Mephesto's Office

  "Another night, another bribe," I muttered, setting the silver tray down on the mahogany desk.

  Tonight's menu was Duck à l'Orange with a side of truffle risotto. The smell filled the office, overpowering the scent of old books and whatever weird cologne Mephisto wore.

  "You spoil me, Rin!" Mephisto cheered, tying a napkin around his neck with almost childish glee. "Truly, hiring you was the best investment of the century."

  "Yea, yea, yea. Just eat your bird, clown," I said, leaning against the window, looking out at the sprawling Academy nightscape. "And tell me about this Exwire thing Yukio mentioned."

  Mephisto paused, a forkful of duck halfway to his mouth. "Ah, the Exwire Certification Examination. It's the first hurdle. Only by passing can you begin actual field training."

  He took a bite, chewed, and shivered with delight. "Exquisite. However, given your unique pedigree, the Vatican is watching. If you fail, or if you lose control during the exam, they might decide Option One—execution—was the better choice after all."

  "So, pass or die." I said flatly. "Sounds like a Tuesday."

  The next few days were a blur of lectures that tested my patience more than my intelligence.

  "Meisters," Yukio lectured, tapping the board. "Knight. Dragoon. Tamer. Aria. Doctor. To become an Exorcist, you must specialize…"

  I sat in the back, spinning a pen. Knight was obvious—I had the sword. Doctor was interesting; with my precision, I could cauterize wounds or boil viruses. The rest? Useless for me.

  "Mr. Okumura!" Yukio exclaimed sharply. "Are you paying attention?"

  "Not at all," I said without looking up. "Magic circles and chanting aren't my style. Next slide, Teach."

  Dragoon does seem interesting though. Getting to light demons up from a distance with Glocks & .45s? Sounds like a film made by John Woo.

  Bon grumbled something about arrogance from the front row, but I ignored him.

  Suddenly, the classroom door creaked open, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop five degrees. A man walked in. He wore a high-collared trench coat, had a patch over his left eye, and carried himself with the stiffness of a corpse.

  "I am Igor Neuhaus," he said, his voice scratching like sandpaper on stone. "I will be teaching you the Art of Magic Circles and Seals."

  I leaned back in my chair, spinning a pen.

  Neuhaus, the survivor, I thought. The guy with a grudge against anything that burns blue.

  He didn't waste time with pleasantries. He began drawing complex geometric shapes with rapid, jerky movements on the floor.

  "Meisters," Neuhaus droned without looking up. "You learned the categories some time ago. But the most dangerous—and most versatile—is the Tamer."

  He finished the drawing. It was a summoning circle.

  "To summon a familiar, you must offer a catalyst. Usually blood. You must draw the circle with intent. And most importantly, you must have the will to dominate the spirit."

  Neuhaus cut his hand and dripped the blood onto the circle.

  "Son of Typhon and Echidna... Here my call." he stated. "Come Forth!"

  RRM. RRM.

  Purple lightning crackled. The shadows on the floor bubbled up like tar. A massive, rotting arm reached out, followed by a head stitched together from different corpses.

  The class gasped, Shiemi hid behind Yukio, and Konekomaru went pale.

  "This is Naberius. A mid-level Ghoul," Neuhaus explained, the monster breathing heavily behind him. "It obeys me because my will is stronger. If my focus wavers for even a second, it will eat me."

  He looked directly at me with his single eye.

  "Mr. Okumura," Neuhaus said. "Why don't you try?"

  The room went silent as everyone looked at me.

  "Pass," I said, not moving.

  "Scared?" Bon whispered loudly.

  "Bored," I corrected. "I don't need a pet. I have a sword."

  "A Tamer's skill is a measure of their spiritual fortitude," Neuhaus pressed, walking toward my desk. The Naberius followed him, drool dripping onto the floor. "If you cannot control a familiar, perhaps you lack the mental discipline to be an Exorcist. Everyone else, draw a circle. Mr. Okumura will demonstrate first."

  I looked at the piece of paper on my desk. I looked at Neuhaus.

  He wants me to bleed. He wants to see if my blood reacts, I mused. But he's so stupid, cause I'm not even gonna give him the chance to see it.

  "I told you, I'm good," I said.

  Without looking, I sent a microscopic amount of Erosion to all the papers Neuhaus had. They all turned brown, then black, then crumbled into ash without me ever catching fire.

  "Looks like I couldn't even if I wanted too," I said flatly, blowing the ash off my desk. "You need more high quality materials. We done here?"

  Neuhaus stared at the piles of ash. His eye twitched.

  "Class dismissed," he hissed. "Pack your bags. The Study Camp begins tonight."

  Some Time Later…

  The camp building was just the old, abandoned dorms on the other side of the campus. It smelled like mildew and bad memories.

  After hours of cleaning and hauling supplies—which I treated as a light workout while Bon complained about manual labor—we were finally released for the evening.

  "Bath time!" Shima cheered, throwing his towel over his shoulder.

  The bathhouse was old, tiled in cracked blue ceramic. I sank into the tub. "Why is the water lukewarm? If I wanted a tepid soak, I'd just sit in a puddle."

  "Stop complaining," Bon snapped, scrubbing his head furiously with a sponge. "We're here to study, not relax. This is a test of endurance."

  "Everything is a test with you," I sighed, closing my eyes. "Just shut up and enjoy the bubbles."

  BOOM.

  The peace shattered. A high-pitched scream echoed from the other side of the wall—the girls' bath.

  "Izumo?" Shima perked up, towel in hand.

  "That sounded like a scream!" Konekomaru panicked. "We have to help!"

  Yea, no shit.

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  "Wait!" Bon stood up, covering himself. "We can't just barge into the girls' bath! It's improper!"

  "Improper?" I stood up. The water sluiced off my back. "Someone's screaming, genius."

  I didn't wait for a debate. I wrapped a towel around my waist, hiding my tail, and walked to the wooden dividing door.

  "Rin, wait!" Bon yelled.

  CRACK.

  I kicked the door off its hinges. Splinters flew everywhere as I stepped into the steam.

  Inside, the room was chaotic; the air was thick with mist and the smell of grave dirt. A Ghoul—a nasty one, dripping with sludge—had cornered Izumo and her friend Paku against the far wall.

  Paku was already down, clutching a nasty burn on her arm. Izumo was backing away, terror in her eyes as she tried to summon her foxes, but the paper was wet.

  The Ghoul roared, raising a claw the size of a shovel.

  Too slow.

  I stepped in and caught the Ghoul's descending claw with my bare hand.

  The Ghoul froze. It tried to pull back, but my grip was absolute.

  "My….Young….Prince…." it gurgled out, realizing who I was.

  I stared at it with a sense of calm that unnerved it. "You're interrupting my bath."

  I twisted its hand, applying an incredible about of pressure. It caused its bone to snap and its muscle to tear. I spun and threw the 300-pound demon through the tiled wall. It shrieked and scrambled away into the night.

  "Damn, he got away," I noted, watching the dust settle. "Fast little bastard."

  I turned to the girls. Izumo was staring at me, shaking, clutching a towel to her chest. Paku was groaning on the floor. And Shiemi and Yukio finally entered the room.

  "She needs medical attention," Shiemi said, crouching down near Paku and began to apply aid with the help of her familiar.

  A few hours later, the adrenaline had faded, replaced by the heavy, sterile silence of the makeshift infirmary. Paku was sleeping, her arm heavily bandaged. Yukio had treated the burn with high-grade holy water and aloe, but she was out of commission for the rest of the camp.

  I walked in, holding a thermos I'd whipped up in the dorm kitchen.

  "Porridge," I announced, setting it on the nightstand. "Easy on the stomach. Helps with spiritual fatigue. Made with ginger and chicken stock."

  Izumo was sitting by the bed, looking small. Her usual sharp eyebrows were furrowed in guilt. She looked at the thermos, then up at me, surprised.

  "Why?" she asked quietly. "I... I was terrible to you guys."

  "Yea, you suck, but starving yourself won't help anyone," I said as I made my way to leave.

  "Listen," she said, stopping me before I exited. "Don't tell anyone I was crying."

  Huh? She was crying, I thought back, recalling her reactions.

  Oh yeah, she was. It must have crossed my mind.

  "Why would I tell anyone? That's your business." I said, leaving.

  When I got to the hallway, Yukio was there and he told me that the attack was being investigated. When classes resumed, Kamiki was completely out of sync with how she usually acted; spacing out during classes and not being able to recall chanting verses.

  Everything came to a head when Bon correctly chanted a verse she missed, due to his practiced memorization, and she criticized him for not having real intelligence. They both got into an argument that resulted in the whole class being punished.

  The collective punishment turned out to be a classic hazing ritual: A night patrol to carry supplies to the back of the mountain.

  "Why is this box so heavy?" Shima whined, struggling with a crate of lanterns.

  "It builds character," I deadpanned, carrying three crates stacked on top of each other like they were empty cardboard boxes.

  We were walking through the dense forest surrounding the dorms. It was pitch black, the only light coming from the few lanterns that were actually lit. The air was thick with humidity and insect noise.

  "Keep the formation tight," Yukio ordered from the front. "Stay within the light of the lanterns."

  I walked at the back of the group, my senses extended.

  Something's off.

  The insects stopped buzzing. The silence stretched. And then, the light went out.

  Not just one lantern. All of them. A wave of darkness swept over the group as the flames were snuffed out simultaneously.

  SCREEEEEECCCCCH.

  It was the sound of claws on bark. Hundreds of them.

  "Ghouls!" Yukio shouted, his guns flashing in the dark.

  BLAM! BLAM!

  Muzzle flashes illuminated the trees. They were crawling everywhere—pale, rotting humanoids with too many teeth.

  "Formation!" Bon yelled, beginning a chant.

  I dropped the crates. I didn't draw my sword. I just looked at the movement patterns.

  What the fuck?! I don't remember this happening in the anime.

  They weren't attacking to kill. They were swarming the perimeter, pushing the group inward.

  "They're herding us," I realized aloud.

  "Rin! Get in the circle!" Yukio barked, firing at a Ghoul that dropped from a branch.

  "Nah, I wanna see something," I said.

  I turned away from the group, facing the darkest part of the forest.

  "Rin! Stay with the group!"

  I launched myself using the explosive power in my legs. I vanished into the underbrush, moving faster than the Ghouls could track. I weaved through the trees, following the trail of dense, controlled spiritual energy that was coordinating the attack. It led me to a clearing near an old, dried-up well. The moonlight filtered through the canopy, illuminating a solitary figure. He was wearing a trench coat and an eyepatch. He was holding a summoning circle in one hand, glowing with faint purple light.

  "Igor Neuhaus," I announced, stepping into the clearing.

  "I knew you would come," Neuhaus said, turning to face me. He didn't look surprised. He looked hungry. "Rin Okumura. The Son of Satan."

  "That's me," I said with a relaxed expression. "Who're you again?"

  "I am a survivor of the Blue Night," Neuhaus spat, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hate.

  "And what night is that again?" I asked, bringing a scowl to his face.

  I'm truly at a loss. I forget the details of what happened that night.

  "The night your father took everything from me." He crumpled the paper in his hand. The ground shook. "Show me the Blue Flames!" he screamed, his composure cracking. "Prove to me that you are the monster I know you are!"

  He poured a large amount of blood on the ground. The earth cracked. A massive hand—the same one I had broken earlier, now stitched back together with crude magic and conjoined with other twisted hands. The Naberius rose, roaring, smelling like rot and death. It was bigger this time. Fully manifested.

  Ugggghhh!

  "Highest Form Naberius!"

  "This is the strongest of my pieces!" Neuhaus screamed, pointing at the beast. "Use your flames and burn it to ash!"

  I looked at the monster. Then I looked at Neuhaus.

  "Nah, I'm good."

  Neuhaus blinked. "What?"

  "You want the Blue Flames? You want to validate your trauma by fighting a proxy of Satan?" I cracked my knuckles, the sound echoing in the clearing. "Sorry, pal. You're not getting that satisfaction."

  "Don't mock me!" Neuhaus commanded. "Naberius, kill him!"

  The Ghoul lunged, jaws snapping. I didn't move my feet. I just shifted my weight.

  Let's see just how tough you are.

  The Naberius closed the distance in a blink, its massive, stitched-together jaws snapping shut where my head had been a millisecond ago.

  "You're too slooooow!" I taunted.

  I stepped in and struck with the weight of the Earth.

  BAM!

  My fist connected with its jaw. It sounded like a cannon shot. The kinetic energy shattered its spine. The demon folded, crumpling into a heap of rotting meat.

  I flicked a piece of dirt off my hand. "Is that it?" I asked, looking at the pile. "I thought your will would be stronger than that."

  Neuhaus stared at the remains of his familiar, his single eye wide with horror.

  He looked back at me, his hand trembling as he reached into his coat.

  "Impossible..." he whispered. "You destroyed a high-level Ghoul... with a single punch?"

  "I told you," I said, walking toward him. "I don't need Satan's power to beat you."

  "Stay back!" Neuhaus screamed. He pulled a heavy caliber handgun—an exorcist standard issue, loaded with blessed rounds.

  Oh shit, he brought the blicky? I thought. He was trying to get it back in blood for real.

  BANG!

  He fired point-blank at my chest. I didn't dodge. I didn't need to. I caught the bullet between my thumb and forefinger. The friction burned, but I hardened my skin with Conceptual Armor.

  I held up the flattened piece of lead. It was smoking.

  "Wow, a teacher firing a lethal round at a student?" I said as I flicked the bullet at his feet.

  "You don't understand!" Neuhaus yelled, backing up until he hit a tree. "The Blue Night... I saw him! Satan! He possessed my colleagues! He burned my wife! My child! I need to know if you're him!"

  "I don't care," I cut him off.

  I grabbed him by the lapels of his trench coat and lifted him off the ground with one hand. His feet dangled uselessly.

  "You have trauma? Fine. Go to therapy. Cry about it in a diary." I pulled him close, until he could see the red ring in my eyes. "But don't you dare drag me into your pity party. You tried to kill a civilian girl just to get a reaction out of me? That doesn't make you a victim; that makes you weak."

  "Kill me then!" Neuhaus wheezed, closing his eye. "Finish it, demon! Prove me right!"

  "That's what you want, isn't it?" I sneered. "You want to die fighting a monster so you can be a martyr? You want your tragic ending?"

  I loosened my grip, dropping him. He hit the dirt hard, coughing and gasping for air.

  "Well I'm not giving it to ya." I said, turning my back on him. "Live with it."

  I walked away, leaving him shivering in the dirt.

  The next morning the sun rose over the academy, burning off the mist. The class and I stood in the courtyard of the dorms, tired, dirty, and confused.

  Yukio stood at the front, holding a stack of papers. Neuhaus was there, too. He was standing in the shadows of the building, looking pale. He refused to meet my eyes.

  "The attack last night," Yukio announced, adjusting his glasses, "was the practical portion of the Exwire Certification Exam."

  "What?!" Bon shouted. "You mean the Ghouls? The attack on Paku?"

  "All staged," Yukio said, though he looked uncomfortable. "Well, the threat was real, but it was controlled. Mr. Neuhaus was the examiner."

  Bon looked like he wanted to punch someone, but he held his tongue.

  "Congratulations," Yukio continued, handing out the certificates. "You are now Exwires."

  I took the certificate. It was just a piece of paper with a fancy seal, but it felt heavy. It meant I had clearance. It meant I could carry the Kurikara openly on missions.

  "Finally," I muttered, folding the paper and shoving it into my pocket. "Now the real work begins."

  As I looked up, I felt eyes on me. Not just Neuhaus. Not just the hidden gaze of Mephisto. But of something further away.

  I had beaten a high-ranking instructor without drawing my sword. Reports were going to be filed. People were going to start asking questions about exactly what kind of monster I was.

  But that doesn't mean shit to me, I thought, suppressing a smirk as I looked at the sunrise. They should be worried.