When we hear about graduation, the first thing that pops into mind is movies like American Pie. In reality, there's no joy involved. It's just a gathering of naive souls celebrating the end of a stage that, for most, is merely a prelude to the endless routine that follows.
I stood leaning against the wall, feeling like a dinosaur at a kids' show. Too old for this fuss, yet forced to pretend to be part of the act. But then again, deception and pretense were the first things the denizens of Hell taught me. And only after that did they teach me how to fight and kill.
Watching the school kids dance was actually pretty entertaining. It felt like watching an anthill swarming around the food and drink tables, wooing their queens.
"Zhenya, are you daydreaming again?" A familiar female voice snapped me out of my musings on eternity. With a slight smile, I turned toward her.
"Oh, it's nothing," I replied, forcing a fake irony into my voice. "I was just contemplating the fragility of life and the futility of a high school diploma. Too much energy spent absorbing information that won't save me from a meteorite falling on my head."
She laughed, nudging me in the waist. So light, so friendly. If only she knew who I was ten years ago. She'd probably turn into an old woman in an instant from pure terror.
"Oh, come on! Always the pessimist," she huffed, though her voice sounded more amused than scolding.
"It's graduation! The day we officially become adults! We're starting a new life!"
A new life. I turned that phrase over in my mind. How many "new lives" have I had? Dozens of attempts to escape Hell, each starting as a fresh beginning. Every time, I took a new name, but in the end, I was always sent back. How many empires have I seen fall? How many local and famous heroes have I watched wither away? To her, this was truly a new life, but to me, it was just another Tuesday.
"Okay, you win. Let's dance," I finally gave in and asked Alina to the floor.
A smile lit up her face. She always loved dancing, it was her way of escaping boring lessons. While others spent their days gaming, she couldn't live without moving to the beat.
We joined the others on the dance floor where the music was already blasting. I moved with the crowd, mimicking the moves I remembered my peers considering cool. However, something had been bugging me lately. It felt like dark clouds were gathering over my head again.
Feeling a strange sting in my chest as if a large metal rod had been driven deep and twisted I froze in place. The currents of magic in the room, which had been calm, began to converge. I'd seen this happen hundreds of times before. I grabbed Alina's hand and dove under a table with her. She only managed a startled yelp before we were hidden behind a long tablecloth.
The air in the hall hummed, as if a swarm of angry bees had been unleashed. The laughter and music faded, replaced by a drone so loud it made my bones vibrate.
"What's happening, Zhenya?" Alina's voice shook with fear.
My eyes narrowed, scanning the center of the hall. No doubt about it. In a moment, another branch of Hell would open here. Literally. Right at the point where all the energy converged, a portal tore open, vomiting out a torrent of rampaging, goat-faced demons.
It's amazing how fast a celebration of life turns into a bloody orgy. I'd long since grown used to the horror, but for Alina, this was clearly the moment she realized the world's true cruelty. One minute you're dancing; the next, a portal to the demonic realm opens over your head.
"Zhenya... I can't see anything, but... I can hear them."
Her voice was a whisper. I pressed her head to my chest to comfort her.
"Stay quiet. The most important thing is not to draw attention. If they see us, they'll eat us."
She shuddered as the reality sank in, tears streaming down her face. I felt for her. She had lived her whole life in a world where monsters were distant and fictional, and then bam! fairytale creatures are feasting on her best friend's guts at the next table.
The Cleanup Crew
For any demon, a pact is a sacred ritual. While most legends about them are fiction, their desire for contracts is very real. You can always find common ground if you understand exactly what the monster in front of you wants.
The Mother of Demons was the one who drilled this knowledge into me. She knew sending an intelligent representative of Hell after me was useless we'd just strike a deal and part ways. So, she had no choice but to rely on the dumbest inhabitants of the abyss.
These goat-faced species were created at the dawn of time. They are savage, mindless, and completely unwilling to negotiate. In short primitive. The exact opposite of the Mother's vision of an ideal demon.
Suddenly, a new sound cut through the chaos like meat being sliced by a sharp blade. Then came a deafening blast, and another. First, the sound of explosives, followed by the flare of something magical. Most likely rare fire magic. Finally, those cursed nobles had crawled out of their cozy nests!
The sounds of battle grew louder. Swords clashed, and magical howls drew near. The goat-faced demons, who felt in control moments ago, were now cornered. Their cries changed. They sounded... vengeful?
Through a gap in the tablecloth, I watched the demons being expertly slaughtered by Count Rezanov's guards. It was an impressive spectacle brutal and efficient. The guards moved like a single organism. Their gear was top-tier, shimmering energy shields and glowing swords that hinted at the immense wealth of these monster hunters.
In the middle of the carnage, one demon stood out. He was much larger, with darker fur and intricate patterns on his horns. An elder Baphomet. He was wounded, leaking black fluid, his arm bent at an impossible angle. He fought desperately, swatting guards away with a massive black spear, but there were too many of them.
Realizing he couldn't win, the Baphomet turned toward the shimmering portal. With his last bit of strength, he rushed for the exit. Almost gone, his head snapped toward me right where Alina and I were hiding. His gaze, full of animalistic hatred and something more ancient, pierced through me. He knew exactly what he was looking for.
"You!" the demon growled. His voice, amplified by the collapsing portal, echoed like thunder.
"I will come back for you! Then you will know true pain! There is no escape from the mark of the Mother of Demons!"
The portal slammed shut with a deafening thud. Silence followed a silence far scarier than the noise. The guards froze, then slowly, their gaze shifted across the hall until it landed directly on our table. Apparently, the demon had finally tracked my aura.
One thing was clear: we had been found.
The Interrogation
We were hauled out from under the table and thrown into an armored vehicle a literal mobile bunker. It was dark and cramped inside, smelling of metal and gunpowder. Four guards sat across from us, clutching rifles and swords. They treated us with cold suspicion. After all, demons love pretending to be survivors.
We were taken to the residence of Prince Rezanov. It wasn't just a house, it was a luxury fortress. We were marched through corridors adorned with tapestries and paintings.
"Get in," one guard ordered, shoving my back. I shrugged and obeyed. Alina sobbed quietly as she let go of my hand.
Prince Rezanov sat behind a massive mahogany desk. His gaze was cold as ice. He wore a perfect navy suit, looking every bit the arrogant ruler.
"So, young man," the Count's voice was low.
"Explain to me how you and your friend survived that hell? And why was that demon so... interested in you?" His eyes flicked to me, then to the door where Alina waited. "Or was he interested in the girl's aura?"
I just chuckled inwardly. This Count looked like a kid playing dress-up. He thought he was the master of destiny. Let's see how he'd handle an interrogation by the Lord of Pain.
"I... I don't know, sir," I mumbled, looking at the floor.
"We just hid. We wanted to be alone... and then the screaming! I've never seen that demon before. Maybe he mistook me for someone else?"
Rezanov chuckled. He didn't buy my cheap act. But he had no proof.
"Interesting," the Count said. He signaled for two men in white coats to enter. They brought a device that looked like a mix between an antique telescope and a futuristic scanner.
"My analysts will play with your... energy signature."
A blue light enveloped me. I felt a faint tickling sensation a familiar, almost forgotten feeling of someone trying to peer into my soul. In Hell, they do this with much more pain. But this primitive toy couldn't pierce my defenses. I spent thousands of years learning the art of concealment. The scanner only found what I allowed it to find.
"Count," the scientist said, looking at a hologram. "The boy's bloodline is linked directly to the Mother of Humanity. His first appearance was recorded in Irkutsk. He and his mother, Kristina Krivtsevich, appeared out of nowhere and fled that demon-infested city."
Rezanov looked stunned. He expected an ancient demon in a child's body, but not a pure descendant of the Mother of Humanity—especially from Irkutsk, the playground of the Mother of Demons.
"The Mother of Humanity? So he's just another toy in her hands?"
The Prince's gaze grew pensive. A child of the Mother of Humanity with a mark from the Mother of Demons? It was total nonsense to him.
"He's too dangerous for my city," Rezanov decided. "I won't tolerate St. Petersburg becoming a magnet for demon filth."
They took the bait. They made the decision that benefited me.
The Journey Home
A mentalist named Rafael was brought in. He tried to plant a suggestion in my mind a deep desire to return to Irkutsk. I let the foreign images wash over me. I pretended to struggle, frowning and rubbing my temples, before finally succumbing to his will.
"Irkutsk..." I muttered, staring through the wall. "I'm an adult now. I can go wherever I want. With Mother or alone... it doesn't matter."
Rezanov was satisfied. "We will cover your moving expenses. Just pack your bags."
I nodded, faking submission. Irkutsk? That's somewhere in the east. I'd head east, sure, but I'd pick a completely different destination once I was clear.
Back at my rented apartment, the familiar smell of fried potatoes and meat greeted me. A classic mother cooking for her son. If anyone in Hell knew I was forcing the Queen of Succubbi to play a doting mom, they'd die laughing.
I walked into the kitchen. Airi stood at the stove in her human form as Kristina Krivtsevich. She looked like an elegant woman, but I knew the predator hiding beneath.
She turned to me, her eyes full of worry. She could smell the mentalist's magic on me from a mile away.
"Honey, can you believe it?" I said with a grin.
"I woke up today filled with love for my little hometown. Irkutsk. Can you imagine?"
"Irkutsk?" Her voice turned melodic, her hand gripping a ladle.
"Ha-ah," she sighed wearily. "You really are a magnet for these creeps."
Brandishing the ladle like a weapon, she told me to go get some sleep.