5:00 AM.

  The Southern Gate

  "Level 4 alert!" a guard screamed, backing away as a massive, two-tailed cat demon tore through the steel barricade like it was wet cardboard. "The Guardian has gone berserk! Open fire!"

  Bullets hailed against the massive black fur of the Cat Sídhe. It roared, a sound of pure, agonized grief that shook the windows of the nearby dorms.

  Guardian Cat? I thought, taking a closer look at the creature. This is Shiro's familiar right? Kuro.

  I landed on top of the gate, watching the chaos. The Exorcists were terrified. They saw a monster. I saw a confused pet wondering where his master was.

  "Hold your fire!" I yelled, my voice amplified by a burst of lung pressure.

  "Student! Get back!" the captain shouted.

  I ignored him. I dropped down, landing directly in front of the charging beast. Kuro loomed over me, easily the size of a truck, his claws raised to turn me into paste.

  "Shiro isn't here," I said calmly.

  The cat froze, his ears twitching at the name. He roared again, louder this time. "Liar! Liar! He promised! I don't believe you!"

  "He's dead," I said, my voice flat but not cruel. "He's gone."

  Kuro didn't want to hear it. He swung.

  Too slow, I thought, but I didn't dodge.

  I caught the massive paw with one hand. The ground cracked under my feet from the impact, but I didn't budge an inch.

  "I said, he's gone."

  I flared my aura. Not destructive fire, but a warm, low-frequency hum. I used Conceptual Resonance, tuning my soul to match the specific spiritual signature of Shiro Fujimoto.

  Kuro's eyes went wide. He stopped pushing. He leaned down, sniffing me. "Warm... like him."

  "Yea," I responded, placing my other hand on his snout. "He'll be missed, but tearing up the gate isn't going to bring him back."

  I scratched him behind the ears—the sweet spot. The massive demon shrank down, popping into his small, house-cat form. He landed on my shoulder, nuzzling against my neck, crying soft, mewling sounds.

  "It's okay," I told the stunned guards. "He's with me now."

  A few days later, the Exwires and I were standing in the middle of the gaudiest amusement park I had ever seen.

  "This place," I muttered, shielding my eyes from the neon glare. "It's a monument to bad taste."

  Mepphyland.

  A sprawling, candy-colored nightmare owned by Mephisto. It was loud, crowded, and smelled like burnt sugar and desperation.

  "Listen up!" Yukio called out, gathering the Exwire squad near the map kiosk. He was in full uniform, looking completely out of place among the tourists wearing Mickey Mouse ears—or rather, Mephisto ears.

  "Our mission today is simple," Yukio explained, pointing to a section of the map labeled Children's Forest. "We have received reports of an Earthbound Spirit haunting the north quadrant. It's scaring away customers."

  "A ghost hunt?" Bon crossed his arms, looking disappointed. "We're Exwires now. Shouldn't we be hunting something... bigger?"

  "Field experience is field experience," Yukio corrected. "We will split into pairs to cover more ground. Suguro, you're with Yamada."

  He pointed at the hooded guy that always sat in the back.

  "Shima and Konekomaru, you two will be together. Izumo, you're with Takara."

  He pointed to the short guy holding a pink sock puppet.

  "Are you joking?" Izumo scowled, looking at her assigned partner. Takara's puppet flapped its mouth at her. "The puppet freak? Fantastic."

  Yukio ignored her complaint and adjusted his glasses. "Rin, you're with Shiemi. Inspect the central plaza. I will coordinate from the command center."

  "Great," I sighed, sticking my hands in my pockets.

  Ten minutes later, Shiemi and I were walking through the crowds.

  "Rin! Look!" Shiemi pointed at a flower bed shaped like Mephisto's face. "They have rare hydrangeas here!"

  She's practically vibrating with excitement, being at this fake ass Disneyland.

  "Yea, nice flowers," I responded while scanning the crowd.

  My Soul Sight was useless here; there was too much interference. It was like trying to find a candle in a forest fire. Suddenly, I mentally heard the sob of a child close by. I beckoned Shiemi to follow, and we met the ghost child.

  He was a little shit.

  His sole purpose for haunting the park was to just cause mayhem and mischief, nothing more, he was just doing it for the love of the game. And as soon as I heard his reasoning, I wanted to drop the mission entirely and leave.

  There's no point in ruining a dead child's fun.

  But then…

  I suddenly stopped. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. The ambient noise of the park didn't stop, but it felt... distant. The air pressure dropped. It wasn't the rotting smell of a Ghoul. It was heavy and dense, like the gravity had just increased tenfold in a five-foot radius around me.

  "Nice sword," a monotonous voice said right in my ear.

  He was fast. Fast enough that a normal Exorcist wouldn't have even registered the presence.

  But I wasn't normal.

  I drove my elbow backward, intercepting the hand reaching for the scabbard of my sword. My forearm collided with his wrist just inches from the hilt of the Kurikara. The sound was sharp, like a whip crack.

  SMACK.

  "Aye yo, personal space," I said, calmly placing myself between the stranger and Shiemi.

  Standing there was a guy with green hair, a spiked hoodie, and a lollipop in his mouth. He looked at his hand—the one I had just slapped away—then up at me. There was a flicker of genuine surprise in his dead eyes.

  "You blocked me," he noted, crunching his lollipop.

  "I don't like people touching my things," I said, my voice dead calm. "Especially not sticky-fingered tourists."

  "Rin?" Shiemi stepped closer, trembling. "Who is that?"

  "Someone who shouldn't be here," I said, keeping my eyes locked on the stranger. "Go find Yukio. Tell him, we have a code red."

  "B-But—"

  "Go, now," I said in a tone that left no room for argument. "And don't look back."

  Shiemi flinched slightly, then nodded frantically and ran toward the plaza exit.

  Once she was gone, I slipped my hands out of my pockets, staring the guy down. The pressure coming off him was immense—condensed and heavy, like a neutron star.

  "You're pretty strong," I noted. "And fast too. But you're making a big mistake pal."

  "Am I?" The stranger tilted his head. "I am Amaimon. The King of Earth. And I want that sword. It smells like chaos."

  He took a step forward. "Give it to me."

  "Hmmmm, lemme think," I placed a hand to my chin. "How bout no."

  Amaimon's eyes narrowed. "I wasn't asking."

  "Come take it then, bitch." I smirked.

  He lunged forward, his hand clawed, aiming to rip the sword straight off my back, strap and all. He moved faster than sound.

  But I was faster.

  I stepped into his guard. I pulsed a burst of kinetic energy flashed from my feet instantly. I caught his wrist with my left hand and drove my right fist into his gut.

  BOOM!

  "You think you're gonna get this sword? With that speed?" I asked, disappointedly.

  The impact was solid. It felt like punching a mountain. Amaimon skidded back ten feet, carving grooves into the concrete with his boots. He looked down at his stomach, then up at me. He wasn't hurt, but he was definitely annoyed.

  "You refuse to share," Amaimon said, annoyed. "And you hit hard. Fine. If you won't give it to me, I'll just have to break you."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He stomped his foot. The ground beneath me erupted. Concrete spikes shot up like shark teeth, aiming to skewer me.

  "Not happenin', broccoli-top." I said, shattering the spikes with a kick.

  Then, I launched myself into the air. Amaimon followed, jumping fifty feet up to land on the rollercoaster track above.

  "Come on!" Amaimon taunted, looking down at me. "Let's play tag! You keep the sword... for as long as you can stay alive!"

  "You want a fight?" I gritted my teeth, the red rings in my eyes flaring. "Fine. But I won't be payin' for your medical bills."

  I launched off the concrete, the force of my jump shattering the pavement.

  Amaimon was fast, skipping across the roller coaster supports like a spider, but I was a rocket. I closed the distance in a heartbeat, landing on the steel rail right behind him.

  "Give it up!" I shouted, aiming a kick at his head.

  Amaimon grinned, dodging effortlessly by flipping backward. "Not yet! This is the most fun I've had in centuries!"

  He landed on the tracks of the Mepphy-Go-Round. He slammed his hands onto the rails. The steel tracks groaned. Suddenly, the metal twisted, rearing up like a serpent. The roller coaster car was derailed and hurled straight at me.

  "Catch!" Amaimon laughed.

  Oh this guy's crazy-crazy.

  I couldn't dodge. If I dodged, the car would crash into the crowded plaza below. I braced myself. I grabbed the scabbard of the Kurikara with one hand to keep it secure and used my free hand to catch the two-ton cart. My boots dug into the steel beam, sparks flying as I slid back five feet. I stopped the car, my muscles screaming against the momentum.

  "Boring!" Amaimon said as he appeared right in front of me, and buried his fist in my gut before I could recover.

  Then he kicked me, sending me crashing through the roof of a haunted house attraction.

  I slammed through two floors of cheap animatronics and fake cobwebs, landing in the basement.

  "Okay," I groaned, dusting plaster off my shoulder. "That one actually hurt."

  "Use the sword!" Amaimon's voice echoed from above. "Burn the building! Cut loose! If you don't, I'll bring the whole park down!"

  The ceiling began to crack. He was crushing the building with earth pressure.

  "I ain't burning down a theme park for your entertainment, you psycho!"

  I saw a maintenance shaft. I jumped upwards and shot through the shaft like a bullet. I burst out onto the roof, catching Amaimon by surprise. I grabbed his hoodie.

  "Gotcha, you lil bitch!"

  I spun and hurled him toward the only structure tall enough to isolate the fight: The Giant Ferris Wheel.

  Amaimon crashed into the top of a passenger car. He laughed, wiping a bit of dirt from his cheek.

  "Good! Good!"

  He stood up on top of the wheel. The ride ground to a halt.

  "But I'm tired of tag," Amaimon said, his eyes going cold. He stomped his foot.

  The entire Ferris Wheel groaned. The bolts at the central hub began to unscrew themselves. The massive wheel tilted precariously.

  "Use the flames, Rin," Amaimon commanded. "Or gravity takes over."

  He was holding the lives of everyone beneath the ride hostage.

  "You little bitch," I gritted my teeth as I gripped the hilt of the Kurikara.

  I'll have to vaporize him instantly before the wheel falls.

  "Stop right there," a voice cut through the air.

  A figure landed between us on top of the passenger car. It wasn't Yukio. It was the quiet kid in the back of the class—Yamada.

  The fuck?! What's this hooded bastard doing here?!

  Yamada ripped off the hoodie to reveal long red hair with blonde tips, a massive chest tattoo, and a bikini top that held in place objects that defied physics.

  Oh Shit! My eyeballs popped out. I totally forgot that this was how she was introduced in the original timeline!

  She planted a massive demon sword into the metal of the car, stopping the wheel's collapse with a single seal.

  "Playtime is over, Earth King," she announced, glaring at Amaimon. "Scram."

  Amaimon looked at her. Then he looked at me, grinning.

  "Shura Kirigakure," he recognized her. "The Vatican's snake." He glanced at me one last time. "We'll finish this later, Rin."

  He leaped backward, disappearing into the neon skyline.

  The pressure lifted. The Ferris Wheel stabilized. I let go of the Kurikara, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I looked at the woman.

  "Shura Kirigakure?" I uttered, raising an eyebrow and dusting off my uniform. "Thanks for the save, I guess, but uh... who are you?"

  Shura didn't respond immediately. She just narrowed her eyes, scanning me up and down like I was a bomb with a ticking timer.

  "You held your own against a Demon King without drawing your sword," she noted, her voice sharp. "Not bad, kid."

  "Uh, thanks, I guess," I shrugged. "But I still don't know who you are."

  "You might find that out later," she said, flicking her wrist. Her massive blade vanished into the tattoo on her chest. "For now, come with me. We need to talk."

  "Talk?" I asked. "About?"

  "Private talk," she clarified. She looked down at the gathering crowd below—Yukio was running toward the base of the wheel, looking frantic.

  "Four-Eyes!" Shura yelled down. "Get the rest of the Exwires out of here. Debrief them. Tell them it was a gas leak or a mass hallucination. I don't care."

  "But—what about Rin?" Yukio shouted back, panic in his eyes.

  "I'm taking the brat back to the base," Shura barked, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Alone. Clean up this mess, Okumura. That's an order."

  She grabbed the back of my collar. "Let's go, kid. You and I are going to have a long talk."

  Shura found the nearest door and used a key to transport us to some kind of massive, underground containment area.

  "Where is this?" I asked. "Mephisto's dungeon or something?"

  "Deeper," Shura said, her eyes never leaving me. "This is the Center of The Order. It's where we keep things that are too dangerous to exist but too useful to kill."

  Waiting there with another Exorcist was Mephisto.

  "I'm gonna ask you straight up," Shura began. "You sheltered the child of Satan without informing the Vatican. What are you planning?"

  "I did it only for the good of the Order," Mephisto said. "To raise him as a weapon for the Order. We've been on the defensive for 2,000 years, this is our chance to seize the initiative."

  2,000 years?! Damn, they've been getting their ass whooped, I thought. And how long have these organizations existed for?!

  "Then why didn't you inform your superiors?" she asked. "And was Shiro Fujimoto involved?"

  "I wanted to wait until he was ready," he responded. "And yes, we planned to raise him until his power grew."

  She was quiet for a while. "I see… I will have to report this." she said, gaining a nod from Mephisto. "But first, I want to question him in the holding cell."

  Her eyes bore into me with a sharp intensity. "Move," she commanded.

  We walked down a long concrete hallway lined with heavy blast doors. She stopped at the last one, swiped a keycard, and muttered a chant that dissolved a glowing barrier.

  The door hissed open. The area wasn't an office. It was a concrete box. No windows. Reinforced walls. No one to intervene. Just me and her.

  She stared at me for a long moment, her casual fa?ade dropping just a fraction.

  "So," she began. "Shiro raised a monster, huh?"

  "He raised a Chef," I corrected. "You're the ones that think of me as a monster. And for the record, you still haven't explained why you were disguised as a student or even who you are."

  "It's called Covert Ops, dumbass. It's what I learned from Father Fujimoto, being his apprentice and all."

  "Really?! He had an apprentice?!" I feigned ignorance.

  "For two years before you were born. Everyday was a struggle to survive… then he saved me. But that was a long time ago," she stated before her expression shifted.

  She stumbled slightly, clutching her side, wincing in pain.

  "Ah... damn," she hissed, dropping to one knee. "That fight with Amaimon took more out of me than I thought. My side..."

  She looked up at me, eyes wide and vulnerable. "Hey, give me a hand?"

  Ah hell nah, that weak ass acting, I thought. Do I look like an idiot in everyone's eyes?

  "Sure," I said, walking over slowly.

  I reached out a hand to help her up.

  SWISH.

  Shura moved faster than a normal eye could track. It was a snake strike—a feint to use my extended hand as leverage to spin around and snatch the Kurikara from my back while I was off-balance. It was a move that would have worked on 99% of Exorcists.

  But I wasn't like most Exorcists. I visualized the tension in her shoulder and rotated my wrist to match her trajectory.

  CLACK.

  I caught her—an Upper First Class Exorcist known for her speed—mid-strike.

  The room went dead silent.

  I didn't let go immediately. I held her gaze, letting her feel the strength of my grip—just enough to let her know I could snap her wrist if I wanted to, but I was choosing not to.

  Her eyes widened slightly, her pupils dilating. Not out of fear, but out of interest.

  "Oh look, a miraculous recovery," I said, letting go of her wrist and stepping backwards.

  Shura stood up slowly. The playful persona evaporated. Her eyes sharpened into the gaze of a predator looking at a challenge. A slow, dangerous grin spread across her face.

  "Not bad," she whispered. "You're actually trained. Who taught you, because it certainly wasn't Shiro."

  "Self-taught," I lied.

  "Is that so?" She chuckled darkly, drawing her demon sword. "Fine. Then let's see how you handle this."

  ZING.

  She slashed and I dodged, but barely. A thin line of blood appeared on my cheek. She was fast—her technique was honed by decades of combat, whereas I was relying on mostly raw instincts.

  "Draw your sword!" Shura yelled, slashing again. Sparks flew as her blade carved a gouge into the blast door next to my head. "Show me why Shiro let you live! If you don't, I'll cut your head off right now!"

  "Pass," I said, ducking under a horizontal swing that would have decapitated a normal person. I gripped the scabbard of my sword tight in my left hand, using it like a baton to parry her next strike.

  CLANG.

  The impact vibrated up my arm, but I didn't buckle. Shura's eyes narrowed. She wasn't just testing me anymore; she was hunting. She spun, her blade creating a vacuum of air pressure aimed at my legs.

  Sovereign Pressure.

  I stomped my foot, disrupting the air and throwing her off balance.

  "What the?" Shura muttered, recovering instantly.

  I didn't let up. I stepped in, closing the distance.

  I didn't let the flames erupt wildly. I kept them tight. I visualized a thin, superheated layer of plasma armor coating my skin.

  Then, I threw a punch. Shura blocked with the flat of her blade, but the heat from my fist transferred instantly. The metal hissed, glowing cherry-red at the point of impact.

  "Hot!" Shura hissed, leaping back. She looked at her sword, then at me. "You... you're coating yourself? Without burning your clothes?"

  "I'm precise," I stated, the blue aura flickering like a ghost around me. "I told you. I'm a Chef."

  "Don't get cocky!" Shura roared.

  She changed tactics. She unleashed her Snake Fang technique, her sword extending and twisting like a living serpent, striking from impossible angles. It was fast. Faster than anything I had fought before.

  Slash. Slash. Thrust.

  I weaved through the steel storm. deflecting thrusts with my armored forearms. Then I countered her barrage with one of my own.

  She ducked, but the heat from my leg singed the tips of her hair.

  She skidded back, panting slightly. However, when she looked at me, the playful arrogance was gone. It was replaced by a dangerous, feral excitement.

  She licked her lips.

  "You're good," she admitted, her voice growing colder. "You're really good. But you're holding back. You're fighting with one hand tied behind your back because you won't use that damn sword."

  She raised her blade high, her spiritual energy spiking massive. The air in the room grew heavy, suffocating.

  "I want to see the real thing, Rin! I want to see the monster!"

  She lunged forward with a massive overhead cleave designed to split me in two.

  She's drowning in the heat of this battle. If I block this normally, I might lose a limb.

  I had no choice.

  "Fine!" I yelled, gripping the hilt of the Kurikara and unsheathed the blade.

  BOOM.

  The blue flames exploded like a solar flare. The blast vaporized the moisture in the room, creating a shockwave of superheated steam. The heavy blast doors blew off their hinges. The concrete walls turned liquid.

  Shura was blasted backward, hitting the wall as the room turned into an oven.

  I stood in a crater of molten slag.

  "Is this enough?!" I asked, my voice distorted by the roaring inferno. "Or should I melt the rest of the school?!"

  "Put it away!" Shura screamed, backing up against the only wall that hadn't melted yet. "Sheathe it! Now!"

  I slammed the sword back into the scabbard.

  The fire vanished. The room cooled instantly, leaving only the sound of sizzling concrete and the smell of burning metal.

  I stood there, steam rising from my shoulders.

  "See?" I said, dusting ash off my uniform. "That's why I don't use it. It's not a sword, it's a nuke."

  Shura lowered her arms. She looked at the devastation. She looked at the hole in the ceiling where the sky was now visible through fifty feet of earth.

  Then she looked at me.

  The arrogance was gone. But it wasn't just fear replacing it. A slow, wild grin spread across her face. It was the look of someone who had just found a new favorite toy.

  "Shiro was a gambler," she muttered, stepping over a patch of cooling slag to get into my personal space. "But I think I see why he bet on you. You're not just a demon, kid. You're a walking apocalypse."

  She poked my chest with her finger, her eyes gleaming. "And I love a good disaster."

  "Great," I groaned, ignoring the way my heart rate spiked. "Does this mean I passed this.. inspection?"

  "For now," Shura said as she pulled out a wooden practice sword and tossed it to me. "But you're a hazard. I'm taking the real sword. You're stuck with this stick until you learn some finesse."

  I caught it. "Oooo, just what I wanted. A stick."

  "It's a spirit-conduit wood," she explained. "If you push too much heat into it, it burns. You don't get the real sword back until you can light a candle with this thing without turning it into charcoal."

  She cracked open a beer, leaning back against the only wall still standing.

  "Don't think I'm gonna go easy on you," she purred, taking a sip. "Your training starts now. Welcome to hell, Rin."