RSE CH 32 (Patreon)

Too many thoughts were competing for his attention, but the cool night air helped clear Leo’s head. Of all the things she’d said, he kept coming back to when she’d said he was running away from his responsibility. What was it that she thought he was responsible for?

His mind chased the question in circles, like a dog after its tail.

It wasn’t until he’d passed the condemned old church that something he didn’t expect to find pulled him out of his own thoughts. A sharp metallic scent spiked the air.

‘Is that… blood?’

Leo scowled. The scent of blood in the air was thick, meaning there had to be a lot of it that someone or something had spilled. This wasn’t a minor event.

‘Is it the Peak level stray?’ he wondered.

Leo dialed his senses up to the max but he sensed no demonic energy. In fact, what he sensed was…

‘Holy energy?’

Leo blinked, then darted forward at top speed. He rushed into the dilapidated ranch style house where the scent of blood seemed to be strongest. What greeted him was a scene form a horror movie—it looked as if someone had thrown buckets of blood up on the walls. He would have puked, if not for the tough training he had undergone in his youth.

“Hmm… What is that? Is there an intruder?”

Standing above the completely mutilated corpse of what must once have been a human, now only unrecognizable as such from the pallid face frozen in a rictus scream, was a silver-haired man clad in bloody vestments under a greyish-black overcoat.

When the man turned to face the startled Leo, his blood-shot eyes grew wide before a malevolent grin split his face nearly in two.

A voice that grated like nails on a chalkboard exclaimed, “Oh my fucking god! If this isn’t the exiled Leo Karteros! Fancy meeting you here. Don’t mind the blood. I was simply delivering absolution to some penitent heretics. Hehehe.”

A bitter ball of ice condensed in Leo’s gut at those words. It wasn’t the evil inherent in what was said, it was because he recognized that voice. He stared, face devoid of any expression, at the sight he’d stumbled upon.

“Barlowe…!” He hissed the name out with incredible distaste. It didn’t take much to see he was incredibly pissed at the man standing in front of him.

The man gave a high-pitched cackle that sent a chill down Leo’s spine and did a weird little dance.

“Yes! It is I, Bartholomew Barlowe! At your service, Sir! Kuh! I’m tickled that you remembered my name. My heart is going thump thump! Hahaha!”

Barlowe twisted and wiggled in sadistic glee as he hugged himself, smearing blood on his vestments. That creepy laugh echoed in the dingy space.

‘That creepy laugh and weird dance… There’s no doubt it’s that deranged bastard.’

Leo’d had extremely few interactions with Barlowe, to the point that most of what he knew about the man cane from what he’d heard rather than seen. Rather, he had known the man’s s sister, Lisel. Even so, the few interactions he’d had with the psychotic bastard been extremely disturbing. And that voice was impossible to forget.

Leo had wondered why such an unstable psycho was allowed to become, let alone remain an active exorcist. 

“Why did you kill these people?” he hissed.

“Arere? Did I do something wrong? I only took out the trash… those humans contracted with devils. Such sins must be punished! I came to release these poor souls from their mortal containers before they sank further into sin.”

He cackled, and did that weird dance.

“That is my calling, to convict those who stray and release the souls of the wicked from their contracts with hell. No need to thank me!”

Leo grounded his teeth and took a step forward. “The church stopped hunting down humans who contracted with devils three decades ago. There was no reason for you to kill those people.”

In the past, exorcists had hunted every devil and all those related to them in any way. The Church had little mercy on those who contracted with devils. Decreed a capital sin, exorcists as recently as the final decades of the Twentieth Century had actively hunted ‘betrayers’ and ‘traitors’ of humanity. 

Only a few years before the turn of the millennium had the Church changed its stance. The Vatican had repealed the old law to ensure the cold war between Heaven, Hell, and the Grigori didn’t flare up again. Now, only devils that were deemed a danger—such as stray devils—were hunted down. 

Hunting down those associated through contract, bond, or indenture was strictly forbidden after one notorious case nearly caused another war.

Barlowe waved his light sword in a sweeping gesture. “So what? These traitors lost any privileges to mortal justice and were no longer human when they contracted with devils. You reap what you sow! Death should be expected. La fine—the End! That’s why I got rid of them. Getting rid of shitty devils and culling those worthless shits who succumb to their lies is our job.”

The man shrugged nonchalantly as he answered in a bland tone. He behaved as if what he had done was only natural; that there was nothing wrong with it. 

The pulsing light sword reminded Leo that this psycho was still an active exorcist. A sword of light and gun loaded with holy bullets were standard equipment. Only a select few were born with Divine Gears, or had the necessary affinity to wield a holy sword.

Light swords, brimming with moderate amounts of holy energy, had been created by condensing holy light from Angels or Fallen Angels and infusing them into a blessed blade. Thanks to their Holy nature, such blades had a devastating effect against devils, vampires, and creatures with a dark affinity. They worked great on those whose nature was diametrically opposed to the Holy essence contained within the weapon.

Against regular humans, though… they were just a wickedly sharp blade.

As he let Barlowe speak, Leo continued calculating the distance between them. Though he was much stronger than the deranged exorcist, the man was an experienced exorcist. 

He was just an exiled exorcist novitiate with a modicum of training at the Vatican. He’d had no experience with lethal combat in the years since he was excommunicated. 

Leo did not wish for any unexpected surprises.

After a brief study, he was assured that the distance between them was more than enough. He only needed an instant to reach Barlowe. Once he engaged, he would capture the sick bastard—or kill him, if he had to.

But Barlowe, being the experienced exorcist that he was, reacted swiftly to Leo’s agitation. He raised his gun, resting the side of the barrel against his head before leveling it at Leo. 

The sudden action startled the boy, stopping him from launching himself at the sick man.

“What are you doing?!” Leo hissed.

“Tch~Tch~Tch,” Barlowe tutted. “Poor Leo. Did you seriously think I would face you mano to mano? I mean… come on! Fighting against you would be meaningless, right!? I know you are fast but, do are you faster than my finger on this trigger?”