Opium Dreams

  Kross was as ripe as they get, with his neck stretched to its limits and his veins bulging with hot blood, already dripping from the last cut, with this glory in sight, there was absolutely no way that the rookie would miss this one, his commitment to the hunt is ingrained in his brain, and moments like this are his driving force, his mantra, his chakra, call it what you like, but this 'energy' that kept him alive, was at its beak at the particular moment, he leaped. With a shadow of a demon and with uncompromising eyes, he leaped in front of Kross, Kross, the pale demon, could not help but follow the movement of the rookie with his look as if he is seeing an apparition, this made his neck more exposed and much more desirable, calling for a young, thirsty blade to pluck it up with a swift swing, like a virgin daffodil. Playing more to his strengths, the rookie realized that he had officially won his first hunt, and thought of what to come after that, his aspiratio

His blade broke! In his ecstatic state, the rookie thrust his sword with all his power against the thick neck of the pale demon Cross, the blade, having sustained devastating blows only seconds earlier, was in bad shape and would not tolerate another one, and Cross's skin was as hard as ice, the strain from the full thrust broke the sword in two, and half of the blade stayed attached to Cross's neck while the other half was in the rookie's hands, the rookie landed on the ground a couple of feet away from Cross, and as soon as his feet touched the earth, he dashed further and further away.  Cross, now disposing of enough seconds to understand his current conundrum, became furious beyond reason, he looked swiftly at the trees where the projectile came from, he saw nothing but never the less deducted the presence of a sniper, he touched on his neck and found the half-sword sticking to it, no blood was coming out nor was he deeply injured, but this was nevertheless a

Just before he could come down on the two hunters with all his might, Cross was Hit in the chest with a projectile, a 10 cm long bullet fired by the sniper. The dust around the rookie and the old snake was clearing up, the projectile took Cross completely by surprise which gave the two a couple of supplementary seconds, which they could have either used for escaping or otherwise, now, if logic is to be followed here, the best possible course of action would have been to use these precious seconds to escape, which would have been entirely possible, the old snake was as light as a feather, the youngster was fast on his feet as demonstrated by him blocking the demon's attack at near point black, they could raise more dust to obscure vision and dash away from doom, it is feasible, logical, in fact, this, any other day, would have been a no-brainer, for the rookie as well as the snake, but not today.  Now, this rookie was a peculiar spirit, his way of perceiving situations and

A head-on clash ensued, between the old venomous Krait and the pale demon, Cross, who is now determined to kill the snake, even if he does not recognize him or remember his story, the old man was an annoying hindrance, and he indulged him long enough. Krait had a very different perspective on the current events, he had been traveling for years now, chasing shadows, looking for meaning, since the day his wife was sliced open, at his feet back at the Borrows, he made a solemn oath to kill Cross, he joined the Bounty hunters for this sole purpose, and even though he has enjoyed the hunt occasionally, he never lost sight of his goal, the face of his wife haunted him every night, he wanted to pay his debt and free himself, for him, this encounter could not have gone any better, and at the end of it, whether victorious or slain, the one thing he was sure of was that he'd be free, and this sense of relief made him formidable. The rookie hunter continued to watch from afar, immer

The pale demon slowed down, stopped, and turned around. Behind him on the field was the snake master, full of disdain, the rookie hunter hid in the bushes far enough to not be noticed, the hate gave the old man life and reddened his otherwise yellow face, his face instantly gave away his animosity, he was not here for a friendly chat. The demon, on the other hand, was a little difficult to assess, he didn't demonstrate any signs of grudge or any sort of a preconceived plan as to how handle this situation, all he was simply surprised, angrily surprised, which was completely genuine, he did not understand why the old hunter was following him, and his misunderstanding led to minor bouts of anger that were directed towards the situation rather than the people involved, so at that moment he was not resolved to combat.  The lack of recognition of the part of the demon angered the old snake, he lost his composure and gave a poisonous grimace to the demon.   ''

Every minute passing perplexed more and more the hunters, the silver demon's movements were not what they have predicted, he did not show any interest in the town or its people, and his calm attitude did not project any eminent unexpected attack, he was as though simply passing by as if the town just happened to be in his way, this was confirmed when he crossed the river that marked the southern border of the town, without as much as breaking a twig. Now this is good news for the town, and the townspeople observing secretively and anxiously from behind closed doors and windows were relieved, there were zero casualties, great, we live to fight another day. This unforeseen revelation, however, was met with a different reaction from the group of hunters, this turn of events created an unwelcome confusion within the ranks, which in turn led to conflicting ideas and reaction, and an unplanned course of action, the crowman, seemingly disappointed and somewhat angry, called the

Phase 1: STALKING The bounty hunters quickly gathered around the small stone houses of the village, slowly surrounding the pale demon in a skillful dance-like motion, an ominous dance as if to conjure death itself. They waited maliciously, like vultures stalking a wounded wolf, it was an ugly sight to behold, the hunters seemed sneaky and cowardly, they lost their moral high ground and ''were reduced to a group of filthy scavengers'', the thought disgusted his very core, for he had an entirely different conception of what was happening and how it should happen. For him, the hunt began from the moment he saw it, he saw those maleficent fangs and that striped scythe and knew instantly that he will not turn back, almost like a high of some sort, a surge of hot blood, this was a mission for him, a sacred promise, a prayer, he will kill that beast and he will absolutely not die doing it, and it was this state of mind that made him fearsome, and the beast was ye

The fire in his eyes burned high and hungry, and the cold winds of the morning only augmented his appetite for the hunt, he was counting the minutes until the break of dawn, the agreed upon signal for the beginning of the hunt, and not any hunt, his first bounty hunt, the thought alone was enough to make him shiver, the the excitement made his eyes burn harder.  He has gone on several hunts before, but he was always accompanied by his master, and he was often tasked with long range support which made him feel secondary and out of action, this was his first solo hunt, and that thought recrossed his mind and made him ecstatic, ''this is it'' he thought, I am in my elements, and he gave a humble prayer to his god for letting him reach this point.  His breath drew near at the sight of his first prey, for a casual bystander the roles would be clearly defined; his prey was a creature of huge physique and monstrous swords, he was a demon soul easily ten times the si

   He sat on the edge of a flat surfaced rock in front of the cave, a little gloomy but nonetheless focused and composed, he felt shivers as the cold chill of the northern wind hit his back, announcing ominously the departure of the Sun, and the inevitable arrival of the night.   'it has been a long day' he thought to himself, even though he didn't keep count, the sun was generous that day, all the more reason to be afraid of the dark, he took his dagger out of his pocket, it was still dripping, little red drops of fresh blood, he frowned at the misfortune, 'my pocket is now all dirty and smelly' he said with a hint of discomfort, two meters to his right side laid the body of a beast, dead and markedly injured throughout, its throat visibly slit and still pouring hot blood in progressively weakening thrusts, the beast gave its last jerks and went cold, the hunter looked at it, 'you hear that' he said mockingly, 'at least you managed to foul my cloth'

We've been doing this shit for too damn long, you get tired, so you revitalize, then you get tired again, then one day you get excited, then you get tired again, but practice makes perfect right?, so your tolerance increases, but it's too damn long, almost infinite, sooner or later you get tired again, so you try to revitalize and go to your roots, you know discover who you are and why and all that nonsense, but you're empty, nothing is in there surprise surprise!!, nothing but fancy words and meaningless memories, you're still tired so you go to sleep, 8 hours, you wake up just a little bit rejuvenated, you start again, you see new faces, go new places, have different experiences, but it's still the same, that tire that just never goes away, that melancholy that drives your inclination towards sad movies and dark rooms, that horror that attacks violently when you're alone and defenceless, then you get tired of it all, so you go to sleep, 8 hours, this time le