The street was silent again.
The exorcist stood in the soft light of a flickering streetlamp, chain weapon slowly retracting with a metallic clink.
Behind him, the boy he had just killed collapsed, unmoving.
A single final breath escaped from Akira's lips.
And then… nothing.
"Shinsei," the exorcist muttered under his breath, the name like ash on his tongue. "It's over."
"What...the hell..is a Shinsei?"
Akira's final words were a question and his final thoughts were:
'If there is a god,please...make my life a bit better next time,okay?'
And with that...Akira was dead.
And the killer turned to leave.
But then—
My body, still smoke and shadow, slipped down to where Akira lay bleeding.
And my heart—my demonic, black, cursed heart—froze.
His soul… was flickering.
A tiny flame, guttering in the endless void. A candle in the abyss.
It was fading.
No.
No no no—
I didn't think. Didn't weigh morality. Didn't consider consequences. I acted on instinct—the instinct to protect what was mine.
I lunged forward and—
Possessed him.
Darkness met light.
Shadow crashed against the soul.
Inside that void of Akira's consciousness, where light was nearly extinguished, I found it—his will. Weak, but still alive. A small flame in the dark. A beacon of light...and my darkness would protect it.
Clung to it.
Sheltered it.
I gave him all of my strength, every ounce of it, not to awaken him—
But to keep him from disappearing.
Outside, the exorcist walked forward calmly, unaware of the storm behind him.
Then—
Behind him, the boy stood up.
Silent.
Slow.
Unnatural.
The exorcist stopped walking. His chain rattled, curling at his feet.
Then he smiled.
"...Hah. So you're not done?"
He spun and flicked his wrist. The chain leapt forward with a howl, its blade slashing through the air.
A nearby shop window exploded as the chain passed, cutting it in two.
But—
The boy caught it.
His hand closed around the blade, flesh splitting open. Blood trickled down from his palm.
Yet he didn't flinch.
He didn't shake.
He raised his head.
And eyes that once held only weariness now glowed faintly with demonic heat.
"You don't know who I am, huh?" the boy said.
His voice was his, and yet not. The tone was different because of my influence.
"Well…"
He took a step to the right, dragging the blade still clutched in his palm.
And paused.
There. A broken shop beside him—a small local sporting goods store. Its shelves were overturned, glass scattered from the chain's previous strike.
Tennis rackets, baseball gloves… and—
He saw it.
A wooden kendo training sword, its hilt cracked, but still intact.
The boy walked to it slowly.
The exorcist's eyes narrowed.
He growled. "You think you can fight me with a toy?!"
The chain flew again, a blur of steel.
The boy didn't dodge.
He knelt.
The chain sailed past, missing by inches.
"Stop dodging!" the man screamed in frustration.
The boy turned his head, smiling faintly.
"Oh... I wasn't dodging."
His hand reached out, and he lifted the wooden blade.
Dust fell from it.
I felt it.
Even in this makeshift, splintered weapon—I felt the echo of what I once was.
A demon… born from sword and blood. A killer forged in war. A cursed spirit who cleaved dragons and pierced gods.
And now—
We were one.
The boy stood. Held the kendo sword in his left hand.
Blood dripped from his right.
And as the wind howled down the street, scattering crows and leaves—
Akira smiled.
"I was somewhat of a sword demon, after all."
I lunged.
The moment the chain screamed through the air, I surged forward with demon-born speed.
The exorcist swung wide, letting his weapon coil like a viper. Its steel links cut the wind, aiming for my neck.
But I was faster.
I ducked beneath the blades with uncanny precision, my knees bending, spine twisting—not as a boy—but as something else. Something older.
And in that fleeting instant, I poured my demonic energy into the battered kendo sword. A hiss rang out. A faint pulse of red-black light shimmered along the wood.
The fake blade became something real—not in the body, but in will.
The chains wrapped around the sword with a heavy clank.
Perfect.
I grinned.
Then with one powerful tug, I yanked the entire weapon—and the man at the other end—toward me.
He came flying like a ragdoll pulled by fate.
But I was already moving.
My left leg rose in a calm, deliberate motion, and the moment he entered striking range—
I leapt.
My right leg shot out with all the force of a cannon, colliding with his chest mid-air.
The impact shook the night.
A sonic boom echoed down the block as the exorcist was sent flying across the street, crashing into the concrete like a meteor.
The sidewalk ruptured beneath him.
Stone cracked. Pavement sank inward.
A crater formed around his body, rubble flying in every direction.
Silence followed. Dust floated in the air like ash.
I stood still, holding the wooden sword down at my side, and began to walk toward him.
Step by step.
One foot in front of the other.
The dust parted as if afraid.
The man coughed, blood staining his lips.
He struggled to rise, but only made it to his knees.
I approached slowly, my eyes cold and steady.
"You should know who I am…" I muttered.
He growled, and with his trembling arm, he spun the chain again.
A last-ditch strike.
It flew at me with desperation and malice.
But this time—
I caught it.
My fingers closed around the links, sparks flying from the friction between demon energy and holy steel.
And I didn't stop there.
I pulled.
The man came flying again—but slower, weaker.
This time, I didn't kick.
I pulled him all the way in until we were face-to-face.
His nose nearly touched mine.
My eyes locked with his.
Eyes of shadow. Eyes of crows. Eyes that had seen empires fall and gods weep.
And I spoke.
"I am the Sword Demon."
He froze.
"I am the King of Crows."
The air turned heavy.
"I am the Hatred of Warriors Incarnate."
Then, with no wind-up at all, I rammed the butt of my kendo sword into his gut.
Thud.
The breath left him in a ragged gasp. His body crumpled backward, but I held him upright with the chain still wrapped around my arm.
I stared.
Cold. Still.
"Now…" I said, voice low and quiet.
"You called Akira a Shinsei."
I leaned in.
"…Why is that?"