Chapter 19: Some People Are Better Off Dead

The setting sun cast long, dim shadows through the open door, faintly illuminating the unlit living room. The room was steeped in darkness, with only a single candle flickering faintly atop the dining table.

On the floor, dark brown liquid slowly pooled, soaking the floorboards with an unbearable stench of blood and rot.

Seated at the dining table was a young silver-haired man dressed as a priest. He lounged there, legs crossed, staring absentmindedly as the candlelight flickered across half his face.

In front of his chair lay a corpse.

No, calling it a "corpse" would be a generous description. It was more like the shredded remains of what had once been a human.

The body was grotesquely disfigured, the torso split open, ribs protruding outward like some macabre display of butchered meat. It looked less like a person and more like a pig's ribcage displayed in a market stall.

The sight rendered Asia completely frozen in place.

The earlier joy on her face vanished, replaced by terror and repulsion she couldn't suppress.

"Father, this is...?"

"Ah?"

Noticing the newcomers at last, the silver-haired priest lazily raised his head. His lips curled into a smirk as he gestured with his chin, his tone laced with menace.

"Hey, Asia. Didn't I tell you to set up the barrier? Who's this guy?"

He made no effort to explain the carnage, his words dripping with unspoken threats.

"H-He's..."

Caught off guard, Asia faltered, shrinking back as her timid nature prevented her from answering.

Fukuki stepped forward, positioning himself between Asia and the priest.

"Keikain Fukuki, acting representative of Kyoto's Keikain family."

"Keikain?"

The silver-haired priest cocked his head, twirling a large handgun that had seemingly appeared in his hand. Resting its barrel against his forehead, he scratched his temple with the corner of his mouth curved in thought.

"Ah! I remember now. The Keikain family, right? Japan's famous onmyōji clan. Didn't your ancestors have a bit of a fling with yokai about four centuries ago? Quite unfaithful for humans, weren't you?"

As he dragged out the last few words, he stuck out his tongue and wagged it disgustingly, his mannerisms deranged enough to make anyone question his sanity.

"And you are?" Fukuki asked, stepping closer, his voice steady. Yet the golden spiritual energy rising around him made it clear what his next move would be.

"So strong..."

The nun at the doorway instinctively covered her mouth with both hands.

If her healing power radiated an energy like a gentle spring breeze caressing the surface of a tranquil lake, then the spiritual energy emanating from Fukuki now was akin to magma slowly flowing from the earth's core—steady and intense.

"Ho~ As expected of a daikou (proxy). You've got some real substance there!"

Sensing the power radiating from Fukuki, the silver-haired murderous priest could no longer remain seated. With a maniacal grin, he suddenly pushed off with his legs, flipping backward off the chair. He landed smoothly a few meters away, drawing distance between them. In one hand, he still gripped the handgun; in the other, he now wielded what appeared to be the hilt of a sword.

Wait, just the hilt?

Was it a Wind King Barrier?

Fukuki raised an eyebrow, puzzled, but understanding dawned almost immediately.

The silver-haired priest clenched the hilt tightly, and a brilliant white light extended upward from the guard, forming a glowing blade of energy. It resembled something straight out of a Jedi's arsenal.

"A formal introduction, then."

In a theatrical, exaggerated tone, the silver-haired priest held his weapons and executed a grand, though utterly unrefined, bow. Grinning with a twisted expression and sticking out his tongue grotesquely, he shouted:

"I am Freed Sellzen, the Vatican Holy See's exorcist ace! Ah, forgive me... I mean, former exorcist."

The difference between "former" and "current" was more than a single word—it was a chasm.

The Vatican's exorcists were akin to Japan's onmyōji, individuals with special powers dedicated to protecting humanity from otherworldly threats.

For most exorcists, there were two outcomes:

They would serve their mission until their body could no longer endure the toll of battle or injury, retiring due to incapacity.

They would die in the line of duty, often meeting gruesome ends in battle.

However, for someone as young as Freed to have left the organization, it could only mean one of two things:

Either his innate talent was so lacking that he was deemed unfit during evaluations, or his mental state was deemed dangerously unstable.

Think Trevor from GTA V being washed out of the Air Force.

Freed clearly fell into the latter category. And judging by the fact that he still carried equipment issued by the Vatican...

A rogue, a fallen priest?

Fukuki quickly came to a conclusion.

"B-but..."

The nun, Asia, found her voice again, her trembling gaze darting toward the mangled remains of the corpse. Summoning her courage, she raised her voice:

"B-but even a former exorcist, if they still have faith in God, should fight to protect humanity, shouldn't they? Not murder them at will—"

"Shut up, you useless piece of trash, nun!!!"

Freed's sudden outburst of profanity cut her off entirely. Waving his glowing sword wildly, his face contorted in fury.

"Those fallen angel chicks told me not to mess with you, but seriously, you're useless, you garbage nun! You couldn't even set up a basic repelling barrier! No wonder the church kicked you out like trash.

I'm busting my ass exorcising devils in here, you know? Every devil, and anyone associated with them, must die by my hand!!!"

"Ugh...!"

As if he had torn open old wounds, Asia clutched her hands to her chest, holding her shoulders protectively. She lowered her head and took a small, trembling step back.

Associated with devils?

Fukuki's gaze shifted to the tabletop, where a small magic circle had been scrawled beside the candlestick.

He recognized the design—it was a summoning circle, meant to call forth small, harmless familiars from the underworld, such as tiny imp-like devils or bat messengers.

At best, it was comparable to Asia's version of a "pen spirit" game—a frivolous, playful thing.

The magic involved was so minor that ordinary people's spiritual energy levels would make summoning anything truly dangerous nearly impossible.

And yet, for this trivial act, Freed had stormed into someone's home and slaughtered them in such a barbaric manner...

Fukuki exhaled slowly, suppressing the surge of anger rising within him.

Drawing his gaze back to Freed, who continued his erratic posturing and menacing grin, Fukuki stepped forward. The golden spiritual energy surrounding him grew ever more intense, radiating a heat that promised decisive action.

"Technically, I should apprehend you, as a murderous individual with supernatural powers, and hand you over to the Special Devil Unit to be confined within a prison barrier."

"But honestly, I don't think that's necessary anymore."