Chapter 2: Exorcism – Part 2

Every eye in the room converged on him.

Only a few seconds passed before the crowded “people” scrambled to both sides, like insects scattering from pesticide—they couldn’t get away fast enough, clearing a path for the newcomer. He didn’t spare them a glance, walking straight toward the old man at the lectern, clicking his tongue in disdain: “Not even wearing clothes. How obscene.”

His tone was flippant, his voice a little raspy, his drawl lazy. He was tall and lean, wearing a pair of 14-hole Doc Martens and a black monastic robe—a modern variation of the medieval Christian monk’s habit, open at the front like a coat, with a long cowl draped over his shoulders like a cloak. The whole thing looked like a heavy overcoat. Beneath it was an ivory shirt, his Roman collar slightly loose. Three cross necklaces hung around his neck—one gold, one silver, one black—clinking with a crisp sound as he moved. Andrei noticed that every time they chimed, the “people” around him gave a slight shudder.

Andrei felt a strange sense of familiarity and studied him more closely.

This priest wore a pair of small round sunglasses, like something a fortune-teller from the East might wear, but the lenses were yellow, with gold chains draping over his straight shoulders. His short, light blond hair was tied back, a little messy, the firelight giving it a reddish glow. His face looked very young, and at that moment, it was expressionless, almost cold. His fingers were long and slender, with tattoos on the backs of his hands and wrists—a stretch of blue-black ink extending onto his middle finger on one side.

Andrei had a hunch. He stared intently at the man’s profile.

Sure enough…

Andrei watched the figure walk toward the lectern and was suddenly struck with the thought: “He’s all grown up…”

The man walked with a relaxed, almost sloppy gait, fixing his gaze on the bonfire as he closed in on the old man. He stopped a step away, smiled, and pointed at himself: “First, introductions.”

He seemed to be in a good mood, his movements a little theatrical—clearly someone used to doing whatever he wanted, with no regard for anyone present.

“Why was I late?” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the stray strands back to reveal his forehead, and said very solemnly, “Because I got lost.”

“Now, the real question is—why did I get lost?”

He continued talking to himself. The old man tried to speak, but Eisen raised a hand to cut him off, signaling not to interrupt—no respect for the elderly whatsoever.

“This goes back to last month…”

“Silence! Filth of the earth, rotten flesh!” The old man’s voice suddenly rose, layered with other noises, thundering in Andrei’s ears and raising goosebumps all over his body.

Eisen fell silent for a moment, as if suppressing his temper, then went on: “My name is Eisen. But judging by how archaic you talk, you’ve only just crawled up from below—you wouldn’t know me.”

Eisen touched his chin, bent down to get close to the old man’s face, stared into his sickly yellow pupils, and grinned. “Let’s put it this way—I’m the one they call ‘Erebus.'”

The old man’s expression shifted dramatically. The name clearly hit him hard. Eisen smiled, satisfied. Bubbles suddenly rose on the old man’s face, threatening to burst through his skin. The church floor trembled slightly. The crowded mass began chanting in unison, their voices growing louder. Cracks spread across the stained glass windows in the dome. The church sank into an eerie silence, like the calm before a storm. Across the floor, swarms of rats ran in circles, their eyes bloodshot, their claws sharp and red, grotesquely large. They bit at each other’s tails, devouring one another, writhing and squirming in a mass like shifting black fog, squeaking in a way that made one’s stomach turn.

Eisen grabbed the old man by the throat, his voice sickly sweet: “No running. Every one of you dies today.”

The old man threw his head back and screamed. The congregation followed, raising their faces in a piercing shriek like a thousand cars honking at once. The old man’s mouth stretched to an impossible width, tearing the corners of his lips all the way to his ears, yet no blood came—only black smoke billowing out.

Andrei couldn’t hold on any longer and collapsed to his knees. The floor felt like a furnace; blisters bubbled up on his arms as if scalded by boiling water.

The black smoke rushed outward. Eisen looked down at his feet—the floor had turned to hellfire, red flames licking upward.

Then Eisen fixed his gaze on the smoke and said: “Come back.”

The smoke halted its outward surge, then abruptly reversed direction, slamming back into the body with such force that the old man staggered.

Eisen clicked his tongue in annoyance and waved his hand dismissively. “All of you—shut up.”

The entire room fell instantly silent.

Eisen flicked his index finger toward the bonfire, and the flames died out. The floor returned to normal. He was still gripping the old man’s throat, lifting him off the ground. The old man’s sickly yellow pupils glowed as he glared venomously at the young man before him, trying to push the black smoke away from him—but the smoke was uncontrollably surging back into the body, because Erebus had given the order.

Eisen stared at him. “Your name.”

The old man rasped: “Sariel…”

Eisen released him, and Sariel crashed heavily to the ground. Eisen stepped around him, strode up to the lectern, hopped onto it, stood tall, and surveyed the entire room from above. He cleared his throat, spread his arms, and smiled. “Now, you may scream.”

The demons shrieked in terror, the glass vibrating even more violently, cracks widening. Candles blazed fiercely. Blood surged from all four corners of the floor for no reason. They tore at each other, crowding into a tangled mess.

Eisen seemed pleased. He clapped his hands, and amid the frantic screams, he crouched down, looking at the black smoke tearing through Sariel’s body, and said softly: “Liars, deceivers, murderers, subjects of Satan, filthy serpents—hear my command…”

The demons began folding their bodies into grotesque shapes. Andrei watched the woman to his right fold herself seven times—arms and legs bent together, head wedged between her arms, her eyes bulging outward until they popped out with a wet sound, dangling by their nerves.

Eisen watched the bizarre contortions and continued: “Now I—”

Sariel suddenly lunged, mouth agape, hurtling toward Eisen with murderous intent. His skin had turned a purplish red, like a meatball ready to explode.

Eisen calmly watched Sariel charge at him and finished his sentence: “—banish you.”

In an instant, a red light flared from every person present. It blazed, turning the church crimson as if an explosion had gone off, accompanied by agonized wails as the human forms burned in red.

Andrei turned his head away, closing his eyes against the blinding light.

Then came cold silence.

Andrei finally recovered, slowly opening his eyes to see bodies piled everywhere, only a few weak candles flickering with faint flames. Debris fell sporadically from the dome. The church was as quiet as a graveyard.

He saw Eisen on the lectern, seemingly talking to thin air.

Eisen stared at a spot in midair. “Hey, didn’t you say it was here? Are you asking for it?”

Andrei saw nothing in that direction, but heard Eisen continue: “Should I banish you too?”

Andrei tried to move. Eisen was still talking: “Don’t be polite. I don’t mind.”

Andrei gripped the back of a pew and stood, only to lose strength and slump back down.

The noise caught Eisen’s attention. He turned to look. “Ah… there’s still one person…”

Eisen jumped down from the lectern and walked toward him. “When did you get here? If you came before the ritual started, then you’re done for—within a month, tops. Lucky I’m here. I’ll give you a eulogy on the spot…”

Eisen kept talking, not seeming to expect a reply.

Andrei watched him approach and realized Eisen was even taller than he’d looked from afar.

Eisen walked over and leaned against the back of the pew in front of him, propping one foot up on the bench beside Andrei, his boot brushing against Andrei’s outer thigh. He bent down to look at him. “Can you speak?”

“Eisen…” Andrei’s voice was hoarse, but it worked.

“You can talk, huh…”

“You…” Andrei coughed a few times. “You’ve grown up…”

Eisen blinked, caught off guard. He reached out, grabbed Andrei’s chin, forced his head up, and studied his face for a while.

A long silence passed. Then Eisen turned to the air and frowned. “Don’t interrupt.”

He let go of Andrei’s chin and finally dropped his bewildered expression, curling his lips into a smile. “You’ve got some luck. Always have.”

Andrei pulled the corners of his mouth into a smile. “Long time no see.”

The young man ran a hand through his hair—a very childish gesture—then crossed his arms, unconsciously swinging his foot as if thinking, not responding to Andrei.

“What are you doing here?” Andrei pressed.

Eisen still didn’t answer. He was frowning, not looking at Andrei, staring at his own foot.

Eisen was nineteen this year—still very young compared to Andrei.

His face was lowered, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, the chains swaying slightly. Eisen had always had delicate features as a child, and he’d only refined them as he grew. His features were sculpted, with sharp contours—a smooth forehead, a narrow, straight nose, high brow bones, and deep-set eyes. The face of a handsome man. His eyes were large, but his gaze always seemed rather lifeless—a family trait. He had green eyes, with pupils set closer to the upper lid rather than centered, so together they gave him a perpetually cold, unapproachable look no matter what… Andrei thought he was better off as a child. Even then he’d had that grumpy expression, but at least it wasn’t like now—now, when his face was blank, Eisen’s features could only be described as “world-weary,” practically writing “not approachable” and “stay away” across his forehead.

Both of Eisen’s middle fingers had tattoos—small strips of Hebrew scripture. Andrei recognized the phrase: “Avoid love and grief.”

Andrei tried to break the awkward silence by speaking again, but Eisen suddenly looked up at the air and said, “Why do you talk so much?”

Andrei looked in that direction. “Is there something there?”

Eisen turned to him, paused, then finally said, “…Nothing.”

Andrei realized he didn’t want to talk about it, so he kept quiet, waiting for the conversation to “naturally” end.

But Eisen seemed determined to find something to talk about: “Those were the lowest-rank demons. They can only possess dead bodies.”

Andrei nodded. “Oh.”

“I killed—” Eisen corrected himself, “—banished them all. Should be fine now.”

“Oh.”

“It looks hard, but it’s not that hard, actually.” Eisen cleared his throat and tapped his watch. The little orb that had been playing background music rolled over to him. He bent down and picked it up. “The principle is magnetic fields.”

Andrei didn’t respond, but that didn’t stop Eisen from showing off.

“Non-human creatures have different magnetic fields from humans. Sound waves or radiation at specific frequencies can destroy them.”

“I thought you guys were all about chanting scriptures. Since you had that… power as a kid.”

Eisen looked up at him. “I still do. My words are commands to them. That thing over there”—he pointed at the flat disc still hovering in the air—”is a sound-amplifying tool that can shatter disembodied extradimensional magnetic creatures. That’s why it floats—it creates a small magnetic field. Though of course, humans can’t feel it.”

“Oh.”

“Mainly,” Eisen stared at him, “when the ritual started, you synced with them. That ritual should have made you lose control of your mind—you should be dead by now. I don’t know why you’re fine.”

Andrei touched his own abdomen. “Seems like nothing’s wrong.”

“That’s what’s strange.”

Andrei heard a clear, bright voice cut in abruptly. He followed the sound and saw a winged alpaca flying in the air, its mouth moving as it spoke.

Then Eisen turned to it impatiently: “Don’t interrupt.”

Andrei asked blankly: “Alpacas can fly?”

Eisen answered: “This thing isn’t even—” then suddenly caught himself. “Wait—you can see it?”