In the early hours of the 30th, in the district of Saisho, Hiroshi Yamamoto Hospital remained the only facility operating during the silent night—making it the busiest.
The sky, still clear after the devastating blows exchanged by the combatants, displayed remnants of their fury: black pigments hanging in the air, like sinister shadows smeared across a white canvas.
News outlets reported the earthquake that had shaken all of Aija. Eager journalists rushed to capture every detail of the tragedy, like vultures circling a fresh carcass.
Helicopters had been hovering non-stop since the first minutes after the impact, recording the scene of destruction. The ground was littered with massive craters, some over five meters deep, bearing witness to the scale of devastation.
Inside the hospital's chaotic atmosphere, doctors in white coats moved frantically through crowded hallways filled with patients. Yet, in the midst of the frenzy, the solemn figure of an exorcist stood out; his tranquil, otherworldly aura seemed to draw all eyes, anchoring the surrounding chaos.
In that corridor soaked in pain and hopelessness, each of Gabriel's footsteps echoed like a sentence spoken by fate. Whispers of agony and mourning hung in the air, weaving into the sharp scent of disinfectant.
"Damn you! You killed my daughter!" The anguished scream of a man, wrapped in bandages, sliced through the silence like a blade, echoing as a desperate lament. He clutched a pink teddy bear tightly—an emblem of innocence now stained by tragedy.
Overwhelmed by guilt and grief, Gabriel remained silent. Though the blame wasn't entirely his, he felt his insides twist under the weight. His clenched fists spoke not just of determination but of a desperate attempt to contain the flood of emotions threatening to consume him.
In a sudden urge to escape, he entered the last room in the corridor, where he found Masaru and the woman who had led them there. Masaru's eyes reflected a mix of exhaustion and frustration, while the woman wore a serene expression—like a guardian amidst the surrounding chaos.
He was sitting, clearly annoyed, absorbed in the damaged screen of his smartphone. Half of it was scorched and cracked, emitting a faint sulfuric smell that filled the room. Yet he seemed oblivious to the stench, lost in the dark thoughts devouring him.
His head remained lowered as Elizabeth Zahira watched him with a puzzled look. She was one of the exorcists dispatched to the ghost district in response to the energetic disturbances plaguing the city. Bearing the Celestial rank, she was known as the infamous Cursed Countess—the scourge of demons, whose reputation instilled fear even in the darkest creatures.
"He's been quiet until now... So, is this how a silly guy looks when he's frustrated?" she asked, her wavy black hair swaying gently. Her green eyes met Gabriel's, holding a mix of teasing and curiosity. "Is that it?" she added with a slightly provocative tone, challenging both the silence and the weight pressing on the room.
"Zahira..." Gabriel muttered, slipping his hands into his pockets after closing the door. With a resilient look, he stepped closer. "It's probably because the demon got away, right?"
The woman let out a half-laugh, filled with both surprise and disbelief at what she'd just heard.
"Seriously? And he's just ignoring the fact he lost part of his arm? I mean…" she murmured, crouching down toward what remained of the amputated limb. "Not even a miracle could heal this. Damn, that demon really was something else, huh?"
Her outfit—naturally provocative—was enough to draw the gaze of any man who crossed her path. Amidst it all, she noticed Gabriel's penetrating stare on her—a silent exchange of interest, subtle yet mutual.
"Oh, my dear Gabriel, your partner's a little loony…"
At that, Masaru dropped the phone onto the table with disdain, then raised his face to look at them. His lips were tightly pressed, and his eyes held a mixture of irritation and fatigue, heavier than any physical wound.
"Idiots, that's not why..." he said, turning his head away as he flung himself back onto the pillow, letting his body sink into the bed. "That bastard Kyotaka... won't allow any more independent work... What the hell is that old man thinking, huh?" he finished, his voice laden with raw sincerity, revealing the indignation burning inside him.
"It's worse..." Gabriel muttered, slapping his own face in frustration. Then he let out an awkward laugh. "You already got over what happened? That fast? I thought that fight—and what you lost—ah, forget it. You wouldn't grow up now even if you were paralyzed!"
A free, unrestrained laugh burst from the woman. Her seductive voice filled the room with an unexpected touch of lightness.
"This is such a shitshow... But hey, cheer up, Masaru. You got promoted, remember? You're a Celestial Exorcist now—free even from your duties..." she said, sitting on a nearby chair, trying to lift his spirits with comforting words.
"Really?" he mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow now covering his face.
Gabriel watched the scene with an awkward expression, as if the surreal interaction between the two had placed him in an uncomfortable position.
"Not exactly like that, Zahira, but... it's true... you're no longer a grade-five exorcist. I took care of that myself..." he confessed, meeting her gaze directly.
He pulled the pillow off his friend's face, feeling slightly awkward for not having shared that earlier.
"Oh, thanks, egghead!" Masaru replied casually, pulling a goofy face. "It was bad enough having you in my way—imagine more brats? Meh! I'm worse off now than when I had two arms!" he joked, laughing at his own condition.
His irreverent attitude served as a shield against discouragement.
"Idiot!" Gabriel snapped again, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. After a brief pause, his tone turned grave. "But... listen closely, you two... the Order may be heading into dark times. Today won't go unnoticed. I received some troubling information..."
"What is it, egghead?" Elizabeth asked, twirling her hair around a finger while staring at him. Her teasing clearly had a target, and unlike with Masaru, it hit the mark.
"Well... kids... dark radiation levels reached 128.7..." he said, adopting a somber, concerned tone. "There are signs of an imminent outbreak of the Darkness Syndrome. And that's not all... over twenty-six dead and seventy-three injured. The mayor won't just criticize us—he'll demand the Order face consequences. In short, they want to punish us..." he concluded, emphasizing the seriousness of the situation.
"Shit... are you serious?" she sighed, her expression showing mild irritation. "That bastard of a mayor probably doesn't even know how to perform an exorcism... but still, with everything going on, it was bound to happen eventually..."
For a moment, the three locked eyes, the weight of the situation looming over them like a storm cloud.
"Actually... couldn't the appearance of this entity be just the beginning?" she continued, raising a troubling question. "Luciel wouldn't make a move like that unless he was testing our strength, right?" she pondered, offering a sharp analysis of the motives behind recent events.
The silence that followed was dense, full of unsettling possibilities and dark futures no one wanted to imagine.
Her observation echoed in the minds of both men, leaving them absorbed in ominous thoughts.
Could the end be closer than they thought?
The question hung in the air like a drop of blood, falling slowly until it slid down Yamasaki's lips. He jolted awake, the muffled sound of running water filling the small space around him. His trembling hands braced against the cold shower walls as spasms overtook his body, and he vomited blood, pitch-black and thick.
"Fuck..." he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice hoarse and full of pain.
His legs barely held him up, shaking as though they might collapse at any moment. More blood flowed, mixing with the water circling the drain. His breathing was heavy, nearly gasping, and his back arched under the weight of something invisible.
When he raised his eyes to the fogged glass, he saw something that made his stomach twist even harder. Azaael was there, reflected like a specter, staring at him with an icy, imposing gaze. It was as if the demon had taken his place—a living shadow smiling while watching his misery.
He blinked, trying to shake the image, but it stayed, burned into his mind like a brand. Panic swelled with every second, turning the small bathroom into a suffocating prison.
"Yeah, kid... that little prick I fought really screwed us good! I think you're gonna have to go to the hospital... My dark energy's just enough to keep you alive, but I can't fix this!"
"And what the hell do I have? Dammit!" he snapped back, his voice thick with irritation and weakness, as an overwhelming exhaustion seemed to devour him from within. But before his body could collapse, a dark aura enveloped him, giving him just enough strength to stand.
"Well, it's probably from the spiritual energy release. It was too much, and you're immune to spiritual energy while you're wrapped in it. It's weird... looks like my dark energy cancels out your protection. So that means..."
"Stop using my body for that bullshit!" The veins in his neck bulged, visibly pulsing, and his eyes looked like they might burst under the pressure.
"Fine!" the demon said, voice almost mocking before letting out a sinister laugh. "My fun will only be complete once this body is mine alone!" he added, his voice growing more distorted, like it was being pulled into another dimension.
Suddenly, the image unraveled into a grotesque vortex of blood that burst from Yamasaki, splattering across the bathroom like a macabre tide. Crimson streaks coated the cold walls, dripping down as the mirror blurred with stains that seemed to form twisted faces under the dim light.
The metallic scent of blood thickened the air, nearly unbearable. The entity's form vanished, leaving only the echo of its voice and a choking sense of horror behind.
The bathroom, now deathly still, looked like something torn from a nightmare, with the exorcist at its center—bent over, struggling to comprehend the chaos he had just witnessed.
That son of a bitch! The scream echoed deeper than his mind could handle.
But... consequences... ah, they always come!
So tell me, reader...
Are you truly ready for the consequences the next volumes will bring?