Chapter 24

  Alex the Demon Hunter

  ONE BRIGHT DAY – BEFORE IT ALL WENT WRONG

  Eight-year-old Alex Hunter was focused.

  There was no way he was getting away this time around.

  He’d gathered all the right potions, he had enough heals, and his armor and fming sword were finally upgraded to the right levels. No way… There was no way he would die to him again.

  The big boss demon bsted through the castle door and let out a deafening roar.

  Come at me you monkey! thought Alex. It’s time for your final trick!

  The gluttonous King of the Demons licked the blood off his big, craggy, bulky sword and eyed him menacingly.

  How stupid are you? thought Alex. A sword that big is completely impractical!

  The Demon King swung his massive bde at Alex’s character, Alex, who dodged the attack with ease.

  Not this time, you fat ass. I know all your moves now. Including—

  The Demon King faked a strong attack and fired a gum ball from his wobbling belly instead.

  —your stupid tricks!

  Alex rolled out of the away. The Demon King followed up with a flurry of light attacks, but Alex managed to dodge them all.

  This was it. The rhythm of the battle was finally in his grasp. After two whole hours of feeling like he was banging his head against the wall, he was finally going to sy this final boss and cim the throne.

  You’re not getting to live this time around, you bloated little… Arrghh I’ve run out of insults to throw at you!

  After ten intense minutes of dodging, dodging, hitting, dodging, dodging, getting hit, dodging, dodging, healing, and repeat, Alex had finally brought the Demon King down to ten percent HP.

  Alex now knew that this was the toughest phase of the fight. If the Demon King got Unholy Armor off, which he always did when his health bar dropped so low, then his current HP would effectively quadruple and bringing him down would take forever.

  So the goal was to trap him before he can cast the armor buff. And Alex had just the right strategy for this.

  First, he dodged all the quick light attacks without attempting to squeeze in an attack between the dodges himself. Better to py this part safe. Then, when the Demon King raised his gigantic sword over his head for a heavy attack, Alex quickly responded with a bst from his Fming Shot Gun, hoping and praying that it would result in a—

  Stagger!

  Yes!

  He now had a full second to cast his trap. The Demon Catcher was a useful incantation that he learned specifically for this very instance. It was a simple spell, one that didn’t require too much INT, that would render any Unholy Magic within its radius ineffective.

  A glowing, purple circle conjured on the ground before him while the Demon King was staggered. All he had to do now was lure him in and finish him off.

  Come on you big, ugly, slimy, dirty, loser of a Demon King! Come and get me!

  Alex stood in pce as bait, which the thickheaded monster easily took. He charged Alex, thrashing his massive belly around as he did; but before he realized it, he was inside the circle, trapped.

  Glowing white chains erupted from the purple points on the ground and bound to his thick hands and neck. The Demon King roared in frustration.

  Time to move in!

  Alex charged at him, fully aware that the acid gumball trick was still a threat. As expected, the Demon King spat the gumball from his hideous belly and Alex dodged with ease. He then triggered a running heavy attack, slicing the trapped demon from his belly to his face with a powerful ssh from his Fming Demon Syer Sword +10.

  Critical hit!

  In one hit, Alex reduced the ugly monster’s current HP by half. Alex could see him trying to cast Unholy Armor, but the animation kept getting interrupted by the glowing white chains.

  It was working! Just one more hit!

  Alex decided to finish him off with a charged attack, in style, leaving no room for any RNG nonsense. He didn’t want the demon to survive at one percent HP and get the opportunity to cast Unholy Armor.

  As soon as Alex’s charged attack was ready though, the Demon King let out a deafening roar and broke through the glowing white chains.

  No! HOW?!

  The chains exploded in an area-of-effect bst that sawed off fifty percent of Alex’s remaining HP.

  Dammit! So he had specific defenses against the chains. They only hold him long enough for a single hit.

  He would probably have to cast the trap all over again. And he only had one charge left!

  No problem, Alex. Adapting to new situations on the fly, that’s what this fight is all about!

  Now in his final, final phase, the Demon King was pulling off moves Alex had never seen before! And he was much, much faster too.

  Why was he so damn tough? This was probably Alex’s twentieth attempt! And he was supposed to be good at video games!

  None of that mattered now. This wasn’t over. This could be it!

  They were both at five percent HP. And he still had one heal left.

  Was that enough?

  Maybe. If he could just dodge the entirety of his ten-hit combo with frame-perfect accuracy, and manage to hit him once, then do it all over again and deliver the final blow, then… Maybe then. And he needed to interrupt the armor buff cast by perfectly timing his shotgun bst, or everything was lost anyway.

  Yes. That was the only way. He couldn’t use that window to heal or attack, he must interrupt the cast! Risking it all at five percent HP.

  Focus, Alex. You can do it! He’s the toughest one you’ve faced so far, but he’s nothing to you!

  HE IS NOTHING TO YOU!

  Alex channeled the best of his finger dexterity and focus.

  The dodges, Alex. You must nail the dodges!

  The boss demon roared, announcing that he was about to initiate his signature attack frenzy!

  Get ready, Alex. Here it goes!

  Dodge. Dodge. Dodge!

  Yes! I’m doing it. Just a little more!

  Dodge. Roll away. Roll away some more!

  Suddenly, there came a loud cng from the kitchen downstairs. Followed by some muffled yelling making its way to his ears despite the headphones.

  Shit!

  The split-second distraction made him mistime the final roll, and—

  The grossly-bloated demon king’s craggy greatsword pierced through his character’s armor, hoisting his body up like a fg on a pole as his character let out his final groan.

  Dammit! Alex smmed his headphones on the bed that he’d been curled up on.

  He was so close! Literally one hit away from victory!

  Sigh. Perhaps a short break, and then he’ll get right back to it. Now that he knew that the trap only afforded him one hit, he could pn accordingly.

  Yes. No problem. He never gives up, does he? He would try again. And the next one was going to be it!

  But there was a different problem at rge right now, in the real world. Now that his headphones were off, the shouting match was no longer muffled.

  Alex closed his eyes and sighed. They were at it again, weren’t they? Was it the third time this week?

  He silently opened his bedroom door and stealthily made his way near the top of the stairs, peeking around the corner. He didn’t want them to know he was watching.

  “I don’t understand what the big deal is!” His mom wasn’t being that loud, but she was firm. “It’s just martial arts. All the neighborhood kids are going. All his friends.”

  His father, however, was fuming. Like he often was. “Mel, you don’t understand! There is a lot you don’t understand!”

  “Well, then, enlighten me. Please! He’s my son too you know!”

  “The violent video games are bad enough. But this? This is just too much. I cannot allow it. I will not allow it.”

  “John, you’re acting like a complete maniac, you know that?”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you knew half of what I know!”

  “Well, go on then! I want to know what’s so—I don’t know, demonic—about a little physical exercise. Expin it to me.”

  His father looked like he was about to break something. He steadied his breathing and bent forward, resting one hand on the table between them, and thumping his other fist in the air as though it were the gavel. “It’s not about physical exercise. It’s about encouraging anger and violence. Which will not go well for him.”

  “So this is about what your grandma always said, then? What was it?” She continued in a coarser, deeper voice, imitating Alex’s great-grandmother. “‘Hunter men must not anger, else the curse will take you!’ Didn’t you always say it was all a load of crap?”

  “A lot of what she said was a load of crap.”

  “But not this?”

  “Not this. I know it because I’ve felt it too when I was young. In my bones I’ve felt it. The urge to just… hammer things into pce just the way I want it. And throw a riot if it doesn’t. It gets overwhelming, even now sometimes. But I’ve learned to suppress it.”

  “Have you, now?”

  “Believe me, Mel. I have.”

  “So the reason why our son should stay away from violent video games and martial arts is based on your grandmother’s superstitions. Am I putting this correctly?”

  His father shook his head in frustration. “You just don’t get it!”

  “Dammit, John, then give me the whole truth! We’re a team and we’re in this together. Just tell me what’s really going on here.”

  His father massaged the inner corners of his eyes with one hand. He managed to lower his breathing into a calm composure once again. Calm for now, but Alex knew how fragile his temper really was. “It’s about Pops.”

  “Your grandfather?”

  “My great grandfather. The First Hunter as the old vilgers called him, since it was he who adopted this stupid ass st name. We all called him Pops because that’s what my grandma called him.”

  “How was your great grandfather still around when you were young?”

  “I don’t know. He had an unnaturally long life. Don’t ask me how because I have no idea. He was like a grandfather to us; but his son, my actual grandfather, died years before I was even born.”

  “I know. Shirley told me about her husband. He was a good man from what I’ve heard, and she loved him dearly. It was tragic that she lost him so young. But I still don’t see what any of this has to do with our son’s martial arts lessons.”

  “I will get there if you let me!” His father exploded, but quickly calmed down. “Pops, my great grandfather… It was all just like Grandma Shirley said. Everything she said about him was true.”

  “Everything?” His mother cut in again, confused. “What do you mean everything? You don’t mean that he was…” His mom scoffed. “Oh come on, John. Surely you don’t believe he was some cowboy demon hunter?!”

  “No! Of course not!” His father spped the table. “But he believed it, didn’t he? All those ridiculous stories about his exploits in faraway nds. He was convinced that it was all real. He was insane, Mel!”

  “What are you trying to say, John?”

  “Schizophrenia,” his father told her, and his mother’s eyes widened in shock. “Or at least that’s what the doctors said, but I never believed them. Pops was a recluse, but he was just too smart and far too cunning. I’m sure he made them believe he was just some harmless lunatic so they wouldn’t put him in an asylum, or look closely at his… other activities.

  “My father was just… so stupid to not see it in time.”

  “Don’t insult your father like that,” his mother said firmly. “And don’t be so unkind to your great-grandfather’s memory, either.”

  “Why?” His father exploded again, offended at the thought. “He was a freaking psychopath! And he poisoned his only child—my grandfather—with the same kind of crap that he sold to everyone he met.”

  “Shirley told me that he was eccentric, but maybe he wasn’t insane. Those kinds of beliefs were common, then. Maybe he was just a product of his time!”

  It was like the words were choking his father from the inside. He wanted to respond, but for some reason, he just couldn’t get the words out.

  His mother cut in once again. “What happened to him? Didn’t he go missing when you were still young?”

  “Yes. I must be fourteen, maybe fifteen,” his father responded in a heavy voice. All this was clearly painful for him to recall. “But that was after he was taken in by the police.”

  “The police?! But why?”

  Finally, in a grim voice and defeated, shameful eyes, he was able to tell her what he’d been struggling to get out, “He murdered fifteen people, Mel. Fifteen innocent people… in cold blood.”

  “Oh my god!” His mother breathed. Her hands csped on her open mouth.

  “That was just when the police found him. Two decades ter, they discovered over fifty graves hidden deep in the forest.”

  His mother’s lips quivered as she spoke. “How come Shirley never mentioned this? How come you never told me that?”

  “She did tell us, Mel, are you forgetting?” His father tapped his temple furiously. “She said he syed demons. She never doubted him. She believed it all! Everything her crazy father-in-w told her. And she made sure all of us knew, too. We grew up with those stories. It was fun to listen to as a child, you know? All those fantastical stories about hunting demons and what not. My parents encouraged it too, because, like me, they were sane. They never believed that any of it was actually real. They thought it was just mindless, harmless, family-fantasy folkore that all the kids enjoyed during Halloween dinner or when we’d go out camping. Harmless fantasies conjured by our kind but delusional grandmother.

  “But it was all real, Mel. My old man and I, we looked it up, many years after Pops disappeared. We helped the police find the graveyard in the forest, based off of whatever my grandma told us. All those horrific stories… they were all true! The only difference is that the demons were just normal people!”

  “Oh my god,” his mother gasped again and colpsed on the chair behind her, clutching her temple.

  “He was a killer, Mel. A psychotic serial killer who probably got his son killed and scarred his own daughter-in-w for life!”

  “He got his son killed too?” his mother gasped.

  “That’s what the vilge elders told us,” said his father. “Maybe he caught him at the wrong pce and time, and… Hell, I can’t even say it!”

  “This cannot be real,” said his mother, massaging her temple.

  His father continued. “He had crazy visions… insane beliefs. He would go on and on about the curse on our bloodline, demons running rampant among us, and all kinds of twisted craziness that only he was privy to. Nobody believed him, of course. Except for my poor grandmother.

  “The doctors said that, since he’d never doubted his beliefs, he’d had plenty of time to get used to his fractured reality. Meaning he’d been living with his demons since he was a child. The earliest of early onsets, I remember one of ‘em saying.

  “They were wrong about him, of course. There was no way that he was simply a victim of some mental disorder. He was pying them all. It was a cover for all his te-night disappearances. He could be out for days without making anyone suspicious. Chant strange mantras and perform unholy rituals in the backyard without anyone batting an eye. Crazy old fel, the neighbors would simply say.

  “Now if—and that is a big if—he was wrong in the head somewhere, then he’s got my sympathies. It must be ludicrous growing up like that, seeing imaginary demons everywhere, all in his head. And I wish he’d been cured sooner if that were possible.

  “But I personally never bought into his act. All I remember about him is that he was a lethal combination of smart and psychotic. His whole life was marred with anger and hatred and violence and blood. And it is unfortunate… that the same blood runs through our veins.”

  “Hunter men should not anger, else the curse will take them.” His mother repeated what she’d heard from his great-grandma Shirley, looking at the saying from a whole new light.

  “He almost drove this whole family to ruin. And in the end, instead of facing his own sins, he ran away from us all like a coward. We were left all alone to face the stigma that followed once everyone learned of his horrific crimes. He must be long dead by now, but his life and everything that he did… his memory… is like a curse upon us all.

  “And I do not want Alex to end up like him.”

  “Why do you think he will?” His mother asked, worried and disoriented. “I mean, look at you. You never believed in all that. You turned out fine!”

  “The doctors said we must be careful anyway. Yes, I consulted a few, behind your back, just for my own peace of mind. I didn’t think it was important to involve you in any of this at the time. But… oh, well. Whatever it was, it could be in the genes. And some nasty genes sometimes skip a few generations, they tell me. I don’t know how right they are, and as I said earlier, I don’t believe he was sick in the first pce, at least not in the medical sense. But it’s got to be something that could be passed down, right?

  “None of us after him were aggressive or violent as children; not me, not my father, and not my grandfather, according to Grandma Shirley anyway. We were perfectly tame in our childhoods. It’s only me who suffered anger issues as an adult, but that’s just minor, and not above normal levels. But Alex is still a child, and he…”

  “… keeps getting into fights,” his mother breathed as the realization hit her.

  “He pushed that poor boy off his bike just st week,” said his father. “The teacher said Alex was fully aware of what he was doing—it was no accident.”

  “Oh my god…” his mother whimpered, her hands shaking.

  “Do you see what I mean now?”

  His mother weakly nodded.

  “He’s a cursed child, Mel. Afflicted with the same curse as the First Hunter.”

  His mother hung her head and tears ran down her face in silence. His father put a comforting hand over her shoulder and said, “We must keep him from anger and violence. No matter what.”

  Alex bolted back to his room. From the window, he dropped a makeshift rope dder and slid down.

  And he started to run the moment his feet hit the ground.

  It was not possible. This was too much! He could barely make sense of any of it.

  His great-grandpa… no, his great-great-grandpa… he was a murderer? He killed fifteen people?

  And Alex was just like him?

  No. That can’t be true. It just cannot be true.

  Alex never wanted to kill anyone. He never caused harm to anyone who didn’t deserve it!

  His father’s words kept ringing in his head as he ran along the seafront with the afternoon sun gleaming on his right, and his tears leaving a glittering streak behind him.

  He is a cursed child.

  Was he really? What did it mean?

  Only he would know the answer! Only he! He knew just about everything, after all.

  “Ojii-san!” Alex screamed as he rang the doorbell repeatedly. “Ojii-san, open up!”

  He heard a loud cng from behind the door, followed by something big tumbling over something small and inanimate, followed by more cngs, and rushed footsteps. Soon, the door slid open and Ojii-san stood before him, panting, in what looked like a freshly-ripped apron, accompanied by a strong whiff of something delicious being baked.

  “Alex!” He beamed at him through the streaks of white flour covering his face and balding head. “You’re just in time for some cookie—hey! Why are you crying now? Who hurt you? Who managed to hurt you is what I should be asking, haha.” The wrinkles around his eyes became more pronounced as he chuckled.

  Alex stood staring up at him, sniffling. His entire face was now wet from tears and phlegm. And he was barely able to get any words out.

  “Come inside, Alex,” Ojii-san told him kindly. “The cookies are fresh!”

  “No!” said Alex and firmly stood his ground. “I have questions. And I want you to answer them all, okay?”

  “Okay,” said Ojii-san, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

  “You promise?”

  “I promise,” said Ojii-san.

  Alex stood there sniffling and coughing. He wasn’t sure where to start, or how to ask what he wanted to ask. Ojii-san folded his hands and eyed him gently. Alex knew he wanted to pick him up and pat him on the back, but Alex didn’t like others picking him up when he was down. He liked standing back up on his own, and Ojii-san knew that.

  “Am I c-cursed?” Alex asked him point bnk, his voice still shaking along with his whole body.

  Ojii-san was taken aback. His face remained bnk for a full second before he broke into a smile and said, “Nonsense! Who told you that?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” said Alex.

  “Doesn’t matter?” Ojii-san raised an eyebrow.

  “No,” said Alex. “I mean it does, but... Is it true or not?”

  “It’s not true,” Ojii-san told him pinly. “How can a sweet boy like you be cursed with anything?”

  A wave of relief washed over him. Alex cried and sniffled harder, but he still didn’t want to be picked up.

  The smile on Ojii-san’s face grew wider. “Is that all, or…?”

  “No!” said Alex, collecting himself. “Will pying video games make me skizo… skeezo… ?”

  “Skeezo-what?”

  “Will pying video games make me violent?”

  “What?! No,” said Ojii-san. “Video games can’t make you violent. There’s a new one out now that I know you’ll love. You sure you don’t want to come inside?”

  Alex was tempted, but he shook his head. “No! Ojii-san, you need to focus!”

  “Okay, okay. Go on with the next one.”

  “I want to learn how to fight, from you!”

  “I know that,” said Ojii-san. “But your parents—”

  “No, forget about them,” said Alex. “I want to learn! Will something bad happen, if you teach me how to fight?”

  “Why would something bad happen? Martial arts is a wonderful form of expressing oneself and connecting with your inner self.”

  “My father won’t let me learn it. He said it’ll make me violent.”

  “Ahh, your father…” Ojii-san sighed and scratched his chin. “He can be a little eccentric, sometimes. But he means well, Alex.”

  “So is he right, then?”

  “No,” said Ojii-san. “Martial arts won’t make you violent. Video games won’t make you violent. Rage and the capacity for violence is within us all. Martial arts is a way to channel that rage; control it rather than it control us. We choose when we get violent. We choose why we get violent.”

  Alex smiled again. A hopeful fire was kindling within him. “I want to get violent to fight the bad guys!”

  Ojii-san chuckled. “Is that so? And who might these poor, unfortunate souls be?”

  “I don’t know. Bullies! I hate bullies, Ojii-san. I’d like to teach them a lesson with my martial arts.” Alex punched the air twice with each fist. The tears from earlier bounced off his face and onto his outstretched arms.

  “You’ll scare them, Alex. They’d think you are some kind of a monster.”

  “Then I will become a monster! A big, scary demon, too! They’ll think twice before bullying Kenny or Alice. They’ll take one look at me and run the other way! Run!” Alex curled his fists into tiny cws and ran around in a small circle. “Alex the Demon is coming for you! Run!”

  Ojii-san burst out ughing. “I think you’re more of a demon hunter than a demon, don’t you think? Alex the Demon Hunter. Has a nice ring to it.”

  Alex nodded at him and jumped off the pavement and onto the street. He ran to the middle of the street and looked at the sun above, while shooting both his fists up in the air like he’d seen boxers do when they became champions. “You hear that, demons? I’m coming for you! Alex the Demon Hunter is coming for you!”

  “Whoa there. Easy now.” Ojii-san grabbed him from behind and hoisted him onto his shoulders with his arms still outstretched. “Your current definition of demons might nd you in jail.”

  Alex wrapped his tiny hands around Ojii-san’s neck and let the st of his tears escape him. “Thank you, Ojii-san.”

  “There, there.” He gently patted his back. He then put him back on the ground on his own two feet and gred at him from above with a proud smirk on his face. He cleared his throat and spoke in an authoritative voice, “Hear ye, Alex the Demon Hunter. I shall teach you well. And may you fight many demons; and injustices and evils in any shape or form. May they shudder and cower at the mere sight of you!”

  Alex wiped his tears and giggled excitedly.

  “But you must remember, Alex:” His voice changed to his gentle, normal one. “You must always fight for the right reasons. Do the right thing, no matter what. No matter how hard it gets. It is easy to make excuses; and you may lose your way sometimes, maybe more times than one. But you must always find it back. You must always do the right thing. You understand me, don’t you?”

  Alex looked up at him and nodded with conviction.

  “It gets easier,” Ojii-san continued, “if you have your own crew.”

  “My crew? I don’t want to be a pirate, Ojii-san. I want to be a fighter!”

  Ojii-san ughed again. “You’ll still need a crew! You know, people who cheer you on, and pick you up when you stumble and fall. Because even the best of us… stumble and fall, sometimes.” Ojii-san suddenly looked grim, as though recalling a painful memory. He gently shook his head, then continued, “If you have a crew like that around you, then no curse can ever touch you.

  “Promise me that you’ll find your crew.”

  “I promise,” said a smiling Alex.

  “And don’t worry about your father,” said Ojii-san. “I will convince him.”

  “Thank you, Ojii-san.” Alex hugged his apron-covered knees and looked up. “Can we start now?”

  “Hoho, you’re an eager one.” Ojii-san patted his head. “We’re not starting until I convince your parents. Which I shall do, tomorrow.”

  Alex let go of Ojii-san and grinned excitedly. “I can’t wait!”

  “Meanwhile, Alex the Demon Hunter,” Ojii-san eyed him with a fiery, childlike excitement. “How about we go inside and py some violent video games?”

  Alex ughed and punched the air above him. “Let’s go!!”