Dozens of floors below, Yamasaki leaned against the wall, watching as Amai crossed out "Forest of the Dead" on the public mission board pinned up next to the reception desk in the building's ground floor lobby. Resting his left shoulder there, his eyes stayed fixed on her — there was something about that girl that caught his attention far too much.
Maybe it was her legs... or that waist...
"Alright… so, what's our next gig?" he asked.
She noticed his stare, glancing back with an awkward smile as she held out the red pen she'd just used.
"Huh?"
"You pick, sourpuss." He looked back at the board, covered in paper flyers — each one detailing unpaid missions, anonymous requests that had been waiting there for weeks, months… some even for years.
"Just these?"
"Just these. And don't you dare take on any mission through your Gchat, got it?" she warned him in that bossy tone of hers.
"Seriously? What are you, some kind of anti-money idealist? Or just plain nuts?"
Right in front of him, she struck a dramatic pose — hands on hips, cheeks flushed, her pout making her look even more stubborn.
"No! Oh, come on, Yamasaki, don't you already make enough money? I heard you pulled in fifty thousand yen just on that last exorcism. Let's do a little community work for once, huh? Maybe we can fix that awful reputation we have…" she said, tossing her hair back when she saw him still staring at her, undeterred by her protest.
She was an exclamation mark — something that completely disrupted the comfortable life he'd been living.
But that was enough to convince him.
"You sound just like old Kyotaka… Fine, let's just get this over with. Otherwise we'll never get out of here today. And later, all these people outside are gonna block the street anyway," he grumbled, embarrassed.
"Alright, let me see… We've got the abandoned children's hospital in Katakana… the haunted Sangai Tunnel… Those are the most urgent ones. So, which will it be?"
When he didn't grab the pen, she crossed her arms and pressed the back end of it against her lips.
"The tunnel!" he blurted out, right before she could say anything more.
She was about to comment on his choice when—
A young blond man appeared, wearing a striking blue suit that stood out absurdly among all the black coats around him. His eyes shone like stars — swirling on the horizon of his irises, deep and blue as Flumem's oceans.
"Yamasaki Yami and Shirasaki Amai, at last!" he said, straightening his tie beneath a crucifix, radiating confidence. "What a surprise to find you two at a public mission board. Two of the top three exorcists of this generation, being so… generous!" His attitude struck them both as odd.
The voice unwavering, the manner smooth.
"What's your problem?" Yamasaki shot back, immediately earning a scolding glare from her.
"Yamasaki! Ehr… You must be Arthur Lewys, right? I've heard of you. My dad's a big fan of the stuck-up hero exorcist!" she teased, grabbing the sleeve of Yamasaki's coat and shaking it dramatically.
"The great Shirasaki Rimuru! I had a good chat with him. Anyway, I'll get straight to the point: mind if I tag along?" he asked shamelessly, staring at the giant no written all over their faces. It was even more obvious on "sourpuss," who looked like the mere thought of it was an unbearable alarm ringing in his head.
"You!? Oh, Mr. Lewys, I don't know if that's such a good idea. Aren't you already registered with a team?" she asked, trying to smooth over Yamasaki's foul mood and total lack of social skills.
"Nope! Actually, I submitted a request to join your team. You know how it is… hard to fit in around here. Everyone thinks I'm weird. And you two… don't take it the wrong way, but you're pretty weird yourselves!" He rested a hand on each of their shoulders, grinning like an idiot. "So, what do you say?"
He waited for a resounding "yes."
"Yeah… that kinda makes sense…" Yamasaki muttered. He didn't even care about the insult. He leaned back, visibly annoyed. "But I'm not in the mood for more pain in the ass, so no!" He turned his back on the guy.
"'Kinda'? Don't you lump me in with him! Sourpuss might be weird, but I'm perfectly normal, okay?" she shot back, equally annoyed. She stepped away from the two of them. "But… you can come along. I think if you file a special request, the Order will approve it." She stuck out her tongue at Yamasaki, who just rolled his eyes.
"Damn you…" he cursed under his breath.
"What was that, mister…?"
"Nothing!"
"So, it's settled then?" Arthur leaned against the board with an exaggerated grin.
His over-the-top energy seemed to spark something in her — she was already imagining the absurd situations she'd drag Yamasaki into now.
Meanwhile, Yamasaki wilted like a raisin in the sun — his torment was now perfectly complete.
"It's settled!"
She was talking about the moody "no…" that was now his darkness. But that gloom was now outshone by two blazing lights.
While, in a time impossible to measure — in an age so ancient humanity had yet to taste sin — Hideki suffered yet another of his deaths, tumbling from a cliff after dragging himself to its edge. He was smashed into countless pieces, torn apart by the lack of gravitational balance the firmament once gave, the directional forces of Nox and Aurora pushing against him, crushed by the cosmic pressure that struck him millions of times over.
His body split into fragments, his blood — a deep, dark red — splattered across the pale desert sands, white as bone on that floating stretch of land.
Amane…
That name echoed in his subconscious, which refused to surrender to death — thanks to the demonic entity bound to his existence, manifesting as shadows, instantly regenerating his body.
He relived the agony of the Kamikaze — fibers, muscles, bones… all rebuilding in a single violent act.
"Ahhhhh…" He groaned, hoarse, feeling his lungs gasp for air again. "De… mon!" he murmured, veins bulging as if they might burst from his skin.
Hideki… you idiot! Give in to death! Let me take over! I swear your soul won't be lost! declared the voice inside him.
But he couldn't answer — instead, he surrendered to the exhaustion, the weariness — to death itself, which called to him.
Come on! Embrace it! I swear, by who I am, I'll carry you with me… until we find a way out. I'll protect your child, but don't let us both end here! Fifty cycles away from your daughter… Don't you care if she dies? Or about the future Asmael and Luciel are weaving!?
This voice was Reason, flickering in a fleeting instant within the demon's mind.
The possessed man's hands clawed at the ground. Tears streamed down his face, turning to dust in the air. And in the face of death — one of many — he finally chose.
His eyes went blank, his skull nearly exploding from the violent surge. Then a deep darkness filled his gaze — an abyssal blackness — and he rose again. But he was no longer Hideki. He was Bezeel, the Betrayer — as they called him — the demon king, the second to refuse to kneel before his brother… or before the Lord of Darkness.
The Lord of Gluttony.
The one who could devour the world.
As he slowly rose, his once-vibrant black hair dulled to an ashen shade, as if shadows themselves wrapped around him. His skin — his living armor — cracked and expanded, encasing him in a sinister aura. Huge spiked pauldrons, sharp as blades, emerged, making him look all the more terrifying.
From his head, two ram's horns unfurled, curling outward with undeniable malevolence. His eyes, once abyssal, turned a deep, searing red, shadowy tattoos creeping out from their corners as if darkness itself was etched into his flesh. His lips, once human and warm, now looked like those of a corpse — pale, lifeless.
His protective garb bore traces of golden veins — a faint memory of his former nobility — now corrupted by the darkness consuming him. A black, billowing cape draped over his back and arms like a shroud.
"So, there is no evil in this age? No demons? Hehehe…" he laughed with contempt. "Then there's an almost endless stock of dark energy to drain!"
As he spoke, he raised his hand to his chest and, gathering the words on his lips, uttered:
"Per benedictionem abyssi, inter digitos meos, emergat essentia luminum, quae in caelis manifestantur!"
As the cursed words spilled forth, an orb of energy materialized — and on the horizon, countless lights in the sky vanished at once. This was his gift from the abyss.
Essentia Furcator.
Through it, the Demon could consume the essence of all things — like the great devourer he was.