Asta and the Flying Demon-Slayer

The two young men sat in the straw matting of their small, thatched hut. Their hands were on their knees and they were staring at the indistinct, but significant smudge of ash on the floor. It was the only reminder they had that a fire had once burned in their fireplace. The smoke stung their eyes, but they did not blink as they studied it intently.

Then they heard a horse neighing outside and they looked up at each other, silent. They waited and listened to the hooves clopping over wet mud and then more silence. Just when they thought the rider had gone away, they heard heavy footsteps walking toward them and then stopping at their door.

"Hello?" said a deep voice from outside. "Are you there? I need to talk to you." There was a long pause and then: "You know who this is."

Asta turned to look at Xanthar. His eyes were wide with alarm. Asta's mouth opened slightly as he drew in a sharp breath and nodded. He took one of his hands off his knee and reached into his pouch next to him on the ground. Xanthar put his hand into his own pouch and gripped something within it tightly as if he was trying to squeeze out every last drop of its power. The knuckles on his pale hand were white with strain and he glared angrily at nothing in particular as he waited for an enemy to enter the room.

The door slid open slowly and a tall figure entered, holding an iron lantern high above his head so that he could see everything in the room clearly. He wore an armour of leather and steel plates, with various straps holding it all together. There was no helmet on top of his head; instead he wore a mask made from large animal horns with fangs baring down at whoever looked upon him. A long cape hung from his shoulders and trailed behind him as he walked into the room until it hit the back wall with a soft thump. His eyes peered out menacingly from behind horizontal eye slits cut in the sides of his mask through which flames glowed orange like the embers of a fire almost out of fuel, yet still giving off enough light to warm those nearby with its breathy heat. His right hand held onto the hilt of a short sword while his left rested gently on top of a thick pole that ended in a cross-shaped blade point that jutted out from between his fingers like an extension of himself rather than an object held by him.

"Well," said the man angrily through gritted teeth, "where are you?"

At first neither Asta nor Xanthar answered or moved because they had been startled by this intrusion into their home, but after some time had passed during which neither man moved or spoke except for their ragged breathing, Asta blinked several times rapidly before looking around himself as if he was just waking up from sleep or being pulled out of a daydream by someone shouting at him unexpectedly from close by. When he saw where he was again he frowned deeply and turned to Xanthar before pointing at the spot where the ashes lay on the floor among splinters of wood that used to be part of their house's floorboards when it had not been set ablaze by angry villagers wanting revenge on these two young men who had stolen away some valuable livestock that belonged not to them but to one particular farm owner who somehow felt entitled to everything around him no matter how far away it was from where he lived or worked or what it actually did for society at large other than provide him with food so that he could keep himself alive as cheaply as possible so that he could eat more than anyone else ever could while surrounded by decaying flesh that would never get used up no matter how much people would eat it because people would always need new meat because people needed protein to survive otherwise they would die without meat so there was always going to be more meat around so even if one village owned livestock now it didn't mean anything because another village might have stolen them later on down the line if their livestock went missing too because after all you can't steal something unless someone thinks it belongs to them so why shouldn't everyone think something belongs to them because why should I have something you want because you don't need something I want because I won't let you have it because I'm stronger than you so leave me alone because... well..."

Asta's eyes drifted off into space while Xanthar stared at him in disbelief at what Asta had just said while looking directly at him until finally Xanthar snapped out a loud cry like someone scolding their dog for stealing food scraps off their dinner table right in front of them: "Asta! What are you doing!? We have enemies here!"