Witchcrafts, sorcery, wizardry… magic; our trade comes in many names, but it is all based around one thing. The uncovering of the unknown, the mystics and the mystery of the world. All magic is connected in a way and categorizing them into branches is a sign of short-sightedness.

But the source of one's magic? Now that is where it gets interesting.,,

- The words of a certain Magus, source unknown.

Toss A Coin To Your Slayer

A few years before The Present...

Slayers are a stingy bunch. Source, Hikigaya Hachiman.

They have to be.

Like all professions out there in the market - legitimate or otherwise - a capital is needed in order to start getting paid; spend money to get money, the rule of the world. But rather than a reasonable investment needed to, let's say, run a one man food truck, it is actually closer to running a medium sized corporate firm.

"I deposited the money already into your account so I'll be expecting the stuff as soon as possible." Hachiman speaks into the phone which is currently raised to his ear, tone a little softer to maintain a hint of privacy. "A whole pack of the usual and make sure that it's actually the good stuff; none of that 'reinforced' nonsense."

If he is speaking in a volume louder than what he already is using, people might start giving him weird looks. Although he is used to getting weird looks, that is the kind of attention Hachiman does not need; ever. There are a few things in life that he hates, but having to deal with meddlesome security guards or police officers is one of them.

"And no more experiments this time, you hear me? The last time you tried to experiment on my things, I had to replace a whole gun. I loved that gun, did I tell you that? Now I don't have it anymore." Hachiman is clearly no longer enjoying the conversation he is having with whoever is on the other end of the line. It shows on his normally stoic face and it makes other people walking go out of their way to avoid him.

Nothing good ever comes from getting in the way of a fish-eyed, mean-looking loner.

"Yeah. Fine. As long as you get it." Wrapping up his call, the fish-eyed teen stashes his phone back inside his pocket. "Damn alchemist… if she wasn't so good at what she's doing..."

Taking a left and entering an alley, Hachiman unslings one arm off his backpack, letting it loosely hang from his left shoulder. The uniform wearing Slayer has a purpose entering this seemingly suspicious alley. He frequents this place often, so he is used to the smell of trash and pollution, although it can be worse since most of the dump has been disposed of by the street cleaners. But that does not stop him from using his hand to block most of the odor off. It is moments like these where he hates being able to smell better than normal people.

"Bex." He extends his free hand forward, the spell leaving his tongue as the space before him shimmers and weaves visually, not unlike the air during a mid-summer heatwave. The scenery before him distorts, before finally shattering to reveal a hidden fork in the path previously hidden from sight. The path connects to the building to his right, descending to a lower underground level of the block unknown to everyone unaware of its existence.

"Hm. Not a double layered illusion? They're being negligent lately… wonder what's up with that?" Hachiman murmurs as he descends into the newly created hallway, the illusion shimmering back into existence behind him as he proceeds.

"Okay, time to work…"

While walking, he ruffles through the contents of his backpack, looking out for a particular item. He undo the buckle straps to retrieve his desired item, fishing it out to reveal a small rectangular object; a glasses case. Opening it to fetch the item inside, he places the vision enhancing device on his face.

Normally, there is no reason for him to wear one. And contrary to what people say, his vision is perfectly fine. In fact, it is beyond excellent. One of the perks of being a Slayer, among many, is better eyesight; although his fellow Slayers have mentioned that he tends to have better foresight than even themselves.

'I should thank her for crafting me these.' Hachiman adjusts the spectacles so they can rest better on his face. 'Not many mages out there can make Focus Crafts as well as her.'

His brief walk ends when he reaches the end of the dimly lit hallway, the candlesticks attached to the hallway walls act as a poor light source if he is anyone else. A double door made of wood is the only thing that exists at the end of the hall, a sight he is all too familiar with. Reaching for the handlebars, Hachiman delays in opening the door.

For what reason? A damn good one. He has been here enough time before to not feel nervous, in fact, a good part of his training was spent to prevent him from feeling that way in all occasions. No. Hachiman is not anxious. He is cautious. The reason?

Blood.

At least the smell of it.

Hachiman swiftly sets his backpack down on the floor, drawing his ear closer and up against the door.

"...an't talk shit now can yo-"

"...uck off!"

"...ell us old man, where-"

'Three people.' Hachiman mentally notes. 'Two offenders and one potential hostage… could be more. My body's not reacting so nothing too dangerous.'

It is possible for a mage to detect the aftermath of a spell from the trace amount of magical energy dispelled into the air. So far, he is not detecting any. Aside from the smell of blood, nothing sticks out that warrants his attention.

More screaming erupts from within the room, causing Hachiman to flinch. He summons his M1911 into existence, grasping it in his left hand. His eyes blink, changing color from their inconspicuous black to their more notorious ruby ones. The screaming he hears coming from the inside evolves from that of aggression to that of pain. Blood pumping, Hachiman prepares to breach.

His right leg springs forward, kicking the door open.

"What the…?!"

"Who the hell-?!"

The muzzle flashes of his gun is followed by the sound of bullets being fired out of the barrel. Eyes trained on the offenders, Hachiman forgoes the common concept of aiming down his sights. On a close quarter engagement like this, he has no need to look down his sight as his body is able to react almost instinctively when confronted with an enemy.

Just point and shoot… as his shooting instructor would often say.

The .45 ACP rounds hit their intended targets. Two men in suits are now clutching their knees in pain accompanied by their agonized screaming as blood continuously flows out of the wound. The bullets he fired hit bone, causing it to sharpnel and cause multiple cases of internal damage that hinders their ability to stand.

One of the downed offenders, however, is not out of the count just yet. He reaches for a short stick shaped object just slightly out of reach. Unfortunately for him, however, Hachiman is quicker in kicking the object away.

"No wands for you mister."

The gunslinging Slayer raises his foot, before stomping it back down, harshly, onto the man's wrist.

"GAH!"

"I-Ippei! You bastard!" The other mage yells out while clutching his wounded limb. "W-Who the hell are you bastard?! S-Sticking your nose where it don't fucking belong… kuh…! God…! It hurts…!" He cries, unable to stop the blood from leaving his body.

Seeing that the guy is as good as harmless in his pained state, Hachiman lowers his stance though still alert. He takes in his surroundings. The spacious room which is normally filled with glass displays, antique trinkets and random knick-knacks have all been torn asunder; not unlike the aftermath of a tornado. Some of the wooden floorings have been ripped off from the foundation, lightbulbs broken and scorch marks are evident on the ceiling, walls and even floor.

"W-Who's there…" A weak voice, almost a whisper, comes from behind the counter located on the left most corner of the room. Hearing it prompts Hachiman to rush over there in hopes of securing whoever it is currently behind the counter.

With blood dripping down his chin and fresh burn marks on his hands, an elderly man is sprawled on the ground with a good part of his shirt scorched with holes. Hachiman immediately acts by coming to the wounded man's side, kneeling down.

"Old man? Old man?" He taps the man on the shoulder both as an attempt to snap him off his delirium and to catch his attention. "Is there anything I can treat you with?" Hachiman has unfortunately neglected to bring any potions with him since he usually stock up on them at home, just before heading out for his patrol.

"Second drawer." The man hisses out, now sitting on an upright position with Hachiman's aid. "Small vial with opaque liquid. A-"

"-Hatsuyuki Decoction." Hachiman finishes. Hatsuyuki Decoction. A common potion that all alchemists are familiar with. Made from grinding salt, the peel of a citric fruit and the leaf of a white flower; boiled to a temperature of 100 degrees celsius with pure non-mineral water before diluted with, among all things, energy drink.

He knows enough alchemy to know what the injured man is talking about. This particular potion is something he is familiar with. Among the few things it does, curing fever by decreasing the body's temperature is the reason why this potion is popular. There are even talks about introducing it to the civilian market as a cold medicine.

"Found it." He unscrews the cork from the relatively small vial. Not those test tube sized vials Hachiman is familiar with, but a short and stubby one which only contains half if not less of the dosage. Bringing the vial close to the man's mouth, he assists in aiding the man to drink.

"..." When all the liquid is gone, the elderly man can feel his body dropping in temperature gradually. He can feel his nose clogging as well as the numbness that is slowly taking over the area where he was burned. He breathes out through his mouth, while Hachiman discards the empty vial. "Thank you…"

The man, undoubtedly the owner of this establishment, looks up to see the face of his savior. He cannot quite see due to how dark it is and the adrenaline currently coursing through his body, but he can detect the familiar circulation of energy on his savior's face. It is something he has grown familiar with.

"Slayer…" The old man grunts, wiping the blood off his chin. "It's you isn't it?"

Hachiman briefly casts his glance towards the two mages - who are currently out cold due to the pain - before replying, "Yes, it's me." Hachiman then asks, "What happened here? Who are those two?"

The owner of the place hisses. "Those two? They're exactly what they look like." He spits out the blood that has pooled inside his mouth. "Thugs."

"Thugs?" Hachiman's eyes wander around the place, gesturing the state of the room as evidence to his next statement, "normal thugs can't do something like this." His attention is focused on the scorch marks in particular. "Who are they? Do you know them?"

"Personally? Hell no." The man says, his voice vehement. "But they're obviously mages. One of them went berserk with his wand, casting fires and a telekinetic spell. Thank god I've got all the good stuff stored at a warehouse."

"They casted spells?" Hachiman asks.

"Yeah."

"Strange. I didn't feel any residue." It is possible that it might have already been diffused naturally, but those scorch marks seem too recent.

"I have runes inscribed on the air vents to help diffuse mana outside." The wounded man explains, visibly looking better than he was previously. "I have some Focus Crafts which are sensitive to magical energy stored at the back. That's why I told you not to cast any spells when you're inside the first time you came here."

That makes sense. "Speaking of which, Slayer, you also have a Focus Craft on you, no?" asks the old man.

"I do." Hachiman answers.

"Must be something you put on your face then… ugh… something that hides your features, perhaps? An illusion? If so that explains why I can't quite recall your face from the first time meeting you."

"That's the whole point of it." Hachiman then says, "But speaking of illusions… the one outside, someone broke through it earlier? It wasn't a double layered one like usual..." He gives the two passed out mages a knowing look. "Must be these two."

"Must be." The old man agrees, hesitantly.

"You're not sure?"

"No. I'm sure." The elderly man answers, changing his tune. "I was careless. You know how it is. Being old does that to you…" he reasons while nursing his broken nose. "Though as I've said before, I don't know those two. You're free to search them though, god knows I will if I wasn't… kuh…!"

"Just settle down, old man." Hachiman warns the owner. "Get a gauze and rub some ointment for that burn. If you still feel bad, go see a doctor."

"Yeah," the man winces, "oughta do just that later…"

Hachiman never really bothers learning the old man's name. All he knows is that he owns this place. This place being a pawn shop of some sort to the local magi community, it contains items of all manners that can serve as catalysts for a mage's profession. Now though, it looks like it's going to need a lot of repairing and work in order to return it to its previous state.

Hachiman frequents this place because he can - could - get interesting trinkets here. For example: he has bought several Meiji Era silver coins from this place, all of it were repurposed as crafting ingredients for his bullets. There was also a time when he bought a dagger made out of the wood of a peach tree, he also remembers using that same dagger to banish a conjurer's summoned familiar back into the void.

"Let's see…" kneeling down on one knee, Hachiman begins his inspection of one of the passed out mages. He slips his hand into the man's pockets searching for anything that sticks out. Upon touching a familiar leathery surface, Hachiman pulls out the item revealing a wallet.

He flips it open. "An ID." You'd be surprised at how many mages out there who forgo any form of identity documentation. Why bother carrying something like that around when your main goal is to be inconspicuous in the first place? "Smart man."

Why smart? Well, sometimes, the best disguise is the most obvious one. Carrying an ID, regardless of whether it's forged or not, is way better than having none at all. Helps with blending in with society even better, allows for more flexible movement in case you're on the move. He knows of mages who got in trouble with the law enforcement from something as simple as an ID check. Of course, they will counter this dilemma by manners of spells but why not make things easier and just get a fake ID?

It's not hard to do and it's cleaner too.

"Sawamura Ippei. Born 1981… huh, he's using the same health insurance company that mom does…" Aside from debit cards, doodled out receipts and a pathetic amount of cash; there is not anything else worth checking out.

Moving on to the other mage, Hachiman does the same procedure. Wallets, IDs, the quick search around… but nothing. This guy's name is Mori Yasuda, he has a driver's licence and the same financial status as his buddy over there.

"Find out anything?" the old man calls out from behind the counter.

"Just their IDs." Hachiman replies. "Nothing much aside from that." He then pauses, looking around the room for something in particular. "Although…"

Walking towards where he kicked it away, he begins searching for the wand that one of them was going to use at him. It takes him a minute due to all the rubble but being able to see clearly in the dark makes his job easier done than said.

"I found this." Hachiman returns to the counter, placing the wand on the surface.

"That a wand?" The owner of the pawn shop questions, having recovered enough to stand. "Not many mages carry these nowadays…"

Not only will it look weird if you're seen in public with a wand in your possession, modern mages have used other mediums as a way to cast spells. Hachiman's guns, for example, fall into this category. Although he is not technically conjuring spells, it is a close comparison.

His kind, Slayers, opts to use runes and voice activated spells. There are downsides and upsides to this. The upsides include: not carrying a dumb stick, not looking like a Harry Potter wannabe, flexibelity when used in combat and the most important one of all, not carrying a dumb stick. The downsides, however: it strains your throat sometimes, some spells are lengthy and require fast casting, you sound like a cringy shounen character, and a more experienced mage will be able to tell what kind of spell you are casting just from the incantation.

"True." Hachiman squints his eyes, having to do so since the old man has just turned on the emergency lights that are now lighting up the whole place in a red glow. "Not many mages use these things anymore because they're too high profile." Hachiman then elaborates, "Contrary to what anyone believes, hiding a ten inch stick isn't as easy as it sounds."

"..."

"...moving on," The Slayer coughs, "usually these things are imported from Europe and distributed to the magi market around the globe."

The shop owner hums in thought. "But can't he have used a storage rune to hide it?"

Hachiman shook his head. "No. These types of wands are made from a special kind of wood." He sniffs his nose, confirming the scent. "Elm wood which has been anointed with oil… no personal touches confirm that it's produced in bulk… lacquer finish applied, possible for aesthetic purposes."

"You can tell just from that?" The shop owner cannot help but be impressed.

"Hm. Got a lot of practice." The Slayer replies. "Although I'm surprised that you can't."

"Ah." The man behind the counter looks sheepish; embarrassed, almost. "I'm not really a mage. My father was one, though, and he was the one who opened this little slice of heaven you see right here." The man gestures to his ruined establishment. "He tried to get me into his life, but it didn't really work out. For once, we were always on the run from shady people and magic cabals…"

"I see."

"I only got familiar with the trade because it's extremely profitable, especially in the 60's. With the rise of this nation's technological foundation and prowess, it's interesting to see mages running around Akihabara searching for old World War II tech. I believe it's one of the reasons why Focus Crafts are as good as they are today. My father used this place as storage for the illegal black market goods that they used to sell in Akiba, but with his fancy magic spells, we suddenly got the word that all the things that are kept in this place belong to us. Just like that."

"Ah, smart man." Now it's Hachiman's turn to be impressed.

"Yeah, he was." The old man laughs lightly, careful as to not hurt himself. "So from that point onwards, we began selling tech only to magi. He even did some modifications to the place. The diffuser I told you about? That's all him. I'm the one who has to re-inscribe them every now and then, but that's about the only thing I can do that's related to magic."

"What about the illusion outside?"

"Oh that? My father created that a long time ago. He also crafted me a Focus Craft that allows me to dispel low level illusions."

'Well that was an interesting conversation.' Hachiman is not expecting to have a lengthy chat with someone, especially after what had just happened a few moments earlier. But he cannot say that he hates it.

"So, by the way, what are you going to do with the wand?" asks the elderly shop owner.

"I'm going to need to perform a clairvoyance ritual to trace back where this thing comes from." Hachiman gestures to the body laying on the floor, "He couldn't have gotten it from the source. He just doesn't seem the type. There are a lot of these things circulated on the black market so I'm attempting to trace it back from there."

"Then, why not just use the ID?"

"The ID is a fake. Both of theirs are." Hachiman easily reveals. "I've seen enough to know what one looks like. Besides, I'm the Guardian of this particular part of Chiba. Regulating these things is also sort of my job."

To an extent, what he is saying is true. Like modern weaponry, unregulated distribution of magical items can be just as dangerous. While the chances of a mage committing, let's say, armed robbery with a wand as a stick up tool does not sound it would make sense all that much; people who tend to use wands in the first place are those who can be considered to be high profile and rookies in general.

A seasoned mage would have no need for robbing a bank. Or just work in general. Most are born into wealth with a long lineage of prosperity to fund whatever it is they are so fixated with.

"But, wait a minute, wouldn't it be easier if you just ask them who they are?"

"True." Hachiman nonchalantly agrees. "But I've shot them right on their kneecaps with a bullet that not only shattered that part of their body, but also deprived them of their ability to walk properly ever again. I know that we Slayers might come off as cruel to most magi, but trust me, pulling them out of our way of life is nothing short of mercy."

"Oh…" There is somberness in the shopkeeper's voice. "So you will…" although he does not quite finish his statement, the implication of what he is trying to say rings clear.

"...yes." Hachiman replies, his own tone devoid of emotion.

Without saying anything else, the young Slayer begins laying the bodies side by side. He has checked their pulse earlier, while he was rummaging through their belongings, and found out that they are still alive. But they have lost a lot of blood. The pool of their blood stains the floor, no doubt something the old man will have to end up replacing if he intends to reopen his shop. The cause of passing out is obviously due to the loss of blood, but that can turn into something even more fatal if not treated soon.

Sometimes, Hachiman often finds questioning himself. Just how deep has he sunk himself into? Not many mages can embrace the concept of mercy killing, as the term might as well not exist in their vocabulary. When a mage has to kill, he will do so with extreme prejudice; because it is justifiable in terms of preserving oneself and preserving one's goal. To most magi, their research is everything. If they have to kill a fellow mage in order to further or preserve it, they will do so within a heartbeat.

These two in particular, they do not look like the mages Hachiman know. They're too normal. Too fresh. They must be a part of a cult, perhaps lesser members who are made aware of the moonlit world and have unrealistic dreams and misconceptions about the world that they are about to live in. Unfortunately, Hachiman cannot let them live. For should he do so, they might let loose the secrets of the magical world.

Summoning his Colt, the Slayer presses it against Sawamura Ippei's temple.

"May you rest forever in bliss and harmony."

The shop owner, watching the scene, flinches as the sound of the Slayer's gun goes off inside his shop. He watches the young mage rest the muzzle of his bloodied piece onto the other man's forehead.

"...and may those who live envy you."

…

After the deed is done, Hachiman exhales the loudest he has ever exhaled for that day. He dispels his gun back into the storage rune and then uses a nearby rag to wipe his hand dry off the blood that has splattered on him.

"Hoy Slayer."

"Hm?"

The old man, more morose looking now after witnessing what Hachiman has done, calls out. "...don't ever bother coming here ever again."

'Ah… understandable.' He nods, turning to leave.

"Don't get the wrong idea," Hachiman stops in his tracks, "What you did… it opened my eyes. Maybe I'm not cut out for this kind of life after all. Heh, it took me this long and a live fucking execution to make me realize that." He chuckles mirthlessly. "Here."

Grabbing something from underneath his counter, the shopkeeper throws Hachiman a tied up linen pouch. Hachiman catches it, confused by the weight that it carries. His nose twitches, smelling the familiar scent of-

"A token of my thanks to you. For saving my life and… for saving my life."

Nodding, Hachiman raises the pouch as a gesture of thanks, before excusing himself wordlessly for the door.

The Slayer exits the shop with the two bodies in tow, dragging them by the leg with the assistance of their tie and belt buckle as a tool to drag their corpse with. Once he is outside on the alley and street level, he dumps the bodies inside a garbage bin.

"Incendo."

A wisp of flame dances forth from the palm of his hand, setting the waste container aflame. The contents of the refuse and whatever burnable elements it might have makes the fire spread quicker, thus, burning the two bodies even faster. Seeing as the bodies are now in the process of being incinerated, the Slayer finally leaves the scene with more silver than he has ever gotten in a day.

"Now… to trace the wand." He then muses. "I wonder what she's up to. She might be able to help me with this…"

Present day, present time…

He remembers the day his life changed.

It is as clear as yesterday.

An empty house, empty faces, empty… everything.

The only solace to be found is in the form of his little sister. He knows - and she knows - that without her, he would have gone mad the moment they laid their hands on him. With no one to turn to, not even their own parents, the pair of siblings can only endure their bloody transition to the Moonlit World in silence.

Imagining it, it could not have been more tragic.

A boy no older than six kidnapped along with his little sister who is two years younger than he is. They did things to him so that they would not touch her. They violated that boy, showed that boy what pain truly is. They made him do things that no decent people would consider humane because it is exactly that what they had wrought upon him; inhumanity.

They tore upon his heart like mad dogs of hell, fed him to hungry bats that feasted on his blood before turning him into the creature he is today. After making that boy go through all that, they gave him a purpose. A purpose that has stuck with the boy till this day.

Slay.

No matter the size, be it beasts or men, have no fear for you shall equalize.

"Nothing out of the unusual… the family must've moved away after what happened. Magic investigators did a thorough job sweeping through the house. It's not a big place in the first place, so won't bother… hm…"

Currently, he is at the location where the last victim resided which is also their last known location before their disappearance. It is a house located in the wealthier part of Chiba, something he is grateful for because he only has to spend a short time commuting here. Due to there not being anyone living here, the house is empty. The family of the victim or whoever is responsible for the house after the owner's disappearance have taken all the furniture that used to be here.

He does not detect anything that is out of the ordinary, which means there is no magical boundary surrounding the house or whatsoever so he does not have to worry about tripping up any security measures set up by the person who used to live here.

"She was a single woman. No roommate, no kids, no spouse…" it might sound like he is poking fun at the victim's reclusive status but he is not. In fact, that is the case with most mages he knows. "No one here…"

That is not entirely true, however.

When a person is declared missing, they have to be missing for at least seven years before they can be declared dead. Now he does not want to be a Debbie downer, but assuming that she is dead will only be just that. An assumption. What he is trying to say is that there is no real reason to clear out a house off its furniture because the owner went missing. In his opinion, the opposite is what should have been done.

As much as a recluse mages are, they're never truly alone. You'd be a fool if you are in this society. Anyone with relation to the victim would no doubt be trying to investigate this place, thus leaving at least a hint or two of someone having been here before him. But this is not the case here. This place is too clean. Too clean for his liking.

Recalling the dossier given to him by his fellow Slayer, the mage who owns this place is a runewright. And seeing as he, himself, dabbles in runecraft, Hachiman is getting even less sure about this place being 'abandoned'. Although he is unsure just how proficient this mage is at her craft, any decent runewright is prone to doing one thing: carving.

In his own home, there are runes carved almost everywhere he can fit them. Most of them are hidden, obviously, but there is not a place in his house where there isn't any rune carved by him. This place, on the other hand, is empty. He has searched every corner, from outside to the inside. Nothing is here.

"Hm… I'll have to tell Wolf about this." They will be able to share their thoughts on the matter with him. Adjusting his bag straps, he makes his way downstairs to exit the building. He picked his way inside, but also made sure to lock the entrance out of habit.

It's a good thing he did that.

"...Huh?!"

Leaping from the bottom of the stairs, he makes the impressive feat of diving behind the kitchen's built-in island counter. Every hair from underneath his neck is standing upright, while his eyes shift from one color to another. He feels the familiar sensation of magic manifesting in the air before quickly dispersing into trace amounts.

As if all of that is not enough indication that someone is now here with him, the front door to the house creaks open, followed by the sound of heavy boots thumping against the floor.

His unnaturally sharp senses pick up several things. The smell of smoke, cigarette smoke, and the sound of a man's voice.

"...dare they make me do all the work like I'm some sort of errand boy? Don't they know who I am? I am-" Whatever the man is going to say, he doesn't finish it. He falls into silence so suddenly it's almost comical.

The Slayer's trigger finger twitches despite there not being a gun to hold. His body is tight and coiled ready to spring in action any second he is sure he's compromised. Thankfully, he doesn't have to act so soon.

"Damn it. I forgot to bring the catalyst with me. Just my luck." The man begins letting loose a string of curses as a sign of irritation at his own fault. But his words manage to catch the hidden Slayer's interest.

'A catalyst? For summoning?' It should be. There is no alchemical equipment laying around, so that is the only conclusion Hachiman can come up with.

"Curses… there's no way I'm going back and then return here just so that I can summon a lesser demon."

Hearing what the man has just said made Hachiman's heart skip a beat.

Demons. When one thinks of the word demons, one might picture a humanoid being with two horns carrying around a trident with the propensity of dealing with human souls. While there are some truths towards that belief, it is most often not the case. The man mentions a Lesser Demon and, believe him, that is the only thing preventing him from breaking the silence and putting a shot or two on the man's head.

Demons can be summoned but it is a dangerous affair to try and bring one into the mortal plane. For once, they are harder to bind. In the case of a Lesser Demon, not much so, but the more intelligent ones are more challenging; some Summoners even consider trying to summon one without any catalyst to help bind or coerce the demon is just downright suicidal.

So that means this mystery guy over here is either a suicidal fool or a damn skilled Summoner.

Here he is hoping for the former…

"Let's just get this over with…"

For the next few minutes, Hachiman observes him as he begins drawing a ritual circle on the floor of the cleared out living room. It is a circle drawn with chalk made of pure minerals with a five-sided star drawn in the middle. Candles are to be light up and placed at the five points where the star meets the circle and normally, a catalyst is to be placed in the middle.

The texts he recalls, as he has never attempted to summon one before, speaks of uttering an incantation. It also emphasizes on the great importance of uttering the demon's name. To magical beings, names are very important. Most mages believe that by uttering their true name, a summoned creature is more compelled to obey or even be submissive to the binding process.

He has no solid idea of what the mage might do, so he has to be prepared for almost anything that can go wrong with summoning a demon. Which means he has to be prepared for everything. Even the success of the summoning.

Hachiman is unable to summon his guns because doing so will alert the mage, as the deactivating of a rune can be easily sensed by an adept magic-user. Meaning that when the time comes for him to eventually intervene, he will have to resort to lethal options immediately.

"Quave, octis somnum vix."

The air dies. Whatever drafts that can be felt existing inside the house are suddenly gone as if someone has just encased the entire house in a glass container. All the hair on his body is standing upright and Hachiman can feel his body tensing. These are telltale signs that a Slayer shows whenever they feel something magical related is too empowering or potent.

"Rhevea est. Tollus est."

The candles spark to life, even with no physical means of someone lighting them up. Hachiman does not want to risk getting found so soon by peeking out from his cover, but his nose does not fail to detect the scent of blood. Liquid dripping down can be heard echoing against the ceramic floor, followed by nothing else.

"Vesa, mounir argea."

'Now…!'

"Vivex, col-!"

His body let loose like spring that has been wound for too long. His M1911 Colt materializes in his left hand, barrel of the gun trained towards the mage. As time has seemingly progressed in slow motion for him, Hachiman squeezes the trigger of his .45 Caliber handgun, pressing into it with the intention of letting a bullet loose.

The hammer of the gun flicks back, before driving back down to deliver a punishment towards whoever is unfortunate enough to end up at the other end of the barrel. The mage has barely enough time to react. When the gun is fired, the best he can do is side step to avoid the first initial shot. But Hachiman proves to be a competent duelist, as the follow up shot is almost instantaneous.

However, a brief second is all the Summoner needs to cast himself a protective ward that envelopes his entire body. The third shot fired from the gun is deflected upon making contact with the man's forehead. Hachiman's assault does not stop there, however, he uses his free hand to cast a spell of his own. Lightning crackles around his palm before striking towards its intended target.

"Eclair!"

"Not strong enough, you brute! Aegis!"

True enough, the lightning spell Hachiman conjures has no effect on the Summoner. That protective ward is doing its job, much to Hachiman's annoyance.

"Who are you? And what are you doing here?" the mysterious demands Hachiman, his form made more imposing with a fiery palm raised and prepared to conjure magical flames. "Speak, before I blast you to smithereens."

Hachiman stares the man down, his crimson eyes meeting the mage's own black eyes. "I can say the same to you." The Slayer retorts, his voice devoid of emotion which only makes it even more chilling. "What's a Summoner doing trying to summon a demon in the house of a missing person?"

The reaction is instantaneous. Hachiman catches his face twisting to anger, fury. This man before him is a man who looks like he carries himself in a manner that is above the common rabble. In other words, a total snob. Double-breasted coat, a silken vest underneath it and a pair of shiny leather oxfords… yes, this guy fits the most prominent stereotype of mages out there.

"Tch…! I'm the one asking questions here, not you!" The flames licking his palm intensifies, the telltale signs of a spell being charged. "Who are you? I will not ask a second time."

The man's temperament is clear. Hachiman does not need to second guess to know that this man is going to literally explode on him if he doesn't give him what he wants.

"Hawk, just Hawk," introduces the Slayer, his gun still trained at the mage before him. "Now you."

"What kind of name is that? You expect me to believe you that that's your name? Enough of this. Burn." The flames are cast, "Incendo!"

Expecting that things will end up this way, Hachiman is quick on the feet. He dashes forward, towards the direction of the spell. But what separates him from a suicidal loon is that he expertly ducks underneath the spell, spins on his heel with his dominant hand extended to deliver a swipe against his adversary's face. The swipe connects, but his onslaught does not stop there. Flipping his gun backward, Hachiman is now holding it in a reverse grip with the barrel going parallel underneath his arm. He spins once again, this time in the opposite direction from before, for another follow up strike. The second strike is more devastating and painful for the mage. Rather than plain old flesh hitting him, he is struck by the barrel of Hachiman's gun which he has improvised to replicate a tonfa.

The Slayer engages the distraught mage in a flurry of strikes, delivering blow after blow after each spin he makes. All of his strikes are aimed at the man's head as a way to ensure disarray and devastation. Repeated strikes against his person weaken the ward cast to protect his body from outside threats. The Summoner can feel the spell starting to break, as he is unable to do anything against the Slayer's assault. It is just too fast. Every strike he delivers has a purpose. The first few ones delivered to his head screws up his balance and orientation and the follow-ups to his arms, legs, and torso serve to wear him down and it is working.

Hachiman is fortunate enough to have Shiromeguri Meguri as a close quarter combat instructor. That woman is a fountain of knowledge regarding all things deadly. She is the one who taught him the basics of what will eventually be his overall potential fighting prowess. Fast burst of movement is much better than long and committed ones she used to say. From her, he learns how to strike fast and hard.

Hachiman pivots his body sideways but never extends to the point of leaving himself open. His punches are not long and winded, preferring to use his wrist and elbows rather than over-relying on his shoulder to draw up the necessary amount of distance normally used to execute a hook. Every time his opponent struggles, he redirects the force of their attacks rather than resisting them.

Be stubborn, but don't resist.

"Telepo-"

"Oh no, you don't."

Hachiman flicks his fist towards the man's neck, wrapping his palm around it. He uses an appropriate amount of strength to squeeze his opponent's neck. Not strong enough to snap it, but definitely enough to limit the amount of air he can take in. With the Summoner already in disarray and fatigued over being repeatedly struck by hard-hitting strikes, the protective ward spell he cast on himself to protect against Hachiman's bullets breaks away; leaving him once again with only his skin and bones as a line of defense.

"If you can't speak, you can't cast spells," Hachiman growls, placing the barrel of his Colt against the man's temple. "Now I'm the one asking questions. Who. Are. You?"

He won't bother trying to use [Somnus]. Experienced mages tend to have the high mental fortitude needed to resist simple spells like it, some even have wards cast on certain parts of their brain to make them resistant to illusion based spells. So that leaves only two options. Pain and intimidation.

"...kuh!" The pressure, although immense, does not hinder his ability to speak that much. "Grr… go to… hell… freak…!" He begins choking from the increased amount of pressure Hachiman is slowly applying.

"I won't ask a second time." It's hard to tell, but he is mocking the man. "Who. Are. You?"

"S-Souichiro… Shiage…!" he manages to choke out with his complexion turning blue, "I'm from… urk…! F-From… the Yuuhi Initiative…!"

Yuuhi Initiative? Quickly recalling the name in his mind, it is one of the more prominent magic cabals in Honshu with direct ties to the Organization. Although not the biggest, it has enough influence in the magical world to get away with doing black magic like demon summoning, which explains one thing…

"What are you doing here? Talk."

"The same… could be said… to you…!"

Hachiman whacks him on the forehead with the barrel of his .45 Caliber handgun, prompting a painful response from his not so fellow mage. "Don't be a smartass."

"F-Fine…! Shit… I shouldn't have been here…" he sucks in air, before talking, "I was told to summon a lesser demon… by my superiors… they want to use it to help with the missing person cases…!"

"..." Hachiman remains silent. His eyes are judging the man, seeing for any hint of lie that he could have snuck into his confession. Finding none, the Slayer asks again, "Why are you looking into matters of the disappearances?"

"The woman who lived here was one of us." Shiage reveals, blood dripping down his nose. "She was not our most active member… but she is a skilled runewright… our leader wants to find out where she's gone…"

"And summoning a demon will help you solve it?"

"Heh," even in his pained state, Shiage manages to smirk a cocky one, "I'm the best Summoner in our cabal… a lesser demon is nothing to me."

Once again the Slayer remains silent. Although this time, he is taking his time to think. He sees no reason as to why Shiage would lie about him being here. He was trying to summon a demon, after all. And it makes sense, in a way. Demons are highly intelligent creatures. Even the lesser ones can be smart enough to perform intellectual feats that no normal person can do.

So, yes, those cringy imageboard forum stories about people summoning demons to do their homework? Might not be that detached from reality.

"If you are as good as you've said you are, will you be able to summon a demon here?" Hachiman asks, this time in a less hostile tone.

"I will summon one here." The man pinned to the wall snaps, insulted at the insinuation Hachiman is making. "I'll show you."

"...fine. Do it." One final glare. "But if you try anything funny, I will make you regret it."

Letting go of the grip around Shiage's neck, Hachiman walks away as the Summoner falls to the floor on his ass. Shiage, feeling the ability to breathe properly has been returned to him, does not waste the opportunity to breathe in air after being denied the ability to do so. He, with pain, glances at the person who has just interrogated him a few moments ago.

'Red eyes… a knack for firearms… skilled hand to hand combat…!"

It just dawns upon Shiage.

"You're… You're a Slayer…"

Hachiman, who is currently in the process of taking off his bag, glances at Shiage. "Yes. I'm a Slayer. First time seeing one?"

Shiage, for whatever reason unknown to Hachiman, is looking less hostile. He is wary of him, Hachiman can tell, but that earlier defiance of wanting to outright kill him is no longer present anymore.

"...I thought Slayers kill mages." That sentence is structured as a question, yet the way Shiage is speaking is not inquisitive at all. "Are you going to kill me after I complete the summoning?"

Hachiman sets down his bag on the floor, letting it rest against the wall. While he is rummaging through its contents, he answers, "You thought wrong. Slayers don't kill mages, exclusively." He pulls out a harness of some sort, bunched and all sorts of tangled from being fit into a place as cramped as his canvas bag.

Shiage watches as the Slayer procures several ammo clips for his firearm, storing it into one of the many pouches that come with the harness. "What are you doing?"

"Preparing for the worst-case scenario," Hachiman replies. He opens an inconspicuous looking pencil case to reveal even more ammunition. This time they are not clips for his Colt, but instead intimidating large bullets inserted into speed loaders. "No shade on you, but, I'm not taking any risks when it comes to summoning a demon."

"...tch!" But he gets annoyed anyway. "I'll show you… come on, help me set up the ritual circle again. Our… scuffle earlier has made a mess of things."

"Hold on a sec…"

The Slayer began assisting the mage in re-setting the ritual. They are working on redrawing the pentagram as the friction from their shoes has blurred out the chalk after their earlier scuffle.

"Tell me," Shiage question, as he procures more chalk on his person to redraw the ritual circle, "why do you Slayers use conventional weapons?"

"Why not?" the fish-eyed Slayer shoots back, "It's quick, effective and easy to use when you know what you're doing." He answers while also picking up the candles that have been scattered on the floor. "Besides, don't some mages use guns as Focus Crafts? It's the same case with most Slayers. I know some who rarely resort to using magic unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Why's that?"

"...there's no real answer to that," Hachiman replies, shrugging. "But the one that's often used is something along the lines of upsetting the balance of harmony and entropy in the world. Magical energy has to come from somewhere, after all."

"How zen-like of you."

"Funny of you to say that. I am a Buddhist."

"Okay," Shiage breathes out, wiping a trickle of sweat from his forehead, "this should be sufficient."

The ritual circle has been redrawn with the candles placed at their proper placement. "Now if you would be so kind as to not disturb me that would be preferable, please."

"Hm."

Breathing in, the Summoner begins his incantation once again. "Quave, octis somnum vix." The air shifts, turning quiet and dead once more. "Rhevea est. Tollus est." The candles are now lit through supernatural means. "Vesa, mounir argea." The drawing of the pentagram begins to emit a supernatural red glow, slowly turning to a dark shade of red that is nothing short of eerie.

"Vivex, colombrea!"

The ritual circle glows the brightest it has ever been ever since its creation. Hachiman and Shiage notice that it has begun emitting a thick, fog-like but odorless miasma. Hachiman remains calm, however. He has seen his fair share of summonings. Demon summonings, too. While those have been smooth-sailing and resulted in no casualty, his training has made him more alert than he was a few moments ago.

The Slayer has his Colt drawn and ready, and his right hand too is ready should anything go wrong.

"Slayer, I've no catalyst to assist me in summoning the demon! I might need you to prepare yourself after all!"

"Oh great," Hachiman switches his Colt in favor of his 500 Magnum, "any idea on what you're doing there?! Might as well call this off if you're not sure!"

"No!" Hachiman is beginning to learn that Souichiro Shiage is a stubborn person. "I can do this! I've done this before, as long as I can harmonize my mana with the output from the portal I ca-"

A loud screeching noise fills the entire house. Hachiman and Shiage's reaction is as one would expect it, but it's Hachiman who suffers most. His enhanced hearing proves to be his own downfall, as he is down on his knees while attempting to block out the noise using his hands, dropping his gun in the process.

Teeth grit, the Slayer opens his eyes to get a better look of things. Being able to see in the night, he can clearly see what's in front of him. Shiage, however, is blinded by the miasma and has to deal with the concentration needed to ensure that the summoning is a success.

"Oi, Summoner! That doesn't sound like a lesser demon you're summoning there!"

"...kuh!" But Shiage is not able to answer the Slayer's questioning outburst. He is far too focused on the task at hand. He is aware of the botched up process, but he can still make it right by limiting the amount of magical energy being released from the portal and thus allowing for a far easier demon to tame.

The screeching evolves from pain-inducing to house shaking. Hachiman has to ignore the pain however as he is now more concerned about the thing that is about to pop out of that portal. He picks up his revolver which he has dropped on the ground, cocking the hammer back and aligning the bullet in the cylinder with the firing pin.

"Heads up Slayer! Here it comes!"

And come it did.

If Hachiman can say one thing about the thing that has just come out of the portal, it would be ugly. It is fleshy, bulbous and downright horrendous to look at. It is an amalgamation of a sicko's twisted brainchild, which is then aborted before being resurrected to life by a newbie Necromancer. It appears humanoid, but not human enough to be convincing. Its body parts are swollen, leaking puss and whatever bodily liquid it might possess. Its face is the result of repeatedly bashing a face against the trunk of an old BMW for five years straight.

It does not help that it looks like a disproportionate baby.

"What the fuck is that, what the fuck is that Shiage!?"

"I-I don't know!? The blasted thing's a demon that's for sure!"

Hachiman growls. "No fucking shit it's a demon! It just popped out of a portal from hell!"

Whether it's due to the two men's shouting or just its intrinsic nature as a creature of hell, the demon begins to bellow out its ear grating screech once again.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

"Gah! Make it stop!" Shiage has no resistance to the noise or whatsoever. The windows of the house are starting to crack and break from the sound emitted by the child-like abomination.

"Shiage, dive out of there!"

At Hachiman's command, the Summoner throws his body to the ground, effectively hitting the deck and letting Hachiman do what he has planned to do.

"Somnus!"

'I need to calm it down. I'm not sure if [Somnus] will work against a demon but it's worth a shot!' Hachiman sees the spell making contact with the abomination.

The summoned being is hit by the spell. It shows no sign of stopping its god awful screeching, however.

"Now Shiage, command it to stop!"

"Grrr…! Demon! As your summoner, I command you to cease!" Bearing all the pain and discomfort of being subjected to a literal ear-rape, the Summoner musters all of his energy to shout out the command.

"Do it again! I think it's working!" Hachiman can feel the hell miasma receding, the outflow of magical energy coming out from the portal is also abating. "Bind it to you now!"

"I… can't…!"

This is getting bad. This leaves Hachiman no other choice.

Raising his revolver, Hachiman is prepared to fire a shot of his silver bullet at the hellish imp.

The demon, rather than turning docile as Hachiman has intended, has now evolved into something much, much troublesome to deal with. It astralizes, losing its physical form to become a mist of darkness without a corporeal body. Cursing, the Slayer can only watch as it swirls and dances around the living room while still, somehow, maintaining its ability to scream like a literal bat out of hell!

"Watch out!"

There's a reason why Hachiman is screaming.

The demon, now in its astral form, is heading straight for Shiage who is writhing helplessly on the floor. There is nothing Hachiman can do to stop the formless demon from crashing into the Summoner.

"Shit…" things just got worse. It started out as an eleven, but now it's easily a twenty in terms of just how troublesome things have become. "Shiage, can you hear me, Shiage?"

"I… grr… can't…!"

Hachiman leaps over to the other man on the floor, having to hold him down against the floor with both arms to stop him from hurting himself due to how much he's convulsing. Shiage's eyes flicker in all directions, his mouth opens and closes repeatedly like a fish. It reaches the point where his eyes are rolling to the back of his head, and white foam begins to form at the corner of his mouth.

"A-Ack… ha-hack…!"

"...fuck." Hachiman rarely feels fear, but when he does, it usually has something to do with him being unable to control the situation. Face showing a grim expression, Hachiman realizes what has just happened to Shiage.

"Idiot. You can't do it after all… now you're possessed. At least, at the process of being possessed." Shiage's body is still twitching and making gurgling noises. Picking up his gun, Hachiman dispels it back into his storage rune.

He has no direct means of expelling the demon from Shiage's body. Any moment now, the demon is free to-

"RAAAAAAAAAH!"

The suddenness of Shiage's resuscitation catches Hachiman off guard. The possessed Summoner manages to blast him off with inhuman strength, but not without consequence. Shiage breaks his wrists as a result of launching Hachiman to the wall a few meters away from his spot. He charges at the disoriented Slayer with maddened movement, eyes pitch black with no white at all.

With his newfound strength, Shiage pins Hachiman to the wall by the arms, having such a strong grip on them that he is actually cutting off blood flow to it. But Hachiman, with his quick thinking, is able to push the possessed mage with a dropkick to the chest. Shiage is quick to recover, however, and is ready to launch itself at Hachiman again if it isn't for the Slayer finally brandishing his revolver once again at it.

"I fEel DaNGeR…!" its voice mixing with Shiage's own is unpleasant to hear. The distortion is haunting, as it sounds like Shiage's own voice but with another being's at the same time.

"I command you to release the body of the person you are possessing, demon." He is no exorcist, but he has expelled a few spirits before in the past. No demons, but spirits.

"MUtaNT… yOu hAVe… nO pOWeR…"

"But I do." Hachiman glares at the possessed mage right into its beady black eyes. "You are summoned and that body you're possessing is your summoner. And since I'm also present during your summoning, I am obligated to expel you from where you came from should you not comply."

"YoU CaNNOT! COld. DaRK. HuRTS!" Shiage's body begins twitching sporadically. "yOU CaN'T!"

What he is saying is absolute horseshit. The demon can do whatever it wants to. But Hachiman is betting on it being a lesser demon that he can coerce into releasing Shiage from its hold.

"It's not my problem. Your time has ended while that man still has ties here. Leave him be, demon, and I'll banish you quick and painless."

"NooOoOoOo!" It screeches using Shiage's body. "HeLL CoLD. hOT. hUrTS! THis FrEeDom!"

'So it wants freedom…' Hachiman then speaks, "You can still get your freedom without possessing that man. You're summoned here, which means you have to fulfill our request. Once you do that, you can ask for your freedom as recompense."

'Please, fall for it…!'

"MuTanT… YoU SaY… fReEdOM…?" The body is twitching in an unnatural way. If Shiage is still alive at the end of this, he will definitely need to get checked out by a doctor.

"Yes." Hachiman confirms. "You are still possessing your contractor, so there's no way for him to request you of any-"

"YOu." The demon possessing Shiage interrupts, manipulating Shiage's body to raise its hand and point towards Hachiman, "YoU ShaLL be tHE cOnTRacTOr…"

"...fine." It is not fine. Hachiman is not aware that a demon can do this. Most binding rituals either end up with the summoner dead and the demon eventually disappearing into the ether, or the demon successfully bound to the summoner. This is uncharted territory for him.

"YoUR reQuESt…?"

"I…" Hachiman looks at the possessed form of Shiage. Tears are leaking from the Summoner's eyes. Biting his lower lip, Hachiman then says, "I want you to find the woman who used to live here. Her name is Miyabi Kotone, a woman twenty six years of age, a mage professing as a runewright and the owner of the house you have been summoned to."

Hearing Hachiman's request, the demon says, "VErY wEll…"

Preparing himself, Hachiman braces for anything.

"StReNGthEN yOuR WiLL… mUTaNT…"

That is the last thing Hachiman hears before blacking out.

Hey. If you can read this, that means I'm still alive and kicking. So sorry for the late update, but I'm sure I've more than made up for it with the chapter's length.

So, the test result came in. And it's a negative. You cannot imagine how relieved I was when I read that letter from the hospital. The anxiety that I felt while waiting for confirmation became the fuel to write this chapter and I have to say that it worked well.

This chapter might seem too long, but I am still working on the pacing of the story. The first part of this chapter is supposed to be a flashback, but I hate it when I have a whole entire section of the story written in italics. This means the next chapters will also be longer in length so please look forward to them.

Stay healthy guys and soldier on.