"What sort of creature is that?" Bahamut said with an intrigued tone.
Looking at Hamza, Hunter asked, "What are Djinn?"
Hamza smiled. "Djinn are neither god nor devil. We predate the idea of good and evil. We manifested as entropic beings to bring balance between the primordials and their creations. Most of us are indifferent by nature, but over millennia… some became corrupted by the horrors of their domains."
He glanced at the dismembered bodies behind them, then shifted his gaze toward the refugee camp.
Hunter asks "So are you the chosen of the Ifrit Djinn?
Hamza chuckles "No I am the Ifrit. We djinn exist between the higher and lower planes. We manifested here eons ago to bring balance."
"Demons have made an offers to some of the Seven Kings," Hamza added as he began walking back toward the tents.
"The Seven Kings?" Hunter asked, following behind the massive man.
"Yes. The seven Djinn kings spread across the world:
Burqan, south of the Black Sea.
Al-Ahmar, between the Black and Caspian Seas.
Al-Abayadd, south of the Caspian.
Al-Madhhab, east of it.
Zawba'ah, in the Kush mountains.
Shamhurash, in Canaan.
And Maymun, who was driven out of Mesopotamia when their ancient gods returned and now resides in the Sonoran region of Mexico."
"Can you communicate with them?" Hunter asked.
"I am King Maymun's champion," Hamza nodded. "His voice reaches me. Sacred lands and mythical creatures are reappearing. The veil is tearing. Ancient horrors… and older truths… have returned. A great war is coming."
He stopped and looked off into the distance. "Powerful gods and primordial beings can't manifest directly. The laws of the universe reject their existence in this lower plane. But some… have found ways to violate that law. And now the balance of this world is crumbling."
Mike's voice broke in, quiet but sharp. "We met one. A demon goddess who's possessed my wife."
Hamza turned to him, a flicker of pity in his eyes. "My condolences."
Hunter stepped in. "Do you know how they're able to break the law and manifest like that?"
Hamza shook his head. "I do not."
Hunter glanced at Mike, then back at the Djinn. "The councils primary goal is to restore balance after the awakenings. We share a common objective."
"There is a creature in the desert," Hamza said. "It torments the people here. If you help me deal with it, you will prove our goals are aligned. Then I would consider working with the council."
Hunter raised an eyebrow. "You're asking a wounded tracker and an angry dragon-boy to go monster-hunting?"
He smirked and pointed at Mike. "He's great at killing things."
Hamza chuckled. "People say it appears after storms—thunder and lightning. It plays tricks on them. Speaks contradictions. Laughs. Vanishes. I don't know if it should be killed. We need to figure out what it is first."
"So don't kill it? It could just be a prankster?" Mike asked.
Hamza shook his head. "No. There has been enough needless killing. We need to decide what brings balance. It shows up after storms with no one actually seeing it. And I can feel that it's… not normal."
Hunter stretched his arms, groaning. "Tracking a human would be boring anyway. Let's go see what kind of freak's hiding out there."
"Where do we start?" Mike asked flatly.
"I'll prepare a map and meet you near the base exit," Hamza replied, turning back toward the camp.
Mike turned to Hunter. "We don't have time for this. Every second we waste, Hecate—whatever she is—could be using Kelsey's body for gods know what. This… thing… isn't even killing people."
"We need allies, Mike," Hunter growled back. "Hamza's not some mortal blessed by a god. He's real. Old. And he knows things we don't. One of the Seven Kings might even hold the key to saving your wife."
Mike gritted his teeth, fists clenched. "Fine."
—
At the base exit, Hamza arrived with a folded map and handed it to Hunter. "It's an hour walk from here. We'll approach from the south."
They set out into the desert under the blinding afternoon sun. Heatwaves danced along the sand. Dry wind blew across sparse patches of cactus and dry brush. Towering rock formations loomed in the distance like ancient monuments.
"This is the area," Hunter whispered, crouching beside a cactus. "I don't smell anything—just small animals and dry wind."
"Shit it's hot," he added, wiping his brow.
"I'm actually quite cold," said a strange, pleasant voice—drifting from the rocks.
Mike snapped upright, eyes scanning the bluffs. "I don't see anything."
"I am standing in plain sight," the voice replied.
"Who are you?" Hunter called out, eyes narrowing.
"I am a rock," it answered, entirely serious.
Mike's jaw clenched. "This is getting annoying."
"I'm quite pleasant company," the voice responded, with an audible grin in its tone.
Hamza stepped forward, his boots crunching the sand. "We should move closer."
"You should move further away," the voice countered. "Admire me from a respectful distance."
"No more talking," Hunter muttered.
"Please talk more. I enjoy the sound," the voice said again—still calm. Still amused.
Mike ground his teeth and stormed forward. I'll smash every damn rock out here until one of them stops talking.
Sirens in the distance broke his focus. Faint gunfire crackled on the horizon.
"The camp is under attack. Go help them now!" Hunter snapped, eyes sharp as he turned to Mike and Hamza. "I'll call Henry. Given it's location and how much it pisses me off. He should know what it is."
Mike and Hamza turned and sprinted back toward the camp. Screams filled the air as they drew closer. Thick smoke rose into the sky. The stench of blood grew stronger with every step.
A horned demon chased a woman who shrieked for help. Hamza didn't break stride. In an instant, smokeless fire erupted across his body. Curved black horns sprouted from his skull, a feral snarl tearing through his lips as long fangs took shape. His hair grew wild—like a lion's mane flowing down his back. Claws extended from his fingers. His legs twisted, reshaping into digitigrade limbs like a great hunting beast.
"Interesting." Bahamut muttered softly
"I'll deal with the demons inside the camp! You handle the ones out here!" Hamza roared, vanishing into the rows of burning tents.
Mike bolted toward the demon chasing the woman. He caught up behind it, grabbed one of its horns, and yanked it back violently. The demon crashed to the ground.
Before it could even react, Mike released the horn, raised both fists above his head, and brought them down like a sledgehammer. Its skull burst open—blood and bone splattering the dirt.
He moved toward the next scream.
Ahead, a demon stood over a pile of dead women and children. It chewed slowly, flesh hanging from its jagged teeth. In one hand, it held the severed arm of a small child. It saw Mike and a large smile formed on the demons face.
Mike froze.
A detonation of rage cracked inside his skull.
His eyes glowed—fully red. The edges of his vision bled into darkness. Before the demon could turn, Mike was already in front of it. He drove his fist straight into its chest. The impact crushed bone and flesh with such force that the entire upper half of the creature exploded in a cloud of gore.
He didn't stop.
Consumed by rage, Mike kept moving, ripping demons apart—shredding limbs, snapping jaws, gouging eyes. Each new horror only fueled the fire inside him.
"Pathetic." Bahamut growled.
Then—a woman's scream pierced the chaos.
Not just fear. Despair.
Mike sprinted toward the sound, tearing open a nearby tent.
Inside, the blonde-haired administrator from earlier lay sobbing, pinned beneath a hulking grey-skinned demon. Its hands gripped her arms. Its hips thrust violently, the woman's face twisted in agony—tears streaming down her cheeks.
Mike's mind snapped.
Scales exploded across his forearms, shredding the gauntlets. His hands twisted, stretching into four thick scaled fingers with sharp, draconic claws. The four thick talons flexed and cracked into place.
He grabbed the demon by the skull, yanking it off her like a ragdoll and lifting it into the air.
With his other hand, he drove his fist through the demons midsection tearing apart the lower half of the demon. Blood spraying across the tent.
The demon shrieked—high-pitched, gurgling, almost human.
Mike didn't blink.
His glowing red eyes bore into the creature as he clenched the skull in his grip. Bone cracked. Flesh split. The upper half of the demon flailed—until its head exploded like a melon in his palm.
He dropped the corpse and walked out of the tent without acknowledging the woman.
His mind was vacant.
There was no Kelsey. No council. No Hunter. No gods.
There was only killing.
His scales crept up his arms, one inch at a time.