The Hammer of War, Chapter 49

Name: Amir Azad
Title: War-Summoner
War Points: 20,000

STR – 42
DEX – 33
VIT – 153

I decided to sleep on the 20,000 War Points until I could sit down and figure out the best use for them. My immediate thought was to bolster my ranks with more Units—maybe even a few of the pricier, deadlier types that would spell trouble for anyone standing against me. But caution prevailed; no rush decisions. I would wait, think carefully, and consult Alexandra’s opinion later. After all, she came from the same universe these units did.

When we returned to the Demon Hunters, half lay motionless in the snow, armor battered and smeared darkly with blood. Of the survivors, many hunched on the ground, gasping quietly through clenched teeth. Others knelt beside them, applying a thick, pale-green bio-paste to seal gaping wounds. The paste shimmered faintly, quickly hardening into a smooth, firm membrane. Effective, advanced—far beyond standard medical kits I'd seen before. It looked capable of staunching blood loss, preventing infection, but wouldn't mend shattered bones or internal trauma. Still, impressive.

The Rakshasa's massive body sprawled across the snow, steam rising in slow curls from torn flesh. Dark blood pooled steadily beneath it, spreading out like spilled ink against white paper.

I approached with my [Tau Rail Rifle] firmly in hand, barrel aimed casually downward but ready. Several of the Hunters reacted instantly, weapons rising with disciplined efficiency. Alexandra stepped forward before I could speak, hands open and relaxed at her sides.

In flawless Hindi, she addressed the wary group. Her voice carried clearly through the cold night air, calm and steady. "Please, lower your weapons, fellow defenders of humanity. We are not your enemies—but we will defend ourselves if necessary."

“I can help with your wounded,” I said.

I had an ability for that—[Isha’s Favor], a powerful regenerative blessing I'd frequently used on myself whenever my natural healing wasn’t quite enough. It kept me breathing even when things went bad, and I saw no reason it wouldn’t work on them.

For several heartbeats, nobody moved. Fingers tightened on triggers, knuckles whitening under their gloves. Bodies beneath armored suits remained taut, rigid with caution. Alexandra stood quietly at my side, relaxed but ready, one hand resting easily near her belt. Neither of us moved.

Finally, one by one, the Demon Hunters lowered their weapons.

I nodded once, slowly, then walked to the nearest injured hunter. He lay pale on bloodstained snow, both legs severed above the knees, stumps raw and leaking beneath hastily applied bio-paste. I knelt beside him, pressed a hand gently against his shoulder, and activated [Isha’s Favor].

There was no glow or sound to mark the moment. The wounds simply closed—flesh smoothing seamlessly, redness and swelling vanishing as if they’d never been. In an instant, his legs looked like they had been neatly amputated years ago, leaving behind smooth, healthy skin.

He stared down in silence, eyes wide beneath his visor. He raised one hand hesitantly, touched the healed stumps carefully, then met my gaze with an expression I couldn’t fully read.

Without another word, I moved to the next hunter. One by one, I repeated the same quiet ritual, sealing cuts, punctures, shattered bones, and ragged flesh until there were none left to heal. By the time I stood again, every hunter’s breathing had steadied, and their tense silence had softened to something calmer, more thoughtful. Those I healed gazed at me with wide eyes. 

Was healing magic uncommon?

Eventually, reinforcements arrived, the growl of engines echoing through the trees. Additional armored vehicles rolled into position, headlights cutting sharp, bright beams through the cold night air. Fresh hunters stepped quickly from their transports, efficiently lifting the wounded into stretchers and securing them inside.

“You have our thanks,” a voice spoke clearly from behind me. 

I turned and recognized the man who first found and arrested me, his black armor scuffed, helmet tucked beneath one arm. His dark eyes studied me carefully for several moments before he spoke again.

“I am sorry for our past treatment of you,” he said firmly, meeting my gaze steadily. “I see now that you are a friend of humanity. And as a friend, I would invite you to speak with the head of our order. You may decline and leave in peace, if you wish. No pro-human faction in India will impede you. You have my word.”

Alexandra shifted slightly, glancing my way with a subtle raise of one brow. Her lips curled faintly upward, waiting.

I returned her gaze and smiled back.

“We would actually like to speak with your leaders,” I said.

“Your apology is noted and accepted,” Alexandra added. 

“You may call me Roshan,” he said. “I am the Captain of the 50th Regiment of Sikh Demon Hunters. I would be honored to escort you to the Great-Slayer Granthi of the Black Gurdwara of Punjab.”

I nearly made a comment about the mouthful of a title, but Alexandra glanced my way as though sensing the thought. Her eyes narrowed subtly, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I’m Amir,” I said instead, gesturing toward my companion. “And this is Alexandra. We share similar goals. Lead the way, Roshan.”

Roshan inclined his head respectfully and turned, motioning us toward another armored personnel carrier. He climbed in first, offered his hand, and helped Alexandra aboard. I stepped in behind her, the heavy doors sealing shut with a sharp hiss. The engine rumbled beneath us, vibrations humming faintly through the metal floor as the vehicle began to move.

Inside, the carrier was quiet, insulated against sound and the freezing wind outside. Roshan said nothing, watching us calmly from across the compartment. Eventually, one of the younger hunters appeared from the forward cabin, handing each of us a bottle of water and some flatbread wrapped neatly in cloth. My stomach growled quietly at the smell. I accepted immediately, uncapping the water and drinking deeply. The liquid was cold and clean, tasting faintly of minerals. Alexandra examined her share briefly before handing it to me. I nodded gratefully, eating quietly and drinking until both bottles were empty.

After a while, Roshan broke the silence. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, eyes steady and calm.

“You healed those men,” he said quietly.

I finished chewing a mouthful of bread and nodded once.

“Are you a Sacred Gear user?” he asked carefully. “Was that Twilight Healing?”

I shook my head slowly. 

“I have no idea what that is,” I replied, dusting crumbs from my hands. “But no, I didn’t use a Sacred Gear. What I used was…something different. Unique, I suppose.”

Roshan didn’t respond right away, simply watching me with narrowed eyes. After a moment, he nodded slowly. 

“I see,” he finally said, his tone unreadable.

The conversation fell quiet again. The vehicle rolled smoothly over rough terrain, suspension cushioning the bumps and dips beneath us. Inside, monitors lined the forward wall, displaying views from external cameras: white fields of snow and rocks, sparse trees bent by harsh winds. Outside, the night was cold and clear, starlight glinting off icy surfaces. Hours passed quietly, the rhythm of the vehicle’s engine unchanging. Roshan remained seated and silent, expression steady, eyes distant but alert.

Eventually, the monitors showed we had begun to ascend a steep, winding path. Snow blew in thick gusts, visibility reduced sharply. The incline grew steeper, wheels straining audibly against gravel and ice as we climbed higher. After nearly six hours, the vehicle leveled and came slowly to a halt.

Doors hissed open, cold air flooding inside and making my skin prickle. We stepped onto solid, paved ground. My boots clicked softly against polished stone. Before us stood the Black Gurdwara, massive and imposing. Its entire surface was crafted from dark, oily stone, smooth to the touch, its texture reflecting faint moonlight like obsidian. Towers rose sharply from each corner, their spires pointed skyward. The air vibrated gently, humming softly with magic. My skin tingled, hairs standing slightly on end. With a conscious effort, I fully suppressed my [Blank] aura, careful not to disrupt whatever enchantments lingered here.

Dozens of Demon Hunters filled the courtyard, their movements precise and quiet. Many wore simple black robes without armor or weapons, seated cross-legged upon woven mats or bare stone. A soft murmur of prayer drifted in the air, mingling with the distant whisper of mountain wind. Others moved silently through slow, controlled sequences—limbs gliding through arcs, feet shifting smoothly across the ground. The disciplined rhythm reminded me of old martial arts films, each step calculated and practiced endlessly.

Alexandra raised one eyebrow slightly, glancing briefly at the hunters. Her eyes lingered a moment longer on a group moving with synchronized precision, but she said nothing, turning her gaze forward again. Given the memories we shared, I had some idea of what she thought. She was not impressed.

Near the opposite end of the courtyard, wounded hunters were carried carefully toward another building. Men and women in robes moved quickly to meet them, hands holding strange tools or intricate vials filled with colored liquids. Brief glimpses of metal caught the dim glow of lanterns as the healers worked silently, their faces calm and focused. I wondered briefly about their methods—whether limbs would be replaced with sleek cybernetics or perhaps regenerated by some hidden magic. The med-student part of me watched curiously, hungry to learn, though I knew there were other things needing my attention.

Roshan turned slightly, indicating the Gurdwara’s grand entrance with a gesture. 

“This way,” he said quietly, voice steady. Several more hunters fell in around us, forming a loose escort as we approached. Alexandra remained close, steps measured, eyes alert to the smallest detail around us. Her fingers hovered subtly near her belt, close enough to reach weapons in a heartbeat if required.

We approached the massive doors, set deeply into the dark walls. Each panel was carved in careful detail, intricate patterns twisting across the surface, silver edges catching faint starlight from above. Roshan stepped forward, placing one hand lightly against the door. With a gentle push, the entrance creaked open, heavy hinges groaning beneath the weight. A gust of cool air brushed past us, carrying a faint scent of incense and cold stone.

Inside, the Gurdwara was a continuation of the same black stone that formed the outer structure. Floors, walls, and ceiling all blended into seamless darkness, illuminated only by softly glowing red crystals set at regular intervals. Their glow was steady, dim enough to cast long shadows yet bright enough to clearly outline shapes and forms. The atmosphere was both soothing and unsettling, reminding me vividly of Sith temples from the old Star Wars films I’d watched as a child.

Demon Hunters moved silently through corridors branching off from the entrance hall, their robes rustling faintly with each step. Hooded heads inclined slightly in greeting or respect as they passed us, faces hidden, voices quiet or entirely absent. A hush hung thick in the air, heavy and expectant.

Roshan guided us steadily forward, deeper into the temple, until we entered a spacious chamber. The ceiling was high and vaulted, shadows pooling thickly along the upper reaches. Statues of Sikh warriors lined both sides of the hall, each one squatting in silent contemplation. Their stone features were weathered but stern, expressions grim and determined. The statues seemed to watch silently as we passed beneath them, our footsteps echoing softly in the large, quiet chamber.

At the chamber’s far end sat an old man dressed in crimson robes, legs folded neatly beneath him. His eyes were closed, breathing slow and even, fingers resting gently upon his knees. White hair fell loosely across thin shoulders, framing an aged but sturdy face. Roshan and the other hunters approached quietly, heads bowing low in deep respect. Alexandra and I followed suit, stepping forward carefully.

Roshan raised his voice slightly, clear and firm but respectful. “Honored Granthi, Great-Slayer of Demons, we bring guests. They aided us greatly by slaying a powerful Rakshasa and healing our wounded.”

At those words, the Granthi’s eyes snapped open sharply. For the briefest instant, a faint golden glow shimmered deep within his pupils, vanishing as swiftly as it appeared.

“Welcome, honored guests,” the Granthi said, his voice calm and steady. He extended one hand and gestured to the mats laid before him. Alexandra and I stepped forward and lowered ourselves to the floor, sitting cross-legged in silence.

The chamber was quiet but not still. The scent of burning incense clung to the air. The soft crackle of unseen torches filled the pause between words. The Granthi’s gaze moved between the two of us, unhurried, thoughtful.

“I can see you have traveled far,” he continued. “And I sense a long shadow behind you. Tell me—why have you come here, and why do the Devils and Vampires follow so close behind?”

I turned to Alexandra. She looked at me, gave a single nod. I faced the Granthi again.

“My mother was taken,” I said. “A Devil named Helena Stolas abducted her. She wanted to use her as leverage to enslave me. I broke her hold, freed my mother, and kept moving. But I knew Helena would come again if I waited. So, I went looking for her first.”

The Granthi said nothing, but his eyes narrowed slightly. I kept going.

“I needed her location. Made a deal with a vampire named Sebastian LaCroix. He wanted a task done. I did it. He gave me the information. But before I reached Helena, he warned her. She was ready.”

I paused, exhaled once.

“I killed her anyway. And then I found him, too. LaCroix. I made sure he couldn’t betray anyone else. That was the end of it. But now, the Vampires and the Devils want blood. Mine.”

Across from me, the Granthi remained still. His head dipped once.

“To have slain Helena Stolas is no small deed,” he said. “She was a High-Class Devil. One of the greater Devils. Even among the Underworld, her name was not spoken lightly.”

He looked off for a moment, as if weighing something in his mind.

“Our sister organization—the Hunters—sent word. They confirmed what you’ve said. And so, you are welcome here. You may rest and remain in peace for as long as you require. No one under our banner will move against you.”

Alexandra shifted slightly beside me, just enough to catch the Granthi’s attention.

“We appreciate your welcome,” she said. “But we came for more than shelter. Our purpose is the same as yours. We serve humanity above all else. We will not wear your robes or carry your marks, but we ask to stand beside you, as partners and allies.”