As Alice walks toward the beacon of the demon sighting, she can't help but wonder why she's so determined to follow this path. She never truly considered what her life might have looked like had she not chosen to become a demon hunter, had she not decided to strip away the body paint that concealed her. These thoughts quickly fade when she comes upon the corpses of three demon hunters. Horrified, Alice rushes forward, hoping to find a survivor. One of the bodies stirs weakly, managing to whisper, "Run away." Alice kneels beside him, trying to help him up, but he only insists she flee. "I'm a demon hunter too. How bad is this demon?" she asks. The wounded man squints, notices her honorary Demon Hunter badge, and rasps, "Do you have any aura control yet?" Alice shakes her head, prompting a faint chuckle. "The reports claimed it was a low D-class, but that was either a lie or an error from the power reader at HQ. If anything, it's an upper B-class—and at worst, a low A-class." He presses a pair of brass knuckles into her hand. "These are infused with my last remaining aura. They'll help you deal damage to the demon. Be warned—it has a tough shell acting as body armor, so you'll need to strike harder than you ever have to break through. That's all I can tell you. Good luck." With those words, the wounded man slumps lifelessly. Alice exhales, steadying herself. "Alright, rest easy. I'll handle this," she says, walking headfirst into the compound in which the alert originated from.
When Alice strides into the complex, she is forced to witness a towering ten-foot demon, its orange-and-black scales glinting like armor, tearing a demon hunter apart with its jagged teeth. She suppresses the urge to vomit and steadies herself, then charges forward. Her brass-knuckled fist slams into the demon's torso, the impact jolting it enough to make it spit out the mangled remains of its victim. The creature lets out a piercing wail and immediately exhales a stream of fire. Alice dives aside, the flames scorching past her, and rolls back to her feet. The demon lunges with a sweeping left-right combination, but Alice ducks under the strikes and drives an uppercut into its gut. The blow reverberates through its shell, leaving a visible crack across the scaled plating. Enraged, the demon's thin arms begin to bulk up, scales thickening as fire coils around them like molten gauntlets. It rears back, charging power into a single devastating punch. Alice retreats, slipping behind a collapsed pillar for cover. When the punch lands, the force detonates outward—fire erupts across the chamber, walls buckle, and the ceiling groans as debris rains down. Emerging from her shelter, Alice spots the demon preparing another blast. This one is faster, a sudden jet of flame that gives her only a heartbeat to react. She pivots sharply, the fire grazing past as she darts in a zigzag sprint toward the beast. Closing the distance, she weaves through its wild punches and kicks, each strike shaking the ground, until she finds her opening. With a furious shout, Alice drives three consecutive blows into the cracked shell, each strike deepening the fracture and forcing the demon to stagger back, its armor splintering under her relentless assault.
Three minutes have passed since this battle for survival began, and it is taking everything Alice has just to avoid being struck. Her throat burns from the smoke she's inhaled, her lungs ache from constant sprinting, and her legs scream with fatigue, yet she refuses to stop. The million-dollar question gnaws at her: why? Why is she doing this? She doesn't know any of the hunters who were slain. Why did she leap so boldly into the fray after the wounded hunter pressed the brass knuckles into her hand? Why? As these doubts swirl, a voice cuts through the chaos—calm, deliberate, and unsettling. Alice turns to see a mysterious man in a red trench coat over a matching suit, sleek black dress shoes clicking against the floor, a balaclava mask concealing his face, and black gloves covering his hands. He regards her with an unreadable stillness before speaking. "What will you do next, Miss Holmes? Whatever it is, make it special." Without waiting for an answer, the man pivots and walks away, his presence lingering like a shadow even after he disappears from sight.
After the distraction from the mysterious man, the demon's arm ignites and it hurls a blazing punch straight at Alice's head. She ducks at the last possible second, the strike searing past her. Damn, that was close. Too close, she thinks, weaving aside as the creature throws two more punches—sluggish compared to the charged strike. So when it channels fire into its arm, it burns through its energy, slowing down afterward. Works for me. Alice surges forward, slipping past another slow swing, and unleashes a flurry of blows against on its torso. Five solid strikes land, widening the fracture. Flames begin to crawl down the demon's right arm, but Alice sidesteps into a favorable angle, bracing herself. To her surprise, the fiery punch comes slower than before, its heat weaker. He's burning out. The flames are fading. I see it now—my path to victory. A manic laugh escapes her as the black aura she once wielded against Hal erupts around her body, intertwining with the white aura infused in the brass knuckles. The demon staggers back, throwing another feeble punch, but Alice catches its arm with one hand and drives straight through the scaly armor, snapping it apart. The creature shrieks in agony as Alice laughs louder. "Aw, what's wrong? Didn't think I could do this to you, huh?" She stops running, advancing with deliberate steps as the demon desperately charges its remaining arm. The flames sputter, barely visible. "Oh, what's wrong? All out of gas?" Alice mocks, her laughter echoing as she closes in. She plants her feet, draws back, and delivers a single devastating punch to the fractured shell. The impact shatters the scales across its torso, launching the demon out of the complex and into the street. Still laughing, Alice hears a sharp chime from her badge: Jessica Tyler—three miles away. "Well, that makes it easier to find her. And it looks like the demon's heading in that direction. Might as well wait here," she mutters, sitting down. For the first time, she has defeated a demon—and even better, forced it to flee in abject fear.