Two demons lunged at me, their clawed feet pressing into the rotten grass. The ground squelched beneath them, blackened by old blood and corrupted soil. Above us, the red sky pulsed like a wounded heart.
And the smell—
God, the smell.
Blood. Burning flesh. Wet decay.
My favorite.
My katana slid horizontally in a clean arc. The blade sang—hssshk—and the demons' torsos separated from their hips as if they'd been held together by string. Hot blood sprayed across my face, sizzling when it touched the divine metal.
The bodies twitched at my feet. Steam rose off the grass.
Then the ground shook.
A bigger demon stepped out from behind a collapsed building—eight feet tall, muscles stacked over muscles like a grotesque sculpture. It held a massive iron mace, larger than my entire body. Every breath it exhaled came out in thick clouds of sulfur.
A grin stretched across my face before I realized it.
Yes.A fight.Finally.
I exhaled once, steadying myself.
The dirt around my boots vibrated.
I lunged forward.
My blade sliced clean through its right leg. The demon screamed, the cut opening in a perfect, wet line. Its severed foot landed in front of me with a dull thud, the tendon hanging like torn ribbon. Blood gushed in thick, black streams across the dirt.
The demon roared, grabbing at the stump.
Good. Scream more.
I pivoted behind it. The demon tried to twist its hips, tried to turn around—to register what was happening.
Too slow.
My katana entered the nape of its neck like a hot knife through butter.
One smooth swing.
One clean decapitation.
Its head rolled forward, eyes still open, mouth frozen mid-roar.
A hot feeling spread through my chest, warm and electric. The way the stump of its neck gushed blood—like a fountain erupting—sent pleasure through my spine.
My breath trembled.
Pleasure.Wrong.
I know it's wrong.But the contract doesn't care what I know.
Before the demon's body collapsed into the dirt, the hum of my katana's divine core filled the air, a low metallic vibration that buzzed against my palm.
Then—silence.
Silence always comes after slaughter.
Until it didn't.
Footsteps approached behind me. Fast. Hesitant. Stopping abruptly.
A sharp gasp followed.
They finally saw the mess I created.
"Mu–Murase… S-Status report…?" A soldier's voice cracked, trembling.
I turned my head slightly. "What status report? Everything's dead."
He swallowed loud enough for even me to hear.
Reinforcements always arrived late.As usual.
Cowards.They always waited for someone—me—to go in first. Someone to act as the sacrificial lamb.
I wiped the blood from my cheek with the back of my glove. Crimson flakes dried on the knuckles. I flicked my wrist, sending droplets off my katana.
Before I could walk past the soldiers, my wrist comm buzzed.
S.D.H Command:"Kaien Murase. Report to Cathedral Base. Immediate."
I sighed.
"Great… more trouble. More assignments. Probably both."
I sheathed my katana and stepped out of the Dead Zone, the corrupted earth crunching under my boots. The treeline thinned, giving way to the safe perimeter.
The massive dome structure loomed in the distance—Cathedral Base. Reinforced white walls, steel gates, light posts towering like execution pillars.
I raised a hand, signaling the watchtowers.
The gates opened with a heavy metallic rumble.
I walked inside, hands behind my head.
My stomach growled once. Loud.
"…I'm tired. And hungry," I muttered under my breath.
I hadn't eaten in days. They kept sending me deeper and deeper into Dead Zones. "Because Murase can handle it." "Because Murase doesn't die." "Because Murase doesn't complain."
Bullshit.
I stepped through the main path.
A line of soldiers in white uniforms saluted as I passed. Their eyes lingered—on my glove, on the blood, on the katana.
Some whispered.
Some stared openly.
I ignored them. I've been stared at since I was fifteen.
I entered the central building and walked into the conference room. Lights were dim, the room lit only by a soft blue holographic hue. A circular table displayed digital projections of increasing demon attacks, Dead Zone expansions, and casualty charts.
One man sat at the far end of the table.
Assistant Priest and General Kitamura.
His hair was gray, trimmed short. His beard neatly shaped. His stern face softened only slightly when he saw me.
I sat in the nearest chair, crossing my legs casually.
"Murase," Kitamura said, voice steady. "Hope all is well."
I didn't answer. Just stared.
He cleared his throat and tapped the hologram. "You've been a powerful asset in destroying feral demons… and soldier-class demons in multiple Dead Zones."
He paused. His eyes lingered on my expression, searching for something.
"However," he continued, "your missions have been solo for… years now. And your performance, while impressive, raises certain concerns among the Church Command."
My jaw twitched.
Concerns.Of course.
I leaned back slightly. "Get to the point."
Kitamura sighed, rubbing his fingers across the bridge of his nose. "I want to give you a team."
I blinked once.
A team?
"You're assigning me babysitting duty?" I asked.
"A unit," he corrected. "A special one. Newly formed. Young. Promising."
I stared at him, waiting. No reaction.
He continued, "The Church believes your skill is better utilized guiding others. And frankly—your destructive ability is wasted on solo missions."
I didn't speak.
Inside, my chest tightened—annoyance, irritation, something hot crawling under my ribs.
Or corruption. Sometimes it's the same thing.
Kitamura pushed another screen toward me.
Unit GodsendClassification: S.D.H Special Demon Hunters
Four profiles appeared.
Four faces.
A blonde girl with cold eyes.A silver-haired girl holding a massive hammer.A green-haired girl with glasses and eyebags.A red-haired pretty boy smirking like he owned the world.
I felt my eye twitch.
Kitamura continued, "You will meet them tomorrow at 0600. Train them. Guide them. Take them into the Dead Zones. They have potential."
I stared at the screen longer than I meant to.
A team.
A headache.
A weakness.
I exhaled through my nose. "I work alone."
"Not anymore." Kitamura's voice sharpened. "These are your orders from the Cathedral. You don't have a choice."
I gripped my knee gently, keeping my fingers from tightening into a fist. The pleasure from the earlier fight still lingered in my veins, whispering its own answers.
"You're dismissed," Kitamura said. "And Murase… try not to scare them on the first day."
I stood up.
No promises.
As I turned away, Kitamura added, "Your sister stopped by earlier. She left you food."
I froze for two seconds.Enough for him to notice.
Then I walked out of the room.
The hallway was quiet, polished, cold. My boots left faint echoes behind me.
A team.Babysitting duty.Orders I couldn't refuse.
And somewhere in the back of my skull, the demon inside me stretched lazily, whispering amusement.
"More blood, Kaien. A team won't stop that."
I ignored it.
I walked toward the dorm wing to find the food Mio left me.
My stomach growled again.
"…Finally," I muttered.
Another day.Another assignment.Another mess waiting to happen.
But tomorrow?
Tomorrow I meet Unit Godsend.
And if they slow me down—
Well.
Dead Zones have a way of cleaning themselves.