Veil of the Devil’s Hour

There are two kinds of devil hunters:

Weaponers — people who kill devils and forge their bodies or powers into weapons. It's rare, dangerous, and messy. Most weapons don't survive long… unless something is keeping them alive.

Contractors — they make deals. Give something up, get something back. Power, speed, control — all at a cost. The devil stays inside them, whispering, waiting. Sometimes helpful. Sometimes not.

It's more complicated than that, of course.

But if you're still breathing, you're already behind.

Blade stood in front of the two devils, eyeing them like trash that had been left to rot.

"Alright… which one should I use now?" he muttered to himself.

"Already used the right pinky. Maybe the left one this time."

Then it clicked.

"Oh yeah… you asked me earlier — what am I? A Weaponer or a Contractor?"

Blade smirked, lifting his left hand.

"Let me show you."

He slowly slid the ring off his left pinky.

In his other hand, he held the black gear — brutal, heavy, forged from devil flesh and blood.

As the ring came free, his pinky didn't go pale like the other.

Instead, it turned pitch black — like coal dipped in oil.

"To answer your question," Blade said calmly,

"I'm both."

The two hunters on the ground froze, staring in shock.

John stammered. "That's not possible… You can be one or the other — and maybe control one or two devils max. But he… he's got a devil weapon, and a contract… but there's no pact mark. No sign."

Then they felt it.

When he pulled off that one ring…

The air shifted.

Heavy. Dark. Like the world was being eaten by shadows.

And that was just one of his rings.

He had ten.

Miles, for the first time, raised his voice.

"He… he's a faking devil…"

Blade laughed. A calm, wicked laugh.

"You can call me that. But I prefer 'Blade.'"

He looked at the devils like they were bugs under his boot.

"Always talking big. But when death comes knocking, you beg like dogs."

One of the devils hissed, "You can't kill us. It's past 3AM."

Blade grinned.

"If I can't kill you…

I'll break your legs and throw you in a cage."

He dashed forward — spear in hand — the scent of his blackened finger trailing through the cold street.

The Thread Devil attacked first, launching strings like a razor net.

Blade didn't dodge.

He just pointed at it.

Gone.

The strings vanished on contact with that cursed black finger.

Before anyone could react —

SLASH.

The spear cut deep.

Boom. Boom.

John and Miles stood frozen.

"What… just happened?" Miles muttered.

"What kind of devil is that?" John whispered. "He just… pointed. And it disappeared."

Blade turned casually.

"Okay. First devil's down. One step closer to that paycheck."

The Thread Devil lay on the ground, twitching.

"You… you don't know how much we suffer in this realm," it groaned.

"Any devil who stays past 3 months after 3AM gets stuck here — forever. I still had 4 days. I was going to return. Back to the Nether!"

Blade cracked his neck and laughed loud, no mercy in his voice.

"Too bad, devil. Your rules, not mine."

He stepped closer.

"Tell me — did you cry the same story to that poor Cleaner before breaking the contract and stealing his body?"

Blade sighed. Reached into his coat. Pulled out a black sealing paper and slapped it onto the devil's chest.

He turned to John.

"Come here, Red Unit boy. Finish the sealing process."

John nodded, still shaken, and stepped in.

"Alright," Blade said, stretching. "Now let's go cage the other one."

The Parasite Devil twitched on the other side, voice slithering through the half-broken host.

"Oh, my poor roommate. He helped me get this body, you know?"

Blade grinned.

"Well — too bad for him."

The Parasite began to mutate. Its host's body twisted, face stretching, eyes bulging, torso cracking into something monstrous.

Blade watched calmly.

He started walking forward.

Then —

STAB.

The devil's tail struck — piercing Blade's gut.

Blade winced.

"…That hurt."

The devil's tail is still stabbed through he's gut.

Blade grips it tighter.

He pulls himself closer, blood dripping from his side — smiling like a psycho.

"You're noisy for a parasite."

From his coat, Blade pulls out a folded black paper, etched in red ink — a devil seal slip.

"You wanna live so bad? Fine. I'll grant your wish."

He slams the paper onto the Parasite's chest — but nothing happens at first.

Then his left black finger lights up — pitch black skin glowing faintly red, like burning coals.

He taps the seal once.

Chains of black light burst out, wrapping around the devil, locking its limbs mid-scream.

The host body convulses, twitching violently as the Parasite inside is dragged inward, sucked into the slip like smoke into a bottle.

"You're sealed," Blade mutters. "Should've picked a better roommate."

He flicked the glowing paper into his coat pocket, then slid the silver ring onto his BlackPinky.

The darkness peeled off in a flash — his finger snapped back to normal.

He Looks back at the blood trail from he's gut wound.

"Two down, and they barely lifted a finger. Hope the paycheck's worth babysitting these red clowns."