Portville was bathed in sunlight, the town buzzing with life as pedestrians filled the sidewalks and cars rumbled past in an almost rhythmic symphony.
Inside a small, unassuming fast food restaurant tucked into the corner of a busy street, a young man sat alone at a table. He savored his breakfast—a hearty bowl of noodles—eating slowly, as though each bite carried some deeper meaning. It was a brief pocket of calm in his otherwise chaotic life.
When he finally finished, he set his fork down, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and glanced up. A waitress stood nearby, her polite smile warm but curious.
"Can I help you with anything else, Nathan?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No thanks. I'm good."
After leaving a few bills on the table, Nathan stood, adjusted his T-shirt, and gave her a nod before stepping out into the warm glow of the day.
As he walked down the street, Nathan's attention flicked to a woman sitting on a bench nearby. She was dressed in a crisp, formal outfit, her posture straight and alert. Across her lap rested a sheathed katana, the polished scabbard gleaming faintly under the sun.
For a brief moment, her piercing gaze met his before she looked away, her expression unreadable.
"Weird," Nathan muttered to himself, shaking his head as he continued walking.
The town bustled around him, but Nathan didn't seem to notice. His focus had shifted to the popsicle he'd just bought from a nearby stand, its vibrant mix of blueberry and strawberry staining his fingers. He strolled through the streets at his own leisurely pace, the occasional slurp or crunch the only sound he made.
Eventually, he turned down a quieter alley, the noise of the city fading into the distance. The air here was still, almost unnervingly so.
Before he could take another step, a low, guttural growl reverberated from the shadows ahead.
Nathan froze mid-step, his popsicle halfway to his mouth. His shoulders slumped as he groaned.
"Can't I just enjoy this in peace?"
From the darkness emerged a hulking creature, its twisted form barely human. Black, tar-like substance dripped from its malformed limbs, and its glowing eyes fixed on Nathan with a primal hunger. It let out a deafening roar that echoed through the alley, rattling nearby trash cans.
Nathan sighed, still lazily sucking on his popsicle.
"You guys just can't take a day off, can you?"
The creature lunged forward, its massive claws swiping at him with wild abandon. Nathan sidestepped the attack effortlessly, the popsicle still clutched in his hand. As the beast stumbled past him, he twisted midair and delivered a powerful kick to the back of its head, sending it crashing into a wall.
The creature recovered quickly, shaking off the blow as it turned back to face him. It screeched, charging again with even more ferocity. Nathan, however, remained calm, his movements fluid and precise as he dodged each strike with minimal effort.
"Alright, you're starting to annoy me," he muttered.
As the creature lunged once more, Nathan caught its arm mid-swipe and used its momentum to flip it over onto the ground with a heavy thud. Spotting a jagged piece of metal debris nearby, he snatched it up and drove it straight into the creature's chest.
The beast let out a final, agonized howl before its body disintegrated into shimmering black ash, scattering into the air.
Nathan wiped his hands on his pants, letting out a satisfied huff.
"Glad that's over with."
A soft sob broke the silence, drawing his attention.
Turning toward the sound, he noticed a small girl, no older than eight, huddled behind a trash bin. She was trembling, her tear-streaked face pale as she stared at him with wide, frightened eyes.
Nathan crouched down, his voice soft but steady.
"Hey, are you okay?"
The girl didn't respond at first, her small frame shaking as she hugged her knees. Finally, in a broken whisper, she said,
"Mommy… mommy protected me from the monster. She told me to run, but it… it killed her."
Nathan's chest tightened slightly, though he kept his expression neutral. He wasn't great with emotional situations like this, but he couldn't just leave her like this.
Without a word, he held out his half-eaten popsicle to her.
"I know it's not much, but here," he said.
The girl hesitated before taking it with trembling hands.
"Th-thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
Before Nathan could say anything else, a man's frantic voice called out from the alley's entrance.
"Ruby! Ruby, where are you?"
The girl's head snapped up, and moments later, a man came rushing into view. His face was etched with panic, but it softened instantly when he saw her.
"Ruby!" he cried, scooping her into his arms.
The girl burst into fresh tears, burying her face in his chest.
"Daddy… I thought you were gone too!"
The man held her tightly, his own voice trembling.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'll never leave you again."
Nathan stepped back, giving them space. He turned away quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked toward the street.
"Wait!" the man called out.
Nathan paused but didn't look back.
"Thank you," the man said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude.
Nathan gave a small wave over his shoulder before disappearing into the bustling crowd. His day was far from over, but for now, he'd take the small victories where he could.
---
Nathan finally reached his apartment, a modest building at the edge of town. The faded paint and creaky steps spoke of age but also comfort—this place was his refuge from the chaos outside.
In his hand was a plastic bag filled with the groceries he'd picked up earlier. As he approached the entrance, he reached for his keys, but a voice called out from behind him.
"Mr. Gray!"
Nathan turned, his brows furrowing as he spotted a woman walking toward him. She stood out, dressed in sharp formal attire that looked more suited for a corporate office than the quiet outskirts of town. Her sleek black hair framed a stern face, and a pair of thin glasses rested on her nose. What caught his attention most, however, was the katana she carried—a weapon at odds with her otherwise professional appearance. It was sheathed, but the way she held it suggested she knew how to use it.
Nathan raised an eyebrow, shifting the bag in his hand.
"You again? Let me guess—you're selling something?" His tone carried equal parts sarcasm and genuine confusion as he tried to place her face.
The woman stopped a few feet away, her expression unwavering.
"My name is Emma Langston. I'm an Exorcist."
"An Exorcist?" Nathan repeated, his confusion deepening. "And what could you possibly want with me?"
Emma's gaze swept the street briefly before returning to him.
"It's better if we talk inside."
Nathan studied her for a moment, debating whether to humor her or send her on her way. Finally, he sighed and opened the door, motioning for her to follow.
Once inside, he led her to the living room, setting the grocery bag on the counter as he passed through the small kitchen. He grabbed a can of soda from the fridge and offered it to her, but Emma declined with a polite shake of her head.
Taking a seat across from her, Nathan leaned back and crossed his arms.
"Alright, spill. And before you start, how do you even know my name?"
Emma leaned forward, placing both hands on the coffee table between them.
"I know a lot about you, Mr. Gray."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Can we skip the formalities? Just Nathan is fine. You look older than me, anyway."
Emma ignored his comment, her tone steady.
"You've been living a quiet life, killing Tracies when no one's watching. Am I wrong?"
Nathan didn't flinch.
"Yeah, and?"
Her sharp eyes narrowed slightly.
"You're one of the few who can. Most people don't survive a bond with a Trace."
Nathan's relaxed demeanor faltered, his expression hardening.
"What do you mean?"
Emma adjusted her glasses before continuing.
"A Trace is a parasitic entity—a fragmented, malignant force that attaches to a host. It floods them with foreign memories and emotions from past lives, overwhelming them with rage, fear, or despair. If the host can't endure it, they break—mind, body, and soul. But the rare few who survive unlock something incredible: Arcana."
Nathan frowned.
"Arcana?"
"Arcana," she explained, "is a mystical energy that those who survive a Trace bond can harness. It's raw power, drawn from the parasitic connection, granting supernatural abilities. But it comes at a cost. The emotions tied to the Trace—rage, grief—don't just vanish. They can fuel your abilities or destroy you."
Nathan's mind raced, recalling the strange strength he'd felt during his last encounter with a Trace. He hadn't thought much of it then, chalking it up to adrenaline, but now her words gave it new meaning.
"So," he said cautiously, "what does this have to do with me?"
Emma slid a sleek business card across the table.
"I want you to join my team. We're Exorcists, dedicated to eliminating Tracies. I saw what you did today—you have potential, Nathan. You're not just a survivor; you're someone who can make a difference."
Nathan stared at the card for a long moment before leaning back in his chair.
"Sorry, but I'm going to have to pass. I'm not exactly hero material."
Emma's expression tightened.
"Oh, really? Then what was that in the alley—a fluke? Or is it just easier to act tough when no one's watching?"
Her words hit harder than Nathan expected, but he kept his face neutral.
"I don't owe anyone anything," he said flatly.
Emma leaned forward, her voice dropping.
"Nathan, stop pretending. Today you pretended like you entered that alley randomly, but the truth is that you exactly knew someone was in danger. You relate to that girl's pain, don't you? That's why you helped her."
Her words dragged him back to a memory he'd buried deep. A person, torn apart by a Trace years ago—their screams, the blood, the hollow silence that followed. The weight of their loss still hung over him like a shadow.
Emma's voice broke through his thoughts.
"You tell yourself you're a free spirit, someone who doesn't care. But the truth? You're terrified. You don't want to watch someone else suffer the way you did."
Nathan's jaw tightened, his silence speaking volumes.
Emma stood, adjusting her top.
"I've said what I needed to. Call me if you change your mind."
She left without another word, the door clicking shut behind her. Nathan remained seated, her words echoing in his mind. He stared at the business card she'd left, then at the ceiling, his thoughts a turbulent storm.
"Maybe I should think about it," he muttered, trying to convince himself. But the doubts crept in, unrelenting.
As he got up to clear his head, his eyes fell on the katana Emma had carried—it lay beside the couch, glowing faintly with a soft purple hue.
She'd left it behind.
---
Elsewhere, Emma strolled along a quiet street, cigarette in hand and her phone pressed against her ear. The glow of streetlights reflected faintly off the damp pavement, adding an eerie ambiance to the chilly evening.
"Yeah, he refused to join," she said, her tone laced with frustration, smoke curling upward as she exhaled.
"Really?" came the voice on the other end, feminine but firm. "That's too bad. Another member would've been helpful, but I guess it's just the two of us."
Emma rubbed her temple, her free hand sliding into her coat pocket. "I've got a feeling he'll change his mind. He's stubborn, but he's not stupid. For now, I'll look for someone else."
"Well, now's the time to check my recommendations, don't you think?" the voice suggested, a hint of amusement threading through the words.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll think about it," Emma replied dismissively. "Gotta go. Later."
"Bye," the voice replied before the line went dead.
Emma slipped the phone into her pocket, her mind wandering as she flicked the ash from her cigarette.
Then—
A thunderous roar shattered the night.
The ground quaked beneath her feet, sending tremors through the pavement.
A few blocks away, the dim glow of streetlights flickered—then erupted into chaos.
Screams tore through the air.
People ran, their faces twisted in terror, scattering like insects beneath a sudden floodlight.
"What the hell is going on now?" Emma muttered.
She dropped the cigarette, stamping it out with the heel of her boot before sprinting toward the carnage. Adrenaline slammed into her veins, her heartbeat pounding against her ribs.
She turned a corner—
And her breath caught in her throat.
Towering before her was a monstrous Trace, a grotesque abomination of nightmare and rage.
Its tar-like flesh pulsed, bubbling and oozing with an unnatural stench that made her stomach lurch. The air itself rippled around the creature, a sickening aura of corrupted energy distorting reality.
Jagged spines jutted from its malformed back, dripping with viscous, black ichor that sizzled against the concrete. Its glowing crimson eyes burned with an insatiable hunger, locked onto Emma with predatory intent.
The air split open as it released a thunderous roar, a sound so unholy it sent shockwaves rippling outward. Windows shattered.
Then it charged.
Emma's hand snapped to her side, reaching for her katana—
Nothing.
Cold, paralyzing dread gripped her spine.
Where is my sword?
She barely had time to react before the creature's claw came down, razor-sharp talons slicing through the pavement like wet paper.
Emma dived to the side, the force of the impact sending a blast of debris whipping past her. A jagged shard of concrete sliced into her cheek, warm blood spattering across her sleeve.
A scream.
Her eyes darted up just in time to see the Trace snatch a woman off the ground, its claws tightening around her body.
Ribs cracked.
Blood spilled from her mouth.
"No!"
Emma was moving before she realized it, blurring forward with a burst of inhuman speed. She leapt—her arms latching onto the woman, ripping her from the creature's grip.
The two of them hit the pavement hard.
Pain flared through Emma's shoulder as she skidded, the woman's terrified sobs muffled against her chest.
"You okay, ma'am?" Emma asked, her voice steady despite the chaos.
"WATCH OUT!"
Emma barely turned before the fist connected.
Bone crunched.
She was sent hurtling through the air, her body twisting like a ragdoll before she slammed into a concrete wall.
Agony exploded in her ribs.
Her lungs emptied, the impact forcing the breath from her body as she collapsed onto the ground. Blood dripped down her forehead, warm and thick.
Move.
Her vision swam.
MOVE, DAMN IT.
Through the haze, she saw the Trace approaching, its twisted, gaping maw splitting open, rows of serrated fangs dripping with caustic fluid.
It was going to consume her whole.
Then—
A pillar of green flames erupted from the darkness.
The firestorm collided with the creature's head, the impact blasting it backward.
A familiar voice cut through her haze.
"You alright?"
She blinked, her vision focusing on the person's face. Relief washed over her.
"Nathan? What are you doing here?"
He helped her stand, steadying her with one arm.
"I was looking for you. Then I heard about a Trace tearing up the area. Oh, and you left this behind."
He handed her the glowing purple katana, and a surge of energy coursed through her as she took it. Her fingers tightened around the hilt, the familiar weight grounding her.
"Thanks," she muttered, shaking off the lingering haze.
The Trace roared again, its flesh still smoldering from Nathan's flames.
And then, the ground split open.
From the cracks, feral Traces crawled into the world—lesser abominations, their bodies distorted, skeletal limbs jerking unnaturally as they scrambled forward with gnashing teeth.
Nathan's eyes narrowed. "Think you can fight?"
Emma wiped the blood from her mouth, smirking despite the pain.
"I've got the small fry. Big guy's all yours."
"Alright."
Nathan stepped forward.
The air distorted around him.
The emerald flames in his palms darkened, their glow intensifying as the heat warped the surrounding pavement.
The giant Trace lunged, its claws splitting the air with a sound like tearing metal.
Nathan vanished.
A split-second later, he reappeared above it, flames surging from his body.
With a feral snarl, he dove downward, his boot slamming into the creature's skull—
The impact cratered the ground beneath them.
Molten tar splattered across the street.
Nathan landed, his eyes burning brighter.
Emma was already moving, her katana slicing through the first feral Trace, its body ripping apart in a shower of blackened flesh and gore.
The creatures lunged at her in a frenzy—
But she was faster.
A precise slash separated one's head from its shoulders.
Another thrust impaled one through the gut, her blade twisting before she ripped it free, its body collapsing in a heap.
Blood painted the pavement.
Nathan exhaled, his voice quiet but resolute.
"All this time, I thought I could escape the living hell inside of me. And this might be my chance. The darkness never left me. And now, I won't run anymore."
The flames surged.
"Finally. MY FATE CHANGES TODAY."
The Trace lunged—
Nathan's fists ignited.
"INCENDIA!"
He punched the Trace and a tidal wave of flames devoured the Trace in a maelstrom of destruction.
Its screams were lost beneath the roar of the inferno.
When the flames vanished, nothing remained but ash.
Nathan turned to Emma.
"Impressive swordsmanship, Miss Langston."
Emma wiped blood from her cheek, smirking. "And a hell of a finisher, Mr. Gray."
For a moment, silence settled.
Then—
"Hey," Nathan murmured. "About your offer… I'm in. I'll join you."
Emma's smirk widened.
"Welcome to the Portville Exorcist team, Nathan Gray."
To Be Continued...