I leave the orphanage behind and take the path out back—the same road I once rode down in that crawling black luxury car, back when I didn’t even know Master’s name.
“Anyone there?! Is anyone out there?!”
I yell in every direction as I run. I need to find survivors.
Yeah, screaming might attract Demons too, but I don’t care. I can’t afford to care.
No response. Just the crackle of fire.
I turn toward the main building. The dance hall. That’s where the birthday party should be.
Gunshots?
No mistaking it—sharp cracks punching through the roar of fire.
Someone’s fighting.
I veer toward the sound.
The training grounds come into view. Everything’s on fire—dorms, buildings, the works. Familiar places twisted by flame.
—Bang, bang, bang!
Three shots. Clean, tight rhythm.
That’s a Five-seveN. Akai Clan standard issue.
I push forward, following the noise like a bloodhound, until I spot them—bodies.
Sprawled by the main entrance of the training building, scattered near the landscaped bushes. Blood everywhere. Boot Camp kids.
Only one is still breathing.
A guy in black camo fatigues.
“Instructor Kisame!”
I rush to him, about to yell again when—
I stop.
He’s sitting there, hollow-eyed, gun barrel to his own temple. Pulling the trigger.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Over and over. Just that empty, dry sound.
“Instructor Kisame?”
His hand freezes. Slowly, like waking from a nightmare, he lifts his head.
“…Ikaku. You’re unhurt.”
“I heard gunfire. What happened? What is this?!”
I glance at the blood-soaked ground, the kids lying dead.
“I killed them.”
“…Why?”
“They were wounded. Dying. I spared them the pain.”
His voice is mud-thick and heavy.
He didn’t want this. Just did what he thought was left to him.
“Instructor… what’s going on in the mansion?”
“…I’ll tell you what I know. Once. Listen close.
About an hour and fifteen minutes ago, the barrier failed. Demons swarmed in. There was gunfire everywhere. I fought alongside the Boot Camp trainees and the candidates under my charge… This is the result.”
Bodies, blood, and mangled limbs.
Human corpses ripped apart, Demon carcasses left mostly intact.
The fight was one-sided.
“There’s something else. Be careful. Mercury bullets didn’t work right. They kept moving after taking multiple hits. Like they were resistant.”
“Resistant to mercury? That’s—”
“Unheard of, yeah. Doesn’t change the fact. Guns might not save you.”
“What about the Coral Terminators?”
“No clue. I held out, hoping they’d come. But maybe the Silent Code kept the gunshots sealed inside. You hearing them now means the spell’s probably down too… Still, tonight’s the party. Dance hall takes priority. This building? Not so much.”
His voice grows weaker. Like it’s sliding away.
“Was this Demon worshippers?”
“Most likely. Barrier magic can’t be broken from outside. Someone invited them in. Humans. And not amateurs. Plus, to attack a Mage stronghold on a night like this takes real guts.”
It is a special night. Magical nobles. Bodyguards. The Coral Terminators too. This place is packed with power.
A dumb time to strike—unless dumb isn’t the point.
“Or maybe that’s exactly why…”
“You think they used the party as cover? If that’s the case—”
“There’s no proof. But it was planned. Ikaku, be smart. Figure out who your enemies are. The only ones you can trust—”
“—are the Akai family. I have to protect them. Are there any other survivors?”
“Not here. If there are, they’re in other buildings.”
“Then, Instructor, can you move? Here—take my gun.”
“I’m… finished.”
He lifts a hand from his stomach. Blood pours through his fingers. A deep gash. Nasty, but maybe not fatal.
“It’s bad, but you’ll live. I’ll get Ichor.”
Ichor. Regenerative miracle juice. If you’ve adapted to it, you can tank just about anything short of instant death.
His wound should be recoverable.
“I don’t need the blood anymore.”
“…What?”
“I said I don’t need it.”
“But you—”
“…”
“Instructor?”
“Look at me.”
He raises his head. Shows me his teeth. His eyes.
My heart sinks.
His canines are too long. His pupils—melting, sloshing like cracked eggs. Bloodshot beyond belief.
“What’s… happening to me?”
“…”
“Don’t be afraid. Answer me, Ikaku.”
“…You’re showing symptoms of Demonification.”
“Boot Camp curriculum. Required course: Demonology. You’re getting your last lesson. Here’s something we don’t tell you kids. You know what happens to people who can’t adapt to Ichor?”
“They bleed out from every pore and die screaming.”
“Wrong. That’s the cover story. The truth’s standing right in front of you.”
“…”
“After transfusion, we lock trainees in the basement for twenty-four hours. Heavy doors. Steel bolts. You know why? Because when Soul Brands and Ichor clash, it’s a cage match. Loser turns into a Demon. Hachiue from the 102nd Cohort? Never moved up because he lost that fight. He’s buried in that basement.”
“No. That… can’t…”
“Most Exorcists die before it matters. But not all. Some last. The lucky. The strong. But each wound adds another Soul Brand. And with each one, you need another miracle to survive. And you keep getting Ichor.
Eventually, even without it, your Soul Brands start to hum in battle. Like something sweet and hot and rotten. A temptation. A trap. One day, the miracle doesn’t come. You lose. Ugh!”
“Instructor!”
He clutches his chest. Hair sprouts from his skin. Canines lengthen. Eyes blacken. That wound of his starts sealing itself with a hiss and a spurt of bloody foam.
“Hah—hah—ghkk! I was an orphan. I’ve slaughtered more Demons than I can count for the Akai family. I don’t want to become one…!”
Tears stream from those blackened eyes. His body shakes. Teeth grind. Then slowly… it stops. He steadies his breath.
“Hah… hah… heh. I'm one lucky bastard. Soul Brand freaks like me—we’re supposed to die to Demons. But there’s one loophole. A final grace.”
He grins.
“Getting your head blown off by the Exorcist you trained. Ikaku. You know what you have to do.”
His gaze cuts straight through me. Fierce. But soft around the edges now. A man begging—not with words, but with his eyes.
I raise the pistol. Aim between those pleading, broken eyes.
“Without mana to neutralize it, one shot might not be enough...”
“Don’t worry. Custom job. Blessed 5.7×28mm armor-piercing mercury rounds. Quadruple powder charge. She’ll sing loud and sweet.”
“You lunatic. Not one sane screw in your skull. A perfect Exorcist.”
He smiles.
“…Send every last one of those bastards to hell. Please.”
“I will. I swear it.”
Bite back the tears. Steady your hands. Give him your best Exorcist face.
I breathe deep. The barrel still trembles—until he speaks.
“‘Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be dismayed. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.’”
“…Joshua. Chapter one, verse nine.”
“The Bible’s mostly good for wiping your ass. But some lines… Some lines hit different. Hidden use-case. Don’t forget it.”
The shaking stops.
Guiding me to the end… even now.
“You look steady.”
“I am.”
“Well then, Ikaku. Good hunting.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
He stares at me to the very last second.
One shot. Center mass. Right through the skull. Zero mana armor. Instant death.
But he’s a Demon now.
I follow up with a few more rounds to the torso. Just like he’d want.
Finally, I close his eyelids. Cross myself. Pray for his soul.
“Hah, hah, hah...”
The tears won’t stop.
I’m exhausted. Hollowed out. I want to drop right here, curl up, scream.
But I can’t. I won’t.
Move forward, Ikaku. You’ve got people to protect. Lives to save.
“Demons. Worshippers. Traitor nobles… and I’m low on gear.”
Just two pistols. That’s not enough.
I head for the West Wing. They keep weapons there. And it’s on the way to the main building.
It’ll be my first stop.