Unorthodox moves. Inhuman speed. After watching the British Mage work, the three of us just stand there, stunned.
“What the hell was that? Is that girl even human? Heheh…”
“She’s an Inspector from the Church. Whole different league.”
The contract Exorcists exhale as one, tension finally breaking.
Then a shadow explodes from the racks.
Possession-Type Demon. Behind the cloudy eyes, you can still see the Exorcist it used to be. What’s left of him, anyway.
It lunges. Claws swipe at a man’s face.
His head splits like a lon. Blood, brain, teeth, eyeballs—scatters everywhere.
Fuji takes the full spray. The corpse collapses against him. He stumbles.
More claws co for him.
“Ahhhh! Stop it!”
Fuji’s scream cuts through the warehouse.
I fire. Two rounds. Three. Close the gap fast.
No sniper fire to dodge anymore—I can move.
The bullets won’t kill it, but they’ll ss with its balance. rcury rounds rattle its skull. Three to the face.
It staggers.
That’s my opening.
I dive in and slam it with my shoulder. Full bodyweight. Back driving through the blow.
Eightfold Soulfist: Mountain Ram.
No finesse. Just raw mass and a shifting center of gravity.
It’s not precise, but it gets things moving. Sends things flying.
The Demon crashes backward down the main aisle.
It scrambles to rise—I don’t let it.
Another volley to the torso keeps it flat.
I step in. Compact motion. Seismic Kick.
I drive my heel into the center of its chest.
The floor ruptures. Cracks spider out in all directions.
My leg sinks halfway into the concrete.
“Hah. Overdid it.”
Looks like I stomped through its chest and cratered the floor.
“ow!?”
“My apologies, Milady. I stomped a little too hard.”
Lady Ayano’s fur bristles like static. Her pupils are dinner plates.
I give her a few calming strokes while she vibrates with shock.
Seismic Kick isbothabasic drill and secret weapon. Every bit of Force Release hinges on that stomp.
Since I was ten, I’ve thrown down ten thousand Seismic Kicks a day. Before that, I just stomped till I blacked out.
Had to scale back eventually. I couldn’t train anything else.
Ten years now. Every single day. And every day, the weight behind each stomp grew—more skill, more muscle.
Eventually, the dojo floor couldn’t take it. Then the yard. Then concrete.
Sowhere along the line, I learned to hold back. Might’ve been the scoldings. Might’ve been martial instinct.
Stomp too hard, your foot gets stuck. And stuck ans dead.
Just like now.
I got cocky. Warehouse floor looked sturdy.
It wasn’t.
“I’m still far from perfect.”
What the hell are you doing, Ikaku Akamuro? Grand Master?
You think this is good enough? You gonna face Master with this half-assed technique?
What if another Demon showed up? You ready for that?
I ease my foot out. Slacks soaked with Demon juice.
“You... what the hell was that?”
Fuji’s voice cos from behind. He’s plastered in gore, standing rigid, mouth agape.
Staring like he’s seen a god—or a monster.
“Your foot... you made a hole...”
“Demons get stomped when I find them. Master’s orders.”
“I don’t think he ant it literally...?”
He blinks at the ruined body like it might start moving again.
“I thought you couldn’t use mana. I, uh... sorry for earlier.”
“I prefer gratitude to apologies.”
“Right. Uh... thank you, Ikaku Akamuro. You saved .”
“You’re welco.”
“ow ow~♪”
Lady Ayano puffs up proudly, chest out like she just stomped the Demon herself.
“You’re not wrong. That man didn’t use mana.”
Ophelia strides back, heels clicking. Eyes like polished crystal, scanning the corpse.
“I didn’t sense any manipulation. So, how did you do it?”
“This is Kung Fu.”
“Kung Fu? As in martial arts?”
“That’s right.”
I don’t bother explaining. Don’t need understanding. Don’t expect it either.
Even with all those Kung Fu masters at Akai estate, it took years to gain real recognition.
British nobility? No chance she’d understand.
“Hehe. Martial arts, huh?”
Ophelia chuckles.
“Historical records ntion commoners slaying Demons… before Ichor’s invention, that is. I never quite understood. Always thought martial arts were just ballroom dancing with grunting. But now I see. Maybe they do have their uses.”
“Glad I could expand your worldview. Perhaps you’d care to be my dance partner soti?”
“No, thank you. I wouldn’t want to dance with you.”
“Gfff...”
“Co to think of it, I never got your na. I permit you to introduce yourself.”
First ti she’s shown interest in directly.
What now? I don’t want to say it.
Mostly because I don’t like her. Partly because the na’s still “Ikaku,” even after the change.
But Fuji’s here—he would’ve heard it at the front desk. Can’t lie.
“Ikaku Akamuro.”
“Ikaku… Akamuro? That sounds familiar.”
She crosses her arms, shuts her eyes. Searching old mories.
I feel sick.
Please don’t rember. Please, God.
“Well, whatever. Must be a common na.”
Thank you, Lord!
Then I feel it—a stare.
End of the aisle. Past the racks.
A man, half-hidden in shadow, watching us.
“Hey! Don’t move!”
He bolts at my shout.
“Suspicious guy. I’m going after him.”
“Wait, hang on! You guys—!”
“Fuji, get the wounded out of here.”
“ow!”
I sprint after the man. Ophelia follows close.
But Lady Ayano launches ahead, faster than both of us.
She tears down the corridor, locked onto the fleeing figure like a missile.
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