Who, if not demons, deprived you of your parents, your childhood, your normal life? It’s impossible to count all those nights when you tossed and turned in bed, pinching yourself, consumed by an endless fear of closing your eyes and then seeing them again. People didn’t understand, didn’t believe that their own ignorance and denial were destructive.
That’s why you began to put all your knowledge down on paper and publish entire encyclopedias, driven by the desire to enlighten the masses. Except you didn’t actually publish them — you just tried. Publishers had no intention of recognizing the scientific nature of your work.
Gradually, the study wasn’t just for publications anymore. Damn, you couldn’t even imagine anything more interesting than demonology! The dissection of the corpses of lower demons, which also required delving into biology, writing their characteristics, theories of origin, and the ranking system — you devoted almost your entire adult life to this. The only difficulties were coming up with names for the demons: they sounded primitive, but you didn’t have enough imagination for anything more.
You’d always considered the Reapers to be quite dangerous, despite their low rank and status as cannon fodder. At least, for you personally. They might even be able to wield weapons with a large range, which was anything but reassuring. Such thoughts hadn’t even crossed my mind when you encountered several of these creatures at once: it was very rare before to come across a group of Reapers in a calm state.
But that didn’t last long. It was as if they sensed human blood and a moment later, you had to run for your life.
A sharp pain shot through your back — one of the Reapers’ scythes had grazed your skin. You plummeted downward, meeting the asphalt face‑first. Tears welled up in your eyes from the unbearable agony, but a second of confusion would cost your life. Although what could she possibly do at this point?
It’s the first time you’ve seen a living Reaper so close. And, apparently, the last. But in the next second, the demonic creature itself is pierced through with a long silver sword, and then it quickly leaves the hellish flesh.
«Run,» — the swordsman orders, completely calmly as he shifts his attention to the other enemies.
But you didn’t think about leaving the battlefield. You crawl over to the trash can, hiding behind it and watching your savior’s fight.
The hunter's stomach was pierced through by a demonic scythe, but he didn't even pay attention. For another two minutes, he persistently ignored the metal in his body, continuing to fight and, having dealt with everyone, effortlessly pulled out what was supposed to kill him.
You couldn't sleep again after that night. This time, the reason was only one demon.
It wasn't difficult for you to find a man. It’s so great that his agent was extremely happy about the opportunity to earn money and almost immediately provided the address. You found out that the hunter’s name was Dante. That he was a mercenary and would take on any job.
You rushed to the establishment at the first opportunity. You couldn’t shake off the anticipation of such descriptions and, finally, drawings that weren’t from memory.
But Dante didn’t react to your appearance. And he didn’t even raise his head! The man was sitting on a chair, his feet propped up on the table, and he didn’t take his eyes off the magazine, the cover of which you couldn’t make out. But judging by the posters with girls in revealing lingerie, you could put together some sentences.
Strange, but Dante turned out to be different from what you expected. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.
«Is this ‘Devil May Cry’?» — you start in a businesslike tone. When there's no response, you continue, — «I need you to capture some demons alive.»
Dante finally looks up at you, a slight thoughtfulness flickers across his face, and then he calmly says:
«No.»
«Why?!» — you don’t know what’s stronger: the disappointment or the despair. «I don’t want to.»