“Where are we going, Algier?” Toll asked from a distance behind me.

“My, you have so much stamina,” Enzi whispered in my ear.

So annoying. So intentionally annoying.

“How do you plan to get enough points to move to the next Ring?”

“It must be so difficult gritting through all that pain.”

Oh, they both had valid points, but I wasn’t going to play either of their games. As long as I was walking, I was in charge. However, there’d come a time when—

“How long do you think you can walk before your body needs rest?” Toll asked.

“If you’re tired, you can use my lap as a pillow,” Enzi hummed.

And that was it! I stopped abruptly, causing both demons to ready their weapons and glance around nervously. Through gritted teeth I said, “Both of you need. To. Shut. Up.” Knowing that wouldn’t convince them, I added, “Before you get us swarmed by digressers with all the noise you’re making.”

Rather than get offended, Enzi played the role of doting wife and placed a soothing hand on my triceps. “Oh, there’s no need to worry about that. Between Toll and I, we can protect you from a little swarm.”

“I’d rather you didn’t have to protect me at all,” I growled, then stomped off. My tired legs spited me for the effort.

It was true that they could, and most likely would, protect me from another digresser swarm. The problem was that being constantly at battle was a huge disadvantage for me. I couldn’t keep fighting like they did, without rest. As I became more fatigued, I’d need to depend on them more. It was afternoon now and my body was already begging for sleep.

The issue was, demons don’t need sleep or rest. It’s part of the reason why, outside of the Culling, most of the workforce had been replaced by demons over the last hundred years, perfectly integrating into roles that were practically made for them. When employers wanted workers that never slept, rested, and infrequently demanded time off, demons were the obviously superior choice. As for humans? For the most part, we do the menial tasks that are too simple or not taxing enough to require demons. This obviously means that the average human is significantly financially poorer than the average demon.

There are some exceptions to this, of course. Take me, for example. I developed artificial intelligence for a living, usually for no other purpose than to predict user input for computer systems. It required a little bit of creativity, an ability to intuitively guess what to test and fiddle with next. As demons are generally an uncreative bunch, they typically aren’t good at anything involving experimentation. Therefore, this sort of work is usually left to humans.

So I had an average job with middling pay. The pay wasn’t as good as it ought to be because, by some stretch of logic, demons had resolved that the humans who did work like this were simply cogs in their great machine. I mean, I was providing single digit percentage improvements in user efficiency, if that. Still, they could have been a little more fucking grateful.

The work itself made me feel nothing, and my apartment was small—it was all I could afford in the area. I’ve always been good and deriving rules from minimal information, so I just ended up falling into AI development. What annoyed me about it, though, was knowing that, before the Invasion, someone like me would have made a killing. Oh, and the fact that my superiors were all demons.

After living my whole life in the shadows of demons, I was now living through a Hell that was made for them. Any breaks taken during the Culling were a chance for others to get ahead on points, and it made you a sitting pleiades. The obvious solution was to depend on demons, but doing so would have put me at their mercy. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.

We walked along in temporary silence. Furrows stretched out through the underbrush, through the grass, through the sparse shrubs that dotted muddy landscapes. Digressers moving, but to where and for what purpose I didn’t know. I started to get a feel for which ones were new and old. The parts of the world that they’d torn from reality didn’t stay that way for long, so if you looked at a stream of missing grass and saw patches returning, giving the sinuous line a patchy texture, that meant it was old, that the world was returning to the way it ought to be. Nothing could be done about anything broken, of course, so toppled trees stayed that way.

It was like these digressers were a mistake needing correction, and we were doing the world a favour by removing them. The only problem was that until the source was erased, they’d keep growing in number and the world would be scrubbed one line at a time, like some incomprehensible being was continuously running an eraser across the land and would keep doing so until it was made to stop.

As we were trudging through another grove, I caught a glint of light between the trees. I kept glancing in that direction, trying not to make it obvious to my companions what I was seeing. Walking ahead of them made that easy, and besides, they were preoccupied with a new round of questions and flirtations.

Through another break in the trees, I saw it more clearly this time: a pile of crumpled logs and boards, perhaps a ruined house, and lying atop the rubble was a sword, its blade glinting in the late afternoon sun.

I needed something better than my inert knife. Granted, the rabdos had more properties than I’d realised, but as I was yet to identify it there was no way I could use them.

It was tempting; that sword was a potential life saver. It was worth taking a risk over.

I stopped abruptly and stared in the opposite direction from the sword. Both demons paused and did the same, now fully alert. Their eyes darted about, trying to see what had startled me.

I pointed at nothing. “Demons,” I whispered.

Nodding, Toll hopped up onto a tree. Enzi grabbed my shoulder and pushed me down to hide.

“How far?” the enepsi asked.

While concentrating, she became remarkably less attractive. Her eyes grew smaller and deeper set like a wolf’s, making them smaller targets. Her dress had developed a scale-like quality and the material was creeping up over her generous bosom. A makeshift enepsi armour.

She was already spooked. She just needed one more push. I shot up and stared over her head, looking like I’d just seen a demon tell a lie.

“Oh, shit!” I yelled.

Naturally, the demon took the bait. She whirled and stood with her staff raised to protect herself. At that moment, I bolted for the sword.

I only managed to get a few seconds of lead time before they realised what was happening, but it was all I needed. Enzi wasn’t very fast on her feet and Toll was too far away to catch up. My legs were tired from all the running, but I put every last bit of strength I had into this one hail Lilith.

Of course they fell for something like this. You know the story of the boy who cried wolf, how a person becomes less likely to believe you if you keep lying to them? That doesn’t happen with demons. Lying is about as natural to demons as opening your eyes underwater: detecting falsehoods requires intentional effort from a demon.

As I burst into the clearing, I thought I’d made it. Enzi was hot on my trail, cooing after me, telling me that we were a team and that we should work together, but not able to catch me before I reached the ruined house. Toll was nowhere to be seen. The sword was almost in reach. Smiling inwardly, I stretched out a hand.

There was a flash in the distance, accompanied by a whoosh. I only had time to look up and see a metallic blur flying towards me. I tried to dodge, but as soon as I curved the projectile gave chase. I knew then I was dead. I closed my eyes, regretting my stupid decision.

Thunk!

It took me a second to realise that I felt no pain. I opened my eyes and saw a wooden staff held in front of me as a shield. Stuck in its end was a shuriken. I followed the stick to see my saviour.

Enzi, the ditzy demon, had managed to cover the gap between us in the blink of an eye and block the shuriken with nothing more than a thin piece of wood. Despite how impressive that was, she paid it no mind. Perhaps it wasn’t that impressive to a demon. Instead, she watched the tree line intensely, ready to clobber anything that burst into the clearing.

Then she glanced at me and her expression shifted to one of utter surprise. She put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, goodness? Did I just do that? I guess I’m more capable than I look.”

“Now is not the time,” I said through gritted teeth. Seriously, putting on an act like that in the middle of a fight? What was wrong with her?

Right on cue, six demons burst into the clearing. They didn’t scream and holler like you’d see in films. There was no need. Demons never stayed shocked for too long, so it was more efficient to rush in silently and kill, gambling on the possibility that your enemies reacted too late.

Enzi put her staff up and I put my back to her, knife out. I doubted I’d kill any of them, but if I could keep Enzi’s back safe we’d have a chance of surviving. The demons quickly surrounded us. All of them were armed with swords, knives, clubs, and one had a chalice which they handled gently.

The element of surprise lost, they spaced themselves out and prepared for a fight. Enzi and I stayed defensive. One with a sword took a poke at Enzi, who fended it off with the edge of her staff. The demon wielding a club shifted around to me. An autothith. Tall, muscular, dark skin etched with glowing cracks that gave them the complexion of a volcanic fissure. They were human in shape, aside from the curving horns and vicious claws.

All of that mattered little, since what makes an autothith dangerous is that they grow stronger as they fight. And the demons weren’t in a rush to attack.

“Enzi, keep the club in front of you,” I said. “I can’t stop it with a knife.”

“Do the best you can,” she replied, not looking back.

I glanced over her shoulder and the demon with the chalice was swirling the contents around. Fumes were rising from it—a giveaway.

Carnacotta, Class 6. Produces a liquid when swirled that can melt a demon like snails in salt. Gives humans some nasty third-degree burns. What makes it Class 6 is that it specialises in erasing demons, as opposed to Class 4 rabdoses which are general war implements.

No good. If Enzi didn’t keep her eye on that, she’d be erased in an instant. I turned back to the demon with the club. They swayed side to side, swinging their club to intimidate me. I recognised the plan. First, they would throw Carnacotta. Then, we’d have to dive to avoid it. Finally, the rest of the demons would charge in and take advantage of our compromised footing. It was a siege. Our only option was to rush in before they acted.

Clutching my mother’s locket through my shirt, I took a deep breath, tried to calm my rapidly beating heart for the fight ahead, then—

A yelp from behind. I whipped around to see Toll impaling a spear into the back of the demon holding the chalice. Another quick stab, then a third, and their body was dissolving into smoke and motes of ash which carried into the sky as though on an upwards breeze. As their hand faded away, the chalice slipped onto the ground and its clear liquids poured out. The grass sizzled where it touched.

That was our chance.

Enzi acted before me. She rushed to the side and used the length of the staff to stab a demon in the gut. She followed with an upward swing that caught them in the chin, spraying ash into the sky. I charged at the autothith, trying to catch them off guard.

Before I could take two steps, a blade flashed on my side. At the last moment I leapt back and the blade whistled past my face. A sharp pain leapt up my leg from where it had been clipped by a digresser earlier. I tripped and stumbled onto my ass and cursed inwardly. Another demon hovered a distance away with a sword outstretched. It was two versus one.

Behind me I heard the clash of wood on steel. In front of me, the autothith holding the club wound back a heavy swing then struck down with blinding speed. I reacted without thought and raised my knife. As the club was coming down, I realised too late that I’d just made a wrong choice and probably wouldn’t survive. The knife was too small to stop anything, and I wasn’t strong enough to catch a falling club. I braced with both hands.

The club connected with the knife’s blade. I could feel my arms giving under the force, the tip of the club getting closer. In that frantic split second, I put every bit of strength I had into the knife.

The club connected with the top of my head. Except, by the time it did it was falling slowly, so it didn’t hurt. Somehow, I’d stopped a physically superior enemy that had gravity on their side with my crappy knife. I didn’t get it either. Both the demon and I just stared at each other in bafflement.

I was the first to recover. I grabbed the end of the club with one hand to reduce its movement then slashed at the demon’s legs with my knife. I nicked its shin; the knife went through with almost zero resistance. The autothith seemed shocked that I’d managed to strike it, and that emboldened me. I knew I could hurt it. I wanted to hurt it.

Scrambling to my feet, I prepared to rush the autothith to stay out of range of the club’s tip, where momentum was greatest. At that same moment, I caught a brown blur in my peripheral vision. The demon who’d swung their sword at me earlier caught a spear to the neck. Their attacker, Toll, then leapt onto them with spear in hand, knocking them down with both knees. They stabbed relentlessly until the demon began to fade. That let me fight the autothith alone. Perfect.

The autothith’s grip loosened on their club and I ducked instinctively. A claw swiped right over my head. I responded by slashing at its gut with the knife. This time it went in deep. Wisps of black and crimson smoke spurted from the wound, then rose gently into the sky. Again, no resistance. I just carved right across the demon like they were butter. It wasn’t strong. I was going to tear it to bits.

Grimacing, the autothith threw a knee at my face. I launched myself to the side and landed on the ground at its feet. It raised their club to strike downwards, thinking to catch me as I tried to collect myself. The thing was, I hadn’t got this close just to stab.

See, the demon dressed like an idiot. It was shirtless but did wear shorts held up by a sturdy leather belt. Kind of like a barbarian caricature you’d see in a video game. That idiotic outfit was about to be its downfall.

I leapt up and behind it then reached out. The autothith tried to step back to better position its swing. Too late. My hand had caught on its belt. With a slight adjustment, I trapped my fingers right around and was locked in. The autothith’s step back was sharp and sudden, causing my arm to wrench. I clenched on with one hand using everything I had and was flung around like a beaten pinata.

As I swung around, the demon’s club clipped my ankle. I howled, but not from pain. No, I was excited. I wanted to hurt it, to stab it, to claw and carve and maim. I wanted to kill.

I’d like to say that it wasn’t like me at all to crave violence, but humans always have a choice in these matters. They’re just exceptionally hard to make. That day, I chose violence, because that was the only way to survive in a world ruled by demons.

Or so I’d believed.