My Friend the Hand

Kazzander rose from the rubble with unnerving calm. 

His cloak hung in tatters, ash streaked his pale skin, yet his eyes burned brighter than ever.

He rose to his full height, brushed the dust casually from his shoulder, and let a smile flicker across his lips.

“Impressive…” His voice was velvety, but dripping with mockery. “A human who absorbs concentrated demon essence, and still lives. That's... unexpected.”

Beside Gus, Caeriel struggled for breath, her chest heaving. 

Her eyes widened at the sight of his arm, veins pulsing, light searing green, fingers twitching as though the limb had grown a mind of its own.

For an instant, raw fear cut through her gaze. Not just fear of Kazzander… but of what Gus himself had become.

“But you should know,” the demon went on, emerald sparks crackling between his fingers, “your body was never made to bear such power. It will consume you. First your hand. Then your heart. At last, your soul. And when it’s done, you’ll be nothing but a husk, a shell for demon spawn, a slave to the Demon King.”

Gus breathed hard, sweat streaming down his brow and neck, but still he grinned, the green veins throbbing.

Through the agony racking every fiber of his body, he clenched his free hand into a fist.

“Guess we’ll just have to kill the Demon King before it gets that far, huh? Right, Handy?”

A twitch. 

Then his hand suddenly balled up on its own and socked him right in the nose.

“Ow! The hell, man!? We’re supposed to be partners!” Gus staggered back, clutching his face, while Caeriel just gawked at him, dumbstruck.

“You… you’re arguing with it?!” she whispered, stunned.

Kazzander’s sneer faltered for a heartbeat, then twisted into fury. 

With a sweep of his hand, he unleashed a searing bolt of green fire straight at Gus.

To everyone’s shock, the hand caught the attack, drinking in the flames, sinking the demonic energy into its veins

A gasp tore from Gus, caught somewhere between agony and the rush of raw power. 

The demon’s eyes narrowed. “Tch. Already it robs you of control. Pathetic.”

“For fuck’s sake, shut up already!” Gus barked back, but as he tried to raise the arm, it jerked on its own, blasting a wild bolt of raw energy.

The shot ripped just past Caeriel, singeing a lock of her hair.

She ducked with a sharp cry. “What are you doing!?”

“That wasn’t me!” Gus shouted, wrestling against the limb. “The little bastard does whatever it wants!”

Kazzander let out a laugh and raised both hands, letting a storm of crackling green bolts rain down from above.

Caeriel dove, rolled, and zigzagged through the onslaught, then sprang forward. 

Her dagger screeched sparks across the demon’s shield as it flared into being just in time to block her strike.

The counterforce threw her back, breath ragged, chest rising and falling, but her gaze was clear again.

And in her eyes, the fire had returned, bright and unyielding.

Meanwhile, Gus wrestled with his possessed arm.

It jerked and spasmed, fingers curling like claws, twitching like a puppet with tangled strings.

He staggered, grunting, forcing it hard against his ribs, until suddenly, it stopped.

The fingers straightened with unsettling grace, reshaping into a grotesque parody of a mouth. 

Thumb and forefinger snapped shut like jaws, the rest folding back like teeth.

The hand bit down in front of his face.

“Dude!” Gus panted. “I’m really getting the feeling all you wanna do is slice, rip, kill, massacre!?”

The fingers snapped once. 

A crisp, unmistakable yes.

Gus tilted his head, muttering under his breath: “Great. Evil Dead hand… Maybe I can get out of this without chopping it off…”

Then he looked at it squarely and grinned like a sleazy salesman.

“Yeah, killing’s a blast! But ever thought there might be something even better?”

The fingers froze, then wavered in a strange, thoughtful gesture.

“Just picture it: You and me. Free. And out there? A whole world of demons, orcs, monsters... anything you want to shred. But on our side!”

The hand tilted, uncertain.

Gus smirked crookedly. “…Come on. You don’t belong to some Demon King. You want freedom and a bloodbath? That’s what I’m offering.”

For a long moment, the hand just “stared.”

Sweat beaded and slid down Gus’ temple, but he held his grin, pretending confidence.

Then, slowly, the hand nodded.

Gus’ eyes widened.

“…Seriously? You’re in? You’ll help me crush this bastard?”

Another nod. Firmer.

“Hell yeah. Welcome aboard, partner.”

He almost shook his own hand, then thought better of it when the arm twitched in irritation.

---

Meanwhile, Caeriel fought Kazzander relentlessly.

She twisted aside from one strike and darted in, dagger gleaming in her grip.

Kazzander’s cloak snapped wide, and from its folds burst blades of shadow, long as scythes, snapping with whip-crack force.

Caeriel ducked beneath the first, twisted past the second, and tumbled hard across the dirt before springing back to her feet.

A blade hissed by, close enough to shear off a lock of hair.

She lunged, dagger flashing, and scored a shallow cut across Kazzander’s cheek.

A single bead of black blood welled on his skin, enough to make him blink in surprise.

“You wretched elf…” he hissed.

A glyph erupted beneath her, blasting her off her feet and hurling her back across the ground.

Blood trickled from her temple, but her eyes still burned. 

Gasping, she staggered upright and charged once more.

“Never… give up…” she whispered, Gus’ words echoing in her heart.

Kazzander flung his arms wide, and a choking cloud of green miasma poured out, thick as swamp fog.

Her lungs seared with fire, every breath poison, but she plunged straight through, eyes squeezed shut, one arm shielding her face.

She burst from the haze, spun low, and drove the dagger deep into his shoulder.

Kazzander roared, black blood erupting in a hot spray.

Snarling, he wove glowing chains from the very air, and they lashed around her, coiling tight, locking her in place.

“Too long… you’ve provoked me,” he growled. “Now you die.”

Green fire flared in his free hand, blazing brighter with every heartbeat.

Caeriel spat a streak of blood into his face. “Then do it… coward.”

Kazzander’s eyes blazed, his hand drew back for the killing strike...

...and a monstrous, unholy fist smashed into him from the side.

He was hurled like a cannon shot, crashing into the altar, stone splitting apart, dust exploding skyward.

Caeriel crumpled to the ground, hacking for breath, hands clawing at her throat.

Gus loomed nearby, his twisted arm throbbing with green fire, veins glowing.

Step by step, he stalked toward the shattered altar, where Kazzander dragged himself upright, black blood streaming.

“Impossible… your human body cannot control this power! It will tear you apart!” the demon spat.

“…the only thing getting torn apart here is your ugly mug, motherfucker!” Gus bellowed.

He seized Kazzander by the throat, slammed him against the altar, the demon’s horns splintering stone.

Then he drew back his massive fist...

CRUNCH!

Kazzander’s skull exploded like an overripe melon, shards of bone and black ichor spraying across the altar as green fire hissed and guttered away.

The arm twitched, then shuddered, and for a heartbeat it stilled… almost satisfied, like a predator after the kill.

Gus staggered back, chest heaving, sweat and blood streaking his face.

Caeriel crouched low, trembling, the dagger slick in her grip. 

Her lips quivered as she stared at him.

“By the gods… what happened to you?”

He looked from the grotesque arm pulsing at his side back to her pale face, and took a hesitant step forward.

She flinched, snapping the blade up.

“Stay back! Don’t come any closer!”

He froze, shock and hurt flickering across his expression. 

Slowly, he raised both hands and met her eyes.

“Hey, relax! It’s me.”

“Oh yeah? You took demon energy into yourself! How do I know it hasn’t already turned you? Her voice cracked, small. “How do I know… you’re still you?”

His shoulders sagged, but he managed a crooked, weary smile.

“But I am! Handy and I? We’re just partners. We respect boundaries… right, buddy?”

The arm twitched like it was about to argue, but Gus smacked it with his other hand and forced a sheepish laugh, then his expression grew serious.

“Don’t worry, Carrie. I’ll learn to control it. And if I don’t… you can be the one to finish me off, promised!”

Her eyes narrowed, searching him, darting from the monstrous veins to his sweat-streaked face.

For a moment, her grip tightened and the dagger lifted halfway again. 

Doubt flickered and fear twisted her features.

But Gus just stood there, exhausted, grinning like an idiot despite everything.

Slowly, the tension drained from her shoulders, and with a shaky sigh, she lowered the dagger at last.

Then, suddenly, her glare sharpened.

“…Wait. What did you just call me?”

Gus grinned wide.

“What? It’s cute. Way better than Caeriel, which sounds like a prescription drug.”

Her cheeks flushed, and her voice snapped sharp again: “C… cut the crap! Don’t call me that!”

But even then, the tiniest smile tugged at her lips.

For a heartbeat, warmth lingered between them, quiet and fragile, amid the ruin.

Then it hit them.

The roar of hundreds of orcish throats still echoed below the hill, as the horde hadn’t fled yet. 

Gus followed their gaze down the slope, then glanced at Kazzander’s mangled corpse. 

With a grunt, he grabbed the demon by the horns, dragged him across the stone, and hurled the shattered body over the cliff.

It tumbled in dust and bone until it lay broken at the hill’s base, a gruesome trophy in the firelight.

For a heartbeat, the orcs only stared.

Then Caeriel forced herself upright, voice sharp despite her ragged breath.

“Your master is dead!” she cried, her words cutting through the night like steel. “Leave this place, or share his fate!”

The orcs growled, some shifting uneasily.

That’s when Gus cupped his hands to his mouth and bellowed, his voice raw and furious:

“Yeah! Unless you want me to pulp your heads like fucking melons too, scram!”

One by one, the orcs broke into panicked howls and scattered into the night, until the hill stood empty, save for the two of them.

Gus watched them go, then dropped heavily beside Caeriel.

“Phew… done. Somehow.”

She glanced at him, still weary, but her eyes held that same glimmer as before.

“You’re a fool. But… a fool I owe my life to.”

Gus gave a tired smile, head lolling back.

He shut his eyes briefly, muttering almost to himself:

“Funny… I half-expected Marcus to show up at the last second. Y’know, like in those cheap stories with a deus ex machina.”

A faint grin tugged at his lips.

“…I really wonder what that idiot’s up to. ‘Cause without him, it just isn’t the same.”