The warehouse door, a twisted sheet of metal hanging from broken hinges, creaked loudly as Joseph pushed it open with his shoulder. The sound echoed inside, blending with the distant hum of wind slipping through the cracks. Inside, darkness reigned, cut only by beams of light piercing through shattered windows, illuminating dust particles floating in the air.
Joseph stopped just after crossing the threshold, wrinkling his nose as he felt the corrupted energy pulsing—dense, almost tangible. 'This density... doesn't feel like a class 3. But with both of us, it should be a breeze.'
"Well, I guess it already knows we're here," Joseph said as his eyes adjusted to the dimmer space.
Getting no response, he glanced over his shoulder at the girl standing at the entrance, wide green eyes scanning the room. "Hey, redhead, you waiting for a formal invitation? Come on."
She swallowed hard, her face pale beneath the freckles, but took a step forward. "Don't call me that. And… how do you know where to look for this thing?"
"...WHAT?!" Joseph exclaimed, turning to her. "You're joking, right?"
"N-no?" she replied, confused, feeling her face flush. What had she said wrong? It was just a question!
Joseph stood frozen, mouth slightly open. 'When William said she needed more experience, did he mean building it from scratch?!' he thought, mind reeling. That girl, with such massive spiritual energy, knew nothing? "This has to be a joke—"
!!!
Joseph's eyes widened as he sensed something moving fast, heading straight for the girl—who seemed completely unaware of death's touch.
BAAM!
***
Since she was little, Charlotte Valcorin dreamed of becoming an exorcist. She imagined herself facing profane spirits with confidence, casting powerful techniques, like the stories her mother used to tell her. But her father never allowed it.
It didn't matter how many times she begged, eyes shining with hope, or tried to argue with: "If it's dangerous, dad, isn't it better if I learn how to defend myself?" He would just shake his head, his face hardened, and change the subject or simply say "It's not for you," and end the conversation.
Charlotte never understood why. Why couldn't she learn about the energy she felt pulsing through her veins like a river trapped behind a dam? She felt it growing, year after year, a warm flame that sometimes sparked in her fingers without her meaning to. But without training, without guidance, it was like carrying a locked-up treasure, completely useless.
That was the worst feeling in the world: knowing she could run free, but being chained, forced to walk with crutches.
Even so, she tried everything. She secretly read books about Spiritual Flow, tried to meditate alone in the backyard, imitating gestures she imagined exorcists would make. Once, at twelve years old, she managed to make a white spark dance continuously in the palm of her hand.
Charlotte was so euphoric she ran to tell her father, but he just turned pale and yelled at her for the first time, telling her to never do that again. After that, Charlotte kept her experiments to herself.
But all that changed a day ago. Out of nowhere, her father walked into her room, shoulders tense and eyes distant. "Charlotte, I'm taking you to the Exorcist Center. You're going to learn how to control your spiritual energy."
She blinked, stunned, hoping it was a dream. When he left, she jumped on the bed for minutes, laughing to herself, her heart bursting with joy. Finally! Finally, she could be who she always wanted.
The next day, Charlotte was ready three hours ahead of time. She packed her backpack five times, changed clothes three, unable to contain the excitement that made her pace back and forth.
What would he teach her first? Combat techniques? How to sense the Flow? Would she already face a profane spirit? Her mind spun with possibilities, each more thrilling than the last. When her father arrived, she practically flew to the car, her smile so wide it hurt.
But when they arrived at the Center, reality hit her like a punch. "Stay in the dorm," William ordered, not looking her in the eyes. "Wait until I come back." And then he was gone, leaving her alone in the room, with a backpack full of expectations and no one to share them with.
Charlotte was furious. What do you mean? After years of denying a part of her, he finally brought her into the exorcist "world"... and told her to wait? It was like showing a feast to someone starving and locking the kitchen door.
She wanted to scream, punch the wall, run after him and demand answers. But she swallowed the anger, biting her lip until it hurt. She was closer to her dream than ever before. She wouldn't ruin it by complaining on the first day.
The day passed like torture. Every minute felt like an hour, every tick of the clock a provocation. She tried to distract herself — made the bed, unmade it, flipped through a book without reading a word. She looked out the window, watching exorcists cross the courtyard. Her kind, finally. But she was stuck, isolated, like she always had been.
Her father didn't come back. Didn't send a message. It was as if he had forgotten about her.
When anger started turning into tears, a knock at the door pulled her out of her misery. Charlotte froze, heart racing. Could it be him? But the voice on the other side wasn't her father's. "Anyone home? It's Joseph. I... uh, came under your father's orders."
She practically jumped out of bed, a mix of relief and fury propelling her. Before opening the door, Charlotte took a deep breath, trying to tame the storm inside. She didn't want to seem like a spoiled child, but when she saw the boy — messy blond hair, crooked smile, a vibe like he didn't take anything seriously — her irritation slipped out.
Joseph wasn't what she expected from an exorcist. Her father was strict, disciplined, a wall of authority. This guy looked more like a surfer who had stumbled into the Center by mistake. But then he dropped the bomb: "Your father asked me to take you to see two exorcisms."
Charlotte blinked, the ground seeming to vanish beneath her feet. Exorcisms? Two? Now?
Her heart leapt. It was everything she'd ever wanted — to be in the field, feel the adrenaline, see a profane spirit up close. But a pang of fear cut through her. What if she messed it all up? What if... she wasn't good enough?
Charlotte swallowed the fear, forcing a firm look. "Alright. Wait here, I'll get changed." She shut the door before he could answer, her heart beating so loud it seemed to echo in the room. 'You've got this, Charlotte. You were born for this.'
When she came out, she tried to keep up the facade of confidence, but every step beside Joseph made her feel the weight of the unknown. He was annoying, with that way he laughed at his own jokes, but also... steady.
Like nothing could shake him. It irritated her and, at the same time, comforted her. Maybe, with him around, she could at least get a glimpse — of the world she'd always dreamed of, now just a few steps away.
***
But all those illusions shattered in an instant.
BAM!
A blast of wind tore through the air, violent, blowing Charlotte's hair back and making her shut her eyes by reflex. The impact threw her off balance, and she staggered, heart leaping to her throat. 'W-what was that?' she thought, opening her eyes with hesitation.
What she saw made her freeze.
Joseph was in front of her, his back to her, his entire body tense. His right arm trembled, wrapped in a silver aura that pulsed intensely, as he held tightly to the wrist of… a creature that, at first glance, looked vaguely human, but was anything but.
Its skin was a sickly white, crisscrossed with black veins that snaked like cracks across its torso and arms. Its eyes, hollow and pupil-less, glowed with a yellowish light, fixed on her with a mix of hatred and hunger.
Its mouth, slightly open, revealed jagged teeth, sharp as blades.
"Is that… is that a profane spirit?" Charlotte murmured to herself, voice caught in her throat as she instinctively stepped back. Her stomach churned, but she couldn't look away. It was grotesque, but also… real. What she had always dreamed of facing was now there, just meters away, and reality was far more terrifying than her fantasies.
***
"Damn it," Joseph muttered through clenched teeth, his arm still locked with the spirit's. 'That's a Class 2'. His eyes narrowed, assessing the creature. 'It must've just evolved.'
The profane spirit let out a guttural sound and tried to lunge forward. Joseph didn't budge. The silver aura around his arm flared brighter, and he channeled even more spiritual energy, murmuring, "Repulsion."
An invisible wave exploded from his hand.
The profane spirit was hurled backward with force, its pale arms flailing as it flew several meters across the warehouse. It slammed into a stack of rotting crates, which collapsed in a cloud of dust and splinters.
"You have to get out of here now!" Joseph shouted, eyes still locked on the pile of debris. His face was serious, none of the usual smile in sight.
"W-what?" Charlotte stammered, her voice nearly swallowed by panic.
"That thing's going to hunt whoever has the most spiritual energy nearby, and that person is you. So run!" Joseph snapped, his tone sharp and urgent.
Charlotte's heart pounded so fast it felt like it would burst. Her legs trembled, torn between the instinct to flee and the feeling that she couldn't just leave Joseph behind.
Before she could decide, a roar tore through the air, shaking the ground. The dust cloud exploded, and the profane spirit shot forward at high speed, heading straight for Charlotte, its yellow eyes glowing with hunger.
BAM!
Joseph appeared again, a blur of motion between her and the creature. With a strained yell, he grabbed the spirit's arm mid-attack, the silver aura now engulfing his entire body.
Joseph spun and slammed the creature into the ground, the impact cracking the concrete. Dust rose around them.
"I said run!" he shouted, face tense as he held the creature, which thrashed violently, its claws swiping dangerously close to his face. 'This is gonna be a pain.'