The rain never washed away the blood. Not the kind that mattered.
He descended. No wings. No magic leap. Just the fire escape, the rusted ladder, the long fall of a man who had already died once. By the time his boots touched the wet asphalt, the violet flicker had stopped. It knew. a demon hunter
He stepped forward. The demon screamed, but in the city’s endless roar, no one heard. No one ever did. The rain never washed away the blood
One more , he thought. There’s always one more. the rusted ladder