In a dilapidated part of the city, a perimeter was established. Officers of the Choir stood on standby, rifles readied. They stood on carriages, barricading entire streets with chains. A crowd formed, surrounding the barricades with eyes both laced with curiosity and disdain.
Slum dwellers were told to vacate, any who resisted were threatened with a fine, jail time — or worse. Cirino himself looked to a group of people practically being herded out of their own homes, forced to leave on such short notice. He clicked his tongue, brows furrowing.
Cirino turned to Alyssa, who currently stood by him.
"If your plan's to piss off the local populace, you're doing a great job."
Alyssa shook her head. "It's for their own good. Succubi are dangerous, and we need the populace spread out to prevent further contamination. Any one within the immediate area is being checked for any outside influence."
Her golden eyes narrowed into slits, piercing into the dilapidated rotting wood of their would-be target. A local bar, and rumored brothel within the slums. People went missing here, unrecorded due to lack of proper certification, but missing nonetheless. They've taken in multiple requests to try and find these men, but if they've been missing for this long then it's likely already too late.
"I've never fought succubi before." Cirino hummed. "What are they like? I've heard a rumor that they take the form of whatever you lust after."
"For some," Alyssa replied, "that's true. But it isn't always lust they prey on — it's desire. They're shapeshifters, mimicking whatever a person craves most. Sometimes that's a beautiful woman... sometimes a man. Other times it's something simpler — a chest of gold, a warm home, a lost family."
Her eyes hardened. "They don't just tempt the flesh. They dig into the soul — and that's what makes them so dangerous."
Cirino's eyes furrowed.
For a man like him, he pondered on what his succubi would shift into. He was an orphan, so perhaps a home for himself? Or would it shift into a loved one he once knew? Perhaps into the form of how he imagined his parents? He didn't truly desire any of those, all of it was fleeting. Part of him was curious to know what exactly he wanted most of all.
"How am I supposed to shoot a bag of coins?" Cirino muttered.
Alyssa laughed. "You use the Type-V, made to deal with Chthonis creatures like succubi. But you need not worry about killing one, just making sure they don't overwhelm the main force."
"Castrato Order, right? Where are they—"
Before Cirino could finish his sentence, the sounds of hooves striking against stone pierced the already fervent chaos of the crowd. A large carriage made of steel rode past, uncaring of the masses they nearly trampled or ran over. A sigil made of iron, a broken lyre, hung over its black metal orifice. It skidded to a halt in front of the broken tainted bar.
The doors opened, and a group of armored souls walked out. Clad from head to toe in iron and steel, their clink of their armors echoed eerily into the sky. Each carried with them a blade, and a silver revolver hanging on their waist.
They all wore featureless iron masks and cloaks of pure red. They stood firm, like an iron wall. Cirino stared at them for a moment, they did not turn to even regard him.
"Those are the castrato." Alyssa said. "Specifically raised to fight succubi, their very desires were ripped from them at a young age."
"They're all men. Emasculated to prevent lust. Clad in iron to mute temptation. Forbidden to even speak. Prevented from even taking off their masks and showing their faces."
Cirino couldn't help but stare. He, too, was a cog in the machine known as the Empire of Brastonne. But while he was a mere conscript, an uneven cog that was forced to fit, these men were born and raised to keep the machine running. For once, Cirino felt glad that he was taken up as a soldier.
He couldn't imagine living like this.
"If they're forbidden to speak, how are we supposed to communicate?" Cirino asked.
Alyssa shook her head.
"You don't. You order. They follow."
And here he thought he was the Empire's perfect soldier. Cirino stared at their hollow masks for just a moment too long. With a deep sigh, he shouldered his carbine and looked at Alyssa.
"On whose orders, then?" Cirino asked.
Alyssa pondered on it, then looked at him. The glint in her golden eyes was nothing but trouble.
"You."
'What the fuck, lady.' Cirino could've sworn his eyes nearly fell from his sockets.
"Me?" Cirino didn't so much as ask, he more so sighed the question out.
"Of course, I want to see how you command." Alyssa said.
"Ma'am, I was a private. I don't know how to lead." Cirino said.
Alyssa pondered on it, then looked to the castrato knights. "You would not be leading, Cirino. You'd be using them like the weapons they are. Don't think of them as soldiers. You don't have to check for morale, nor keep their spirits up, nor hear their complaints. You say, they follow. You pull the trigger, the gun shoots. Same concept."
Cirino furrowed his brow. His crystal blue eyes narrowed as if he had locked into a target.
"They're people." He muttered, "and you want me to treat them like my rifle?"
Alyssa hardened her tone.
"They are not people, Cirino."
Alyssa spoke with such a flippant attitude that it only served to piss Cirino off even more.
"They are blades, no longer able to desire, no longer able to feel. They're already dead, walking corpses, weapons. You need to understand, under this empire, compassion is a luxury many cannot afford. The Castrato are weapons, your sword. Use them."
"And did they choose to become that way? Did they willingly give themselves up until he turned into what amounts to a mindless automaton?" Cirino argued back.
"This is a debate we can have at a more opportune time." Alyssa began.
There was a serious glint in the way she spoke, an iron-will in her usually flippant attitude. Cirino grit his teeth, preventing himself from arguing any further. If there was one thing both of them could agree to, it was that destroying a potential den of succubi was a bigger priority.
"If you wish to treat the Castrato I'll assign to you as a human, you may try. But understand, it won't go the way you'd want. Their minds are broken to the point where the only thing they know how to do is kill."
Cirino simply nodded, biting his tongue to prevent himself from speaking out. He'd have this conversation at a more opportune time, right now, they had succubi to hunt.
[...]
Cirino stood behind a barricade. Carbine drawn, clutching at the etched runes that glowed a faint blue — illuminating his fingers in a familiar light. He glanced towards his new companion, a castrato knight standing by at the ready. His hollow mask and expressionless demeanor made him feel more machine than man.
Cirino tried to introduce himself earlier, only to be met with a blank stare. He then tried to shake the man's hands, only to be met with a blank stare. Only when he said to shake his hand did the iron-clad knight move. Alyssa wasn't kidding, they answered only to the orders of their assigned superior.
"Alright, Cas." He said to his automaton of a companion. He came up with the name himself, a play on their knight Order's name.
'Castrato, Cas. Maybe I'm not so bad with names.' Cirino nodded to himself.
"You'll be vanguard, I'll be support. Just kill demons and I'll keep them from touching you, does that sound good to you?" Cirino asked.
Cas stared. That was all he did in response. Cirino couldn't even tell if Cas was staring at him or through him. There were no eye-holes in his helmet, so Cirino pondered how he was even seeing.
'Don't tell me he's blind too?'
They really didn't want these knights to have any form of desire.
Cirino gulped, then turned back to the store front.
"I'll take that as a yes..."
Turning his attention back to the would-be raid building, Cirino watched as Alyssa stepped forward. Clad in her black Choir uniform, her golden gaze losing any sense of mischief. Her gaze looked up to the rooftops, where two Castrato Knights stood on nearby rooftops.
With a mighty heave, her voice boomed against the dilapidated bar.
"Occupants! This is Alyssa Baudouin, Vice-Captain of the Dunsleight Branch of the Choir! Surrender yourself to a proper search, or I will force the speartip through your heretical throats!"
No answer.
Alyssa waited for a few minutes, yet the still air was all that answered her.
With a deep breath, and a heavy exhale, she reached for her saber. Steel sang as she unsheathed the blade, sunlight kissing the steel as she held it up above the air. That raised blade was all it took.
The Castrato moved as one.
In a flash, they surged forward. Windows shattered, doors splintered, locks broke. The knights crashed through dry wood and glass, not so much entering as running through the dilapidated building.
Cirino stood still, blind shock racing through his mind. Imperceptibly, the grip on his carbine tightened ever-so-slightly.
Then came the noise. Screams cut through the air, wood splintered and broke with a sickening crunch, and the sounds of torn flesh and choking mouths bloodied the very air. Then came the gunfire, muzzle flash illuminating the broken windows in yellow.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
It cracked, then fell silent.
The auxiliary force, including Cirino, watched as a Castrato knight forcefully opened the main door from the outside. The hinges snapped as a boot bent the steel-framed door.
"Siege! Siege!" One man cried out. Cirino was familiar with the callsign, it was code for a breach they could exploit. He had heard it countless times during military campaigns.
The Castrato stepped aside, the auxiliary force rushed in. Cirino pressed the carbine on his chest, and Cas followed behind him.
"In front, Cas!"
Cirino ordered, then the knight followed. He sped up, faster than any normal man should, and kept pace in-front of Cirino.
The interior was a beautifully clean mess—a paradox of order and carnage, a masterful work of slaughter if Cirino had ever seen one.
Bodies lay strewn across the floor, each corpse marked by surgical precision. Deep, deliberate cuts parted flesh like fine fabric; there were no wasted swings, no errant strikes. These men hadn't fought—they'd been butchered.
Cirino clicked his tongue, the sound sharp against the suffocating silence. Once the upper floors were cleared, he moved through the wreckage with the floor plans in mind. If he was right, this building sat atop an old, disused sewage line. And if this was truly the succubi den they suspected, there had to be a hidden passage somewhere.
"Found something!" one of the auxiliaries called out.
Cirino jogged over, Cas close behind. A soldier was already pulling at an empty shelf, wood scraping across the floor. One of the Castrato knights stepped forward, wordless, and with a single heave, tore the shelf down entirely. It crashed to the ground, revealing a gaping, unlit passage yawning before them.
Cirino peered into the darkness — pitch black and seemingly endless. His throat tightened and Cirino felt as if he'd asphyxiate.
Another soldier passed around lanterns; Cirino accepted him with a curt nod. Slinging his rifle across his back, he lit the lantern from a comrade's flame.
The Castrato moved first, descending into the depths with mechanical precision. Cirino followed, flanked by the auxiliaries. Their boots echoed against cold stone, the faint amber light of their lanterns casting soft, fleeting glows on the walls—like a swarm of fireflies tracing the path to hell.
A strange feeling stirred in his chest—nostalgia, maybe, or something dangerously close to it. He shoved it aside. There was no room for useless sentiment here.
Rushing through the darkened halls, the smell began to turn rancid. It was the faint smell of sewage, mixed with a scent Cirino found far too familiar. The stone walls seemed to shift with every step, painted by red, strange pulsing veins webbing the very corners.
The putrid scene only grew more prominent the deeper they rushed in. One of the soldiers, an Officer of higher rank, grit his teeth and spat out an order.
"Load V-Type rounds!"
Clicking echoed across the tunnels soon after, Cirino's hand reached for his clip, loading it before slamming the bolt shut. The Castrato continued to surge, stopping by a large opening leading into a cavernous patchwork of stone, wood, and destroyed ruins.
From his position, Cirino couldn't see. But the group froze in terror, sweat dripped from their faces. Their lantern-lit features show every pulsing vein.
Cirino peered over, freezing much the same. Terror overcame him, the sight nearly made him blanch. But he hummed, busying his throat so he would not vomit.
There, in this darkness, he saw...