Rey was pulled along by Gloria, who pushed through the cheering crowd. He cheered along with them. Some grunt from the Black Hand was making noise about who was responsible, but hardly anyone paid any attention to him.

  Well, for one, they all wanted a piece of the dead shark. It must've been a delicacy around these parts, as there wasn't any ocean in Hell. At least none that Rey knew about. The closest thing that came to an ocean was the Lake of Garmohar. That thing was so huge it put the Great Lakes to shame, and that was saying something. But Lake Garmohar was in the Kingdom of Rivers, and that was far, far away from here, about as far away as the Moon was from the Earth.

  They finally made it out of the crowd, and Gloria ran, pulling him along. They were like two lovers running away from her overbearing father, who didn't want them to be together. He could've taken any members of the Black Hand, but without his rod, let's just say his killing game would've been a little limp. So, he let Gloria lead him away.

  She took him down a side street, like the ones where people got shanked on the regular. They emerged onto a wide, filthy street. Garbage and refuse littered the place, and it reeked. To be fair, everything reeked. Demons weren't known to be clean and tidy, but this was just pathetic. There were more than one demon diving through garbage, and he got reminiscent of those old days, when he had recently become a demon and was so hungry that he had done the same.

  In all fairness, he had lost all his money and rations—the demons that killed him had taken all his stuff. So, Rey was forced to do this, and not for the last time.

  "Aw, a garbage dump, you bring to the best places," Rey said, pinching his nose, which made his voice nasally.

  "This way," Gloria turned down another lane. "Hurry!"

  Rey followed at a slow jog. He didn't know what the rush was all about. There was no one following them. If anything, all this running was drawing some unneeded eyeballs, which he would've loved to squish.

  There was a strange relish in killing demons in the most gruesome of ways, but he had to control himself. Demon Rey was leaking out a little too much. After all, he had done enough demon killing for one day.

  Finally, after turning a couple more times, they arrived at a rundown shack where a demon was passed out with a bottle in his hand. Rey bent down and picked up the bottle, and it was still half-full. He took a sniff and immediately recoiled.

  It was the worst of the swill. It had been so long that he hadn't had a drink, and he desperately needed one.

  Gloria eyed him suspiciously. "Are you sure you want to drink that?"

  Rey shrugged. "When in Rome."

  She rolled her eyes. "That thing will blast your innards and give you the worst hangover."

  "Do you have anything better? Any fine wine from whatever grape farm that Zalathar has been stomping around in lately?" She just shook her head. "Then this will have to do."

  She kicked the demon, who fell aside and didn't even wake up. He was so knocked out. Rey almost got excited about the effects of the swill in his hands.

  She opened the door. By open, he meant that she had to jam her shoulder into it to get it to budge. The thing opened with a creak loud enough to wake the dead, and yet it wasn't loud enough for the drunk demon.

  Rey entered what was a wonderful home. The place was clean, like Earth-level clean. There wasn't a speck of dirt on anything. There was a bed, a table, and a chair, and that was about it. There wasn't much to the place. It was rather bare bones, but it was homely. A single window opened to one side of the street, which would be suitable for a getaway if some unsavory fellow came knocking.

  Gloria closed the door with as much force as she had opened it, cursing at the stupid door.

  Rey whistled. "This is nice, Gloria. Very homely."

  She smiled. "Thanks. It's my secret lair. No one from the Black Hand knows about it, or at least, I think no one does, but then they keep an eye on everyone, and I'm just a lowly slave."

  She said the last part, looking down, and with such sadness, he could imagine what she must've had to endure under those demons. The only reason she wasn't sobbing and making a lake of tears on the floor was because she was a demon. Say one thing about demons, say that they can endure a lot of shitty things with a smile on their faces. Why? Well, most of them deserve it.

  "Why don't you run away?" Rey asked.

  "And go where?" She shook her head. "I tried my luck on the plains, and it was hell."

  "Yes, we're in Hell."

  "No, not that kind. I meant it was hellish."

  "It was that too."

  "You know what? Forget it."

  Rey snickered. "Sorry. Go on."

  She sighed. "Always fighting for your life. Not knowing when you would come across a demon that would be too much to handle. No, this might be shit, but at least it's not that."

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "You know, I totally understand." Rey put an arm over her shoulder. "Let's forget about our troubles for one night and share this fine wine or gutter swill."

  She snorted. "So that you know, I'm out of glasses."

  "What?" Rey cried. "That's no way to host a guest."

  She pushed him away. "Yes, well, this guest has been raising too much trouble for me. I don't even know what I'm going to do about the Black Hand. They won't like it when they find out Dakti is dead and I'm missing."

  "They'll probably think you're dead, too. And relax, Gloria. Don't worry about the Black Hand for one night. Let's get drunk."

  He was being serious, too. He took a serious gulp from the bottle and almost retched. The taste was so strong and terrible. The thing was nearly all alcohol. It literally tasted like they had made it out of garbage, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

  "Damn, that's bad," Rey said.

  "Aw, poor little human, can't hold his liquor," she teased, as she held out a hand. "Give it here."

  Then she took a swig and immediately slammed a hand against her mouth. She gagged twice before finally taking a big gulp.

  Rey laughed. "Don't worry, its taste will get better the more we drink."

  ***

  It had been two days since he had arrived at Gloria's hideout, and even still, his head pounded a little. Whatever was in the bottle had immediately taken effect, and then everything felt good, so they kept drinking. Before they knew it, the bottle had emptied, and they'd danced, giggled, and passed out on the floor in a position that would've made a girl he knew very jealous. However, he was certain nothing had happened between them, as they were still wearing all their clothes. Besides, with all the fur he was wearing, they would've passed long before getting it off.

  Though the headache that attacked when they arose was nothing short of a bomb going off in their heads. Even the slightest sound made Rey want to rip his head off. His skull pounded as if someone were beating on a gong.

  Gloria wasn't much different. However, her demon physiology made it easier for her. She was fine by the afternoon, but Rey wasn't. He even threw up a couple of times out the window. Gloria threatened to throw him out if he puked in her pristine room.

  They had spent the next two days doing nothing. They chatted about their lives back on Earth, about their families, friends, and loved ones. She had a husband who was at work when the Apocalypse began, and they'd had a big fight before he left for work. She cried about that. How stupid the fight was, and that she never even got to say I love you one final time.

  Rey told her his life story, including how he had failed to save his grandmother, and he almost confided that it was Zalathar who had sent the demon, but he kept his lips shut.

  Finally, Rey stood and put his fur cloak back on, covering his head with the Wargoth head. It was time to retrieve his scythe.

  "Let's head out," he said. "That old smith should've fixed my scythe by now."

  Gloria was checking out the window and turned back. "Okay. The street outside is mostly empty. So, we should be good."

  "Relax, you're with me."

  "That's what I'm worried about. You're more of a psycho than most demons."

  Rey chuckled. "Hey, they're only demons."

  "And so am I."

  Rey sidled up beside her. "Yes, but they're not as easy on the eyes as you."

  She pushed him away, shaking her head. "Let's just go. The sooner I'm rid of you, the sooner my life can go back to normal."

  "Oh, you wound me, fair demoness. Wound me, I tell you."

  They left her hideout with no trouble at all. In fact, there was no trouble on the way to Neriath's either, but trouble was waiting for them when they arrived at the smith.

  Four buff demons were waiting for them. Two of them looked almost human. The other two looked more like pigs than humans. They had big, fat bellies that were spilling over their pants.

  There's no way they've seen their peepees in years.

  Gloria stopped immediately. "Oh no…"

  "There's nothing to worry about, babe. You're with me."

  He took her arm in his and strode forward without a care in the world. Neriath was working in his shop as if the goons weren't even there.

  "So, old man, is my scythe ready?" Rey called before he reached the shop.

  "Yeah, it's ready. Wait here, I'll get it."

  Rey practically had to drag Gloria at this point. She was digging her feet into the ground. "Great. I can't wait—"

  One of the pig-faced demons dropped a heavy hand on Rey's shoulder. "Are you the one who's been killing our men?"

  Rey raised a finger. "First of all, rude. Let me conclude my business with Neriath."

  "Answer my question," he snapped. "And what is this whore doing with you?"

  Rey looked around. "What whore? I don't see any succubuses around here. Are you hiding one in your fat folds? Poor thing must be suffocated by now."

  His grip tightened, and he dug his fingers into Rey's shoulder, and it didn't hurt much, thanks to his high Endurance and the fur cloak.

  "You think, you're funny, don't you?" The demon growled. "Just wait till—"

  "Yes, I'll wait. But first, my scythe."

  Neriath returned with his scythe, and the thing was practically shining. Rey slipped from the fat demon's grip and dashed to the smith, eyes wide in wonder.

  The blade was shining, and not only that, it looked as if it had been replaced with something new entirely. For one, the blade didn't just have an inner edge, but even its outer edge had been sharpened. So, he could even use it as a thrusting weapon and shear off heads and limbs. The shaft appeared to have been varnished with a dark wood stain. How? Rey had no idea, nor did he want to learn. His weapon looked brand new.

  [Steel Scythe (Exceptional) - Traditionally used for harvesting crops but feared as a weapon of death. In battle, it delivers sweeping, relentless strikes, its razor-sharp edge slicing through foes with grim efficiency. It will do significant damage to D Tier enemies and may break if not repaired regularly. Its damage will increase with higher Dexterity. +2 DEX, -1 MA]

  "What did you do to my weapon?" Rey asked as he took his weapon.

  "Improved it, and gave you an outer edge so it's twice as deadly." Neriath tossed him a pouch that appeared to contain a stone. "That's a whetstone. You can sharpen the blade on the road."

  Rey looked at him, wide-eyed. "Thank you."

  "What are you thanking me for? You paid me for a service, and unlike the assholes in this town, I don't disappoint."

  "Hey, that's enough." The pig reached for him again, but Rey flicked a hand, activated Repulsion, and the demon shot away from him, as if it owed him money.

  "But what if my blade starts shaking again?" Rey asked. "Then what do I do?"

  "Then find another weaponsmith. That's a whetstone, not a magical rock that will fix everything."

  Then something popped up in his head. Something that had been lingering in his mind for a long time. Last time, he hadn't taken up a profession, but nothing was stopping him. With it, he could create his own weapons. His own variations to his weapons. He wouldn't need to visit a smith if he could just become one himself.

  "How do I become a smith myself?" Rey asked.

  Neriath snorted. "I ain't in the business of taking apprentices. The last time I did, he stole my shit and ran off."

  "Do you know of anyone who is?" Rey asked impatiently. He knew the Black Handians would not wait much longer.

  Neriath rubbed his scruffy beard. "There is one in the town of Terga. He's half decent. Almost as good as I am. His name is Grixi."

  Then a heavy hand pulled him back. "That's enough jabbering. You're coming with us."

  Rey smiled. "Well, of course. I can't wait to meet the leader of your fine group."

  And use my scythe to do open-heart surgery on him.