Nemesis of Hell and Evil

Chapter 1: Assault on London

It's been a while since Earth was green, several years at the very least. Nowadays, it's less green than ashen. Everyone thought it would be WW3 to do us in, but the reality is that the thing doing us in is the countless hordes of demons coming from hell. I imagine hell is getting empty, but who knows how many forces they harbour.

I don't know even know my actual name anymore or what year it is, but ever since Earth was invaded by the demonic which is not strictly faithful to the religious imagery, I have just one goal: to drive these monsters away at any cost. That's why they call me the Nemesis and the Vanquisher of evil, solely because I specialise in doing the dirty work. I'm not some inquisitor or purifier, but I damn well am one of the remaining weapons that humanity has left.

I'm sitting in one of the military transport planes, several fellow fighters sitting to my right and beside me on the two benches. No words, no contact, but can you blame them? I doubt the mood is set for romance with a setting like this.

Minutes pass by as our ride traverses through what I call the ashen fog which is the result of countless weapons of considerable destruction that have been used. It's nigh impenetrable and about only matched by a cruel snowstorm.

However, the silence is not kept for long as a man, our current captain opens the door leading deeper into the plane. He's wearing a full-on military suit, just like everyone else, save for me. What am I wearing, then? Let's just say I'm considered a weapon for a reason because the extremely experimental and unstable suit I'm in serves as a dual-edged blade. A normal human would suffer greatly from just wearing this, not even talking about the possibility of them using it to fight or travel, but as for me, it's as if I was born to wear this full-body suit.

Everyone except me looks at the Captain.

"We're nearing London, eta five minutes. The satellites have confirmed the presence of a demon horde, but our mission is to kill their leader: codename Astaroth. Do you all follow?" he asks.

Even in their full-body suits, some visibly shiver. "Could he be the real Astaroth?" one of them asks.

"We don't know, it's been nigh impossible to get a clear look thanks to the wind and ash. There's not much to go off either, who can say they've seen the real Astaroth?" the Captain responds.

One of the men shudders. "I still don't understand it. How can any of us defeat something or someone like him?" he asks.

"By driving a sharp blade through its demonic heart," I respond unprompted, still looking in front of myself. Everyone is left speechless except for the commander who nods in agreement.

"That's right, bullets will at best slow down armoured demons." He faces everyone. "Look—I won't sugar-coat it, this is extremely dangerous, but it's one of our best chances to take down that hellspawn and open the way for evacuation efforts. There are innocent men, women, and children down there, and those invaders made their choice, so now we make ours: do we fight or stand by idly and watch from safety until the danger comes knocking at our door?" he asks.

Everyone's spirits seem to lift thanks to his words. When you're about to face something that you may stand no chance against, it's important to have hope, belief, and determination, for these are the only things that can make the impossible possible. Admittedly, I have neither, as far as I know, but perhaps I do, although I can't quite see those qualities within myself. Simply put, I'm a man with nothing to lose who doesn't shy from becoming a monster to beat a monster. And yet, the kind of monster some would consider me to be is wildly different from who they are.

Because I'm not a monster that seeks to destroy everything.

I'm a monster that was made to fight monsters.