[19] : Some People Really Are Better Off Dead
The evening sun streamed through the open doorway, casting a shaft of light into the dim living room—no overhead lights were on, and only a single candle burned on the dining table in the center.
A thick, dark-red liquid slowly oozed across the floor, saturating the wooden boards with its pungent, metallic smell. The stench of blood—and something like organs—assaulted the senses of anyone standing at the threshold.
A young, silver-haired man in a priest's outfit sat by the table, head bowed, legs crossed. The candle's small flame flickered at the sudden draft from the open door, momentarily illuminating half his face. He seemed lost in his own thoughts.
Lying by his chair was a corpse—or what was left of it.
No, calling it a "Corpse" would be too generous. It was more like human remains.
The body's torso had been split open, ribs jutting out, leaving nothing of its original human shape—more like a rack of pork ribs one might see at a market stand.
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At the sight, Asia's expression froze in horror—her earlier happiness at encountering a familiar face vanished, replaced by unbridled terror and revulsion.
"Father… what is this…?"
"Huh?"
As though finally aware someone had come in, the silver-haired priest glanced over, tilting his chin with a dismissive sneer.
"Hey, Asia—I told you to set up a repulsion barrier. Who's this guy?"
He didn't so much as explain the scene; his tone oozed thinly veiled menace.
"H-He's…"
Timid by nature, Asia shrank at his aggressive questioning.
Immediately, Bokue Keikain stepped inside, placing himself between her and the priest.
"I'm Bokue Keikain, Acting representative of the Kyoto-based Keikain Clan."
"Oh… Keikain, huh? Feels like I've heard that name somewhere. Let me think, let me think…"
Leaning on the table, the silver-haired priest fiddled with a large handgun—pointing the muzzle at his own temple as though scratching an itch. Then he clicked his tongue, put the gun down, and smirked in feigned revelation.
"Ah, right—some Onmyōji family from Japan. I heard you folks had an 'understanding' with Yōkai about four centuries ago. For humans, you sure are un–trust–worthy, huh?"
He drew out the final words in a mocking drawl, sticking out his tongue in a way that strongly suggested he wasn't entirely sane.
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"And who're you supposed to be?"
Bokue took another step forward—voice still calm, but the Golden Spiritual Energy flickering around him foretold what he planned to do next.
From the doorway, Asia felt her heart lurch.
If her own Healing aura was like a gentle spring breeze at a lakeside, then Bokue's power now felt like molten magma rising from the earth's core: steady and intense.
"Heh—looks like an Acting head does have some bite."
Feeling that surge, the silver-haired priest scoffed. Any pretense of indifference vanished as he vaulted backward from the table in a neat flip, landing a couple of meters away. He still held the gun in one hand—now in the other, he whipped out a sword hilt.
Yes—a hilt. No blade—just a guard and grip.
'Wind-enshrouded sword?' Bokue wondered, raising an eyebrow.
Almost immediately, the priest's grip on the hilt caused a brilliant White radiance to emerge. The glow lengthened from the guard, forming a blade of pure light.
It looked uncannily like something a space opera "Knight" might wield.
"Allow me to give you a Proper introduction!"
With a theatrical flourish and a voice like a man unhinged, the priest brandished his radiant blade. Bowing extravagantly—yet sloppily—he let his tongue loll in a vicious grin.
"I am Freed Sellzen, top exorcist from the Vatican's Holy Office! …Oh, sorry—former top exorcist, that is."
The difference between "active" and "former" was huge.
Exorcists under the Vatican were akin to Onmyōji in Japan: individuals granted special powers to protect humanity from otherworldly threats. Typically, an exorcist either served until too old or injured to fight, or else died in battle against monsters.
A young exorcist leaving the order? If it wasn't that he failed the training phase, it meant he was deemed psychologically unfit—someone severely unstable.
Sort of like a certain rampaging pilot who got booted out and took up grand theft instead.
Freed clearly fell into that category. And from the fact he still possessed church-issued gear, it was safe to assume he'd gone rogue.
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"B-But…"
Just then, Asia found the courage to speak again, though her voice trembled when she glanced at the gruesome remains. She steadied herself and raised her voice.
"Even if you're a former exorcist, if you still believe in God, shouldn't you be protecting humans, not… murdering them—?"
"Shut it, you worthless piece of trash nun!"
He cut her off with a hysterical snarl, swinging his light-sword in a wide arc. His face twisted with rage.
"Those Fallen Angel gals told me not to mess with you, but let's be honest: you're useless, you dumb dog-nun! You couldn't even set up a simple repulsion barrier without screwing it up. No wonder the church kicked you out like the garbage you are. Meanwhile, I was in here exorcising, you get me? All Devils—and any humans tainted by devils—need to be slaughtered!"
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"Ah…!"
It was as though Freed had just torn open an old wound. Asia clutched her shoulders and stepped back half a pace, trembling.
'Tainted by devils?'
Bokue's eyes landed on a small pen-drawn sigil near the candle on the table. He recognized the simple magic circle—basically a novelty summoning array for a weak, Low-class devil. For an ordinary human with barely any magical power, it was little more than a silly parlor game.
Yet Freed had stormed in and butchered the occupant of this house for it. Absolutely insane.
Exhaling softly, Bokue lifted his gaze again to meet the ex-priest's deranged stare. The Golden aura around Bokue flared even brighter.
"By rights, I ought to arrest you as a criminal with special abilities—hand you over to the Anti-Demonic Task Force to rot in a Barrier cell. But frankly… that's unnecessary, isn't it?"
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Update Schedule: 21 Chapter/week.
Every 100 Power Stones = 1 Extra Chapter