Monsters

The night was heavy with an air of foreboding as Don found himself standing once again in a place all too familiar. The ground beneath him was no longer solid earth but an endless expanse of blood. The crimson sea stretched out as far as the eye could see, reflecting the moon's cold, eerie light. Its surface rippled with an otherworldly glow, casting strange shadows that danced like malevolent spirits.

The smell of iron was overpowering, metallic notes clinging to the air, intertwining with a sickening sweetness. It was a scent that seemed to seep into his very soul, a scent he had grown all too accustomed to. Don's gaze fixed on the moon above, its beauty contrasting sharply with the gruesome tableau beneath.

And then, as if summoned by his very presence, a figure emerged from the sea of blood. He stood atop a macabre mountain of lifeless bodies, his silhouette a dark contrast against the moonlit backdrop. His face remained shrouded in shadows, but his presence exuded a weight of authority that demanded attention.

The man turned towards Don, his lips moving as if he were speaking. But the words remained elusive, slipping through Don's grasp like ethereal whispers. A pang of inexplicable sadness struck his heart, tears welling up in his eyes despite the lack of understanding. It was a feeling that transcended words or reason, a sensation that tugged at the fringes of his memory.

As Don's gaze remained locked with the mysterious figure, the atmosphere around him seemed to tremble with an unsettling energy. It was as though the very fabric of reality was bending, warping, threatening to collapse under the weight of an unseen force. The moon's reflection on the blood sea wavered, distorted by the shifting currents of his own unease.

Two loud knocks echoed through the night, the sound reverberating like distant thunder. Don's trance was shattered, his mind jolted back to the present moment. The scene before him dissolved like mist, replaced by the wooden door of his room. His heart raced, his breath uneven as he struggled to separate the remnants of the dream from reality.

"Don, wake up. It's time for your last lesson before the exam," a familiar voice echoed behind the door.

Don's eyes flickered open, and he groaned as he looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to his bed. Its digital numbers glowed with an early morning light, indicating six am. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Let me get dressed."

Two weeks had passed since Don had made the life-altering decision to become an Inquisitor. Ever since that moment, his life had been a whirlwind of training, learning, and adapting to his new reality. Bishop Sable, the Inquisitor who had recruited him, had wasted no time. Just an hour after Don agreed, he found himself on a plane bound for America, where his training began.

A sigh of impatience emanated from behind the door. "Don, let's go. I'm getting bored."

Don's frown deepened as he glanced at the door before heaving himself out of bed. He swung the door open to find Bishop Sable standing there with his signature mischievous smile. The crosses dangling from Sable's earrings swayed as he slightly turned his head. "There you are, Don. I was getting worried that you might have run away."

Suppressing his frustration, Don shot back, "Sable, can we just get this over with?"

Sable's grin only widened. "Of course, my sweet student." He entered the room and took a seat at the table situated in the middle. Don followed suit, taking a seat across from him.

Over the past weeks, Sable had been Don's mentor, teaching him about the world of demons, the duties of Inquisitors, and the mysterious power known as a Miracle. Don had come to understand that there were three types of Miracles: Inherent Miracles passed down through generations like the legends of Zeus and Hercules, Miracle Artifacts that resided within objects like Thor's hammer, and the Manifested Miracles that he himself possessed, born from dire situations and strong wills.

As Sable spoke, Don's frustration simmered beneath the surface. "Don, what more can I teach you?"

Don's expression burned like a fire. "Sable, you mentioned this exam with participants from all over the world, yet I know nothing about it!"

Sable's gaze turned vacant for a moment. "Oh, right, I suppose I forgot to mention that."

The boiling point of Don's anger was reached. "What do you mean, you forgot?"

Sable playfully tapped his own head. "Just kidding." He released a sigh. "Honestly, I don't know the specifics of this year's exam. The Higher-ups keep it a secret until the last minute to ensure fairness among Inquisitors."

Another sigh escaped Don's lips. "So I'm heading into this blind?"

Sable regarded Don with sympathy. "Don't worry too much, my dear student. I've brought you a gift that all Inquisitors receive." With a flourish, he produced an elegant yet simple ring and placed it on the table, pushing it toward Don.

Don's brows knitted together in confusion. "All Inquisitors get a ring?"

Sable began tapping his finger on the table. "Indeed. It's a ring forged from a Miracle. It allows the wearer's language to be translated to anyone they're speaking to, and vice versa. A handy tool for our globetrotting Inquisitors."

Don's eyes widened as a thought struck him. "Wait, are you telling me you're not originally from Brazil?"

Sable ceased tapping his finger, breaking into laughter. "Nope, I'm not. And English is the only language I know, I'm afraid."

The shock on Don's face was evident. "But... you speak perfect Portuguese."

Sable's pride was palpable as his smile grew. "Ah, the power of the ring, my dear Don."

Sable quickly stood up from his chair, his movements filled with an energy that belied his earlier casual demeanor. "Well, I've given you all the information you'll need for the exam, so I'll be heading out." With brisk steps, he approached the door, ready to leave.

As his hand reached for the doorknob, Sable paused, his back partially turned towards Don. "Hey, Don."

Don lifted his gaze from the ring he had been inspecting. "What's up?"

Sable's fist clenched momentarily, and his voice carried a rare hint of seriousness. "Many people have died in this exam, so never let your guard down. And good luck." With those words, Sable continued walking out of the room, the door closing behind him.

Left in the wake of Sable's departure, Don sat alone in his room. The weight of Sable's parting words hung heavily in the air. "People have died?" A bead of sweat trickled down Don's forehead as his fingers instinctively gripped the edge of the table. His heart raced, and a shiver ran down his spine. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

A conflicted smile tugged at the corners of his lips, battling against the unease in his chest. "Why am I so excited about tomorrow?"

With a frustrated sigh, Don pushed himself to his feet, his hand rising to smack his own face lightly. "Calm down, man, or I'll start thinking I'm a psychopath." He ran his fingers through his hair, which was damp from the sweat on his brow, attempting to regain his composure.

Stepping away from the table, Don approached the window. His eyes fixed on the horizon as the sun began its descent, casting an orange glow that painted the sky. "The sun is setting." He muttered to himself, his thoughts racing as he stared at the play of colors in the sky. "Despite how I feel right now, something tells me I made the right choice."

A genuine smile finally broke through the conflict within him. "I'm excited about this job." He let out a long breath, allowing the tension to drain from his shoulders as he stretched. His resolve solidified, and he turned away from the window, heading towards his bed.

The next day dawned with an air of anticipation, as Don made his way towards the imposing Exam building. Sable had shown him the building before, but today it felt different, as if the massive structure itself was pulsating with the energy of the upcoming challenge. The building stood tall and grand, a colossal stadium that dwarfed a football field in size. Don had ventured here on his own a few times before, trying to familiarize himself with the environment, but today was unlike any other. The atmosphere was charged with tension and determination.

As he approached the stadium, his eyes widened at the sight that greeted him. Seats that had been mostly empty before were now occupied by a multitude of people, all gathered for the same purpose – to take the exam. The stadium was alive with activity, each individual appearing deadly serious, their expressions focused and resolute. Don's gaze swept across the diverse crowd, and a few faces caught his attention.

Among them were two American soldiers, their imposing presence impossible to ignore. One had slick-backed blonde hair while the other sported a buzz cut and had dark skin. Both were in impeccable shape, radiating an aura of strength and discipline. Their eyes held a stern determination, a readiness to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Another figure that drew Don's gaze was a young girl, her long black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of darkness. Her expression was devoid of emotion, a mask of calm that contrasted with the tension in the air. A long Katana hung at her hip, a silent testament to her prowess and readiness for combat.

Then there was a small girl, seemingly around his age, with short white hair and freckles adorning her face. She gazed around with wide-eyed amazement, clearly taken aback by the sheer scale of the stadium. Don couldn't help but be captivated by her innocence, a stark contrast to the intensity that surrounded them all.

Suddenly, Don stumbled forward, his balance disrupted. He quickly turned to find a young man with fiery red spiky hair and piercing red eyes. The young man extended his left hand, offering assistance. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to bump into you like that."

Don offered a friendly smile, his hand reaching out to grasp the offered help. "No problem, man."

The moment their hands connected, a peculiar sensation shot through Don's heart, a shiver that seemed to resonate with his power, Rat King. It was as if his very essence recoiled at the touch, a primal instinct warning him of danger. Don's smile remained, but beneath it, a growing sense of unease took root. "I'm Don," he introduced himself.

Their eyes met, and the young man's faint smile seemed to hold a depth of meaning. "Ryan," he replied simply.

Don felt a nervous sweat forming, the encounter leaving an indescribable impression on him. "Good luck at the exam," Don offered, hoping to break the tension.

Ryan released his grip on Don's hand, his gaze never leaving Don's. "You too, Don."

As Ryan walked away, Don took a deep breath, his mind racing. That encounter had been a stark reminder that appearances could be deceiving. As he watched Ryan's retreating figure, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had just brushed against something dangerous, something primal. It was as though he had glimpsed into the mind of a predator, calculating and assessing.

Don's thoughts churned, a realization dawning upon him. "These people aren't dangerous," he muttered to himself, his expression a mix of apprehension and determination. "They are all monsters."

The stadium, once alive with chatter and excitement, began to hush as seven distinct figures made their way to the center stage. The murmurs of the crowd died down as all eyes turned towards the individuals who commanded their attention. Clad in white, these figures exuded an aura of authority and power that seemed to silence the very air around them. Don's gaze shifted, his curiosity piqued by this sudden shift in atmosphere.

As he scanned the stage, he couldn't help but notice a man with striking green hair and freckles, a bow slung over his back. The air around this figure felt different from the encounters he'd had earlier – there was no danger, no threat. Encouraged by this feeling, Don edged closer to the man, his curiosity getting the best of him. "Umm, excuse me," he ventured, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, "who are those people?"

The green-haired man turned his gaze towards Don, his expression a mix of intrigue and amusement. "Oh, a newcomer," he mused, his tone light. "Those are the Knights."

Don's eyes remained fixed on the stage, his confusion evident. "Knights? What do you mean?"

The man crossed his arms, his demeanor casual as he elaborated. "They're the cream of the crop, the finest Inquisitors among us. Achieving greatness in our Order allows you the chance to become one of them – it's a goal many Inquisitors strive for."

Don's attention shifted between the green-haired man and the stage, his awe palpable. "So, they're like the best of the best?"

A wry smile graced the green-haired man's lips. "You could say that."

The crowd's attention was redirected as a man with long brown hair, dressed in the same pristine white, took center stage. His presence commanded respect, and the hushed silence that enveloped the stadium attested to his authority. "Ladies and gentlemen," his voice resonated, the words reaching every corner of the vast space, "presenting the pinnacle of our Order, the strongest Inquisitor among us – the Grand Inquisitor."

As the man stepped aside, Don's mind raced to conjure an image of what the 'strongest Inquisitor' might look like. An imposing, armor-clad figure reminiscent of King Arthur's legendary stature flickered in his imagination. Yet, his musings were shattered as the figure that emerged onto the stage turned out to be someone he least expected – Sable, the man whose playful antics and mischievous demeanor he had become acquainted with over the past two weeks.

Don's jaw dropped, his disbelief evident in his expression. Sable, now on the stage, maintained an enigmatic and serious façade as he locked eyes with Don. A brief, proud smile flashed across his features before vanishing behind a mask of solemnity. "Today marks the commencement of the Inquisitor Entrance Exam," Sable's voice rang out, his tone steady and commanding.

Yet, Don could not shake off the sight of Sable – the same man who had been his eccentric mentor, now stood before the entire assembly as the Grand Inquisitor, the epitome of strength and authority. Don's thoughts raced, grappling to reconcile the playful Sable he had come to know with this newfound image of power.

As if sensing Don's astonishment, Sable's gaze remained fixed on him for a moment longer before his attention turned back to the crowd. With an almost mischievous glint in his eyes, he broke the silence that hung heavy in the air. "Today marks the start of the Inquisitor Entrance Exam," Sable's voice rang out once more, this time with a touch of his characteristic playfulness. His next words, however, resounded with a force that rocked the very foundation of the stadium, carrying his energy and excitement to every corner. "TRY NOT TO DIE!"