The neon lights flickered, casting an eerie glow over the rain-slick streets of Shinjuku, Tokyo. The night smelled of damp asphalt and old cigarettes, the usual scent of a city that never truly slept. But tonight, something else lingered in the air—the thick, metallic stench of blood.
A little girl, no older than ten, clutched a small bag of groceries as she hurried down the alleyway. Her school uniform was slightly wrinkled, her shoes splashing through puddles as she walked. Her mother had sent her to the store, telling her to come straight home. But as she turned a corner, she stopped.
A wet, sickening squelch echoed through the alley.
Her eyes widened.
Just ahead, a dark, hulking figure crouched over a man's motionless body, long, clawed fingers digging into flesh. Blood pooled beneath them, seeping into the cracks of the pavement. Another figure—this one even more grotesque—loomed over a second victim, its jaw unhinged like a snake's as it tore into human flesh with razor-sharp teeth.
The girl's breath hitched. She took a step back, but her foot crunched over broken glass.
The creatures stopped.
Slowly, unnaturally, their heads snapped in her direction.
Their eyes were black pits, soulless and empty. And then—
A low, gurgling growl.
The nearest demon lurched forward.
The girl's groceries spilled onto the pavement as she stumbled back, her heartbeat slamming against her ribs. Her legs locked in terror, unable to move, unable to breathe.
The creature lunged.
And then—
A silver blur cut through the darkness.
A knife glinted under the moonlight, slicing through the air with effortless precision. Before the demon could react, the blade slammed into its skull, embedding deep into its flesh.
The girl barely had time to process what happened before the demon convulsed violently, its body beginning to disintegrate. Ash-like dust scattered into the wind, vanishing as if it had never existed.
A man stepped out from the shadows of the alley.
Tall. Unnaturally perfect.
His platinum blonde hair shimmered under the streetlights, his features carved like a fallen god—sharp, cold, and merciless. But it was his eyes that stood out the most—silver, piercing, inhuman.
A cigarette rested between his lips, the ember burning faintly as he took a slow drag. He exhaled, the smoke curling lazily in the air.
The second demon shrieked and rushed toward him.
Lucian didn't even flinch.
With an almost bored expression, he stepped forward, twisting his blade from the first demon's skull and slicing clean through the second monster's throat.
The creature choked, its body spasming before it, too, crumbled into dust.
Silence.
The little girl stared, her body frozen in fear and awe.
Lucian flicked his cigarette away, watching the embers fizzle out on the wet pavement. Then, without looking at her, he muttered, "Go home, kid."
The girl hesitated before sprinting away, her small figure disappearing into the darkened streets.
Lucian exhaled, tilting his head up toward the sky.
Another night, another hunt.
The cathedral's stone walls seemed to tremble under the weight of something unholy. The scent of burning incense barely masked the stench of sulfur and rotting flesh that clung to the air.
At the center of the grand chamber, a woman lay strapped to an old wooden chair, her body writhing, her eyes rolling back into her skull. Deep, black veins slithered beneath her skin like parasites.
She let out a piercing, guttural shriek, her body arching unnaturally, her restraints creaking under the strain.
Zik stood before her, calm, unwavering.
His silver cross gleamed under the flickering candlelight, dangling from his gloved hand. He pressed the edge of it against the woman's burning hot forehead.
"In the name of Christ, I command you—" His voice was firm, absolute. "Reveal yourself, demon. Speak your name."
The woman's head snapped forward unnaturally, her lips splitting into a horrific, jagged grin.
"Names have power, priest." The voice that slithered from her throat was not her own. It was distorted, layered, as if several voices spoke at once.
Zik's gaze remained steely, unshaken. He reached into his cassock, pulling out a small vial of holy water. With slow precision, he uncorked it and let a single drop fall onto the woman's forearm.
The reaction was instant.
Her skin sizzled, smoke curling up as if acid had been poured over her flesh. The demon howled in agony, its twisted laughter morphing into shrieks of rage.
"I said, your name."
The woman's body convulsed violently, her head slamming back against the chair. Her lips trembled before finally parting:
"I am Oris… the one who devours faith."
Zik's grip on the cross tightened.
"Then, Oris, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I cast you out. You are bound by His will, and you shall not remain in this vessel!"
He lifted the vial and poured a stream of holy water down her forehead.
The demon screamed, its voice distorting, warping between male and female tones, before sizzling smoke erupted from her skin.
The candles in the cathedral flickered violently, their flames elongating unnaturally, casting shadows that moved on their own. The air crackled, a feeling of something ancient, something furious stirring in the depths of the church.
The woman's eyes snapped open, glowing pure black. Her lips curled into a venomous sneer.
"You cannot save them all, priest." Oris hissed. "Your faith will shatter. You will fall, just like the rest."
Zik didn't hesitate.
He pressed the cross firmly against her chest, leaning closer, his voice low and commanding:
"Then watch me."
He began chanting, his words a relentless force, an unbreakable chain wrapped around the demon's very existence.
The woman convulsed violently, her mouth stretching open in an unnatural, silent scream—
Until—
A final, ear-splitting howl tore through the cathedral.
And then—silence.
The woman's body slumped forward, her breath ragged, sweat beading on her forehead.
The black veins faded. Her body trembled as she sagged in relief, her human consciousness returning.
Zik straightened, tucking the cross back under his cassock.
Behind him, Father Gabriel adjusted his glasses, exhaling softly.
"Another success," he murmured. He looked at Zik with something between admiration and deep concern. "You're truly gifted. But there's something else…"
Zik turned toward him, shaking holy water off his glove.
"Something else?"
The old priest hesitated, then reached into his robes, pulling out a small black phone.
"Watch this."
He tapped the screen, and a grainy video flickered to life.
The footage was shaky, filmed by a terrified hand. A dark alleyway—a blurred figure—a man with silver eyes and platinum hair.
Lucian.
He stood before a hulking, deformed creature, his knife glinting under the moonlight.
Then, with a swift, brutal strike, he cut the demon down. It screamed before turning to dust.
The camera shook violently, as if the person holding it had tried to run.
And then—Lucian turned.
His gaze locked directly onto the camera.
His silver eyes glowed, his expression unreadable, almost… amused.
And then—the footage cut to black.
Father Gabriel exhaled heavily, his old hands tightening around the phone as the screen faded to black.
"Zik… this is not a normal exorcist case. We need you in Kyoto."
Zik's gaze lingered on the darkened screen, his mind replaying the image of platinum hair, silver eyes, and a blade gleaming under the moonlight.
"…Who is he?"
The older priest sighed, adjusting his glasses.
"We don't know. Some say he's a hunter, a man who drags demons back to hell. But his ways are… brutal." He hesitated before adding, "And the church—it wants a change. Kyoto doesn't just need a hunter, Zik. It needs a man of unwavering faith."
A slow, unsettling weight settled in Zik's chest.
He was used to fighting evil with scripture and steel, with faith as his weapon. But something about this… something about Lucian…
It felt like stepping into the unknown.
Yet, he clenched his jaw, straightened his cassock, and met Father Gabriel's gaze with quiet resolve.
"When do I leave?"