Sometimes, a single shot of a slug round would kill a person regardless of where it struck. But there are also times when magic would be involved in aiding the survivability of those corrupted by it. Rachel was an unfortunate victim of that circumstance.

  Light fluttered back into her eye. Her mind was numb as it rested on the hard floor. Though faint, the battle between the demon and the Inheritor kept going without a definitive winner in sight. The only thing keeping her warm was her blood that covered her entire backside.

  Get up! Her mind told her. A voice so distant, Rachel barely registered it.

  Get up and fight!

  Pain shot through her body as she got back up. Her right arm dangled to the side as she was unable to move her right shoulder. Rachel’s mind felt heavy and light at the same time. Making the world ever confusing and headache-inducing.

  Rachel looked around, thankful to whatever God existed that The Leader was somewhere else. She could hear him chanting in the distance. He was close to her.

  Using what remained of her strength, she took a lazy step forward and limped her way to The Leader. All while a force at the back of her mind spoke to her. Little whispers that wanted her attention, just for a brief moment.

  You want this. You want him dead. Rachel shook her head, trying to ignore the voices as they grew in number. He is weak! He wants power that belongs to you.

  With a pained yelp, Rachel fell onto her knees and coughed. She touched her wounded shoulder and noticed she was bleeding black blood. ‘It’s all in my head.’ Rachel mumbled, unaware of the changes her body was going through.

  The voices in her head became louder, almost unbearable. You’ll love it. The joy of it all, the power it will bring. You can become a new woman if you just kill him.

  Her body felt hot, her nipples became perky, and her breasts became firm. As she stood back up with new, unfounded strength, she felt hot near her groin. It was strange, wrong to feel aroused while having a near-death experience and wanting to kill someone.

  She sniffed the air, enjoying the scent of rot and smiled. ‘Garu’da,’ Rachel said, her lips repeating that poisoned word multiple times and giving the spell strength over her.

  By repeating the words and thinking of it, her mind opened itself to a sinister kind of magic. There was a reason the library was mostly left alone and covered in dust. The books inside held magic that would influence the mind and poison the soul. It wasn’t a library, but a magical weapon storage of mass destruction. Books that would show the reader whatever they wanted to see while the spell took hold and corrupted them. Weapons to convert the populous without any blood being spilled. It would only be a matter of time before she succumbed to the spell and became nothing but a husk of her former self.

  A fractured smile formed on her face as she moved forward. She began to understand the purpose of the cult. Total unity. The world was in chaos and void of hope. To her, the act of sex was the ultimate unifier, the greatest way to show trust and form bonds with everyone. The thought of pleasuring multiple people at once made her cheeks flush. How it would make her feel safe with everyone around her, and how the world would be a better place as a result. For that to happen, it needed a new hope, a new people to inherit it from those who made it toxic to all life.

  Henry, the reason why she was in the mansion in the first place. The idea of him went away as the idea of a husband became outdated and unnecessary in her new world.

  Rachel looked down at her stomach and rubbed her lower abdomen. She wondered what it would be like to be a mother to a new people, a new world. Maybe The Leader was right to pursue power, but his goals were not for the greater good of humanity and the world. Her mind drifted to endless possibilities of desire and want. Rachel believed she could be that change, and soon as well.

  Keep going. You are almost there. The voices whispered, urging her to keep moving forward. And with a smile on her face, she gladly did. Drooling as shards of shattered bone in her shoulder scraped against her flesh and creating unbearable pain that would soon be replaced with a different kind of unfelt pleasure.

  The Leader sat down, his back turned to Rachel and unaware of her existence. He was hunched over, drawing on the ground with chalk infused with demon ashes and trying to conjure a rune.

  Amused, the voices laughed. What a desperate man, unable to make a basic rune. Rachel nodded along, grinning at the fact that the person responsible for forming a cult was pathetic compared to her. Kill him.

  Following the wishes of the dark urge, she grabbed a nearby heavy object and walked up to him. There was no need for second guesses, no need to question her sense of morality if killing a person was the right thing to do. All she wanted was to hit him over the head and keep banging on his skull. Turning his brain into mush with every blow.

  Rachel kept going and going. Every motion was like the last as she kept hitting him as if it were clockwork. She didn’t get any joy out of it, thrilled, yes, but that was only during the first blow. The rest were stale after his body stopped squirming.

  That is enough. The voices commanded, forcing Rachel to let go of the heavy object and stare at her first kill. Look at him, isn’t he beautiful?

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  ‘Yes…’ Rachel stuttered, grinning at the gory mess she made. ‘He reminds me of Henry.’

  She looked near his body and found her camera. She tucked it under her arm and held onto it like a baby before grabbing the shotgun. Find it, find the demon. The voices commanded, urging her to keep going. The demon wouldn’t be hard to find. All Rachel had to do was follow the sounds of battle at the other side of the mansion.

  When Rachel got to where they were. The demon and the Inheritor kept going at each other in the foreyard. Zaar’tha’s bone blades sliced through chunks of flesh while the monster managed to make the demon bleed with a few well-placed strikes of its fist.

  But whenever the Inheritor tried to grab onto Zaar’tha, they would use their whip to smack the monster away so they could regain their footing and force the two of them to start from the beginning. Continuing a cycle of attacks, parries, blows, and resetting.

  But even from there, Rachel could tell that the demon was winning while the Inheritor was slowing down from its injuries.

  Rachel raised a brow, confused as to why the Inheritor looked different. To her, it looked handsome. A towering man with well-defined muscles and a kind face, upon closer examination, the monster looked exactly like Henry. She licked her lips, finding the creature desirable and wanting to do everything for it. To her, it was the true master of Earth.

  But the battle needed to be decided, and she needed to choose quickly. Rachel raised her shotgun and aimed it at Zaar’tha, her hands shaking as she tried to aim the weapon with one arm while the other was too weak to lift it. The Inheritor needed to be saved. Rachel knew that they had to take the shot and save her beloved.

  Pull the trigger. The voices encouraged, all of them joining together to become one and the same.

  Rachel refused, a little spark within her coming back. Her finger on the trigger shook as she tried to stop herself. While her heart yearned for the pleasures and the thrill of saving the beauty which was the Inheritor. Rachel couldn’t force herself to kill the one who got her out of that room. To her, it would be wrong. She refused to do it.

  Something also didn’t make sense for her. Why was her mind telling her to abandon her search for Henry? Why did the monstrous creature resemble her husband? And why would she take pleasure in the murder of another human?

  ‘I refuse…’ Rachel struggled to say, her voice weak and tired. ‘Zaar did nothing wrong.’

  The voice became many as it screamed at Rachel, telling her to pull the trigger and kill the demon and force them to regret going against the beauty of a new world. You are on the cusp of change. Be a good tool and pull the trigger!

  ‘I’m not a tool…’ Rachel mumbled. Her weak voice was a poor attempt to drown out the noise and not allow it to take control of her. ‘I’m not a tool… I’m not a tool…’

  By saying those words repeatedly, the woman held her mind and body in place. However, Rachel was unaware that Zaar’tha had killed the Inheritor moments ago. She just stood there, drooling like a mindless drone.

  The demon frowned, disappointed that Rachel succumbed to magical corruption so quickly. Then they glanced at the shotgun, and their expression darkened. While corruption had run deep into Rachel’s psyche and soul, the demon saw that a random human held back just for a moment. Rachel at any point could’ve killed the demon, but didn’t.

  ‘You surprised me, human.’ Zaar’tha commented. Before they could say anything else, they noticed a convoy of armoured vehicles approaching the mansion. ‘Order scum!’ They harshly mumbled.

  Before the demon would leave, Zaar’tha took the camera from Rachel’s hand. The demon’s large breast opened like a flower, revealing an empty pocket so they could store it inside. ‘If you can hear and understand me, allow me to speak.’ Zaar’tha said before grabbing Rachel’s shotgun and throwing it away. ‘I am sorry, but I cannot help you. No one can help you.’

  Zaar’tha rested their right fist on Rachel’s chest and sighed. ‘The corruption runs deep in your veins. I can smell the magic changing your body to become something horrible. After the transformation, you will be alive, but a husk of your former self. I cannot allow that. If I let you live, your kind will find you, and they will experiment on you, as those barbarians will always do. Normally, I would allow it to happen, but as you didn’t pull that trigger while I fought that beast. I think you deserve mercy. I’m sorry, I truly am, but this is the only thing I can do to help you. Goodbye, Rachel Abernack. May your soul find a kinder place.’

  As they finished, a bone blade shot out and pierced Rachel’s heart. Stopping the voices and forcing her senses back into reality as she died. Rachel cried a single tear. Her last thoughts were of her husband proposing to her. A memory she held dearly as her life faded away.

  The demon, out of kindness, gently lowered Rachel onto the ground in a dignified manner. But Zaar’tha knew humans were not like their people. They were aware that leaving her body like that wasn’t dignifying of someone such as her.

  Out of respect, Zaar’tha detached one of their wings and placed Rachel’s body. While it would expose the fact that a demon had entered Earth to deal with the problem. To them, it was the right thing to do. That even if they were not welcomed on the planet or by humanity, they would at least prove to the humans that they were not the monsters they made them out to be.