the demon and the maid share a steamy scene in the bathtub

At last, a worthy enemy!

And so Fred and his legendary squad began to hunt any poor bastard who got the mark. After a week or so, the novelty wore off. After a month, it almost felt as though they went around killing people for no reason.

The mark of the black moon was like algae in an aquarium. The more one tried to kill it, the more it spread, and the more resistant it became to one's attacks; as an award-winning aquarist, Fred would know. It was no wonder, then, that it came back stronger each time a demon king was felled. In that sense, weren't those afflicted victims of circumstance?

He told this to his party, but alas; they would not listen. To them, the curse was no more than another way to earn money.

Fred grew resentful and distant, pondering the meaning of life. When the universe made him so gifted, had it meant for him to be... this? Naught but a lowly, greedy assassin?

Fred went on a journey of self-discovery. He met new people. Saw new things. Made a lot of good memories.

On a day like any other, he received a letter that would change his life... forever. It read:

are u done or wat we need help to kill a demon lord with da mark

Fred, as it turned out, was a hypocrite.

He could not resist the call, not from money, but from... battle.

Back in the day, when demon kings still maintained their sanity upon awakening, they'd give some of their powers to particularly powerful demons, thus bestowing the title of 'lord'. Nowadays, with the inter-species treaty keeping demons in check, and the fall of feudalism (in theory), it was nothing but a sad, pathetic remnant of the past; demons who scored particularly well in aptitude exams could add the title to their resume.

Of course, history always left scars: despite it being a parody of itself, the title still carried some weight. For one, according to scientists, demon lords had a higher reproduction rate. For two, according to research, they often had larger 'territories', however meaningless the term was in this day and era. For three... wasn't the idea of fighting a particularly strong demon with the curse exciting?

Nonetheless, according to the records at Sun's Edge, this demon lord in particular had taken the test eighty-seven times before he'd finally passed it. Furthermore, since no one wanted a castle in such a backwater village, he had to build one instead of dueling the local lord as demonic traditions suggested he should do. Lastly, and most bizarrely of all: despite his title, the demon had never attempted to expand his territory.

All of this pinpointed to a bitter truth—that this demon lord was a hack.

Fred was very sad. Fred decided to quit his life as a hunter and become a professional aquarist. This was it. His last rodeo.

When the demon lord had them sign a contract, Fred sighed.

When the demon lord told his ambassador to mediate, Fred groaned.

When the demon lord seemingly teleported thirty seconds into the fight, ripped an arm off one of Fred's partners, and then casually parried a sacred sword with it, Fred... screamed? One, because he was next. Two, because this wasn't how things were meant to be.

Why did demons and humans have to fight?

Why did they have to hunt one another?

Was peace naught but a dream? Then he stopped philosophizing because the demon lord rammed his face into a tree and he lost consciousness, but when he awoke, Fred found that his fate was merciful compared to his comrades.

"...oww..."

Three of them were missing a limb.

One of them was missing an eye.

Two of them would never walk again.

"...can't... believe..."

Such was the nature of combat. Such was life. You either hunted, or you were hunted. To live meant to kill; to be peaceful meant to die. Fred's fingers from his left hand were bent in such bizarre angles that the ambassador was not able to fix them. Fortunately, like every self-respecting hunter, Fred had great insurance.

With that said, he'd probably have a lot of trouble carrying heavy things from here onwards, such as... water... for his aquariums...

...but again, such was life.

"I'll kill him!" Cried Fred's eyeless comrade as he pounded his fists on his legs. "I'll kill him I'll kill him I'll kill him!"

To which the demon lord's ambassador replied, "No, you won't. Now stay still, or your ribs won't heal."

It took a very particular kind of person to remain so unbothered when surrounded by a scene that would make a butcher gag. The ambassador, named Elial, was apparently a medic-in-training. After a while, he called for one of the demon lord's servants, a cross-dressing maid who puked at the sight, and thus had to be escorted back into the castle.

After Elial came and went, he said, "The maid went downtown. He's getting help so you guys get escorted to a hospital. Please abstain from dying. Ah, and Sionn said thanks for the meal."

Thus ended Fred's career as a demon hunter.

Far from being humiliated or spiteful, Fred was... liberated.

At last, he—all of them—knew how the other side felt like.

He wrote a memoir which became a regional best-seller, after which he became an award-winning gardener, and went to live in the country with his boyfriend and two pet bears.

***

After Elial got rid of the hunters and the kid went to sleep at the guest room (in exchange for having to read Intro to Space-Time), Sionn either rewarded himself with a bath, or took one out of pity.

Red, magenta, pink, white.

There went the blood.

Magenta, pink, white.

Pink, white.

Red.

Everywhere.

Tonight, tomorrow, next week, next...

Once clean, Sionn headed to the stone bath. Something squealed—a mouse, probably. No other creature was arrogant enough to build a home atop of this hill.

He sank into the near-scalding water until only his horns poked out. Hot springs did not exist in this region, so he commissioned one. No regrets.

The mouse squeaked again.

Speaking of which, he'd left Reem waiting at the tea room. 

Not that it mattered. 

The less they interacted, the better.

'The same that you felt when Reem talked to you,' had said the halfling, when referring to the opposite of hatred. It could be true. If so, how pathetic was that?

There it was, that stupid mouse. Again.

Sionn poked his head out of the water. Fortunately...? He knew not how mice smelled like, and to find the little shit amidst the darkness would be—

Never mind. There it was, swimming in the water. The actual audacity. Sionn briefly contemplated condensing it into a black hole, but he didn't particularly fancy hurting anything other than humans, so he opted to bat it out instead. The mouse squeaked, but did not budge.

"...fine."

A water sphere should have surrounded the mouse then to toss it out, but instead, it revealed a head.

...come to think of it, the water did seem particularly murky beneath the...

Reem burst out of it, coughing.

She dipped back in.

So did Sionn, to avoid reality.

But eventually, both had to breathe again.

Perhaps he should opt for clearer water next time. This one was almost green depending on the season. Apparently even grown women could hide in it.

Reem said, "I can ex—"

"Don't."

"Aight."

It was a pretty big stone bath all things considered.

"Mr. Demon?"

"Ms. Human."

"I um. I didn't see anything. Just so you know. I covered my eyes."

They were on opposite sides, with the water up to her chin, to his shoulders. Neither looked at the other. "Get out," he said.

"Aight." She did not. "You were taking too long so I thought you'd be busy so I figured I'd like clean myself you know but I forgot to clean the other bath and that takes too long and saw this one and it was full and I didn't think... yeah."

"In other words," Sionn said, "Should I hang you from a tree?"

"...yeah..."

"While naked?"

"...I guess..."

So she actually was—