Chapter Two: Ancient Delicacies

Night had fallen, and outside was even more perilous. I didn’t know whether they were still alive, nor whether I myself would survive this journey. We moved in silence, for sound would attract unwanted attention; night belonged to the demons, and they were far worse than bandits.

I led her to the place where we had stumbled upon the tracks. Her goggles emitted a faint glow as she bent to examine the footprints. She saw them, murmuring to herself, “It’s true, they passed this way.”

I noticed a strand of silver hair falling over her forehead from beneath her helmet. I asked, “Are you very old?”

She replied, “And if I am?”

I said, “You don’t move like it, nor sound like it.”

She said, “Let’s find them quickly, then find a place to hide. It’ll be trouble if we run into a demon.”

I answered, “You don’t need to remind me. I know hell better than you do.”

She asked, “Hell?”

I said, “The skyscraper is heaven. Everywhere else is hell.”

She said, “Perhaps, but don’t get your hopes up.”

I thought she might go back on her word and said, “You promised.”

Lamia replied, “And you promised to let me see them—alive.”

I knew there was no use arguing; I could only comply. “This way,” I said. “I saw them head in this direction.”

We walked several kilometers. My luck was extraordinary; at every crucial moment, I found another footprint. Even in this age of sorrow, fortune sometimes smiled on the unlucky like me. Suddenly, Lamia called for a halt. I asked, “What is it now?”

She said, “You’re not wearing night-vision goggles.”

I could only nod helplessly.

She asked, “How can you see more clearly than I do?”

I answered, “I live underground, where there’s no daylight, so…”

She asked, “Mutation?”

She was right.

At that moment, we both heard footsteps. We hid behind a tree, holding our breath. They were monsters—or rather, demons.

In the clear, moonlit night, the demon was illuminated. It was short—about one meter ninety—with silver-white skin and a massive, obese body. Through the skin, veins and organs were visible. Its body was like a hairless bear; its face, leonine; horns like a bull’s sprouted from its head, yet it walked upright like a man.

It was fifty meters away. The wind swept across the plaza, carrying our scent away so it couldn’t hear us.

Lamia whispered, “There are no others nearby.”

I asked, “You’re sure?”

She said, “I’m sure.” On her wrist was a watch; its screen showed a single dot—the albino demon ahead.

My gaze lingered on her watch. “You can detect demons? That’s from the skyscraper?”

Lamia replied, “Yes, but it only detects demons, and it’s still experimental.”

Truly a marvel of paradise, beyond my imagination.

She drew her pistol, adjusted it, and fired a silent shot. I had never known a gun could be so quiet. The bullet pierced the demon’s skull, and it fell heavily to the ground.

There’s an old saying: compare people and one dies, compare goods and one’s thrown away. My battered gun wouldn’t guarantee a kill even pressed to a demon’s head—not with one shot, or even two or three.

All the more did I envy—and yearn for—the life she led. Lamia’s status in the skyscraper must be high. Ranger, ranger—when I get into the skyscraper, could I become a ranger too? I know the wastelands well, and I can endure hardship. We’d make a good team.

I decided to raise my ambitions a little. Once inside, I’d climb quickly—at least earn Lamia’s recognition.

She approached the demon, slicing off both its horns with her dagger and expertly wrapping them. “I’d usually take some meat, but there’s no time.”

I asked, “The demon’s horns are the hardest part—your knife is that sharp?”

She replied, “Yes. So your throat must be hard too.”

Even I hadn’t realized how effective the hardening serum had been, but thinking back, my throat had never been cut before.

Lamia checked her watch. “We need to leave—more demons are approaching.”

We sprinted, ducking behind an overgrown flowerbed. Here, the ground was marble; I searched for a while but found no tracks. It was an abandoned office park. By the entrance, the sign read: “Skyford Limited.” Lamia read, “Skyford?”

I said, “This place has been deserted for a century. Whatever it once was, it’s nothing now.”

She tapped her watch. “Before the apocalypse, Skyford was a major arms dealer.”

Hearing that, I thought perhaps I could find a better weapon.

She shook her head. “This is just an office park. Don’t get your hopes up.”

I truly wanted nothing more—once I reached the skyscraper, I’d have everything.

Lamia pressed her hand to her abdomen—she seemed hungry. “Let’s wait here until dawn. We’ll look for them again tomorrow.”

Daybreak was near; I could already see the light of the future. It was not just a ray of morning sun, but a turning point in my life.

But to win Lamia’s favor, I had to be more attentive. I led the way, pushed open a half-shut door, swept the room with my gun to confirm it was safe, and motioned for her to follow. She nodded slightly, and my hopes rose a little.

We went upstairs. Desks and chairs divided the large room into square cubicles, with saplings sprouting everywhere. I cleared one, gathered wood, and lit a fire. The cubicle walls perfectly blocked the firelight—no one outside would notice us.

I took out two pieces of wild dog meat. “Lamia, both are for you.”

She asked, “You’re not eating?”

I replied, “My stomach can endure hunger.”

Lamia smiled. “No need. I can’t stomach things from outside.”

Then it struck me—inside the skyscraper, they must eat clean, delicious food, the kind I’d seen in ancient magazines: juicy cuts of beef and lamb, golden with fat, sweet fruits more luscious than any fig I’d ever picked.

She took from her bag a foil-wrapped item. I recognized it—a sandwich, as described in books. She removed her helmet and goggles, revealing her face—surprisingly young, no more than eighteen, with a cascade of silver hair like a waterfall and bright, clear eyes. Her features were delicate and lively, unlike the poor and bandits I was used to. Her skin was as smooth as the models in those magazines.

People from heaven ought to look like her. Perhaps they all do—without exception.

She finished the sandwich in two bites. I didn’t even have a chance to ask for a taste.

She must have more—plenty more, delicious sandwiches and meat rolls from the skyscraper.

She seemed to be in a good mood, so I took the chance to ask about the skyscraper—my future depended on it.

I asked, “What do rangers do?”

Lamia replied, “It’s much like scavenging. We have some authority, the best equipment, and generous benefits, but if you fail your quota, you’re expelled.”

I asked, “What? Even expelled?”

Lamia said, “No, impossible. I’ve never failed. I’m the best.”

This pleased me—her excellence meant she could support and promote me.

I said, “We scavengers have quotas too. Every trip out, I have to bring back food, supplies, medicine—otherwise I don’t get to eat.”

Lamia asked, “Where is your ‘Waterless Village’? Underground?”

“Of course,” I replied. “No one lives above ground now.” Then I added, “Unless you’re from heaven or a bandit.”

Lamia laughed. “That’s about right. So you deserted Waterless Village?”

I said, “There was no hope left. People seek higher ground; water flows downward. Now, I only think of heaven.”

Lamia said, “You’re impressive. That punch you landed on me—I haven’t been wounded by a human in a long time.”

Suddenly, I was mortified—how could I have hurt the angel who was rescuing me from misery? But who could have foreseen it?

I said, “Please don’t take it to heart—everyone slips up sometimes...”

Lamia said, “Did you ever consider that, by leaving, Waterless Village lost a good hunter—a dependable soul? They might perish because of it.”

I thought a moment. “Waterless Village is already gone.”

She asked, “What happened?”

I answered, “A demon destroyed the village. I’m the only survivor. To this day, I still sense that demon pursuing me. My only escape is to reach heaven—where even the demon can’t follow.”

A shadow of sorrow crossed her face. She sighed, “Things like this happen all too often now. What kind of demon was it?”

I was silent for a while, then said, “It was a fish.”

I hadn’t wanted to say it, but Lamia asked, and I was beholden to her—I had to answer.

She asked, “A fish? What sort of… fish? I’ve never seen a fish-like demon.”

I gestured with my hands. “Waterless Village had a fish tank—about the size of four bathtubs. They used to worship the tank, and the fish inside. They’d rather go without water themselves than let the tank go dry. But then, they lost faith.”

Lamia said, “But the fish in the tank wasn’t large. How could it destroy a village?”

I said, “Don’t you understand? The fish… the fish is a demon—a supernatural evil. It didn’t just destroy the village; anyone who stood in its way was killed.”

Lamia seemed intrigued. “Tell me more. How does it kill?”

I replied, “I can’t say more. The fish can sense when I speak of it. The more I say, the easier it finds me. It doesn’t allow anyone to escape its hunt.” My voice trembled, but I couldn’t stop.

Lamia said, “How do you know it’s after you?”

I said, “When it’s near, I can feel it. It’s like… drowning—agonizing. I truly can’t go on, friend. I really must stop.”

Lamia lifted her head. Her eyes sparkled like stars. “A fish-like demon… interesting. The Archon might be very interested.”

I murmured in confusion; Lamia explained, “A big part of our work as rangers is collecting samples of every kind of demon in the world. Capturing a live one is best.”