Initiating the service, he advanced with determination, guided by the mysterious cry which, thanks to his deep understanding of the spiritual realm, he recognized as something supernatural. Cautiously, his footsteps echoed down the corridor while his eyes scanned every room, wall, and door.
In the oppressive silence, he was surprised by the absence of any sign of life, despite knowing that janitors were supposedly still on duty.
As he moved forward, the darkness seemed to follow closely behind, chasing him and wrapping the environment in a thickening shadow, gradually shrinking his field of vision.
"The time just flies by…" he muttered to himself, drifting like a ghost past the windows.
At the end, near the staircase leading to the first floor, he found a peculiar scene. On the left, a clock above a water fountain showed five minutes to 9 PM, beside a waiting bench.
There were still two hours until full nightfall, yet darkness already spilled across the horizon, devouring the last traces of light.
"This is hunting ground now!" declared Azaael, his voice rising from the depths of the young man's mind. "Ironically, he doesn't even realize we're the real hunters!" he laughed mockingly.
"Seems like it… How did that creature gain so much power without taking lives?" he asked, glancing out the final window by the fountain. The sky was soaked in shadow—no cold glow of Nox ruling the world, no souls rising like stars in the celestial vastness.
"A being of terror can't grow in power without causing terror! Think logically, kid—the old man's lying!"
In the material world, a mundane entity only appeared and survived because of its origin.
"I know. I even considered that. It's strange no one called for an exorcism earlier, no matter how insane it sounds—these things always end in accidents…" He sighed deeply. "But, whether I understand it or not, he's a piece of shit. In the end, who cares? Let's just finish this already." Determined and disillusioned, he surrendered to his profane ideals.
He looked up at the sky again, stared into the infinite blackness—nothing beyond it—and took a step back, shoving both hands into the pockets of his coat.
"So that's it: we take the cash, get the hell out, and never come back… unless he's dumb enough to pay well again!" he chuckled, finding it all ridiculously amusing.
"For once, we agree!" came the reply, as he fixed his gaze forward. That's when he noticed: where there should've been a passage to the other wing of the building, a solid wall now stood. "Lucky for us this'll be over quickly… Seems the bastard's calling us!"
With an ironic half-smile, he headed for the staircase again. The only sound in his ears was that of his own footsteps. As he descended, the darkness further dulled his sight, compromising his abilities as a hunter. Yet, that didn't intimidate him. In a single moment, he could ignite his aura and shift from prey to predator.
His senses, though weakened, detected a diffuse black energy within the demonic zone. A presence with no beginning or end, like trying to feel a single droplet of water while submerged in an ocean.
Eventually, he reached the first floor, finding himself between two hallways and chose the one unfolding to the left.
The corridor, flanked by school lockers, echoed with the sounds of hurried footsteps and the clang of metal being crushed.
I'll dance to the rhythm of your song…
His eyes focused as he pushed forward, braving the darkness until he reached a double wooden door, crowned with a carved sign:
"Practical Training Area."
As he pushed the door open, the groaning of the wood echoed through the corridor—a sinister symphony that disturbed his mind, turning into an abyss before his eyes. The darkness, thick like ink, seemed to stare back at him, as though the space itself was aware of his presence in this epicenter of darkness.
Advancing again, fearless, he stepped into the domain of evil, where every footstep seemed to amplify the presence of the still-hidden entity.
More double doors lined the corridor, separating the hallway from courts and training rooms—each marked with inscriptions offering both promise and unease. He read every sign until, just before reaching the gym to his right, he heard the caw of a crow.
"The rat is on the move…" he mocked, sensing a flicker behind him—perhaps a trick of his own madness in the face of such malevolence.
The deeper one strayed into a predator's domain, the more insane and vulnerable they became.
Ignoring the sensation, he pressed on, pushing open the worn-down door—its wear more pronounced than the others. Even with his inhuman strength, it gave way slowly, groaning in protest, as if reluctant to reveal its secrets.
The room was shrouded in shadow. Despite a glass ceiling, no light pierced the gloom—blocked by the malevolent entity that engulfed the building.
In the center of the gym stood a pommel horse, its handles stained with fresh blood from a crow perched atop it.
Without hesitation, he stepped fully inside. As he slammed the door shut behind him, the force nearly shattered it.
The noise startled the crow, which flew straight into the glass above, dying instantly. It crashed to the ground in a puddle of putrid blood, crawling with worms—as if being eaten alive from within.
He stared into the dark, noticing faint movements that stirred the shadows, yet nothing took shape.
What the hell is he waiting for? Not going to attack? I'm sick of this horror movie crap!
His impatience showed only in his eyes. A supernatural aura began to envelop his body, pushing back the darkness and revealing motion ahead.
Finally, footsteps became audible, and a rotten stench intensified. The prelude to something vile.
Taking a breath, he called out:
"Show yourself!"
The creature's silhouette emerged. Its skin looked like stretched dark muscle, its eyes glowed, and sharp teeth gleamed. Curved horns, like those of a ram, jutted from its skull. Heavy abyssal-metal weights were chained to its hands—like a prisoner.
Each step cracked the floor beneath it, fresh blood dripping from its horns and the weights, leaving a grotesque trail behind.
"So you finally crawled out of your hole, huh, ugly?" he sneered, planting his feet firmly and raising his hands near his chest.
His aura exploded outward, saturating the room in a deep wine-red hue as an incantation escaped his lips:
"Transmutatio materiae et status…"
Scarlet flames danced between his fingers, and his eyes locked onto the beast with unwavering resolve.
He was ready to exorcise the entity.