DMC: Being a demon hunter in Japan is not easy

''Zzzz….''

Without worrying too much about the dangers of driving while asleep, the young demon hunter lay peacefully, napping on the handlebars of his motorcycle.

If a survey were conducted on how many people could do the same and live to tell the tale, the number would shrink to just a handful—after all, the world is far too vast to take things for granted.

But for Desmon, who has a habit of pulling off reckless stunts with ease, having a regenerative factor is both a blessing and a curse.

For that reason, he stopped worrying too much about moments of imminent danger.

It doesn't matter if he's impaled or has his organs destroyed; to him, it's just another part of his daily routine. Whether he likes it or not, he'll regenerate from any damage he takes.

However, that doesn't mean he's immune to pain. The sensation is still there, and feeling your organs being shredded is far from pleasant.

Thanks to his immense endurance and demonic energy, he can mitigate a large portion of the pain. But as a fight drags on, that mitigation gradually weakens—until he reaches the point where he can't even move due to the agony.

That said, Desmon is not immortal. If he were to face opponents far stronger than himself, sooner or later, he'd reach his limit, and from that moment on, death would be breathing down his neck.

Fortunately for him, since arriving in Japan, he has yet to encounter an enemy capable of pushing him to that extent—except for the gatekeepers of hell. But Desmon considers that fight a tie, so it doesn't count.

Because of all this, Desmon can afford to act like a fool, completely oblivious to danger…

…Until today.

''Five more minutes! I can't start my day unless I get my full fifteen hours of sleep.'' He muttered casually without even opening his eyes, yet he still gripped Kurox's handlebars and turned right.

For a short distance, Desmon dodged a massive black stake that nearly skewered him like a kebab.

''Isn't it rude to wake someone up while they're sleeping? Didn't they teach you that in school?''

-Seriously, can't a guy get some sleep while driving…?

Stretching his arms back after being woken in such a manner, Desmon casually caught another black stake flying toward him.

''And what exactly is this?''

Applying some pressure with his hand, the stake dissolved into black smoke and vanished.

-Yeah, I see… I don't get it.

Until now, he had never faced anything like this.

''The weatherman definitely got the forecast wrong. Pretty sure he didn't mention a stake storm.''

Flashing a calm smile, Desmon gripped Kurox's handlebars and began weaving in all directions as a rain of stakes started pouring down on him.

Above him, in the sky, a strange black cloud loomed, unleashing an onslaught of stakes, each large enough to impale him entirely. And Desmon was certainly no masochist—this wasn't the kind of experience he was looking for.

''I wonder… would an umbrella have helped? Yeah, probably not…''

Despite speeding through the chaos, dodging the attacks that crashed down around him with deafening noise and destruction, Desmon remained calm.

-Kurox doesn't run on gasoline, so why the hell is a cloud attacking me?

Was the environment his enemy now?

The thought crossed his mind, but it made no sense for a cloud to be trying to kill him. No, this thing was definitely not normal.

-Should I just give up? Maybe I should've recycled more…?

''Oh, that one almost got me!'' he said, grinning as a shallow cut formed on his cheek from a near-miss.

-If I had Alastor, I could use it to deflect these things… but there's no way I can handle this many at once.

Desmon hadn't seen the need to bring Alastor for a simple conversation, so now all he had were his fists—more than enough in most situations, but against a barrage of projectiles, things were getting tricky.

''Guess I'll just have to try.'' He shrugged.

Without a second thought about his precarious situation, Desmon stood up on his bike—an incredibly dangerous move, yet ironically, the demon hunter remained perfectly stable.

-If I remember correctly, it was something like this…

''Ora, Ora, Ora, Ora, Ora…!''

Channeling his demonic energy into his fists, Desmon unleashed a flurry of punches, shattering the stakes raining down upon him.

''Come on, is that all you've got? Should I start mixing plastic with organic waste?'' He taunted, destroying the stakes with precision.

After several seconds, the stakes stopped falling, as they were useless if Desmon could destroy them so easily.

"I guess that's it… I'll be more mindful of the environment. Lesson learned…" He said, scratching the back of his neck in guilt.

But as if that dark cloud refused to accept his apology, two enormous clawed hands formed and lunged at Desmon.

"I'm starting to think that cloud hates me." He spoke calmly before the hands closed in on him, ready to trap him.

With just a thought, Kurox came to a sudden stop, dodging the claws effortlessly.

"First stakes, now clawed hands—would it be too much to ask for some food to come out of that cloud?"

After complaining about how unfair nature was, Desmon sat back on Kurox and resumed driving. The reason? Even more hands were beginning to emerge from the cloud.

"How the hell am I supposed to fight a cloud?!"

As Desmon tried to figure out a solution to his bizarre problem, he maneuvered down the highway with the skill of a seasoned driver. The hands kept emerging from the black cloud, relentlessly trying to take him down, but Kurox dodged every single attack with ease.

-I'm gonna have to add this to my list of insane things I've done: getting chased by giant hands while riding a motorcycle…

With each passing day, crazier things kept adding to his list. One of the most absurd? Jumping out of a plane and surviving the fall.

If anyone else were watching this chase, they'd probably think Kurox had a mind of its own. The motorcycle glided across the highway with unnatural agility, maneuvering with eerie precision.

-I think I've hit a dead end…

Desmon frowned, fully aware that running away wasn't a viable option. At his current pace, he'd reach the next city in minutes, and that black cloud would destroy everything in its path.

"Heading into a city with that thing chasing me? Bad idea… Guess I'll have to deal with it. No clue how, though, hahaha!"

All he could do was laugh at his predicament.

That was classic Desmon. His situation was ridiculously complicated, yet he faced it with the confidence of someone who had already witnessed the impossible and lived to tell the tale. But could a cloud even be destroyed? He wouldn't know until he tried.

With a smirk, he tightened his grip on Kurox's handlebars. He didn't have many options, but at least he could do what he did best—slay demons. Because if that cloud wasn't a demon, then it simply didn't make sense.

-Since when do I struggle to recognize a demon? This is weird…

He shrugged, realizing now wasn't the time to think about it.

-If it acts like a demon, then it's a demon. And demons get exterminated. Nice and simple.

"What if some demons are like zombies, turning everything they touch? That'd be a goddamn nightmare…"

Someone's been watching too many zombie movies.

Not wanting the demon hunter to get lost in his thoughts, the cloud unleashed even more hands, closing in on him from all sides, leaving no room for escape.

"Okay, now this is harassment!"

He slammed the brakes, tilting Kurox forward onto its front wheel. The motorcycle spun violently, and its rear wheel—reinforced with the hellish toughness of a devil arm—shredded through the hands trying to grab him.

Never underestimate Kurox's durability. That bike could smash through a steel wall without a single scratch.

Desmon clicked his tongue as he looked up, noticing that despite destroying them, the hands kept coming back, endlessly regenerating.

"Oh, come on! Fighting something that regenerates infinitely is just unfair!"

He crossed his arms for a moment. If he himself had regeneration, then why shouldn't his opponent have the same advantage? Poetic irony, really.

-This is starting to piss me off…

Desmon scratched his head with both hands, but no brilliant ideas came to him.

"If you want me that badly, I'll come to you myself!"

Thinking wasn't his forte—acting without thinking was.

Fed up with the situation, Desmon flipped through the air as Kurox spun on its front wheel. In a perfectly timed movement, the motorcycle's rear wheel struck him with force, launching him like a bullet straight toward the black cloud.

The demon hunter soared through the sky at an impossible speed, effortlessly dodging the grasping hands trying to catch him. Who says you can't pull off tricks while flying?

"If you've got teeth, you better clench them!"

But mid-flight, as he neared the cloud, a thought crossed his mind.

-Wait… clouds don't have a solid form. Shit!

Before he could correct his mistake, his fist passed right through the cloud without leaving a scratch. Gravity did the rest, and Desmon began plummeting, letting out a disappointed sigh.

"This is not how I pictured it…" He muttered, dejected.

And as if failing his attack wasn't enough, the cloud unleashed even more hands to grab him mid-fall.

Yet his face remained expressionless. There was no reason to panic. Because before he hit the ground—or the hands caught him—Kurox intercepted him, allowing him to land smoothly.

Back on his moving motorcycle, he let out a sigh.

"That thing is seriously annoying…" He grumbled.

As Kurox weaved through the attacks, Desmon kept thinking about his predicament. He knew brute force wouldn't cut it. He needed a different strategy.

Something the demon hunter was notoriously bad at.

"If only I'd brought Alastor…"

If his devil arm was with him, maybe he'd have a shot. But without a proper weapon, he was at a disadvantage.

-Could I throw something at it?

He started considering his options.

Jumping back into the cloud would be stupid. But if he could find something to throw…

"Hmm… where do I get something to toss?" Desmon stretched out his right arm casually, grabbing one of the attacking hands. Without any effort, he smashed it against another, causing both to shatter on impact.

At this point, could they be considered evenly matched? No, that'd be a ridiculous comparison.

His opponent wasn't stronger than him… Desmon just had no effective way to damage it.

His gaze swept the surroundings. All he saw was the empty road, the ominous black cloud hovering above, and, of course, his trusty motorcycle.

-Why not? He thought, shrugging as an unorthodox idea struck him.

Kurox came to an abrupt stop, sending Desmon flipping through the air before landing on his feet.

"Hope I don't get dizzy…" He muttered with amusement.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his motorcycle firmly. It roared as he began spinning it in circles at an absurd speed. The momentum carried over to him, making him spin faster and faster until the wind around him turned into an unstoppable vortex. A small tornado formed around him, defying all logic.

Was this total insanity or a stroke of genius?

"I think I'm gonna puke…" He groaned, grimacing.

Desmon experienced a centrifugal force no human ever should—one that should've been enough to scramble his organs into lethal damage.

When the speed hit its peak, he channeled all that force and directed it at Kurox. With an explosive movement, he hurled it like a living buzzsaw straight at the cloud.

A moment ago, he couldn't land a hit. So what made him think launching something solid like Kurox would work?

What kind of idiot would believe such a ridiculous tactic could actually...

"Oh, it worked!" He exclaimed, grinning triumphantly as the cloud's hands disintegrated and its dark mass writhed, as if feeling pain for the first time.

A wise man once said, "The biggest fool is the one who doesn't try everything to achieve their goals." Sure, Desmon had heard that from a homeless guy while traveling through the U.S., but the logic still held up.

From above, a furious roar erupted with such intensity that the ground trembled. Moments later, Kurox was flung back. Unfazed, Desmon made it disappear with a simple flick of his hand—one of the many perks of controlling his devil arm.

For the first time, the cloud showed signs of distress. Its form began to compress, shrinking into a small, dense mass of darkness. Slowly, it descended until it touched the ground.

"This is making less and less sense… Am I on some hidden camera show?"

Even for someone like him, used to the absurd, the situation was getting ridiculously weird. But instead of overthinking it, he calmly stepped toward the tiny cloud.

It looked harmless at first glance, but something in his gut told him otherwise.

-Mmm… From something so big to something so small… Why do I get the feeling this is more like a ticking time bomb?

It didn't take long before the cloud started to stir, twisting as if something inside was struggling to break free.

Desmon sighed. He couldn't exactly keep the cloud as a pet.

''I'd love to stick around and see what happens, but you know how women are… If I'm late, Shizuka's gonna scold me. Then again, she's gonna do it anyway.''

Without further ado, he raised his foot and brought it down hard on the cloud. Instantly, it scattered into small dark fragments that drifted through the air before vanishing completely.

-Too easy… Eh, whatever.

If the problem was solved, there was no point in dwelling on it. Without wasting any more time, he turned around and started walking.

-Now that I think about it… was it really a cloud? Do black clouds even exist? …Japan's way too polluted for smoke to take that shape.

Someone was definitely spending too much time sleeping in class.

The battle ended exactly as expected. Being strong enough that a fight like this wasn't even a challenge, to the point of getting distracted with pointless thoughts… that said a lot about Desmon's ability.

But that cloud never stood a chance from the star.

Because its enemy…

…was only buying time to unleash its true form.

And right now… that time had run out.