Prologue 4: The Hollow Priest
The night was dark, and full of terror. What faint light the moon could grant was obscured by a funeral shroud of endless clouds.
It suited Freed just fine.
Nights such as this one were the perfect hunting times of the Stray Devils, where the light grew dim and they dared step beyond their fetid shadows. As a man of God, there was no better time for him to give vent to those parts of himself that would not serve his role as a shepherd of the flock.
Better that the monsters bear the brunt of his sinful bloodlust and sadism, rather than the undeserving innocents.
The young priest wished he knew why his nature was as it was. Why the father had decreed he should live, burdened by such a disposition for harm. The twisted desires within him, that grew and rooted ever deeper no matter how much he beat them back...they weighed heavily on his mind, and the questions they raised weighed yet heavier.
Or so they did these days, anyway.
Once upon a time he had borne no such worries. He had felt no shame for his affliction - had revelled in it, even, glorifying his own rampant desires to kill, torture and maim.
It had taken but a day - but an instant, to forever break that single-minded lack of caring. A chance meeting as he left a meeting with his Exorcist instructor, the legendarily formidable Griselda Quarta, and quite literally ran into someone.
As always, recalling his first meeting with that girl brought a bitter smile to his face. He had shown her such cruelty, over and over, and never once had she shown resentment in return. Never once did her voice rise or bite in anger, no matter how much his own words tore at her or his actions pained her.
As he had been, young and impatient and full of base emotion, he couldn't comprehend it. It had taken only days for what patience he had to evaporate, and he had demanded an answer of her.
"Are you stupid or something, brat?! Why don't you ever fight back?! Why don't you ever get mad?!"
He hadn't been expecting an answer. Or, at least, not one that he cared about enough to really think on.
Then she had said nine words, and their simple weight had shattered the dark glass which kept him from realising his own nature.
"Because I could see that you were hurting, too."
Such a simple answer…yet it had confounded him so utterly as to leave the bloody creature he was then without a single word to speak. The monstrosity that had been slowly consuming the name of Freed Sellzen, an Exorcist so steeped in blood that to embrace his debauched lifestyle would have been so easy as to step away from it, had been stopped in his tracks by a slip of a girl with golden hair and emerald eyes, who had deigned to look beyond the monster and to the man beneath.
He spoke no more to her that day. But as time went by, Freed Sellzen would always find himself seeking Asia Argento once more.
At first, he did so in the name of breaking her faith.
Later, he became utterly confused by that same faith, and sought her for a kind of guidance no priest would ever provide.
And finally, as his faith began to decay while hers remained bright as ever, he spent every hour he could spare beside her as he sought reassurance in her.
Every time he left her, Freed found himself with greater and greater will to look, to truly look, at what he had become. The hate he felt turned inward and grew every stronger...and just as it darkened his heart, so too did it grow lighter as what love remained in him latched ever tighter to the girl who was the closest thing he had ever seen to God's light.
Freed recognised quickly that as he was, he could never be worthy to stand beside her. And so, he returned to his instructor, and begged her to excommunicate him.
In the church, he felt he could never reconcile his monstrous urges with his faith. He had struggled with both in equal measure, where so many others struggled with neither, and his path lay not within the Vatican.
She had been sad to see him go, when he had finally begun to set himself straight - but still, she acquiesced.
Freed spent the following year wandering aimlessly. He visited Jerusalem and the many sacred sites to which it was home. He spoke with Buddhists, Daoists, Quakers and Mormons, discovering the places where faiths clashed and where they stood together. He visited pagan sites like Stonehenge, looking for the fervor and heart of faith born long before Christ had descended to Earth.
He learned - more than he ever thought he could. But still, the answers he craved eluded him.
Settling in Kuoh had been almost a spontaneous action. It had occurred to him that, perhaps, there was something about offering sanctuary and succor to others that would help him reconcile with himself.
Six months had passed since he had made that choice, and they had been good months. He had spread the Word, he had done the Lord's work, he had shepherded the flock when they needed guidance. He had felt joy, a rare enough thing in his life.
But his hated desires still lingered.
Meditation and Scripture held them at bay - but on days such as this, when the monster bayed in his blood, he knew that it would need to be sated. One way...or another.
His footsteps halted outside a dilapidated warehouse, the Scripture of guidance and discernment of evil that he had spoken at his church's doorway buzzing behind his eyes. From its intensity, the quarry within the warehouse wouldn't require anything...special, to dispose of.
A flick of the wrist, and the hilt of his Light blade was in hand. A practiced motion of the other, and the Light gun from within his cassock was held firmly at the ready.
Nudging open the warehouse door with his shoulder, he led with his raised gun as his eyes took in everything and nothing at once. Once he had cleared the entrance and assured himself that there wasn't an ambush to be sprung just yet, he stepped forward, his footsteps silent despite the gravel beneath his feet. Any Exorcist worth their Light Element knew how to be stealthy when the situation called for it.
Well - with one or two exceptions.
Freed shook his head minutely at the thought. 'In fairness, Zenith Tempest and Durandal are rather effective arguments for discarding the subtle approach.'
Sticking close to the wall and making sure to check both behind him and above him at irregular intervals, Freed made his careful way around the various pieces of machinery and storage containers still littering the building. There were almost no clear sight-lines in the darkened labyrinth, and many Stray Devils were ambush predators…
...Except this one, apparently.
Leaning just enough of his face around the edge of a rusted fork-lift's cab to see, Freed examined his prey with an expert eye. Like all but the eldest or most uncontrolled Strays, it retained a humanoid element - in particular, a female body from the waist up, leading down into a lower body with far too many limbs for a humanoid but far too many fingers for anything else.
Perhaps she would have been pretty, once upon a time - now, as a centaurean nightmare with half a human body dangling from her maw, even that thin veneer of humanity was gone.
Freed took a deep, cleansing breath, closing his eyes-
Then they flashed open, and in a blur of silver hair and crackling white Faith, he moved.
Symbols formed of Light flashed across his skin, bolstering a physique forged by hardship and battle ever further beyond the mortal norm. While without it he was the match for any normal swordsman or gunslinger, with the augmentation his run was easily mistaken for teleportation by the untrained eye.
The Stray Devil, distracted by her meal, didn't register anything more than a quick glint of light like a reflection in glass.
Well - not until her arms abruptly fell from her shoulders, in any case.
Her roar of agony shook the floor moments after her severed limbs slapped down onto it, closely followed by the corpse she had been gnawing on. There was, surprisingly, no blood - the cauterizing heat of a Light blade, combined with the skill of Freed's cuts, assured that.
In contrast to the Stray's agonized yowls, Freed was utterly silent as his pistol rose, took aim, and loosed six bolts of Light in the blink of an eye. Each one slammed into her head, the grouping just wide enough that subsequent shots didn't pass through the holes left by their predecessors, and what remained of the Stray's head after that might have filled a matchbox.
A half-full matchbox.
The creature that had once been human staggered, then slumped to the ground as Light burned away what remained of her nervous system and the body recognised that there was no longer a brain to issue it commands.
Freed exhaled lowly as he deactivated his Light Blade, then surveyed the abattoir the warehouse had become. Not including the ravaged lower half of the corpse the Stray had been eating, there were the remains of four other bodies in varying stages of rot, scattered here and there.
'This…' he thought to himself, as he concealed his weapons and began gathering the bodies, 'is the part I hate most.'
After carefully lining up all five bodies, or at least what remained of them, Freed began to chant. White Light rose from his body in coruscating waves, then ran down him to pool at his feet and spread forward, sinking into the corpses before him.
"Brothers and sisters,
We do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death,
So that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.
For we believe that Jesus died and rose again,
And so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.
Exequies Scripture - Thessalonians 4:13-14."
As he chanted, the rot and vicious wounds on the bodies began to fade. Cold, dead flesh sprouted from the dessicated remains, filling in those parts that had been chewed or mauled away. It was more of a seeming, than anything - though the parts grew back they were truly dead, of no use to anyone even as raw materials.
But still - that was fine. That wasn't what these Words were for.
It took a full minute, but eventually five pristine corpses lay still in the dark, and Freed massaged his aching head. No matter how strong the Faith or Light Element, there was only so much Light a human could handle safely. The Word of God drew on Light like few things ever could - only the Archangel Mettatron could speak it as others would their native tongue.
It was only fitting, for the Archangel known as the Voice of God.
Since, last he'd checked, Freed was no angel - much less the one that Enoch had ascended to become - he was sporting the beginnings of a killer Light-headache. 'Ugh, like a hangover of the soul. Wonderful.'
Not speaking a single Word, and barely using any Light, for six months before he used it several times in the space of six hours probably wasn't helping his ability to handle things.
As he stood and prepared to leave, keen ears pulled his attention to the approaching sound of footsteps. The tingle behind his eyes, a different frequency than the Stray had produced, told him that it was at least one Devil in control of their faculties.
Quickly, Freed backed into the shadows beyond the Stray's body, knowing that the Devils' vision would pierce the shadow but hoping they'd have no cause to look too closely for him. 'God, if you have any affection left in your heart at all, please, PLEASE, let it be Sitri. I can't deal with that Knight of Gremory's right now.'
Thankfully, Freed's prayer was answered - or, perhaps, he was simply on the lucky side of a coin flip - as moments later, a petite young woman with black hair in a bob cut entered his field of view, three others trailing behind her. Even from where he was crouched, one eye just barely peeking around the corpse's side, Freed could see the way her lavender eyes narrowed behind her glasses at the sight of the dead Stray.
The sole male, and the sole stranger to Freed, among Sona Sitri's entourage looked rather green around the gills as he stared at the Stray Devil's vast corpse. Freed absently noted the reptilian gauntlet on the boy's wrist as a Sacred Gear. One more of God's artefacts in the hands of the Devils.
Ah, well. At least it was Sitri; she had her head on the right way around.
The other two members of the party he recognised, at least. The curvaceous young woman whose black hair brushed her ankles, blue eyeglasses concealed her heterochromatic irides, was Tsubaki Shinra, Sona's Queen. The teen was generally polite but cold to Freed, which was fine by him. He'd much rather that cool distance that the open hostility he always found in Kiba Yuuto.
Immediately behind Tsubaki was a girl equally as voluptuous, though by far her most striking feature was her shoulder-length white hair. Momo Hanakai was one of Sona's Bishops, and incidentally one of the members of Sona's Peerage whom Freed actually got along with. She was a kindhearted person, and her temperament reminded him a bit of Asia on a good day.
As the four Devils filed into the open area at the back of the warehouse, Freed stepped out from behind the corpse, his hands empty and held loosely in plain sight at his sides.
Sona's eyes immediately focussed on him even as Tsubaki and Momo both reflexively tensed. Momo, upon registering who it was, relaxed just as quickly - Tsubaki, though, remained at readiness. Honestly, Freed rather approved - a Sacred Gear like hers rewarded a carefully maintained guard.
Sona, her gaze locked unwaveringly on Freed, spoke first. "So - 'I'm not an Exorcist anymore'. Wasn't that what you said?" She adjusted her glasses. "Would you care to explain all of this, then?"
Freed felt his fingers beginning to twitch, and quickly interlaced his hands behind his back as he started pacing to burn off agitation. "Believe you me, Sitri-san, I'm not happy to be here either. A...guest came back to my church today to tell me that she had almost succeeded in killing two innocents, and didn't fail for lack of trying. She targeted one of them for holding a Sacred Gear, and the other for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Freed stopped his pacing, facing Sona. "Naturally, I kicked them out and barred their return with Scripture, but her actions have left me…" He swallowed a large number of words unsuited for polite company. "A touch livid." He glanced to his side, kicking the corpse hard enough to shift it a couple of inches. "I needed to work off some steam and my divinings revealed a nearby Stray, so I figured I'd dust off the old Light Blade and kill two birds with one stone."
The exorcist rubbed his brow again. "And now, instead of being just agitated, I have a headache." He chuckled, bitterly. "My luck remains unchanged, apparently."
Sona pursed her lips, resettling her glasses again. This time, despite the darkness of the warehouse, they flashed. "Well. In the future, I'd appreciate it if you let me know about your need to…'let off steam' in advance. I was going to show the newest member of my Peerage the basics of Devil combat against the Stray Devil Viser, but it seems you've already taken care of her."
Freed scowled, once more kicking the corpse. This time it slid a full foot away from him. "Not quickly enough." He muttered. "She killed at least five people before either of us got to her. The best I can do for the families is restore the bodies for burial." He sighed, once more rubbing his temples. "At the very least, they can have closure."
Sona's face softened. "This was not your fault, Father Sellzen. The fact of the matter is that Rias and I are stretched thin trying to manage this city, even between two of us. This failure is ours. Not yours."
Freed graced her with a small smile, but still shook his head before he walked past the Devils on his way out of the warehouse. Whatever they might say, he still blamed himself.
After all, what was one more measure of guilt to go with the hundreds of other sins crawling on his back?
It was light, slicing through my curtains and across my face, that roused me from my slumber.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, wincing as I sat up; my abdomen still felt like it had been piled high with burning coals, and the memory of the panic attack I'd suffered the night before had me shuddering. It...hadn't been pleasant, to say the very least.
Idly, I noted that I was still wearing the clothes from the day before. They were miraculously pristine, in spite of the fact that I'd slept in them - never mind the blood and intestine I'd gotten on them. Though, even more oddly, I distinctly remembered them being loose on me the night before. Now, they fit my leaner body snugly.
This is but a small application of one of my Noble Phantasms. Though the sublimation of my very being isn't normally used for mere convenience, I'll allow it for now. That said, boy, you need to get some more suitable clothing. Not only do you look painfully generic, you have but a single outfit to your name. Unacceptable! An Avatar of Vengeance must always be the height of class!
I blinked slowly, processing the fact that, in addition to being a Chunnibyō, the as-of-yet unnamed Servant in my head was apparently also a fashionista. I personally would wear pretty much anything so long as it was reasonably comfortable and I could move in it - a disposition that, judging from the disdain Avenger was radiating, didn't sit well with my tennant.
Before I could lose myself in thoughts of fashion and Heroic Spirits, a knock on my door kept me grounded in reality as I got up from the bed to open the portal. Doing so, I discovered the petite form of Koneko standing in the doorway, a blank expression on her face and a stick of Pocky in her mouth. The latter only lasted about a second, though, before vanishing from my new plane of existence through the bottomless pit that was Koneko's stomach. "Prez wants to see you." She relayed dully. "C'mon."
She didn't wait for me to give an answer, just walking off down the corridor. So, I straightened my shirt and hurried after her.
Soon enough, she'd led me to the part of the old building which was connected to the school proper, where we met a waiting Rias. Koneko glanced at me for a moment, gave a minute nod, then walked back the way we'd come without a word.
Rias had a slight smile on her face when I turned back to her. "She seems to like you. She's not usually so expressive with strangers."
I cocked my head. 'That was expressive?' "Really? Huh. I wonder why…"
Rias waved a hand as we started walking. "She tends to have good instincts about people; she can take the measure of a person with only a small amount of time in their presence." Her smile grew wider. "I guess she didn't find you wanting."
I hummed in thought. "That's nice to hear." 'Must be a Nekoshou thing.'
A few minutes of walking led us to a door which bore, to my complete lack of surprise, a sign reading 'Student Council'. Rias knocked sharply on the wood, glancing at me. "The Student Council President is an old friend of mine. Additionally, she, too, is a Devil."
I nodded, hoping I looked like I was absorbing new knowledge rather than hearing something I already knew, then turned to the door as it opened. It revealed a boy with messy blond hair and bags under his eyes, who stepped out of our way to allow us entry to the room. I vaguely recognised him as one of Sona's Pawns as we passed him...something about taking up four Pawn pieces?
Before I could be distracted by my thoughts, the young woman sitting behind a desk on the room's far side spoke up. "Yes? What was it you wanted, Rias?"
The Sitri heiress sounded as tired as the blond looked - a fact that wasn't lost on Rias.
"Sona-chan, what's wrong?" She asked. "Did something happen during your Stray hunt last night?"
Sona's eyes snapped to me, before she raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Rias. "Before we get into that, why don't you introduce your new friend?"
Rias coughed into her hand, blushing faintly. "Right, right. Sona-chan, this is Johan Lewis-san. He was introduced to the supernatural world last night when he came across a Fallen Angel attacking Issei Hyoudou-kun."
Sona's eyebrow rose higher. "Oh? Then I assume you've reincarnated both of them?"
Rias shook her head. "Not at all. While Lewis-san was apparently impaled by the Fallen, he somehow managed to heal himself and fight the Fallen off." She paused. "Or rather, a being possessing him manage to do so."
Sona's lips set themselves into a firm line. "A possession strong enough to heal a fatal wound and fight off a Fallen Angel using a human body…" She hummed. "While impressive, I'm not sure why you brought him to see me. You could just as easily have come alone."
"True." Rias admitted. "However, Lewis-san doesn't have anywhere to stay, and I offered to let him stay in the old school building."
Sona waved a hand. "That building is your domain; so long as he causes me no trouble, he can stay there as he wishes." She then turned her eyes on me. "Forgive me, I've been talking as though you weren't here. What are your thoughts on this, Lewis-san?"
Feeling a bit like I'd been put on the spot, I coughed into my hand to buy myself a moment. "Ah...well...I don't like being indebted to people, regardless of their species." I began. "So I wondered if there was anything I could do to earn my keep - maybe even something for myself…"
Sona tented her hands beneath her chin and, after a few moments of careful consideration, spoke again. "Give me a few days to think on the matter and I'll see what I can do." She paused. "As a favour to Rias, of course."
I bowed my head in thanks, smiling. "Thank you, I really appreciate this."
Rias turned to look at me. "You can find your way back to the club room, right Lewis-san?" I nodded hesitantly, and a few moments later I was dismissed.
I made my way back to the club room after a few wrong turns, entering quietly. The only other person present was Koneko, who was - unsurprisingly - munching on yet another type of sweet. This time, the small girl was nibbling on the end of a Toblerone the length of my forearm and the girth of my wrist. There must have been ten pounds of chocolate in that thing, at least.
'Well, if anybody deserves a Big Toblerone it's her.' I thought to myself.
Avenger, I noted, seemed to have started paying more attention.
Truly, that one's ability is beyond even my understanding. Devouring such a bizarre volume of sweet foods is patently insane, and yet she remains so petite...what manner of Demonic sorcery is at work here?
I hid my chuckle behind my hand. Clearly, Avenger had never learned of anime girls' legendary power to eat as much of whatever they wanted as they cared to and never gain weight. Or, at least, not gain weight anywhere it wouldn't be welcome.
Unsurprisingly, Avenger didn't dignify my thoughts with a comment.
The two (technically three) of us sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence as we awaited Rias' return. There was no clock in the room, so the only sounds were my breathing and the quiet nibbling of small teeth at a large bar of chocolate, with the occasional rustle of packaging.
With most of my panic having passed by that point, I was feeling almost...optimistic.
In hindsight, that was probably a mistake.
"So, you didn't manage it."
"..."
"I am not a patient man. Complete this task, or you really won't like what happens next."
"..."
"I don't care what you have to do, so long as you don't make me repeat myself. You are well aware of what happens to those who waste my time and energy so."
"..."
"Good. I'll send a few reinforcements; don't fuck this up, or you'll wish you'd died instead.
"Hmph...amateurs. Father, I need a smoke."
Click - Fwooosh…
"Ahhh, that's the stuff. Heaven, Earth or Hell, there's nothing like a Cuban to take the edge off."
AN: Well, here's the fourth installation in Fuir Tes Sort, a few days early. The early posting is due to the fact that my wonderful and helpful beta, Teninshigen, will be out of contact for the next several days, so I figured I'd get off my ass and get this to y'all while I still had a chance. Enjoy!