Arc 4, Interlude-3

"Chopping wood, chopping wood, boy I sure love chopping wood," sang a man in a bored tone, swinging his axe to chop down a tree. Each swing knocked piles of snow off the branches, the soft crunch of snow underfoot marking each step. The snow was up to his ankles, a light dusting from the day's gentle flurries. With one final swing, the tree fell, and the man casually stepped aside as it landed inches in front of him. 

"That makes ten today," he muttered to himself, glancing around to admire his handiwork. He brought his axe up, inspecting it briefly. "Welp, time to chop 'em up," he said without a hint of enthusiasm, gripping the axe in both hands and raising it above his head.

"Oi!" a voice called out, interrupting his routine. The man lowered his axe and turned towards the sound. An older man in his sixties, sporting a heavy beard and clad in winter clothing, approached him, slightly out of breath.

"Harry, good to meet you," the younger man greeted him.

"Don't 'good to meet you' me, youngin'! 'Cause it ain't ever good meetin' ya," Harry retorted accusatorily.

The younger man raised an eyebrow, confused. "The hell did I do?" he asked.

Harry gestured around them, exasperated. "You cut down too many damn trees at once! Every single damn time! And you ain't plantin' new ones! And another thing," he pointed at the axe, "that damn axe scares the other woodcutters."

The younger man looked down at his axe, then back at Harry. "But why? It's completely normal!" he protested.

Harry stared at him incredulously. "Little shit, that axe's handle is made of black and gold metal, which doesn't even make any sense! And the head is made of blood-red metal! How in the goddess's name is that normal?" Harry exclaimed, losing his patience.

The man hugged his axe defensively. "Well, it's normal to me!" he declared.

Harry was about to yell again but paused as the younger man continued, "It's also the only real thing I have to remember my friends by."

Harry sighed, patting the man on the back. "Could ya just stop cuttin' so many trees? And replant for goddess's sake?"

The man nodded. "Okay, I just really need coin, you know?"

Harry gave him a curious look. "What for? 'Cause ya don't exactly strike me as the spendin' type."

The man chuckled, scratching his cheek. "Well, I want to save up to visit someone, surprise them, you know?"

Harry smirked, putting his arm around the younger man's shoulder. "Oh, ya got yourself a lover, do ya, ye white-haired saint," he said jovially. "Care to tell who fell for yar blue eyes, boy?" he asked, the mood shifting instantly with the man's confession.

The man laughed. "It's not a lover, Harry, it's a friend. I just haven't seen them in a long time," he said.

Harry shrugged. "Well, that's less excitin', but they're clearly important to ya, boy. So, I can see why you're choppin' so many trees. But still, leave some for the rest of us, ya know? Trees don't grow as easily in snow as they do normally."

The man rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, I will. Don't worry. I'm great at following orders," he said, giving a thumbs up.

Harry chuckled. "Even I can tell you're lyin', boy. But seriously, try not to—"

Their conversation was cut off by a loud roar, unlike any animal they had ever heard.

"What was that?" asked Harry.

The man froze momentarily. "It couldn't be," he muttered before bolting toward the direction of the roar.

"Oi!" Harry yelled, running after him. *Goddess damn, he's fast!* he thought, as the man outpaced him severely, disappearing from view in mere seconds.

The man ran, his heart pounding not from exhaustion or fear but from an unexplainable urgency known only to him. He quickly arrived at the source of the roar and his eyes widened. In a woodcutter's camp, four men were cowering in fear, holding their axes defensively against a reptilian humanoid beast with black leathery wings, a dragon-like skull, and metal blades protruding from its wrists. The demon raised its blades before plunging them down, about to skewer the men who closed their eyes in terror.

The sound of shattering metal echoed through the air as the woodcutters opened their eyes to see the man standing in front of them, his axe gleaming. The demon let out another roar, its blades shattered into pieces on the ground. It lunged at the man, attempting to bite him, but the woodcutters stared in shock as the man's skin remained unpierced by the demon's sharp teeth as it bite into his shoulder. The man raised his left hand, gripping the demon by the back of its neck, and pulled it off him effortlessly.

"Why are you here?" he asked in a monotone voice.

The demon did not answer, continuing its futile attempts to bite the man. Seeing no response, the man swung his axe, slicing the demon in half with a single blow. He threw the upper half of its body away and turned to the woodcutters, who flinched under his gaze.

"Where did the demon come from?" he asked.

One of the woodcutters pointed in a direction. The man nodded and bolted off again just as Harry arrived on the scene, out of breath and wide-eyed at the carnage.

"What the fuck happened here?" Harry exclaimed, looking around. "And where the hell did the boy go?"

One of the woodcutters pointed in the same direction the man had run. Harry let out a sigh and, despite his weariness, took off running after him again.

This time, it didn't take long for Harry to catch up to the man, as he hadn't gone too far. The man stood in front of a glowing anomaly, like a wound in reality.

"Explain before ya run off, boy!" Harry scolded, panting as he reached the man's side. "So, can ya explain what this is and what that thing back there was? I can tell that ya know."

The man nodded. "That back there was a demon, a Drakorath. And this right here is a portal, which leads directly to Hell," he explained.

Harry stared at him in shock. "Ya serious?" he asked, receiving another nod in response. "Holy shit! We gotta tell a priest or somethin'. They can close this thing, right? It's their job to—"

As Harry rambled, the man swung his axe at the portal, slicing it into nonexistence. Harry's mouth gaped wide open as the man turned around and smiled at him.

"Well, looks like you don't have to worry about me cutting down too many trees anymore, Harry," he said, walking past the stunned old man.

"Wait, where are ya goin', boy? Better yet, who even are ya?" asked Harry, flabbergasted.

The man waved him off. "Just someone who's kind of strong, nothing more. Anyway, you can see the trees I cut down."

As he walked away, leaving Harry still in shock, the man's grip on his axe tightened. He thought to himself, *I don't know how you're here, I don't know why you're here, but know this, demons: you will never take this world. You can never take his place. You can never replace him. So quiver in fear like Hell itself has frozen over, for Winter is coming.*