The Hammer of War, Chapter 46

Name: Amir Azad
Title: War-Summoner
War Points: 0

STR – 42
DEX – 33
VIT – 153

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Hidden Quest Activated: Escape the Clutches of the Sikh Demon Hunters!
Reward: 5000 War Points

Gee, thanks for that. I was already thinking of ways to get out of this mess before the quest even activated. It had been a while since my last quest, so part of me wondered when another would appear. With that many War Points dangling in front of me, escape wasn’t impossible—but it sure as hell wasn’t going to be easy. These hunters were human. Demon hunters, which—as far as I was concerned—meant we stood on the same side. Killing them was off the table.

The quest shifted before my eyes:

Hidden Quest Update: Escape the Clutches of the Sikh Demon Hunters Without Taking a Single Life!
Reward: 20,000 War Points

Challenge fucking accepted. It’d be a damn tough challenge, but I was definitely gonna try.

“For the last time,” I sighed, shoulders sagging. “Just because I’m Indian and I have weird powers doesn’t mean I have anything to do with the Hindu Pantheon! I don’t even know those guys!”

A gloved hand grabbed my wrist, pulled it behind my back. Cold metal looped around my wrists, tightening into place with a soft click. Steel cable—thin, taut, strong enough that pulling against it felt like dragging my knuckles through razor wire. I tested it once, then relaxed. Sure, I could force my way out, but that would just make things worse. So I stayed put, biting down the urge to struggle.

These Sikh Demon Hunters weren’t like the guys from Portland. The Order’s hunters had that rough edge to their gear—patched jackets, battered rifles, silver bolts strapped across leather coats. These men wore armor sharp and immaculate, the kind of gear that belonged in the heart of a spec-ops bunker. Full body suits, rigid plates locked tight, helmets sealed, faceless visors staring blankly back. Guns strapped tight to their chests, grenades on belts, knives at hips. Black. Everything was black—so dark it ate the glow of their flashlights, drank in the weak moonlight, turned their outlines into shifting silhouettes.

Silent, professional, lethal.

One stepped forward. Taller than the others, broader across the chest. Leader, maybe. He leaned in slightly, head tilted, inspecting me as though examining a rare insect pinned to a board.

“What is your name?”

His voice was low, distorted slightly by the helmet’s filter. Emotionless. Businesslike.

I raised my chin, meeting the empty void of his visor. My jaw clenched slightly.

“Amir Azad.”

He stepped closer. A faint mechanical whir hummed from his suit. He lifted a small handheld device, no larger than a cellphone, and waved it over my chest. The screen blinked with strange characters, not Sanskrit, not Arabic, just something alien, flickering softly.

“Do you claim to be human?” he asked, lowering the device.

“I am human.”

He tilted his head. “Then explain the aura.”

My jaw tightened. I glanced around quickly. The other hunters watched silently, weapons raised, muzzles trained steadily toward my chest. Their breathing was quiet, steady. Fingers hovered inches above triggers, disciplined and still. I couldn’t tell him about the System. I couldn’t tell anyone about the System–not friends, not allies, and not even family. So, I settled for a simple, but relatively believable lie.

“I was born like this,” I said slowly. “I’m human, but I have an aura that nullifies magic. Any magic… up to a certain level.”

The leader paused, motionless. He studied me without speaking, then glanced briefly at the screen again. His shoulders rose once, then fell slowly. “That is a near-divine ability.” 

“Prove it,” he continued.

I narrowed my eyes. At full power, my [Blank] aura could reduce just about any living creature to colorless dust within seconds. And my full power was not even the full potential of [Blank] as there was another level above it, Omega-Minus, which would cost me 50,000 War Points to attain. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up killing them. 

“How?” I asked. “I don’t wanna hurt you guys.” 

The hunter didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he snapped his fingers sharply. Behind him, two of his men stepped forward, carrying a steel box about the size of a briefcase. They set it down gently, clicking the clasps open. A faint glow of emerald green spilled onto the ground. Within was a small, ornate dagger, its blade etched in symbols I didn’t recognize. A faint hum emanated from it—clearly magical, clearly powerful. Clearly dangerous.

“Break it,” he ordered.

I eyed the dagger, feeling the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.

“You sure?”

“Break it,” he repeated firmly. “If you truly have an anti-magic aura, then the artifact will lose its enchantment. If you lie, we will kill you for wasting our time.”

I stared at him for a long moment. The dagger’s glow pulsed gently, casting strange patterns on his helmet. With a slow, deliberate exhale, I stepped forward. Two hunters shifted their aim slightly, muscles tense.

I knelt slowly, wrists still bound behind my back, and leaned my chest close to the artifact. With a simple flicker of my will, I activated my [Blank] aura at its medium setting. Everyone around me stiffened. They felt it too. As my aura expanded gently outward, the dagger’s glow flickered violently. Green turned sickly yellow, then dimmed rapidly, fading into nothingness. A final burst of sparks hissed from the blade. Silence followed.

I glanced up, catching the leader’s masked gaze again.

“Convinced?”

His posture shifted, just slightly. He took a half-step back.

“Yes,” he said, almost hesitantly. “Remarkable.”

“Glad you approve,” I said dryly. “Mind taking these off now?”

He shook his head. “Unfortunately, that’s not how this works. You may not be a demon, but you are still dangerous. You will remain in custody until we determine your true nature.”

“You just saw my true nature,” I said. “Let me go.”

He didn’t answer. A subtle hand gesture summoned two men forward, rifles leveled at my chest. Fingers tightened, triggers squeezed slightly, ready. Ready, but not firing. Yet. “You’re human. But that proves nothing. You could be a spy for the enemy–as so many are.” 

“Your binds will be removed,” he said. The word carried quiet authority. “But you shall be incapacitated if you attempt to escape.” 

I hesitated briefly, then complied. Better to stay alive long enough to figure out an exit than try to brawl with an entire strike team. I stood, shaking snow from my boots. A man behind me untied the metal wire around my wrists. I could’ve, in that moment, chosen to run away, maybe even overpower them with my [Blank] aura, but… something told me that running into the woods–the same woods where they found me in the first place–wouldn’t be a good idea. I was still rather vulnerable to bullets and I’d rather not bring out my summons for this; that was one ability I wanted to keep close to my chest for as long as possible.  Much better for everyone to think that I was a one-trick, anti-magic pony. 

They led me toward a waiting vehicle—black, sleek, built like a tank but possessing two gun-turrets at the top instead of one big cannon. Doors swung open soundlessly from the back. They pushed me in gently but firmly, closing the doors behind me with an airtight click. Darkness enveloped me. I leaned back against cold metal, mind racing through every possible option.

No killing. No bloodshed. Just escape. Easier said than done.

The vehicle rumbled softly, rolling into motion, carrying me away from the frozen landscape, toward whatever awaited at their stronghold. 

I exhaled slowly into the dark.

Twenty thousand War Points. No deaths. No mistakes.

My lips twitched into a faint smile.

This was going to be fun.

“So, uh… where are you guys taking me?”

Outside, the engine hummed gently. Tires rolled smoothly, crunching gravel somewhere beneath. From what I could gauge through subtle shifts in my seat, we’d driven maybe two kilometers since they’d dragged me into this transport. Everything I owned was still safe in my [Inventory], stashed away before I’d first stepped into the icy waves. They hadn’t searched me, or if they had, they found nothing worth confiscating.

One of them turned slightly in his seat. The black visor reflected nothing. “To the Great-Slayer Granthi of the Black Gurdwara of Punjab,” he answered, voice muffled and metallic.

I shifted uncomfortably. That sounded intense. A name like that carried weight. Authority. Maybe danger. But then again, Sikhs were peaceful, weren’t they? Tolerant. Maybe this Great-Slayer Granthi would be open to a polite chat. Maybe reason would work better than fists or bullets.

“Right,” I said slowly, nodding to myself. “Sounds interesting.”

No one responded.

Minutes dragged slowly into hours, the interior silent except for the rumble of wheels and the whisper of armor shifting when they breathed. An hour passed—maybe longer. The terrain beneath changed several times, road surfaces shifting from rough dirt to paved asphalt and back again.

Eventually, the one closest to me broke the silence. He leaned forward slightly, visor turned just enough that I knew his attention was on me. “How is it that we found you at the border?”

I chuckled softly, flexing fingers numbed by metal cable around my wrists. It was an honest question, probably deserved an honest answer. I took a deep breath, stretching out the pause before I spoke.

“Well,” I said, voice low and even, “that’s actually a pretty interesting story.”

He didn’t speak, but the subtle tilt of his helmet told me he was listening.

“See,” I continued, shifting in the hard seat, “it started way across the world, up in the Northeastern United States. Portland, Maine. Small town, really. Quiet place. Nothing special. Until weird shit started happening.”

A brief silence hung in the transport. One of them adjusted his grip on a rifle, gloves creaking quietly against metal. The others remained motionless, listening.

“Long story short,” I went on, “a devil kidnapped my mother. Threatened me. So I tracked her down, beat her to death. Crushed her head until she stopped twitching.” I paused. No reactions, just tense silence. “After that I visited the vampire who set me up, and I killed him too. Supernaturals don’t like losing. Devils, vampires—they take revenge personally. So I couldn’t stay. Didn’t want to risk dragging innocents into it.”

They listened silently, rifles steady, eyes hidden.

“So I left,” I said simply. “Walked. Didn’t stop. Headed north first—through Canada. Hiked through blizzards, climbed frozen cliffs, slept under the stars. Didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t stop long enough to be noticed. Then I started swimming. Crossed over to Greenland, and after that, I just kept going.”

I stretched my neck, feeling the muscles tighten and release. They still hadn’t moved.

“Skipped Europe entirely. Didn’t trust it—too many eyes, too much risk. So I swam past Iceland, skirted Norway’s coast. Stuck to the icy waters and empty shores. Kept east until I reached Siberia. That was a hell of a swim—sea nearly froze my bones—but I made it. From there, I moved south. Siberia was empty enough. Just forests, snow, silence.”

The vehicle swayed gently, banking slightly around a long curve. Tires squealed briefly, then caught traction again.

“Crossed into Mongolia after that. Endless steppes, flat and barren. Wolves watched from a distance, but they left me alone. Then China—mountains, deserts, valleys filled with fog. I kept to myself, moved quick, spoke as little as possible. Nothing much happened there. Just walked. Just breathed. And then I reached the border. Your border.”

The man across from me tilted his helmet slightly, the first real movement I’d seen in hours.

“And now,” I said, meeting the blank reflection of his visor, “I’m here.”

He didn’t speak. Just slowly leaned back, settling once more into rigid silence.

I let out a long breath, shoulders relaxing slightly against the metal seat.

“Sheesh,” The guy who asked me said. “I can’t imagine swimming through all of that.” 

I shrugged. “Eh, it was pretty nice, actually.”