plum wine from her selection. He placed two gold coins in her hand as a tip, prompting her to bow and thank him graciously.
Dagon announced the next contestants as a young man walked out into the arena along with his Thrall, brandishing a double-bladed spear. He wore a sleeveless, beige long coat overtop a grey shirt. Naraka's eyebrow raised at the fashion choice. The shirt itself had a short sleeve on the left and a long, cuffed sleeve on the right. The man's shaggy black hair fell over a crimson headband accented with green jade.
—Mura, eh? Kids these days, taking more after those humans with every passing moment.
Naraka smiled as Mura flashed a finger gun at the camera as the crowd ate up the machismo. The crowd gasped and cheered once their opponents, Paimon and Orobas strode out as well. Naraka gripped the armrest slightly, he knew what this was. The massive beast named Orobas was half-bison and half rotting devil. He was a Shitidama; a demon that had lost its mind and reverted to an animalistic, feral state. This happened all too often to demons if they consumed human souls.
Normally such beasts were contracted to be hunted and slain immediately, as reformation was costly and near impossible in some rare cases. But in the Zoroaster Tournament, anyone from a peasant to a wild animal was acceptable to compete. It made Naraka's stomach churn at the thought. Whatever happened next, it would most likely be grisly.
❇ ❇ ❇
Mura flourished his spear as Lilith fused with him in a flash of light. He narrowed his glowing eyes with a grin. Most often he tried to avoid a fight, but Mura had been in enough scraps to know how to win when he really became serious. His mind was already racing with thoughts.
