During the Collapse of Matz-Carlton
***
The top floor breaks apart under my feet.
Rich folks go flying out shattered windows, tumbling toward the ground.
I jam my fingers into the floor, slowing my fall by half a second. Not that it’ll help.
The entire hotel is crashing down with us. There’s no winning move here.
Ophelia’s wide sapphire eyes flick back and forth—from my face to my two fingers stuck in the tilted flooring.
“Lady Ophelia. Listen to .” I force my voice to calm. “Can you fly? Magic?”
“I can’t.”
“Teleport?”
She doesn’t answer. Her silence is all the answer I need.
If this high-tier Mage had a trick up her sleeve, she’d be using it already.
But she’s not. She’s out of options.
The ground races up. Impact will kill us, followed by a few tons of building squashing the remains. A bad situation.
Still... she might survive. She’s noble. Her mana armor might be enough. She’s got better odds than .
I think about what I should tell her. Sothing important? Sothing useful?
No. She’s smart. She’ll figure it out. So I just say what I need to.
She’s proud, haughty, and sotis an absolute pain. But she’s still nobility. Still soone I respect.
I’ll speak properly—so she’ll hear my last words.
“It’s been an honor to accompany you, Lady Ophelia. I leave the rest to you.”
“Wait! Don’t decide that on your own! Don’t go dying on , and don’t you dump your responsibilities on !”
Her hands shoot up and grab my face. Rough as hell. One thumb in my mouth, the other jabbing for my eye.
“Ah—ow, Lady Ophelia?”
“Corpus eius, ferro et igne intactum sit. Potestas firmanti, nunc descendat—!”
What a long incantation.
The top floor hits the ground.
The impact is unreal. Slamming into the earth. Then crushed under everything else.
It’s the kind of weight that breaks bodies in seconds.
Sohow, I’m still conscious.
My head clears, slow and foggy, but steady. Arms and legs—still attached.
I move, carefully shifting the rubble. Every motion stirs debris above.
Move wrong and I could trigger a cave-in.
I work by feel, by weight, by contact. In this dark world of dust and blood and silence, I dig.
Eventually, I find the light.
It’s not real light—just thinner dust. Moonless, dull gray.
But I can breathe.
I find her nearby. Ophelia. Half-crushed under a slab of concrete. Bleeding out.
I grab her hand. There’s a pulse.
Barely.
I check my coat. Two Ichor syringes.
Both are broken, smashed in the fall.
She needs help. Not just dicine—magic. The heavy-duty kind.
“Why’d you use the protection spell on ... and not yourself?”
No response.
I call to her again. Twice. Three tis.
Nothing.
—Ping...
My phone vibrates. I pull it out. Screen’s cracked, but it works.
A ssage from an account labeled “Information Broker.”
The Ember Creed was caught on surveillance around the hotel.
More lines follow. Basically, we were attacked. The bastards are still on the run.
I look around. People are screaming. Cries echo from the wreckage.
How many died? How many innocent lives lost? Because of ? Because of this fight?
“ow~! ow~!”
“...Milady?”
“ow!? e-ow!”
Lady Ayano trots up through the dust, covered in soot.
How the hell did she get out of the car?
Whatever.
I kneel, stroke her fur.
“ow?” (Ikaku, where are you going?)
“Stay with her. Please.”
I stand and leave.
I get in the car. Start the engine.
I survived. Sohow. So now—I do what I must.
Ophelia gave a job.
I’m not letting her down.
***
After Defeating the Bloodburst Demon
***
After taking out Imito Kurenagi, I limp back to the villa.
Abandon the battered NSX in front, collapse at the entrance.
“Hah... hah...”
Taking seven hundred feet of freefall and a building on top?
Yeah. That hurts. Even for .
Adrenaline’s wearing off. My balance is off. My rhythm’s shot.
I’ll fix that later. No ti now.
“They’re here.”
A black SUV rolls in. Out steps Sumire Akashi—Exorcist of the Akachi Clan.
Then a man in his seventies. Big bag in hand. Their clan doctor. Just as I asked.
“Mr. Akamuro! You’re—”
“...In bad shape.”
They rush over.
“Thanks for coming. Let’s head inside.”
I lead them in. Drop my gear, peel off my shirt. Lighter is better.
They’ve been briefed. The doctor gets to work fast.
“I’m going to administer Ichor. Lie down.”
He jabs the needle in. Warm blood floods back into . I lie on the sofa, blood soaking the cushions. My vision swims.
A familiar haze falls over . I’m back in that red pool again.
mories stir. Secondary Boot Camp. First ti I absorbed Ichor.
I turn.
A monster lies beside . Fleshy, grotesque. Long-headed like a beast, covered in wounds. Bulging eyes bubble out of gashes.
It drags its swollen head toward .
“You want another kick?”
It sniffs, turns, slinks off into the dark.
“Mr. Akamuro?”
I open my eyes. I must’ve passed out.
Sumire and the doctor stare down at .
I try to move… but pain stabs through my chest.
“That’s impossible... Why isn’t the regeneration starting?”
The doctor sounds baffled.
“This shouldn’t be happening. Those adapted to Ichor should be able to achieve physical revitalization and renewed vitality through re-administration. It’s supposed to be a fundantal ability that adapters possess.”
He’s rattled.
Sumire crosses her arms, eyes narrowing.
I say, “Then I guess there’s no choice. Please give normal treatnt.”
“Normal...?”
“Yeah. Bandages. Stitches. Do what you’d do for anyone else.”
He glances at Sumire in confusion. She nods.
He gets to work.
Skilled hands. Quick.
“Now I understand why I was brought here. I was wondering about it. Exorcists can heal almost all external wounds with just a syringe. Did you know my dical skills would be needed?”
“I had a hunch. I can’t use mana. I’m defective as an adapter.”
“Can’t use mana, huh. And that’s affecting the loss of regenerative ability too. No, rather than loss, it’s more accurate to say you never acquired it in the first place…
All right. That completes the treatnt for now.”
He sighs.
“Treatnt complete. Full-body contusions. Seven fractures. Nine lacerations. Two gunshot wounds. Nine milliter. The rounds didn’t penetrate far.”
“I flexed when I got hit.”
“I see, so that’s how... No, can I really accept that? I don’t understand it at all. How you can stop bullets that way is completely beyond .”
I got shot chasing Imito. Sensing Force failed, and my balance was off.
But I’m adjusting.
Even like this, I killed a Category 3 Demon.
Fighting while wounded? It’s part of the job.
You get hit. You get stabbed. You lose pieces.
But the fight goes on.
Train for that. Always train for that.
Tonight proved it pays off.
“Mr. Akamuro, where are you going?”
“Back.”
“Back where?”
“To the fight.”
“That’s insane!” Sumire steps in front of . “You’re bleeding. Shot. Fractured. You can’t even use mana. A normal person would be in a coma.”
I pause. “You’re right.”
“Finally. Please—”
“Doctor. Painkillers.”
“Huh?” Sumire stares.
“...These are strong. Three should keep you moving.”
“Much appreciated, Doctor.”
I down them in one go.
“Wait! What are you doing, Dr. Horikoshi? Please stop him!”
“Sumire, dear… I don’t think he’ll stop.”
I gear up and head out.
Sumire blocks the door, looking annoyed.
“Why are you trying to stop ?”
“Why do you think?! I thought you changed your mind!”
“I did. I wasn’t going without painkillers. Now I am.”
“That’s not what I ant when I said that. Ugh! Honestly. Whatever, I’m not letting you go.”
“You’re really kind, Miss Akashi.”
“It’s called having common sense. Anyone would stop you.”
I step forward. She scowls and grabs my arm.
I twist around her, lock her up, and press her to the wall.
“Fnnahh!”
I frisk her for keys.
Found them.
“Borrowing your car. I’ll return it in one piece.”
“Ughhh! You—! Making fun of , huh?!”
“Drinks in the fridge. Cake, too. Make yourselves comfortable.”
She tries to break out. Mana-flared strength. I’ll break her arm if I hold on.
So I knock her out. Quick tap to the neck. Catch her before she falls. Lay her gently on the couch.
“Doctor? Please take care of her. Tell her I said sorry.”
“I will... but why are you in such a rush?”
Because the enemy’s gone mad.
They blew up a damn hotel. Killed hundreds—maybe thousands. No hesitation. No remorse.
Even the worst criminal, even the most evil villain, even a Demon has so human restraint as a child of man.
These ones didn’t.
They need to disappear. Tonight.
Every last one of them.
“Later.”
I walk out, climb into the SUV, and drive.
Next stop: the nearest Hidden Fla base.
***
30 Minutes Later
***
There it is, Sakura District at Processing Center.
Target acquired.
I circle around to the loading dock.
It’s a dead-end road. A black car blocks the way.
Suspicious as hell.
I park. n get out. Tap on my window.
“No parking.”
“Scram, kid.”
I drive off and loop around. Line up with the gate.
Foot on the gas. Sixty miles an hour.
“Hey, wait! STOP—! AHHH!”
I run the bastard over.
Slam into the black car. Flip it like a toy. Smash through the gate.
I’m in.
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