Chapter 19: Some People Are Better Off Dead (Patreon)

The evening sun slanted through the open door, casting long shadows across the interior. Without any lights on, the living room was dim, illuminated only by the faint, flickering flame of a single candle on the central dining table.

Dark, brownish liquid slowly pooled across the floorboards, soaking them through. A thick, coppery stench of blood, heavy and mingled with the unmistakable odor of viscera, assaulted the senses from just inside the doorway.

A young, silver-haired man dressed as a priest sat beside the table, legs crossed, head lowered. The candlelight, stirred by the draft from the opened door, flickered across half his face, revealing an expression that seemed lost in thought.

And before his chair lay a body.

No, calling it a body was too generous. More accurately… human remains.

Torn open from chest to abdomen, ribs splayed outwards, the form was mangled beyond recognition, disturbingly reminiscent of a rack of pork ribs displayed for sale at a butcher's stall.

Completely unprepared for such a sight, the smile on Asia’s face froze the moment she registered the scene. The joy of meeting an acquaintance moments before drained from the young nun's eyes, replaced by an overwhelming tide of fear and revulsion.

“Father, this is…”

“Hah?”

As if finally noticing the disturbance at the entrance, the young silver-haired priest glanced up. He quirked a corner of his mouth, lifted his chin slightly, and spoke in a low tone.

“Hey, Asia. Didn’t I tell you to set up a repelling barrier? Who’s this guy?”

He made no attempt to explain the situation, his words instead laced with unconcealed menace.

“He is…”

Asia’s timid nature clearly struggled against such an aggressive counter-question. She instinctively shrank back, tucking her chin down slightly.

Hanakain Fubuki stepped fully into the room, positioning himself in front of the girl.

“Hanakain Fubuki, Representative of the Hanakain family from Kyoto.”

“Hanakain? Hmm~ That name does sound a bit familiar. Where have I heard it before? Let me think, let me think?”

Still seated with his legs crossed, the silver-haired priest casually twirled a large-caliber pistol he’d produced from somewhere, tapping the muzzle against his forehead with a crooked grin as if scratching an itch.

Then, he lowered the gun, his eyes widening in mock realization as he let out a sound.

“Ah, I remember now! The Onmyoji clan from Japan, right? Heard your family had some dealings with yokai four hundred years ago. For humans, you’re very~ dis~loy~al~, wouldn’t you say?”

He deliberately dragged out the last few words, sticking out his tongue and waggling it obscenely. It was a thoroughly repulsive sight, making one seriously question his mental state.

“And who are you?”

Hanakain Fubuki continued to advance steadily, his voice calm, yet the burgeoning golden spiritual pressure coalescing around him hinted at his intentions.

So… so strong!

Remaining by the doorway, the young nun couldn’t help but cover her mouth with both hands.

If the power fluctuation from her own healing abilities was like a gentle spring breeze rippling across a lake, then the waves radiating from Hanakain Fubuki now felt like magma flowing deep within the earth's core.

Steady, yet intensely hot.

“Hoh~ As expected of a Representative. You’ve got some substance to you, huh!”

Sensing this power, the silver-haired killer priest could no longer remain casually seated.

With a manic grin, he suddenly pushed off with his legs, launching himself backward from the chair in a swift backflip. He landed smoothly a few meters away, still holding the pistol in one hand. In the other, as if by magic, he now held a sword hilt.

That’s right, just the hilt – the grip and the guard, with no blade attached.

Invisible Air? Hanakain Fubuki raised an eyebrow momentarily.

But he quickly understood.

As the silver-haired priest gripped the hilt tightly, a dazzling white light began to extend from above the guard, rapidly forming a blade composed entirely of brilliance.

At first glance, it looked somewhat like a Jedi Knight's lightsaber.

“Allow me—to formally introduce myself.”

Using a wildly fluctuating, almost theatrical tone, the silver-haired killer priest held his weapons and performed an exaggerated, deeply unprofessional bow, sticking out his tongue in a ferocious grin as he announced loudly.

“This great man is Freed Sellzen, ace exorcist formerly under the direct command of the Vatican! Oh, apologies… forgot to mention. It’s former exorcist now.”

Former versus current—a single word, but worlds apart.

Vatican exorcists were somewhat similar to Japan’s Onmyoji – organizations formed by individuals possessing special powers to protect humanity from otherworldly threats.

A normal exorcist typically met one of two fates.

Either they dedicated their lives to fighting demons until age or irreparable injury forced them into retirement, unable to sustain the high intensity of combat.

Or they were killed in action, perhaps getting their heads blown off while fighting said demons.

But for someone so young to have left the Church… if it wasn’t due to a lack of talent identified during training, preventing him from becoming a combat priest, then the only other possibility was a severe, deeply unstable flaw in his psyche.

Like someone psychologically unstable being rejected from service.

The Freed before him clearly belonged to the latter category. And considering he still carried Church-issued equipment despite being "retired"...

A rogue, lost priest, perhaps?

Hanakain Fubuki quickly reached a conclusion.

“B-But…”

Just then, Asia’s voice sounded again from the doorway.

Her gaze trembled as she glanced at the mutilated remains on the floor, then she gathered her courage and spoke loudly.

“But even if you’re a former exorcist, as long as you still believe in God, shouldn’t you fight to protect humans? Not… not murder them wantonly…”

“SHUT UP, YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT NUN!!!”

Freed’s sudden, violent outburst cut Asia off mid-sentence. He waved his light sword erratically, his face contorted in rage.

“Those Fallen Angel sisters told me not to bully you, but damn, you really are useless, aren’t you, you shit nun! Couldn’t even handle a simple task like setting up a repelling ward! No wonder the Church tossed you out like garbage! Don’t you get it? I was working hard in here, exorcising! All demons… including people tainted by demons, must ALL be killed by me!!!”

“Ugh…!”

As if hitting a raw nerve, reopening old wounds, Asia wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her shoulders. She lowered her head, trembling slightly as she took half a step back.

Tainted by demons?

Only then did Hanakain Fubuki notice a small magic circle drawn with a ballpoint pen next to the candlestick on the table.

He vaguely recognized the sigil; it was used to summon minor communication familiars, like small bat-demons—weak, harmless creatures from the Demon World, summoned only for brief periods.

Essentially, it was like the 'Pen Spirit' games popular back in Asia—done mostly for thrills or curiosity.

After all, an ordinary person's spiritual energy could hardly summon anything truly powerful or dangerous from the Demon World.

And yet, simply because of this, this man had broken into someone's home and slaughtered them so brutally. Truly…

Huuuh~

Hanakain Fubuki slowly exhaled. He retracted his gaze from the magic circle and looked back up at the silver-haired killer priest, whose posture remained defiant and erratic. The golden spiritual pressure swirling around Fubuki intensified, growing hotter.

“Logically speaking, I should apprehend you as a murderer possessing special powers and hand you over to the Special Anti-Demon Unit to be sealed in a prison barrier.”

He paused, his voice dangerously quiet.

“However, looking at you now… I don’t think that will be necessary.”