Humanity's #1 Fan

They heard another cry as they ran toward the source of the noise, then another a few moments later. Each of them quickened their pace, crashing through the light underbrush of the forest in an effort to get to the potential human faster… but soon the demon's cries ceased.

Fearing the worst, Ashtoreth pressed on, cutting out ahead of Frost and emerging a minute later into a small clearing. There, she saw something that set her fears at ease.

In the clearing ahead was the corpse of a massive canine, its head resting in a pool of its own blood, its fanged mouth agape. It had no fur. Its loose, wrinkled skin was covered with a rusty, rippling pattern.

"Say," Ashtoreth said, breaking out into a grin when she spotted it. "Whoever we're following killed a cinderwolf. A big cinderwolf—that looks like a boss!"

"Looks like a gigantic hairless dog," Frost said, eying the dead beast with distaste.

"When they're alive, they're covered in fire," said Ashtoreth. "They look much more impressive, then. When they're dead they look kind of, I don't know… I guess a bit like foetuses, but not as appetizing."

She unshouldered her greatsword, poked it in the neck, then stepped up onto the body of the hulking hellbeast.

She spotted the human immediately. He was huddled in the shadow of a nearby bloodleaf tree, covered by a sheet of tinted, translucent gray—an illusion spell.

Ashtoreth's training kicked in as soon as she recognized the illusion. She tried to make it seem as though her gaze was sweeping the forest beyond, rather than that she'd turned at the sight of the human. As she did this, she studied the man through the corner of her eye.

He'd tensed as soon as he saw her, but apparently he'd bought her deception and still thought he was hidden, because he stayed crouched in the shadow of the tree, his weapons in his hands.

The most striking thing about him was that for some reason, he had no shirt. His torso was a field of pale skin bearing a tattoo that wound up and around his body. It was stylistic, made out of disconnected pointed and curved shapes, but it was unmistakably depicting the form of a dragon.

He was young, perhaps her age or a little older, with black hair and dark eyes. In each of his hands he held a katana.

"Okay," Dazel whispered. "Maybe we, uh, just skip this one. Find a different human."

"Shush," she whispered back. "We're saving everyone."

She looked over her shoulder. "Say, Sir Frost," she called, wanting the other human to come into view before she startled the one waiting in ambush.

"Look," Dazel whispered. "The only reason we can't see how damp this guy's shirtsleeves are is because he probably took it off the moment the apocalypse started."

"He doesn't look undead," she said through gritted teeth, turning away from the human. "He probably has a bloodline—and he's strong enough that he killed what looks like a boss. Solo."

"Sure, but that guy looks really invested in being the main character of his own thing," said Dazel.

"Come on. You think he's gonna turn down the chance to align with a Princess of Hell when his life is on the line?"

"Oh no," said Dazel. "He'll want you on his team, boss. Just not for the reasons you're thinking."

"Dazel. Get your mind out of the gutter."

Officer Frost came into view around the body of the cinderwolf. "You need me for something?" he asked.

Dazel leapt down off her shoulder and started speaking first. "Yeah," he said. "Check out all the slashes around this thing's neck—multiple wounds, but overall there are two separate angles."

"Uh, okay," said Frost.

"Dazel," Ashtoreth chided.

But Dazel ignored her, striding forward to gesture at the creature's bloody wounds. "It's looking like we've got a fan of R.A. Salvatore on our hands." He shook his head, his tone grim. "Could even be katanas."

Ashtoreth put her hands on her hips.

Frost blinked. "Wait, I think I know who that is."

Ashtoreth's face dawned with desperate hope. "You do?"

"Wrote D&D books? With the dark elf? Drist? I read them in high school."

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

"Um, actually," Ashtoreth said. "I'm pretty sure it's Driz-it. With two syllables."

"Mm, I don't think so," said Officer Frost. "There's only one vowel in it, right? You need at least one vowel per syllable."

"In any case," Dazel said loudly. "This body bears the mark of another who fights with Weaboo Fightan Magick—but not the one we know. For there are ever two sides to the Fightan Magick—one light, one dark, and these cuts have undoubtedly been made by a warrior of the dark path, that of the chuuni—"

"Stop making fun of him, Dazel."

Frost frowned. "How is he making fun of me?"

"No, there's another human nearby under an illusion spell," said Ashtoreth. She turned to the human—and found that he'd vanished.

"See?" she said, looking down at Dazel. "You probably hurt his feelings."

"You're right," said Dazel. "I'll bet he used his 'Dark Shadow Shadestride' ability to get away."

"Another human, and he ran?" Frost asked. He looked around, then began to call out to the forest around them. "Listen," he said. "You can come out—we're friendlies."

"You can trust him!" said Dazel, sounding like he was on the verge of giggling. "He's a cop!"

A voice rang out from above them—an intense, steely voice. "Why should I trust anyone I meet, in this place?"

Ashtoreth looked up along with the others to see that the other human now stood on a tree branch, looking down on them with both his katanas still in his hands.

"Oh no," said Dazel. "He got stuck up a tree." He called out to the human. "Do you need some help getting down?"

In answer, the human reversed his grip on both katanas, then stepped off the branch he was standing on, falling and landing in a crouch before standing as he regarded them. "How do I know he's not an illusion you summoned when you saw me?" he asked.

"Hm," said Ashtoreth. "You can poke him? Frost, let him poke you."

The officer glared at her, then turned to the other human. "Look, son. Wouldn't we have attacked already if we were your enemies? Surprised you while you thought you were hidden?"

"Maybe," he said. "But maybe you know that wouldn't have been enough." He turned to Ashtoreth, his mouth a hard line. "Maybe you can clearly see that I soloed this boss and you know you're going to need a bigger jump on me than that."

"Hey guy," said Dazel. "You're, uh, still holding your samurai swords backwards."

"Dazel, stop," Ashtoreth said. "You'll hurt his feelings."

"No he won't," said the human. "It would take a much stronger psychological attack than that to even faze me."

"Right, okay," said Dazel. "But your swords—"

"Look, can we stop arguing about this?" said Frost. "There's probably more people out there right now who could use help. We owe it to them to not waste time."

"He's right," Ashtoreth said. "Poke Sir Frost so you know he's real, then come with us."

But the human made no move toward Frost. Instead he shook his head and eyed her warily. "Why didn't you just greet me when you saw me? Why play games?"

"Because I didn't want you to attack me!" Ashtoreth said. "I'm an archfiend!" She spread her wings behind her to emphasive her point. "I don't even look trustworthy to other infernals. You humans have got millenia of culture teaching you not to trust people with bat wings and goat horns." She crossed her arms. "Which is rather prejudicial, even if it's correct."

The human considered this. Eventually his rigid posture seemed to slacken, a little, some of his tension easing. "One more thing," he said, looking at Dazel. "He called you princess."

"Guess we're skipping over 'cats can talk'," said Dazel. "But with this guy I'm not surprised."

"Well, yeah," said Ashtoreth. "I'm one of Hell's royalty. It's not a big deal, really—the King has a lot of children."

"Ask her how," said Dazel. "You'll love the answer, trust me."

"Dazel!"

The human looked between Ashtoreth and Frost. "If you're Hell's royalty, then why are you helping him?"

"Because I'm a traitor!" she said, puffing out her chest and planting her hands on her hips. "I turned against Hell to help humanity in its darkest hour of need! Once we win this tutorial, I have a plan to stop Hell's invasion of Earth. But we have to win the tutorial first."

As she spoke, she considered the human. He was clearly levelheaded and powerful, or he wouldn't have been able to kill the boss. And he obviously had a good sense of personal style.

"Look," she said. "You're clearly powerful. And not just a little bit powerful—you obviously know what you're doing."

This earned her a sharp look from Dazel, but the demon kept his mouth shut for once. He could probably see what she was doing.

Ahead of her, the human cocked his head.

"I know as much as anyone about Hell," she said. "And I know about the system, and the tutorial. Help us. If you stay by yourself, you'll just be getting stronger on your own. But if you come with us, you'll be getting stronger faster, and you'll have less chance of dying, and you can save Earth."

The human seemed to consider this. "Look," he said. "I'm more of a solo act, is the thing."

"Really?" Dazel asked. "Because you look very social."

"Ignore him," said Ashtoreth. "We're searching for survivors and then we're going to make a plan to end the tutorial. Just come with us for a bit, and if it's not to your liking, you can leave." She didn't tell him that whether he could kill a boss or not, she was drastically increasing his chances of survival. Surely he could already guess as much himself.

The human seemed to think about this. "Okay," he said at last, nodding. "I'll help you. For now."

"Great!" she chirped. "I'm Ashtoreth. What's your name?"

"My name?" he asked. He finally switched the grip on his katanas so that he was holding them properly. "I'm Hunter," he said. "Hunter Wolfhard."