The grin on Jones's face froze. Following Mick's eyes, he turned his left ear towards it. Right ear messed up in a battle not too long ago. According to him, it was still ringing.

"Don't hear anything," he muttered.

But then quakes ran through the ground in a wave of tremors. It sent the others in the bar sprawling to the filthy ground. But the two men widened their stances, hands reaching for their weapons on instinct.

Jones swore when he could finally hear what Mick had been talking about. Eerie whispering and noises. Monsters talking in that demon language. And it was coming from all around them.

Mick unsheathed his sword again. "Ready for some fun?"

Jones licked his lips hungrily. "Get those heads rolling like you wanted." He

pulled his own sword out. It was an old thing that had shed so much blood.

But neither of them were prepared for the enemy that appeared.

Between seeing the demons in the corner of their vision to having claws right in front of their eyeballs, it only took a second.

A heartbeat.

Mick chopped down wildly. No time to care about technique or precision. Just get these devils out of sight.

Something bit onto his right arm. The poison burned immediately. But Jones was there to send the creature back to Hell.

"Thanks," Mick had the time to mutter.

In reply, Jones's eyes flashed blood red.