Demons.
They were not born.
They did not grow, did not evolve, did not belong to any chain of life that humanity understood.
They were not natural.
And that was the most terrifying part.
Because nature has rules. Patterns. Limits.
Demons had none.
They were… wrong.
Not just in form—but in existence itself. Like something had taken the idea of an animal and twisted it through pain, through madness, through something ancient and hateful… then forced it into the world.
They looked familiar.
That was the trap.
A rabbit—but its mouth split open far beyond what flesh should allow, then split again, layers of tearing jaws hidden within jaws, each one moving on its own.
A bird—but its song didn't echo… it pierced, crawling into the ears, cracking thought, unraveling sanity with every note.
A wolf—but there was no flesh, no fur—only bone. And yet it moved. It ran. It hunted. Its hollow ribs whispering with every step, as if something inside it was breathing without lungs.
They were reflections.
Broken reflections.
As if something had looked at the world… and tried to recreate it from memory—but got everything wrong.
And yet—
They were alive.
In the worst possible way.
Their instinct was simple.
No strategy.
No mercy.
No hesitation.
Kill humans.
Not out of hunger.
Not out of survival.
But because that was what they were made to do.
They didn't need reason.
They didn't need purpose.
Their existence was the purpose.
And when they appeared…
The world learned something very quickly:
You could not understand them.
You could not negotiate with them.
And if you hesitated—
Even for a second—
You would become just another torn shape… left behind in a world that was no longer
---
Years ago… they appeared.
No warning.
No explanation.
Just blood.
Cities fell hard. People vanished. Entire districts turned into feeding grounds.
Normal weapons did nothing.
Bullets shattered. Blades broke.
Humanity was prey.
---
Until… salvation came.
Not from armies.
Not from science.
But from something beyond.
Artifacts.
Weapons not made by human hands.
Blessed.
Chosen.
They could cut through demon flesh like it was nothing.
They could kill what should not die.
---
Those who could wield them…
Were chosen.
And from those chosen few—
An organization was born.
---
The Angelic Order.
---
District 101 – Night
A man stumbled into a phone booth, slamming the door behind him.
His hands trembled as he looked over his shoulder.
Nothing.
But he could feel it.
Watching.
Waiting.
He quickly dialed:
111
The line rang once.
Twice.
Then—
Click.
A voice answered.
Calm.
Cold.
"Hello."
The man swallowed hard. "P-please! There's a demon in District 101! It's— it's a horse type! It's killing people, please send help!"
Silence.
Then the voice replied:
"Understood."
A pause.
"I'll send my favorite team."
Click.
The line went dead.
---
Angelic Order – Command Office
A dimly lit room.
A man sat behind a desk, his face hidden in shadow.
He slowly placed the phone down.
Then—
"Team."
The door opened instantly.
Three figures stepped in.
One hovered slightly above the ground, calm and weightless.
One was heavily built, muscles tense even at rest.
The third stood still—eyes glowing faintly gold.
"Mission," the man said. "Horse-type demon. District 101."
A brief pause.
"Eliminate it."
The three spoke in unison:
"Yes, sir."
---
Moments later—
A black truck roared out of the garage, disappearing into the night.
---
Back to District 101
Caleb stood frozen.
The creature in front of him wasn't just a demon.
It was a distortion.
Its body resembled a horse—but upright, like a human.
Its neck bent backward unnaturally, like something had snapped and refused to heal.
And from within that hollow, broken neck—
A second head emerged.
Red eyes locked onto him.
Watching.
Smiling.
---
I need to run.
Caleb turned left—
The demon was there.
He turned right—
Still there.
His breath hitched.
It's fast.
Too fast.
---
"It's obvious…" Caleb said slowly, trying to steady his voice, "you're aiming for me."
The demon tilted its head.
Silence.
Then Caleb asked, "What do you want?"
The creature finally spoke.
Its voice was deep… layered… like two voices speaking at once.
"I need… that chest box."
Caleb blinked.
Then—
Relief.
A small, fragile relief.
"Great," he said quickly. "So if I give you this… you'll leave me alone?"
A pause.
The demon smiled wider.
"No."
Caleb's eyes shrank.
"I will still kill you," it continued calmly. "But… if you don't act stupid… I will make it quick."
Silence.
"…how does that sound?"
---
Caleb laughed.
Awkward.
Dry.
The demon's expression twisted slightly.
Confused.
Caleb shook his head.
"If you're going to kill me anyway…" he said, tightening his grip on the box,
"why the hell would I give it to you that easily?"
---
He turned—
And ran.
---
"You have made your choice."
The demon slowly raised its arm.
Its hoof twisted backward unnaturally—
Then slammed forward.
"Hoof Blast."
A massive surge of black energy erupted forward—
Shaped like a giant hoof.
It tore through the air—
And struck.
---
Caleb didn't even have time to react.
The impact hit like a collapsing wall.
His body lifted—
Thrown—
Crashing violently into an alley wall.
---
Pain.
But not normal pain.
Something deeper.
Something that shut everything down.
---
He tried to scream.
But only blood came out.
---
His body slid to the ground.
Still.
Broken.
---
Footsteps echoed.
Slow.
Heavy.
The demon approached.
"You are… brave," it said, looking down at him.
It raised its arm again.
"Tell me your name… before I end you."
---
Caleb's vision blurred.
Darkness crept in from the edges.
But he forced himself to move.
To stand.
Even if barely.
"…m… my…"
His voice cracked.
"…my name…"
Blood dripped from his lips.
"…is…"
He looked up.
Straight at the monster.
"…Caleb… Sultan."
---
For a moment—
Everything went still.
The demon tilted its head.
Its gaze dropped to Caleb's hands.
Metal pipes.
Bent. Rusted. Ordinary.
Useless.
The creature's lips curled.
"Resistance…"
Its arm pulled back.
"Hoof Blast."
A mass of black energy surged forward—dense, crushing, shaped like a colossal hoof tearing through the air.
Caleb moved.
Not fast.
Not strong.
But precise.
He stepped into the attack.
The pipe in his right hand snapped up at an angle—just enough to catch the edge of the blast—
—and shift it.
The energy veered.
Slammed into the wall beside him.
CRACK—
Concrete split like glass.
Dust exploded outward.
For a split second—
Silence.
The demon's eyes narrowed.
How did he—
A whistle cut the air.
The first pipe spun toward its face.
It tilted aside—
A miss.
But the second pipe slid low across the ground—
Clipped its legs.
Balance broke.
Just enough.
Caleb was already moving.
Behind it.
Close.
Too close.
He raised the last pipe.
Blood dripped from his lips.
His voice came out rough, almost a whisper.
"…night night, demon."
SMACK.
Metal met bone.
A sharp, echoing crack.
The demon dropped to one knee, the ground fracturing beneath it.
For a moment—
It didn't move.
---
Caleb staggered back, coughing.
Blood spilled from his mouth, warm and thick.
"…this thing is… strong…"
His grip loosened.
His vision swayed.
I need to get out…
Now.
He glanced at the chest box in his hand.
Or… drop it and—
He stopped.
A shadow fell over him.
---
The demon stood.
Unshaken.
Unbroken.
Its head twisted, slowly realigning with a sickening snap.
"You are… troublesome."
Caleb's eyes widened.
No way—
"Hoof Barrage."
It moved.
Too fast.
Too many.
Too much.
Blows rained down on Caleb—left, right, center—
Each strike heavier than the last.
His body jerked with every hit.
He couldn't block.
Couldn't dodge.
Couldn't breathe.
It felt like multiple hooves striking at once.
Like he was being crushed by a storm.
Then—
Silence.
The demon pulled its arm back.
Far back.
Too far.
Energy gathered.
Condensed.
Darkness coiled around its limb, compressing into something dense… something final.
"Hoof Cannon."
---
Impact.
A single, devastating release.
---
Caleb's body vanished from sight.
Blasted through one building—
Then another—
Then a third.
Walls shattered. Windows exploded. Debris rained like broken teeth.
He crashed into a toy store—
A massive teddy bear absorbing part of the impact before collapsing behind him.
Then—
Stillness.
---
Caleb lay there.
Broken.
Silent.
Not moving.
---
Moments later—
Heavy footsteps approached.
The demon stepped through the ruined wall as if it wasn't there.
It looked down at him.
"…dead."
No satisfaction.
No emotion.
Just fact.
"Then I will take the box."
Its hoof reached forward.
Slipped into Caleb's hoodie pocket.
Pulled it out.
The chest box.
Cracked.
Damaged.
"…how disappointing."
It turned it over.
A faint pulse echoed from within.
Weak.
Unstable.
"…so it was true that—"
---
A flicker.
Blue.
Then—
BOOM.
The box exploded.
A surge of energy blasted outward, forcing the demon back.
Fragments scattered across the floor.
Smoke curled into the air.
And at the center of it—
Something hovered.
A heart.
Blue.
Not natural.
Not alive.
But beating.
THUMP.
Dark blue energy wrapped around it like a living ocean.
The air shifted.
Heavier.
Deeper.
Like something vast had just opened its eye.
The demon stared.
For the first time—
Its expression changed.
"…it really is…"
---
Behind it—
A faint sound.
Soft.
Wet.
A breath that shouldn't exist.
---
THUMP.
---
To be continued…