"NOOOOO!!!!" Ronald screamed.
He dropped to a squat, trembling like a cornered kitten, hands clamped over his ears. His voice cracked as he wailed, "I don't like tragedy!"
I stood there, deadpan, watching the grown man crumble.
"Oui. My eardrum nearly exploded, you crybaby."
Ronald peeked up, eyes glossy like a scolded puppy.
"I'm sowwy..."
I sighed, resigned.
"I'll continue reading it by myself."
Ronald let out a sigh of relief so deep it sounded like a dying balloon.
I flipped the page.
"The slowness is killing me. I hope we're almost at the end." I prayed inwardly.
25th March, 18XX
A single thunderous gunshot tore through the garden.
The demon's attack, just inches from obliterating the young exorcist, fractured into a burst of shadows and fading sparks.
The demon flinched—startled.
The young exorcist spun toward the sound.
"Master."
There, standing amid the drifting smoke and crackling air, was a man carved from the grit of a hundred wars. His white shirt hung loose, black pants worn at the seams. A tattered black coat flared with each gust of wind. And atop his head—a black fedora, tilted just enough to give him a legend's silhouette.
His guns gleamed in the moonlight, and a half-smoked cigarette danced between his lips.
"Watch out, kiddo. You know, this old man can't save you every time you get into trouble, right?"
His voice was gravel and thunder.
Then he looked at the demon.
Eyes like polished steel.
"Besides… Didn't I tell you to analyze our enemy first before starting a fight?"
The apprentice's shoulders sank.
"Yes, Master."
The old exorcist walked up, rough hand ruffling the young man's hair with an odd gentleness.
"Don't be sad, kiddo. Remember this lesson and don't repeat the same mistake."
A flicker of fire returned to the apprentice's eyes.
"Understood."
With a slow nudge, the old man pushed his apprentice back.
"Stay back and keep yourself safe. This might be dangerous."
Their eyes met—unspoken trust exchanged in a heartbeat.
The demon yawned. Loudly.
"Are you finally done talking? I thought it would take another lifetime before you are done. Hmm. Hmm."
"Oh? Then we better get right to it."
Before the demon could blink, the second gun was already in the old man's hand.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
A trio of bullets sang through the air.
The demon's form twisted into mist, vanishing mid-shot.
It reappeared—behind the exorcist.
A claw sliced down, wicked and fast.
But the old exorcist was faster.
He turned, body twisting with fluid precision. The claws missed him by a breath, and the ground split instead.
The sky responded to their clash.
Clouds bled red.
Lightning cracked like the heavens themselves were trying to intervene.
Buildings shuddered. The very earth cracked, veins of destruction spreading like prophecy. Debris rained.
And in the middle of it all—a gun and a claw danced.
"Not bad. You're strong. Why not be mine?" the demon offered, grinning like a fox.
"You're not my cup of tea."
"What about coffee?" the demon asked, deadly serious.
"Neither."
For a moment, the battle paused.
The demon's brow furrowed.
"This is the first time I've been rejected."
"Get used to it."
The old man ejected his spent rounds, reloading with calm precision.
The demon's eye twitched.
"Oh wait. You won't get used to it."
The exorcist smirked.
"Because you'll be dead soon."
"How confident you are... Let's see how long that lasts."
And then came the storm.
The demon unleashed a torrent of magic, raw and violent, tearing toward the exorcist like a thousand banshees screaming.
"Flirting during a fight? That's why they're single," I muttered, puffing my cheeks. "There's no room for romance when you're in the middle of a battle!"
"The young exorcist is alive," Ronald sighed, clapping his hands in relief.
"Oh, right. I forgot about him," I said absently.
"You're so cruel!" Ronald gasped.
"Whatever. Let's continue."
25th March, 18XX
Time passed. Blood spilled. The battle waged on.
The old exorcist—once a wall of unshakable strength—was faltering.
A massive blast hit him, and his body flew like a ragdoll across the fractured ground.
CRASH.
He lay still for a moment, dust rising in lazy curls.
"Oh… These aching bones," he muttered, wincing.
"Master!" the apprentice screamed from a distance.
The demon stood tall, untouched, an apex predator gazing at its prey.
"Humans are such fragile beings. I can't help but feel pity for them."
But the old man rose. Staggering. Shaking. Still rising.
"Don't count me out just yet, demon."
The demon scoffed.
"I was merely killing time by talking to myself, considering how long you'd squirm on the ground."
The old exorcist's face was a bloody mask. Bones likely broken. Vision blurred.
Still—he stood.
"Are you sure you won't accept me?"
"I would never date you. I'm lonely, not desperate."
"Date?" The demon looked genuinely offended.
"I was talking about being my slave. Why would I date a human?"
"...Then what's with those misleading words?!"
He coughed blood after shouting.
"What misleading words? I was being courteous unlike most barbaric demons who would force others into servitude without consent."
"A courteous demon? That's a first."
The demon's grin faded into a scowl.
"Are we done talking yet? I'd like to finish this quickly so that I can go back to my beauty sleep."
Despite the pain, the old man chuckled.
"You sure are a weird demon."
His voice hardened.
"Alright. Let's put an end to this once and for all."
He made a signal.
The apprentice—eyes focused—began the incantation. His lips whispered sacred words, his hands glowing with sealing light.
The demon lunged.
Too fast. Too sudden.
A claw pierced through the exorcist's chest.
"Master!"
Blood burst from the old exorcist's chest like a crimson fountain. The demon sneered.
"Looks like your time ends here."
But then—
The old exorcist smiled.
A twisted grin, cracked with blood.
"Don't worry, yours as well."
The demon stiffened.
A chill slithered up its spine.
Behind them, reality twisted. Symbols of pure light began etching into the air, locking the garden inside a holy cage.
"Tsk!"
The demon tried to retreat—but couldn't.
Its hand was still inside the exorcist.
"He might be bad at exterminating... but he is one heck of a sealer."
The old man's grip tightened on the demon's arm. His blood soaked into the ground. His life slipped away second by second.
But he held on.
The apprentice's voice crescendoed—the sealing spell roared.
I looked at the diary with judging eyes. "You know... This would be more interesting if the demon possess hol—"
"NOOO!!! Don't say another word!" Ronald screamed like a banshee, flailing his arms like a chicken with a vendetta.
"What did I say wrong?"
"So far whatever you say comes true, so no!"
"You don't even know what I was about to say."
"I do! And... No!" Ronald huffed and crossed his arms.
"Alright. Alright. Yeesh!" I surrendered before he started crying.