A boy of about fifteen, with messy black hair and average height, waited restlessly in front of an abandoned house. He was an exorcist-in-training, classified as class 5 — the lowest rank in the hierarchy, reserved for rookies with little experience, low control, and small reserves of spiritual energy.
"Where the hell is that idiot senior? It's been over half an hour..." He muttered to himself, casting an impatient glance around before fixing his attention back on the house in front of him.
To ordinary eyes, the building was nothing more than an abandoned house: grimy facade, dusty windows, and a yard overrun by weeds. But to someone sensitive to spiritual flow, like him, the house reeked of a foul, corrupted aura — a tainted energy that seemed to crawl over the skin.
That suggested a profane spirit, a being born from the worst of human emotions, was on the premises.
'This is my first field mission... if I mess this up, I can say goodbye to any chance of promotion anytime soon,' he thought, looking around once again and seeing no sign of the senior who was supposed to supervise him.
His frustration grew, and the boy's impatience reached its limit. 'You know what? Screw it. I'm going in and taking care of this myself. If they gave me this mission, it's because I can handle that spirit.'
Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage and reaffirmed his trust in his spiritual technique. 'I know I can do this.' With a determined motion, he pushed the rusted gate, which creaked in protest, and took the first step onto the house's grounds — his heart racing, but firm in his resolve to prove his worth.
The boy crossed the yard in a few strides, approaching the house that seemed to swallow the daylight. As soon as he reached the door, he focused on the corrupted energy pulsing through the environment.
'This really is as disgusting as the teacher said.' He pushed the door carefully, the groan of the wood echoing through the oppressive silence.
Inside, it was a tomb of dust and shadows. Peeling walls bore mold stains, and an acrid stench clung to everything.
The boy tried to ignore the smell and focus on the trail of corrupted energy, following it down a narrow hallway to a room at the back of the house. There, the corrupted energy was so dense it made the boy's skin tingle.
And then he saw it.
In the center of the room, the profane spirit revealed itself. It was a grotesque abomination — a shapeless mass of rotting flesh that seemed to melt and recombine. Viscous tentacles sprouted from its body, ending in mouths full of crooked teeth that chewed the air.
Bulging eyes, of varying sizes, swirled in their sockets and locked onto the boy with a ravenous hatred the moment he entered the room.
"You don't look that weak..." the boy muttered, raising his hands as he channeled his spiritual energy. "But I'll burn you to ashes!" Yellow flames erupted from his fingers, his fire-based technique coming to life.
He launched a scorching blast at the unholy spirit, which roared as the flames licked its flesh, leaving charred marks behind.
The creature retaliated with terrifying speed. A tentacle shot toward the boy, who barely dodged, feeling the displaced air brush against his face. He countered with another burst of fire, aiming for the creature's eyes.
One of the eyeballs burst in a shower of pus, and the spirit shrieked, shaking the room with its fury. The boy smiled, confident.
But his arrogance was his downfall. The unholy spirit twisted, and from its shapeless mass sprouted more tentacles, too fast to track. One of them struck the boy in the chest, hurling him against the wall with a sickening crack.
He fell coughing, the taste of blood in his mouth. "Damn... I wasn't expecting that."
He got up and conjured another fire blast, the strongest he could manage. The flames engulfed the unholy spirit, and for a moment, he believed he'd won. But the creature emerged from the yellow inferno, its scorched flesh regenerating in seconds.
'What? How did he—' Before the boy could finish his thought, a tentacle pierced his shoulder like a spear, ripping a scream of agony from him. "ARGHHH!"
The unholy spirit gave him no time to recover and surged forward, wrapping him in its tentacles. The boy tried to conjure more fire, but his spiritual energy was chaotic from the pain. 'No... not like this, I need to—'
The last thing he saw was the mouth full of teeth opening before his face.
SQUELCH!
***
The ice cream shop was alive that sunny afternoon, with the sweet aroma of chocolate and strawberry filling the air. Colorful tables crowded the small space, and the clinking of spoons against ice cream cups mixed with the murmur of conversations.
At the counter, a 17-year-old boy, with blond hair falling over his forehead and green eyes that gleamed with a mischievous spark, watched the movement. He wore formal clothes—black pants, polished shoes, but the white button-up shirt, though tucked in, had its sleeves rolled up and the collar loose, as if the boy had only halfway committed to formality.
On the other side of the counter, a 30-year-old woman, brown hair tied in a loose bun and an apron stained with fruit, cleaned a milkshake machine with tired gestures. She kept a neutral expression, focused on her work, ignoring the pop music playing in the background.
The boy leaned forward slightly, a confident smile on his lips. "Hey, has anyone ever told you that you make the best ice cream in town? It's almost unfair to the other shops."
She didn't even look up, continuing to clean the machine. "You say that every time you show up. What do you want? Free ice cream?" Her tone was dry, with a hint of sarcasm.
He laughed, unfazed, and rested his chin on his hand, staring at her. "Not at all. I just needed an excuse to talk to the prettiest person here. I mean, how can someone be so good with ice cream and still look that good in an apron?"
She paused for a second, only to shoot him a firm look over her shoulder. "Look, kid, save those pickup lines for someone else. You're too young to be trying that stuff on me." As soon as she finished, she went back to work as if he wasn't even there.
He blinked, surprised, but quickly recovered, his smile gaining a defiant sparkle. "Too young? Why don't you give me a chance to prove I'm way more interesting than that milkshake machine?"
"In your dreams," she shot back, rolling her eyes.
He opened his mouth to fire off another line, but a buzz in his pants pocket cut him off. Frowning, he fished out his phone with an impatient sigh. The screen flashed a name that made his shoulders slump: [The most annoying person in the world].
"Oh no... what does she want now?" he muttered, sighing as he saw the name of the person calling.
Weighing the pros and cons of not answering for a few seconds, the boy came to the conclusion that picking up would give him less of a headache than ignoring the girl. "Hey, Ellie, my ray of sunshine! To what do I owe the honor?"
[Joseph, I just finished supervising my first-year. Everything went well. The girl's got great technique, you know? I think she's going to be an amazing exorcist.]
"Oh yeah? That's nice," Joseph replied, completely uninterested.
[How was yours?]
"..."
[...]
"..."
[Joseph...] Her voice turned sharper. [You forgot, didn't you?!]
"What? No, no! Are you crazy? I just had a little setback," He spun on his heels and left the ice cream shop with long strides.
[You forgot! How can you forget something like that?!-]
"I'm going through a tunnel, bye." Joseph hung up and shoved the phone into his pants pocket. 'Alright, if I'm not mistaken, I left a mark on that kid,' he thought, raising his hand and snapping his fingers.
But nothing happened.
He blinked, staring at his hand like it had betrayed him. "You've got to be kidding me..."
***
"Muchas gracias, mi amigo. Keep the change." Joseph tossed some crumpled bills at the cab driver and stepped out without waiting for a reply. The car sped off, and he turned to the abandoned house, sensing the corrupted energy saturating the place.
He sighed, scratching his head with one hand while the other rested in the pocket of his faded jeans. "The idiot really went in alone and died?" Not that he cared — rookies like that always thought they could play hero. If the kid died, that was his problem. "Tsk, tsk. I'm gonna hear the director's yelling all day tomorrow."
Joseph crossed the yard with slow steps, and when he reached the door, he kicked it open, the rotten wood giving way with a crack!
Inside, the place was a tomb of dust and mold. The stench was so strong it seemed to cling to his throat, but Joseph just rolled his eyes and moved forward, following the corrupted energy down a narrow hallway.
When he reached a room, he spotted a bloodstain on the floor, still fresh. "There's what's left of the genius," Joseph muttered, not bothering to take a closer look, and followed the trail of energy to the other side, where a profane spirit with disgusting tentacles and mouths full of crooked teeth chewing at the air watched him with bulging eyes.
"Lovely. You're the one who screwed up my day?" He stepped inside, one hand still in his pocket while the other began to glow with a silvery aura. "Let's get this over with."
BAAAMMM!!!