The forest was a slaughterhouse, the air thick with sulfur, blood, and the acrid sting of gunpowder. The Dohmara Darkwoods, already a nightmare of twisted trees and suffocating gloom, had turned into a battlefield where the ground itself seemed to pulse with malice.
Krista Morrigan stood at the heart of it, her Remington 870 shotgun roaring like a pissed-off dragon, each blast a deafening crack that split the eerie silence of the woods. Her hands were steady, her jaw clenched, but her eyes burned with a mix of fury and desperation.
She was a machine, pumping shell after shell into the demon knights charging from the shadows.
"Elf, fucking shoot!" Krista barked, her voice cutting through the chaos.
She didn't even glance at the elven ranger perched in the trees, trusting the woman—or girl, God knows how old she actually is—to do her job.
Orva's arrows whistled through the air, each one finding its mark with deadly precision, piercing the glowing red eyes of the demon knights or sinking into their armored chests. But the elf was struggling—her pointed ears twitched in agony every time Krista's shotgun roared, the thunderous blasts rattling her sensitive hearing.
"Fuck, sorry, pointy-ears, but I ain't got time to coddle you!" Krista muttered under her breath, slamming another speedloader into the shotgun's underbelly.
Up front, Ava and Tertorrela were a whirlwind of steel and blood. Ava swung her longsword with brutal efficiency, each strike cleaving through demon armor like it was tinfoil. Her shield bashed skulls, sending knights stumbling back, their guttural roars drowned out by the crunch of bone.
Tertorrela danced through the chaos, her twin daggers flashing as she slashed at the demons' legs, dropping them to their knees for Ava to finish off. The rogue's movements were liquid, almost playful, but her eyes were cold, calculating—every cut deliberate, every strike a kill.
Behind the front line, Sliminac knelt in the dirt, her hands glowing with a faint blue light as she chanted, her voice a low, rhythmic hum that seemed to vibrate the air itself. The teleportation pearl clutched in her hands pulsed faintly, its magic a lifeline that could whisk them all to safety—if she could finish the spell without getting interrupted.
Beside her, Olivia and Hilda worked frantically, their hands trembling as they loaded shotgun shells into speedloaders. Olivia's fingers, usually nimble from years of coding, fumbled with the unfamiliar weight of the ammo, but she gritted her teeth and kept going. Hilda, despite her inexperience, mirrored Olivia's movements, sliding red shells into the loaders with surprising speed.
"Liv, keep it tight!" Krista shouted, catching a speedloader Olivia tossed her way.
She slammed it into the shotgun, pumped the fore-end, and fired again.
A demon knight's head exploded in a spray of black ichor, its body collapsing like a marionette with cut strings. But for every one she dropped, another emerged from behind the gnarled trees, their spiked armor glinting in the orange-purple dawn.
It was like fighting a hydra—endless, relentless, and pissing her off more with every second.
"Goddamn it," Krista growled, her voice hoarse from shouting. "These fuckers just keep coming!"
She fired again, the 00 buckshot tearing through a knight's chest, but it took a second shot to drop the bastard. The scatter of the buckshot was a pain in the ass—some pellets hit true, others sprayed wide, embedding in trees or harmlessly pinging off armor.
She needed something stronger, something that didn't fuck around.
Ava, drenched in sweat and demon blood, glanced back at Krista mid-swing, her sword cleaving a knight's arm clean off.
"Krista, we can't keep this up!" she shouted, her voice strained but steady. "They're replacing themselves faster than we can kill them! Got anything stronger?"
Krista's lips curled into a snarl, her mind racing. "Gimme a fucking second!"
She closed her eyes for a split moment, the chaos around her fading as the UI flared to life in her head. That weird online shop interface materialized, stark white with red accents, no logo, no bullshit—just a search bar and rows of products.
She typed "shotgun ammo" with her mind, scrolling through the options.
Birdshot? Literally useless.
000 buck? Better, but not enough.
Rubber slugs? She snorted, dismissing them instantly. Yeah, let's just tickle these demons to death, why don't we?
Her mental cursor hovered over Dragon's Breath, and her heart skipped—incendiary rounds that could turn these knights into fucking torches. But the screen flashed red—Prohibited Item.
"Motherfucker!" she cursed under her breath.
Fléchette? Prohibited.
Hollow points? Prohibited.
Tungsten black tip? Prohibited.
She gritted her teeth, her frustration boiling over. "What kind of bullshit, Temu-ass, dogshit shop doesn't let me buy the good stuff?"
Finally, her eyes landed on sabot slugs—Remington Premier AccuTip, 385 grains of pure, armor-piercing death. Legal in California, designed for big game, and probably the closest she'd get to an instant kill in this fucked-up world.
"Good enough," she muttered, focusing her mind. She visualized sixteen packs of five-shell boxes, and with a shimmer of light, they materialized at her feet, heavy and real.
"Liv, Hilda!" Krista shouted, kicking the boxes toward them. "Load these into the speedloaders, now! These slugs'll punch through these assholes like a hot knife through butter!"
Olivia grabbed a box, her hands shaking but determined. "Got it!" she called, tearing it open and passing shells to Hilda. The cleric fumbled at first, her fingers unused to the weight of the slugs, but she quickly found a rhythm, sliding them into the loaders with Olivia's guidance.
Krista turned her attention back to the fight, her eyes scanning the treeline. The demons were pouring through a narrow gap between two massive, gnarled trees—a perfect chokepoint. Her mind raced, piecing together a plan.
"Liv, toss me the M203!" she yelled, not taking her eyes off the advancing knights.
Olivia hesitated, digging into the duffle bag. Her heart sank as she realized they were down to their last six 40mm grenades. "Krista, we've only got six left!" she shouted, her voice cracking with worry.
"I don't give a shit, toss it!" Krista snapped.
Olivia complied, hurling the grenade launcher toward her sister. Krista caught it one-handed, her movements fluid despite the chaos. She loaded a 40mm grenade, aimed at one of the trees flanking the chokepoint, and fired. The explosion was deafening, the tree splintering and crashing down with a thunderous groan, partially blocking the demons' path.
"Healer slut!" Krista barked, her voice cutting through the din. "Grab those twenty propane canisters by the tree stump and chuck 'em at the chokepoint! Now!"
Hilda scrambled to comply, her hands shaking as she gathered the canisters Krista had summoned earlier. She tossed them toward the gap, the metal cylinders clattering against the fallen tree. Krista loaded another grenade, her eyes narrowing.
"Let's see how these fuckers like a barbecue."
She fired the M203 again, the grenade arcing through the air and detonating on impact with the propane canisters. A massive fireball erupted, the shockwave knocking everyone back a step. The demons caught in the blast screamed, their armor melting as flames consumed them, the stench of burning sulfur overwhelming.
For a moment, the chokepoint went silent—too silent. The forest held its breath, the air thick with smoke and the crackle of dying flames. Orva, still perched in the trees, froze, her elven senses screaming. The hairs on her neck stood on end, and she pressed her palm to the dirt, feeling the vibrations of something massive approaching. Her eyes widened in panic.
"Middle-class demon incoming!" she shouted, her voice piercing the eerie quiet.
Krista's head snapped toward her. "What the fuck's a middle-class demon?" she demanded, her tone sharp. No one answered with words. The answer came as a shadow stepped from the chokepoint, its presence sucking the air from the battlefield.
This thing was no fodder knight. It was different. At least fifteen feet tall, its body was a glistening mass of black, tar-like flesh, dripping with viscous liquid that hissed on the ground. Its humanoid form was grotesque, limbs unnaturally long, its face a twisted mockery of humanity with glowing amber eyes that locked onto Krista with unsettling intelligence. Unlike the others, it carried no crude weapons—just claws, long and sharp as scythes.
"Krista," it hissed, its voice a guttural rasp that echoed in her skull. The sound sent ice down her spine, her grip tightening on the shotgun. "Let us talk. Let us make a deal."
Ava and her party froze, faces paling. No demon had ever spoken to a human like that—not unless it was under the Demon Lord's direct control.
"What the fuck are you?" Krista demanded, her voice steady despite her racing heart. "How do you know my name? What's this deal you're yapping about? And while you're at it, introduce yourself, asshole."
The demon tilted its head, its amber eyes glinting with something like amusement. "I have no name," it said, its voice slithering like oil. "I am but a pawn in the Demon Lord's grand chessboard. But to appease you… call me Cain."
Krista's eyes narrowed. "A name from my world? Extra sus, you slimy fuck. Now talk, smelly!"
The demon's lips curled into a grotesque smile, revealing jagged obsidian teeth. "The Demon Lord's will is absolute," it said. "Your goddess—the very same goddess that brought you and your sister to this world—is deceiving you. No one should be torn from their world, thrown into one they do not know, and forced to fight for their lives. The Demon Lord, Caligo, is no tyrant. He is a visionary. He seeks to usurp the gods' influence not for malice, but for change—true change."
Ava's sword trembled in her grip. "Krista, don't trust it!" she shouted, her voice fierce. "It's a fucking demon!"
The demon's smile widened, its tone turning sweeter, almost seductive. "Krista, do you wish for your sister to walk again? The Demon Lord has the power, the absolute magic to reverse her condition. She could walk freely, live freely. He sees potential in you, in Olivia. A friendship… a partnership."
Olivia's breath hitched, her grip on the Glock and 1911 tightening. "Krista, don't listen!" she yelled, her voice shaking but defiant.
The demon raised a clawed hand, and the assaulting knights froze, as if time itself paused. "All is safe," it said, its eyes locked on Krista. "I can connect you to the Demon Lord for a negotiation. You need only say the word."
Krista's mind teetered on a psychological cliff, her heart pounding. Olivia—her frail, stubborn, infuriating sister—could walk again? The thought clawed at her, tempting, seductive. She'd killed for Olivia, sold organs, spilled blood, all to keep her safe. What was one more deal? But Ava's voice cut through the haze, low and urgent.
"Krista," Ava said, her tone softer now. "Sliminac's spell is ready. The pearl's locked to teleport us to Cleonic."
Krista hesitated, her eyes flicking to Olivia, then back to the demon. "Can your Demon Lord's word be trusted?" she asked, her voice cold.
"Of course," the demon replied, its voice smooth as silk. "His words are as solid as unbreakable metal. He will not back out of a deal once made."
Krista's lips curled into a smirk. "Good," she said, pumping a sabot slug into the chamber. "At least I know your master's literally just the Devil."
She turned, aiming at the two last propane canisters Hilda had thrown at the chokepoint that didn't explode with the rest. With a single shot, she ignited them, the explosion roaring through the forest, setting trees, grass, and a 50-foot radius ablaze. Flames devoured the demons, their screams echoing as Ava and Tertorrela dove toward Sliminac. Hilda grabbed Olivia's hand, both clinging to the mage as Krista summoned a box of 32 M67 frag grenades.
Owning a grenade was always legal, even in California. Somehow, the entity overseeing her shop didn't think about placing a license to prevent Krista from summoning a literal weapon limited under the National Firearms Act.
Whatever—at least I discovered something new today.
"Fuck you and your deal," Krista spat, flipping her middle finger at Cain as she hurled the entire box at the demon. The explosion was cataclysmic, a concussive wave of fire and shrapnel that tore through the clearing. "Maybe some other day, asshole!"
Krista barely reached Sliminac as the pearl's light flared, the teleportation spell activating. The world warped, a dizzying, Star Wars-esque FTL jump that twisted her stomach and blurred her vision. They emerged in an open courtyard, crashing into each other, surrounded by three dozen human knights in matching armor—thank fuck, not demons.
Krista stumbled to her feet, her chest heaving, blood dripping from the claw wound across her chest. Ava grabbed her arm, her eyes searching Krista's face.
"Were you actually considering that demon's words?" she asked, her voice low, almost accusing.
Krista yanked her arm free, her eyes blazing.
"None of your fucking business," she snapped. "I'm here in this shithole against my will. If it was just me, maybe I could deal with this isekai bullshit Olivia's so obsessed with. But dragging her into this Dark Souls-ass world? Nuh-uh. This is personal now. I want a word with whatever deity summoned us."
Ava's expression softened, but her grip tightened. "The goddess is gone, Krista. But you can talk to the next best thing—High Priest Eobard."
Krista's face twisted in disgust. "Great, another asshole to deal with. Bring him to me tomorrow morning. I've got some fire questions, and if I don't like his answers, I'm putting a slug through his fucking skull."
A knight bent over, trying to pick up Olivia. Krista was quick on her feet and simply kicked him aside. It wasn't a full force, but just enough to send the knight tumbling sideways.
"Keep your medieval hands off my baby sister, you peasant," she retorted.
The knight looked at her in confusion, then darted to Ava, who only shrugged the treatment off. Krista picked Olivia up onto her back and grabbed the duffle bag and Olivia's backpack, slinging it on her shoulder. Walking away to a random direction, Ava sighed.
"Krista," she called out, but Krista kept on walking. "The accommodation is this way, not that way."
"Thanks, but no thanks, Miley Cyrus," Krista replied, brushing it off. "I'm not sleeping on hay beds, no way. I'll pass on your… accommodation. We'll get our own hotel—or the next best thing."
Ava and her party didn't ask further, letting her find her own sleeping premise. The last she saw Krista and Olivia was when she turned her head one last time as she debriefed the welcoming party. The sisters were walking towards an open farmland where the horses usually ran around every day.
I hope she'll understand. Ava gripped her sword tightly and walked the other way. We need you.