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When he first saw him in action, he could not tear his eyes away from the figure dancing in between the demons.
Perhaps it was a long time coming, with how long he’d been alone and in solitude. These few years, minimal interaction with humans and other adjacent beings were common in his demon-hunting campaign, as he saw little need to interact with people during his solitary mission of avenging his father, of purging the land of all demonkind that dared to step foot into the world. Perhaps it was a sign of the fated meeting that was to come, one that would turn his life over on its axis forever. But one thing was certain for the esteemed demon hunter: that this being, this performance artist who danced among a storm of bullets, was the most alluring being that he’d ever laid his eyes on.
He had long departed the Monastery of Light, his soul and unshakable belief crushed by the weight of betrayal from the Order who had painted themselves as the greatest warriors of the world, and had since walked a long path of crushing demons with his great sword. The memory of his father was faint- his face long faded from the front lobe of his left-side brain, he could only remember a tall and imposing figure who radiated respect, war and glory; but he always remembered him to be oh-so-gentle and kind to his very young self. It was in these memories which kept him fighting, even if the days and the months and the years grew long and unbearable.
But the light of that fire, the one he once had when he’d first joined the Monastery of Light, the one he’d thought he’d lost after the foundation of his belief had been shaken to its core, was reigniting in his chest. All because of this one being who fought demons with the air of a performance artist, who unleashed a flurry of bullets and carefully planted them each into the demon scum’s skulls. It burned slowly, small in his chest, but it grew and grew and grew, the more he thought about that elusive figure who flitted in and out of his battlefields. At times, he could almost forget about the agony lingering inside his right hand, as his desperation grew great during the darkness of the slow nights that never seemed to end.
He hoped that this feeling would fade soon, as he had no time to spare to dwell over such insignificant matters.
~~~
Tigreal stared at the demon hunter with a mildly perturbed look on his face, the blank look on Alucard’s face completely contradicting the news that the leader of the Knights had just learned about the estranged demon hunter.
“Alucard,” He began, but was unable to continue for a few moments. Alucard blinked almost innocently at him, the motion utterly looking strange on his usually cold face. His former mentor blinked back in response, and Alucard could almost see the bafflement on the older man’s face. “You- what?”
“That gunslinger with the violin case,” The demon hunter casually spun his sword around, the tip of its blade propped on the ground, his eyes drifting down to the large hilt that spilled out of his hand. “Who is he?”
“Are you- Him? Why?” There were so many questions that Tigreal wanted to ask, ever since receiving that manic letter from his former student all those weeks ago, but his mouth simply would not work, the bastion of the Knights of Light struck speechless. Alucard, pretending to not notice the shock and confusion on his former mentor’s face, gestured with his left hand to get him to answer.
Slowly, Tigreal began to talk, to answer the question that Alucard had asked. “His name is Granger,” He surveyed the look that had crossed the demon hunter’s face, unable to comprehend why and how Alucard would be coming to him for this question. “He’s a demon hunter who originated from a town that was ravaged by the demon forces. If I’m not wrong, that violin case has a bullet chamber or cannon installed into it, and he’s never seen without it.”
“Has he had any association with the Church or the Knights?”
“Well, he was recruited by the Church for the war against Dyrroth’s Abyssal legions...”
Another look had crossed Alucard’s face, one that Tigreal still could not comprehend. “But now he mainly works alone.”
“I see,” was the only response from the demon hunter, who seemed lost in thought. Tigreal opened his mouth to continue asking why exactly was Alucard asking about one of the most elusive demon hunters that walked this world, but before he could get another question out of his mouth, the demon hunter was already excusing himself and disappearing into the creeping darkness of the evening.
Was Alucard really…?
Granger…?
~~~
The first time the two met face-to-face officially, was the time that Granger nearly planted a bullet in his own skull.
To give credit to the gunslinger, Alucard had all but crept up behind him, not knowing any other way to approach him. The masked man, with cooling demon corpses scattered around him, had barely taken any time to keep his back turned to Alucard before turning around to fire a single bullet in his direction. Alucard had lifted his right hand almost instantly, still holding his greatsword, in front of his face, and the bullet had planted itself in the centre of his hand gauntlet, denting the metal inward by a decent amount.
If the marksman had been surprised, he did not show it in his half-concealed face, cold eyes boring deep into Alucard’s.
“Who are you?” Was Granger’s first words to him, cold but not hostile. Alucard, upon hearing the gravely low voice, felt his mouth instantly go dry. The barrel of his gun, not his violin case, was pointed straight at his face, smoke still languidly leaking from the muzzle.
Alucard could not speak, utterly entranced by the barrel of the gun pointed at him, his left eye staring past the gaps of his gauntlet. His breath was absent from his lungs; his heart palpitating in his chest; and excitement lined his veins with a crazy rush of adrenaline that he only felt only while hunting demons. Except- this time, it felt like he was the demon himself, about to be executed by the merciless gun of a demon hunter who wanted nothing but to wipe his existence from the planet-
The gun slowly lowered down to the ground, and Alucard’s eyes trailed to the marksman’s face instead, eagerly drinking up his facial features. Oh- there was a scar running through his left eye, it was something he’d never really noticed from his days spent watching him from a distance.
“Alucard,” his name was suddenly called. That gravely voice speaking his name was like a wave of rejuvenation suddenly shooting through his body- his breath sped back up to normal, and tension left his body, even if his heartbeat was still thrum-thrum-thrumming in his ears. He still could not speak a single word, but he was strangely fixating on the way his name formed in the man’s vocal chords, the way the syllables of his name sounded around the shape of a mouth that was hidden behind bandages that served as a mask, still somehow not sounding clear, sounding muffled.
“You- You know me?” His vocal system restarted, and he finally found his voice again to answer the gunslinger.
“Yes,” The man answered simply, assertively. Alucard felt a shudder run up his spine. “Alucard, demon hunter, former member of the Monastery of Light, former Arbiter of Light.”
Alucard swallowed, his tongue like sandpaper and the back of his throat like the driest valley of a barren desert. He could feel the ability to speak slowly leave him again, but he forced down the lump in his throat and opened his mouth to talk. “Former.”
“What are you doing here?” The gunslinger questioned, darkened eyes fixated on that left eye peeking through the silver gauntlet covering half his face. Slowly, Alucard lowered his right hand, resting his greatsword on the ground. He felt almost naked as calculating eyes surveyed his bare face, he felt like he was burning alive, like he was a demon being incinerated in heavenly showers of light.
“I’m here to spectate your battles,” The words fell out of his mouth, and if he was any less composed, he would be fumbling for words at that instant, stammering and faltering at every word. “I’m here to watch your performance.”
“Spectate,” Granger intoned, but Alucard could hear the smirk in his voice. “And who gave you the ticket to my show?”
“You did,” He murmured in reverence, his eyes hungrily drinking in the marksman’s lean form. “If you did not, I would not be here at all.”
The dark-haired man remained silent, letting the air between the two of them still and stagnate. He took a step closer to the demon hunter, whose breath quickened and heart pounded faster, before letting out a deep and soft chuckle and raising a gloved hand to his face.
Alucard’s eyes widened as the man pulled down the bandages covering half his face. Seeing his face was almost euphoric, almost heretic, and as Granger lowered his head, a small but sinful smirk emerged as the tall collar of his coat shifted downwards to reveal the rest of his face.
“Perceptive,” The gunslinger articulated, clicking the safety back into place with a confident flick of his thumb and attaching his gun back onto his belt. The lean marksman spun around and looked over his shoulder at Alucard, his gaze purposeful, burning like molten lava. “You coming, demon hunter?”
Helplessly, he gave in to that powerful gaze, and took a step towards Granger. How could he resist the one man occupying his thoughts, the man who had reignited passion in a battle-hardened, betrayal-weary heart?
Perhaps it was worth following the devil’s personal violinist into hell.