"In the spiritual realm, to speak a word wrapped in its aura is to bring an action into being.
– A random exorcist
Morning of the 28th, the tenth and final passage of Cycle 381.
After six days of relentless storms—the result of an unwelcome rainy season drenching every corner of Crea until the end of the cycle—a light drizzle finally took their place.
As the skies cleared and blue returned to the firmament, the shadows that had hidden in darkness scattered before the divine light that bathed the earth, bringing relief to humankind after its long trial.
Parked by the side of the busy Denwa Highway, a black SUV rested two hours from the bustling metropolis and capital of Shoushin, more commonly known as Neo Tokyo.
Inside the vehicle, its tinted windows concealing the passenger, a young man lay in careless, peaceful sleep. His legs dangled out the open door, the engine off, the car unlocked.
Beneath the towering branches of a mighty sequoia—the largest tree species on Aija, the verdant continent—Aurora, Lady of the Morning, brushed her gentle light across the SUV's frame, casting a long shadow over the asphalt.
Dark leather shoes nearly touched the pavement as they peeked from the open door, while the car's radio quietly murmured the day's news from Tokyo FM.
Urgently, a mature, alluring female voice declared:
"The Order has issued a statement in response to Governor Shinzo Abe. According to their report, 78% of supernatural cases were resolved during the ninth passage..."
Her voice, like the soft raindrops kissing the pavement, caressed his ears as the earthy scent of moisture filled his nostrils. The morning light bathed his pale face, catching on the silver crucifix he wore—a supernatural silver, worn as both necklace and badge.
The piece shimmered, scattering divine light around him. Slowly, discomfort crept in and tugged at his slumber, until he let out a breath of weariness.
But restful sleep was a rare luxury for an exorcist.
Suddenly, a harsh, repetitive ringtone shattered the silence, dragging him back to waking life.
Half-conscious, he cracked open his eyes, blinking away the haze. The car door and distant road were a blur. He fumbled inside the pocket of his trench coat—just a few gold coins. The alarm still blared.
Where the hell did I leave it? he thought, annoyed.
With a deep sigh and a bitter taste in his mouth, he planted his feet on the car floor.
A dull crunch echoed beneath him—then the sound of shattered glass.
There it was. His smartphone, lying broken at his feet, its screen in pieces across the mat.
Great... just perfect.
He slapped his face lightly and glanced at himself in the rearview mirror.
Getting involved in this job was a mistake. Those stingy old geezers didn't even toss me a single yen. What a damn frustrating life.
He thought back to the night before, exhaling sharply as he slammed the car door shut with enough force to nearly snap the hinge.
His hands gripped the cold steering wheel, eyes fixed ahead through the windshield.
A burst of morning light flooded the cabin, stinging his eyes until they watered. Gradually, the world outside came into focus—the highway stretching endlessly toward the horizon, where it seemed to merge with the sky.
Cars sped by, spraying mist into the air, each vehicle racing against time.
"Back again, huh..." he muttered, flicking on the windshield wipers.
Back in the race. He maneuvered smoothly, pulling off the shoulder and back into traffic.
Up ahead, towering trees flanked both sides of the road. Their interwoven branches formed a green canopy that filtered the sunlight into dancing shadows across the asphalt.
The wind whispered through the leaves, accompanied by the soft patter of rain—a serene symphony for those traveling this path.
But even in the midst of beauty and peace, his thoughts couldn't stray far from Kyoto—where he'd spent seven days chasing the wretched Gallael, the man who'd murdered his parents.
Shattered hopes, lost opportunities… these memories haunted him.
That's how he lived—reliving the past, murdering his own future.
And so, he drove on, blind to the beauty of the road or the bittersweet sense of return.
Failure clung to him like a shadow, a constant reminder of his mediocre life as an exorcist. This return was anything but refreshing.
But perhaps—just perhaps—one day, his yearning would be fulfilled.
As always, destiny had plans of its own.