Sumire Akashi was drenched in a cold sweat, having narrowly cheated death.
She had suffered the humiliation of her legs giving out before the Demon, and on top of that, had even wet herself a little.
Her mind was a jumble of fear, shock, frustration, and sha.
Oh my gosh… If he’d been even a second later, my head… it would’ve been torn right off… That was so scary…!
W-wait a minute… did I just… Aaaah!
She had co to supervise the workers clearing rubble from the underground passage when a Demon suddenly burst through the debris from the other side. A Category 3 Demon, no less.
It was less than ten ters away, and her only weapon was a handgun.
Even for Exorcists serving the Akachi Clan directly, this was a dire situation. In fact, it was practically checkmate.
An Exorcist needs to be fully equipped and, more importantly, have the right mindset—the readiness to fight. Only then can they face a Demon.
A surprise attack is a devastatingly effective weapon.
Utterly panicked, her heart hamring against her ribs, Sumire struggled to regain a sliver of composure and assess the situation.
One person was dead, their body torn apart. The rest were all seriously injured.
Besides herself, only one other Exorcist seed capable of fighting. So, was he the one who had saved her in her mont of peril?
Wait, what? His legs have given out, too… Huh? Then who saved ?
Her gaze fell upon a man confronting the four-ard Demon.
He stood about six-foot-three, with a muscular build, black hair, and black eyes.
His mouth was set in a perpetually displeased line. He was dressed in a formal but nondescript black jacket and shirt.
Mr. Akamuro?!
Her savior had arrived. Sumire Akashi’s heart leaped.
She knew of him. This was the magicless commoner, the naless hero who had carried out the Night of Retribution.
But she had never actually seen Ikaku Akamuro perform an Exorcism.
She didn’t doubt the rumors of his incredible strength, but she had no idea what that strength actually looked like. He was, after all, just an ordinary man with no mana.
A seed of anxiety sprouted alongside her hope.
C-can you really do this, Mr. Akamuro? That looks like a Category 3 Demon… Can I really count on you?
anwhile, Ikaku simply breathed. His massive lungs, forged in the fires of hell, compressed the air.
He felt his own calm, even in the face of a Category 3 Demon.
Maybe it’s because he wasn’t crushed by a hotel this ti. Or maybe he was just getting used to this.
A man's first real battle makes him tense. Facing a new kind of enemy makes him cautious. An injury makes him timid, painfully aware of his disadvantage.
All of it disrupts control, draining focus and wasting precious ntal effort.
But today, Ikaku was untroubled by any such waste.
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