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't 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. "Yeah, I survived."
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. You relate to that girl's pain, don't you? That's why you helped her, when you entered the alley, you pretended like you didn't see the girl, you pretended to mind you business."
Her words dragged him back to a memory he'd buried deep. He saw flashes of his family, 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.
"I promised myself a quiet life," 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. Before she could take another step, a thunderous roar shattered the calm, the vibrations reverberating through the ground beneath her boots. Her head snapped toward the source—a few blocks away, the flickering of streetlights was drowned out by bursts of chaos. The air filled with panicked screams, and people scattered in every direction.
"What the hell is going on now?" she muttered, dropping the cigarette and stamping it out as she sprinted toward the commotion, adrenaline surging through her veins.
Turning a corner, she skidded to a stop, her heart dropping into her stomach. Towering before her was a monstrous Trace—a grotesque manifestation of residual energy twisted into a nightmare. The creature stood three stories tall, its tar-like skin bubbling and hissing with a toxic stench. Jagged spikes jutted out from its back, glinting under the dim streetlights. Its glowing red eyes burned with malice, locking onto her as it unleashed a guttural roar that shook the very air.
Emma's hand instinctively reached for her katana, only to grab at empty air. Her stomach sank.
Where is my sword?
The Trace's attention snapped to her, and with a chilling snarl, it charged. Emma dove to the side, narrowly avoiding its massive claw as it tore through the pavement, sending shards of concrete flying. Her breath came in sharp gasps as she rolled to her feet, her mind racing.
Nearby, a woman screamed as the Trace snatched her up, its claws wrapping around her like a vise.
"No!" Emma shouted, her legs propelling her forward before she could think twice. Surging with inhuman speed, she leapt, her hands seizing the woman and yanking her free of the creature's grip. She landed heavily, the force jarring her knees, but she quickly steadied the trembling woman. "You okay, ma'am?" she asked, her voice remarkably steady.
"WATCH OUT!" the woman screamed.
Emma turned just in time to see the Trace's massive fist barreling toward her. It struck like a freight train, sending her flying into a nearby wall. The impact knocked the wind out of her as rubble crumbled around her, sharp pain radiating through her body.
Struggling to her feet, Emma winced, blood trickling down her temple. Her mind raced. I can't take this thing down without my sword. She glanced at the creature, which was already turning its gaze back to her. "I'll have to buy time... someone will show up."
The Trace lunged again, its claws slashing through the air with deadly precision. Emma ducked and weaved, each movement draining her stamina. She was fast, but the beast was relentless. Mid-dodge, it caught her, hurling her through the window of a small shop. Glass shattered as she tumbled to the ground, her body battered and bruised.
For a moment, she lay there, her vision swimming. The image of her father flickered in her mind, his reassuring presence a distant memory. "Dad ... I'm sorry," she whispered, her fingers curling weakly against the floor.
The Trace loomed over her, its claws raised for the final strike. Emma braced herself, gritting her teeth. Just as the creature struck, a burst of green flames slammed into its jaw, forcing it back with a deafening roar.
Dazed, Emma felt herself being lifted before she hit the ground. 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, and her gaze darted to the ground as smaller, feral Traces that looks like the one Nathan beat earlier began clawing their way up from the pavement.
Nathan's eyes narrowed. "Think you can fight?"
Emma smirked despite the situation. "I've got the small fry. Big guy's all yours."
"Alright."
Nathan stepped forward, the emerald flames at his fingertips flaring brighter with every step. The air around him crackled with energy, shimmering like heatwaves on a scorching day. The towering Trace roared, its tar-like skin rippling as it charged, each thunderous step shaking the ground. But Nathan didn't flinch—his gaze locked on the creature, his expression a mix of focus and defiance.
As the beast lunged, its massive claw arcing toward him with destructive force, Nathan leapt high into the air. The flames surged beneath him, propelling him like a rocket. He twisted mid-air, his body silhouetted against the glowing fire, and delivered a devastating flaming kick to the Trace's jagged forehead. The impact unleashed a fiery shockwave, sending the creature staggering back as green flames clung to its bubbling skin, searing into its form.
Nathan landed gracefully, his boots skidding across the cracked pavement as his flames coiled around his arms like living serpents.
Meanwhile, Emma was a blur of motion among the smaller Traces. Her katana burned with violet light, leaving streaks of luminous energy in the air with every precise slash. She moved with deadly elegance, her strikes decimating the feral creatures before they could even react. One lunged at her from behind, but without turning, she flipped the blade backward, impaling it in a single fluid motion.
The towering Trace snarled in rage, lunging at Nathan again, this time swinging both of its massive claws in a feral frenzy. Nathan dodged with lightning reflexes, weaving between the strikes with ease. Each time the creature attacked, he retaliated with bursts of fire that exploded on impact, carving molten gashes into its tar-like body.
As the Trace roared, Nathan stepped back, his expression shifting to one of cold determination. His voice dropped to a murmur, barely audible above the chaos. "All this time, I thought I could escape the darkness. I thought I could rebuild my life, leave it all behind. But I was wrong. The darkness never left me. And now, I won't run anymore. This is my fight, MY FATE CHANGES TODAY."
The flames on his hands surged, growing brighter, fiercer. The air around him grew oppressively hot, the green fire shifting to an intense, otherworldly emerald hue. The ground beneath him cracked and splintered as his Arcana reached its peak.
The Trace lunged one last time, its claws tearing through the air. But Nathan stood his ground, fists clenched and eyes blazing. "INCENDIA!" he roared, slamming both fists into the Trace's chest.
A colossal wave of fire erupted outward in a spiraling vortex, engulfing the Trace in an inferno so intense that the night sky was bathed in emerald light. The flames twisted and roared like a living beast, reducing everything they touched to ash. The towering Trace writhed and bellowed, its form disintegrating under the relentless heat until, finally, it was no more. The streetlights nearby melted into warped puddles, and the asphalt glowed molten red beneath the overwhelming power.
As the firestorm subsided, Nathan stood in the center of the destruction, steam rising from the scorched earth around him. His chest heaved, the glow of his flames dimming but not extinguished. He glanced over his shoulder at Emma, who had just finished slicing through the last of the smaller Traces. Her katana hung loosely in her hand, its violet glow fading as she leaned against a nearby wall, catching her breath.
Emma leaned against a wall, exhausted but alive. Nathan approached her, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets despite the destruction around him.
"Impressive swordsmanship, Miss Langston," he said with a smirk.
"And a hell of a finisher, Mr. Gray," she replied, managing a faint grin. Her body swayed, and Nathan caught her before she could fall.
For a moment, silence settled between them, broken only by the distant wail of sirens.
"Hey," Nathan said quietly, his voice softer now. "About your offer… I'll join you."
Emma looked up at him, her expression softening. "Well, it's about damn time." Her smirk returned, tired but triumphant. "Welcome to the Portville Exorcist team, Nathan Gray."
TO BE CONTINUED
---
Character Sheet:
Name: Nathan Gray
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Height: 5'7" (170 cm)
Build: Lean but muscular
Hair: Black, slightly messy
Eyes: Emerald green with faint flickers of flame when using powers
Occupation: Former loner, now an Exorcist-in-training
Personality:
Core Traits: Determined, protective, and introspective.
Strengths: Quick thinker in battle, highly adaptive.
Weaknesses: Struggles with guilt over his past, hesitant to trust others fully.
Motivations: To protect others from the pain he endured and reclaim control over his fate.