Before Trip could complete the last of her preparations, she heard loud footsteps thudding towards the door. Discarding what she had on hand, she straightened up and stood, projecting an aura of relaxed confidence. She would just have to make do with what she had.

The door opened to reveal the Black Wind Demon, filling up the doorway. In one hand, he brandished Trip’s revolver. His face was contorted into an angry scowl, and his voice was like the low growling of distant thunder. He looked down at Trip and said “Tell me why normal bullets don’t work.”

“It’s a special gun, of course it needs special bullets. Also, we need the gun to make the bullets… for bullet measurements and quality checking. Lend me the gun, and you’ll have the bullets.”

The Black Wind Demon’s eyes narrowed, as he thought for a while.

“No. Tell me how to make the special bullets, or I’ll eat you. Slowly.” he said.

Trip sighed, then smiled.

“How about this? GIVE me the gun, or you’re dead.” said Trip, as she took out a round object with an uneven surface, while holding a burning bundle of incense above it.

“Hmph, you can try! There is no sorcery that can harm me!” said the Black Wind Demon, as he gestured with his empty hand while taking a few steps back.

From behind him, a horde of imps as ugly as the one that had answered the door charged forward, uttering high-pitched yowling cries of excitement. The Black Wind Demon shouted “Rough her up, but I want her alive!”

As Trip backpedaled quickly, she touched the incense to the fuse for the bomb in her hand. Timing it carefully, she threw it through the doorway where most of the imps were still bunched together, pushing against each other to get through the doorway first.

BOOM!

The fuse had given Trip enough time to reach the mouth of the cave, where she rummaged through a pile of sticks to retrieve two earthen flasks. The explosion was not as huge as she had hoped, but the loud, high-pitched cries of pained panic pain behind the gate indicated that the scrap metal and nails she had wrapped around the exploding core of gunpowder had found some targets.

As more imps charged out of the gate, she threw the two earthen flasks on the ground. One in front of her, and the other further away towards the gate. Clear, oily liquid covered the ground.

Like the calm before the storm, she waited for the imps to get closer. When they had almost reached her position, she threw a burning stick of incense on the oil before her.

With a deceptively soft FWOOMPH, the stretch of ground leading to the mouth of the cave was bathed in fire, as were the many imps that had been charging forwards.

Leaving the struggling and screaming imps behind her, Trip ran down the steep path. As she neared the bottom of the slope, Trip stopped to sprinkle tiny objects from a bag all over the ground, then kept running onwards. When she reached a bend in the trail, instead of following the bend, she ran forwards to hide herself behind a large tree, making more preparations.

All too soon, the sound of infuriated imps preceded their headlong rush down the slope. When the first among them neared the bottom of the slope, they inevitably stepped on Trip’s tiny caltrops. Screaming and hopping around, they stopped to remove the offending metal things painfully poking their feet. The imps further behind, not knowing that their fellow imps were going to conduct a surprise feet inspection, crashed into them. Together, both groups of imps tripped and fell over each other, rolling further down the slope to collect more caltrops with their bodies.

The scene quickly snowballed into one of absolute chaos. More imps from behind crashed into the piles of imps before them. Some imps were hopping or rolling around screaming. Other imps shoved at one another, accusing each other of causing the pile-up. One imp started using her caltrops as improvised weapons to enhance their arguments. This was quickly copied by the other imps, leading to an all-out caltrop-assisted brawl. Even Trip could not help but give a quiet snort before springing into action.

With an improvised catapult, she sent her final few flasks of oil flying into and around the pile of imps. Taking aim with her crossbow, she shot a flaming bolt into the middle of the pile, setting them all on fire.

A few imps, luckier or more alert than their brethren, managed to avoid joining the pile. Seeing most of their fellow imps mysteriously bursting into flames, some ran back to the cave, some tried to put out the flames, while a few looked around, trying to find the one responsible.

These were the ones that Trip targeted. Taking her time to aim, she shot a single bolt into each imp’s head, killing them efficiently.

After the first few of the remaining imps had fallen with crossbow bolts sprouting from their heads, the rest realised that they had to rearrange their priorities. Most chose the better part of valour, allowing discretion to lead their feet back to their cave with admirable alacrity. The few remaining, bravest of the lot, charged down the trail, earning a bolt in their heads each before they could even reach the tree line.

Silence descended on to the area, except for the crackling of scattered flames and the moaning of injured imps.

Like a grim reaper in her black duster and hat, Trip emerged from the shadows beneath the trees, collecting crossbow bolts from imp corpses as she headed towards the pile of imps, where the nearest injured imp was.

She knew that she could not afford having an enemy at her back, no matter how injured it might be. They could always rally or recover to strike her when she least expected it. It was better to put them out of their misery.

With a savage motion, she drew her knife and held it at the ready to strike. The injured imp, pinned beneath the singed corpses of another two imps, looked up at her with a face full of fear, its eyes fixed on her knife as it shook its head in denial.

Trip froze. A voice inside her was screaming that this pitiable creature was no danger to her. It was out of the fight, and would be for quite some time. Perhaps for good. Her white-knuckled grip on her knife trembled, as cold logic and the values of her childhood warred within her. Voices from the distant past clashed against the many harsh lessons she’d learned in recent years.

At last, the voice of her father won. It was something he repeated often, especially when they had journeyed together. “We kill for survival, we kill in battle, but not in cold blood.”

With a heavy sigh, she sheathed her knife and walked up the slope, back up towards the cave, ignoring the injured imps. The pinned imp followed her with its eyes, stunned at being spared.

Although there was a part of her that was certain the injured imps would be happy to try killing her if only they could, for the most part, she felt… lighter. As if a few of the heavy weights on her spirit had been taken off. Maybe it was the small act of mercy, or maybe it was through honoring the memory of her father-

A chorus of gunshots rang out, interrupting her introspection. Bullets whizzed by. Most of them missed, but one hit her square in the thigh while she was dropping prone to the ground.

Almost reflexively, she rolled towards the side of the path, into the thick undergrowth. As the smoke of the massed gunshots cleared, wide rows of imps appeared, seemingly out of thin air.

Behind them, stood a much taller imp, stick-thin and ancient-looking. It was panting and seemed about to collapse, yet it grinned viciously and raised a clenched fist in the air. Dark red particles began to form, spinning around its fist, until it snapped into the form of a great eye. Crowing triumphantly, the imp mage pointed at the exact spot where Trip was, as though the thick undergrowth wasn’t even there.

Her heart sinking in her chest, Trip watched the rows of musket barrels point in her direction. Just her luck, the imps knew how to cycle between two sets of muskets too. There would be no long pause for reloading that she could take advantage of.

By then, Trip had readied her crossbow, letting off a shot at the imp mage. Barely an inch before reaching the imp mage’s eyes, her bolt encountered a shield of force, causing the air around it to flare an angry red. It was flashy, but effective. The bolt glanced off the semi-transparent red shield. The imp mage didn’t even blink.

At the same time, the rows of imps shot at her again. Although she hunkered down, one bullet blew off chunk of her right ear, while another drew a hot streak of fire down her back.

There was nowhere to run. There was nowhere to hide, because the angry red eye was still floating in the air, looking directly at her. There was only one thing she could do.

Drawing a knife in each hand, she charged out of the tree line, towards the rows of imps.

-- Chapter 18, End --