The screams rang out as a row of explosions tore through Kiyai Street. In the blaze and smoke that followed, under the red night sky, a single black beast strode out, with an elongated head, no eyes, fire-drooling mouth and an infernal body, roaring with flames.
The Arisen. A race of creatures that come from a place we call the Beneath.
It strolled forwards, growling, its bulky form five metres high with tall haunches, muscular front legs and small hind legs. Black and withered, as if the flames that consumed it were trying to burn its ashes as well.
Then it raised its front legs, reared up, roared and slammed its hooves down again. Another row of explosion tore through the street, razing the land, turning the brick buildings and tarmac and light posts and cars and humans into nothing but flaming earth and ash.
For a long time, they wreaked havoc with their greatest power: concentrated explosions they could create at will called Bursts. A power insurmountable by all armies combined. A power that obliterated anything in its path.
People cowered behind cars, wondering when they will die, whimpering, holding each other as the creature entered a fresh street, untouched by its annihilation.
Only one thing stood against them.
A single figure, a boy probably no older than nineteen, dressed in a orange-brown jacket and pants and black boots with a loose belt around his waist strolled steadily towards the beast. It saw him in the open, confidently marching towards it, right there in the middle of the street as if he had no regard for life.
"A Priest!" someone shouted. "A Priest is here!"
The beast reared up and slammed its feet down again and the explosions roared towards him. He whipped up an iron talisman, a circle with a cross in it and a diamond at the top and held it towards the Arisen. The flames and destruction broke off, split apart by the talisman's power, causing not a scratch to the boy.
The Priests.
The boy dashed forwards at the confused and enraged Arisen.
While they had no religious connections, people called them so because they banished the demons that threatened them, much to the dismay of actual monks.
The boy tore at his belt and pulled out a kunai that was attached to a string with inscribed papers hanging off it. He pulled an arm back and hurled the weapon at the giant. The string reeled out of a roll on the back of his belt and hit the Arisen's forehead.
Immediately, it exploded, first the head, then the body and then the legs, blasting to nothingness as the Priest drew clear, retracting the kunai.
Nothing was left of it but smoke.
And the people in hiding walked out, cheering the young hero. His name was Ezekiel (or Zeke), the Captain of the Kamiro Gathering, which was what a Priest unit was called.
He grinned, waving a gloved hand. The attention always got to him and he loved the admiration he received.
His phone rang in his pocket and he picked it, holding it to his ear.
"Hello?" he asked.
"Zeke! Where are you?" asked Maii, his younger sister, whom he loved more than anything else in the world. "You're late! I came to the Temple so early!"
"Maii, it's nine-thirty in the night," Zeke chuckled.
"So?" came the little girl's annoyed voice.
"Alright, alright," Zeke smiled, "I'll be there."
And with a final wave, he ran to his motorbike, leapt on and drove towards the Kamiro Temple.