The Exorcist

"Haaa..."

The night had swallowed the last wisp of light. The forest, a labyrinth of shadows and oppressive silence, seemed to hold its breath.

(Huuuuuuu)

A distant howl, muffled by the thickness of the trees, was the only sign of life that broke the silence.

(Crack, crack)

With every step the figure took, a dry sound echoed under their feet, only to stop dead in their tracks.

(shhhhhh)

Listening to the muffled sound of the dead leaves being dragged, they lifted their face to look at the sky.

"....."

The moon, hidden behind a curtain of dense clouds, only managed to project a spectral light that barely illuminated the path.

"Fufff...."

The air was heavy, with the earthy scent of moisture and decay, mixed with a sweet, metallic stench that floated on the breeze.

(Clack, clack, clack)

The figure walked with a slow and methodical pace, their presence a sinister echo in the heart of the darkness.

"Tonight..."

They wore a long, dark trench coat that blended with the shadows and heavy boots that sank into the soft ground. A hood covered their face almost completely, except for the faint light that filtered through the clouds and revealed a pipe from which dense smoke rose.

"...will be an eventful one."

(Click)

(Huuuush)

The icy mountain wind, silent among the trees, began to lash the figure.

"....."

His hood flapped forcefully, but he didn't flinch as his heavy gait carried him to the foot of the mountain that seemed to tear the night sky.

"Sigh~..."

(click-clack)

With an irritated sigh and an expression of weariness and irritation briefly illuminated by the glow of his pipe, framing his face, he adjusted the weapons on his hip.

"Damn it. They should have deployed me a long time ago."

(Tssshhhhhhhh)

He muttered to himself as he walked, releasing the smoke from his pipe, which moved around him in contrast to his slow gait.

"So many lives would have been saved if those old men had acted sooner."

The figure was a man named Armando, an exorcist sent by the government who advanced up the mountain, muttering complaints.

"......"

His mission: to neutralize a legion created by a renegade member of the Shadow Soul Clan when the situation ended up spiraling out of control.

"...This is going to be problematic."

Initially, another exorcist had been sent to handle the situation, but contact with her had been lost without a trace, leading to the current situation.

"The feeling of this energy is disgusting..."

Armando's frustration and weariness were the direct consequence of that bad turn of fate and bureaucracy. Now, he was the last hope to stop the threat that was growing in the darkness of the mountain as he advanced.

"Hahhh... Tch."

Armando sighed. The smoke from his pipe formed a dense, gray wisp that slowly dissolved in the mountain's icy air as he recalled the details of the case and the identity of the culprit, for it was not a demon or an abyssal being, but a young man named Hasen.

"......"

He was a solitary and peculiar student who had been born with a unique technical ability, developed by the Shadow Soul Clan. However, Hasen didn't know he was part of that clan.

"If you were going to raise that kid, you should have done it right... Idiot."

According to his investigation, Hasen's legal guardian was a highly esteemed exorcist who had taken pity on the boy abandoned by his relatives some time ago and, in an attempt to protect him, had sealed his power with spiritual arts.

"This happened because you were too soft..."

But, after his recent and sudden passing, the seal seemed to fade with him, releasing the ability that Hasen had inherited: the capacity to create legions of shikigami.

(Puff)

Armando exhaló el humo, and it dispersed into the gloom.

"...Now don't blame me for what I have to do."

The exorcist shook his head, frustration growing inside him. The government's negligence in not acting in time, the loss of the previous exorcist, and now this. An inexperienced boy with an out-of-control destructive power. A true nightmare.

"..."

Armando's pipe slowly went out, as if the information he had just recalled had drained all the energy from the flame, for the investigation had revealed an even darker truth.

That student, Hasen, had inherited that power from a direct bloodline related to a demon, with whom an ancient member of his clan had been intimate in an attempt to perfect their curses.

"...."

The result was a power that was passed down through certain generations.

That young man had inherited the power to convert corpses into shikigami, but what made it so terrifying was actually its other capabilities, as his power functioned passively, leading the people around him to die in ways that fit their personal situation.

"...Perhaps."

Those who were careless died in accidents. The sick became even sicker until they perished. And those who had the desire to die committed suicide. Everything in Hasen's environment, in one way or another, withered to death.

"This was his destiny..."

Armando let out a bitter murmur as the thought settled in his mind.

For the most disturbing part of the situation was that the power acted by the mere presence of the young man; he didn't control it. The data the government had given him confirmed it: the first shikigami he created were made unconsciously.

The first victims were his neighbors. A family of three: a mother, a teenage daughter, and the father. They died in an unexpected and trivial accident in their apartment, poisoned by expired food. Hasen noticed the stench and the sounds of his neighbors' vomiting, ran to their apartment only to find their lifeless bodies on the floor. It was at that moment that the next phase of his power was activated, and the three corpses began to move.

"...."

From there, the young man began his spiral of decay. As time went on, more and more people around him died, until he finally discovered the horrible truth. Horrified, he hid in a villa in the forest to live alone with his zombies.

(clack, clack, clack)

But there was one more detail about his power that he was unaware of: one thing was the power he had to convert corpses into his servants and another, the most terrible one, was the one that created them.

The reality that Hasen was completely unaware of was that, although at first glance, his shikigami or undead servants seemed to be alive, with their bodies intact and no signs of decomposition. The truth, however, was another: their personalities and behavior changed completely, and their touch was as cold as a corpse's. Added to that was the lack of a heartbeat in their chests, which created a sense of incongruity for anyone who paid enough attention.

"..."

And the reason was simple: the power only resurrected the recently deceased. What it actually did was trap the remnants of the souls of those who died in his vicinity, and then it gave them fragments of Hasen's own soul to reanimate their bodies. In essence, it turned them into unconscious puppets, moved by the boy's deepest desires.

Although to Hasen, in his mind, he saw himself as a savior, his shikigami moved driven by the authentic desires of his soul. To a normal person, they seemed like family or friends who had returned to life, with a somewhat strange behavior. But to someone with spiritual energy, the sight was horrifying.

"It really... makes me sick."

They could see the last moments of each victim's life repeating in an eternal loop in their mind, while Hasen's soul granted them a "part" or "role" based on his own selfish interpretation of the original person.

"For all these corpses... How many people did you sacrifice?"

However, those who did not catch his attention became mere zombies, identical in appearance to when they were alive, but without any trace of personality.

"At least I'll let them rest in peace."

And Armando had taken it upon himself to eliminate these on his way to the villa.

"...."

Armando continued to advance, and the memory of the shikigami he had to eliminate weighed on his chest. Some were mere empty shells, but others... others had retained fragments of their will and personality, twisted by Hasen's psyche.

"Death to my Lord's enemies!"

He saw a girl who handled a sword with expertise, but what he really saw was her fragmented mind.

(The dojo is collapsing?! Everyone evacuate!... "You are my samurai servant who cuts down my enemies!"... We will surely survive!... "As my loyal masturbator, you must please me, for I am your lord!")

Then he remembered a girl in an eccentric cape, who proclaimed that the living must submit.

"Insignificant mortals, submit to your new masters!"

However, her original thoughts resonated with desperation.

(I want to die! I want to die! There is no place for me in this world. I want to escape this world... "If all living beings in the world were to become my servants, there would surely be peace. Well, I don't want that, but I'm sure my faithful servant does"... I'm going to die!!)

"......"

But the scene that affected him the most was that of a mother using her own son as a shield and weapon, exploiting his regeneration, without a hint of pity, while he listened to her final thoughts.

(You're the only important person to me!... My son, escape, even if it's just you... "You're one of my moms, so fight to protect me!")

"...."

The most devastating thing for Armando was to see how the son, with his soul still conscious, tried to desperately resist his control.

(Damn it! That bastard has already driven my mother crazy! And he's controlling my body! What should I do?... "You're less of a man than me, so obey me"... Eh, eh... Yes... I understand.)

"Tch!"

Armando clenched his jaw. The boy not only killed people, but he turned them into a mockery of their former self, a projection of his most twisted, deepest desires.

(clack, clack, clack, clack)

"None of you deserved it."

Armando continued on his way, the resonance of his heavy boots mixing with the echo of his thoughts.

"...But."

The forest path was covered in blood and the lifeless bodies of those he had had to eliminate.

"...Someone had to do it."

(clack, clack, clack)

Muttering with frustration, he left them behind, as if they were nothing more than obstacles in his mission.

(Bang!)

And without even looking to the side, he drew one of his weapons, shooting a personality-less zombie that lunged at him.

(Thump!)

The bullet impacted the zombie's head with precision, killing it instantly. Armando didn't stop; his walking pace was relentless. His objective was getting closer and closer.

However...

(bzzzzzt!)

"....."

Armando stopped dead in his tracks.

("Someone...? bzzzzzt!... please... ne... to... bzzzzzt!... help... bzzzzzt!...")

A telepathic message, static and broken, filtered into his mind, asking for help. It was a weak voice, like a whisper lost in the static of an old television.

"......"

He closed his eyes and concentrated, his sense of presence detection extending into the surroundings. It didn't take him long to find the source.

"...A barrier...? No, wait... This is it!"

He found a barrier a short distance away, one he recognized very well.

"Damn it...!"

He opened his eyes, and his expression hardened into a cold fury.

"I never expected that at this age we would finally meet again."

(click!)

He immediately prepared himself, adjusting his two pistols in a single, fluid motion.

"Change of plans."

In this way, the strongest exorcist, Armando, changed his objective.