Lisa's apartment door clicked shut behind her.
She stood there for a moment, unmoving, the weight of the day pressing heavily on her shoulders. Her coat slipped from her fingers and fell onto the floor, but she barely noticed. What mattered was what she carried beneath her jacket.
She walked into the living room and placed the book gently on the table, as if it were fragile—or dangerous. She had smuggled it out of the City Hall Library with her heart pounding, convinced someone would stop her, but no one did.
The Book of Creations now sat in front of her.
Lisa exhaled slowly.
She moved into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine with a shaking hand, and took a long sip. The bitterness grounded her just enough. Carrying the glass, she returned to the living room, pulled out a chair, and sat.
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
She opened the book.
The Past – Sarah Good
Back in the 1400s…
There was a little girl named Sarah Good.
From the moment she could remember, she felt invisible.
Her father was a workaholic, a man who drowned himself in labor and alcohol. When he came home, his breath reeked of drink, his temper unpredictable. Some nights he shouted at the walls. Other nights he passed out without acknowledging her existence.
Her mother was quieter.
Too quiet.
She barely spoke to Sarah, barely looked at her. Whether it was grief, fear, or resentment, the woman kept her distance. Sarah grew up learning that silence could be just as cruel as shouting.
Loneliness became her only companion.
She read books obsessively, hiding away in corners of the house. She learned quickly—too quickly. Words, symbols, and ideas fascinated her. Knowledge became her escape.
At eighteen, her life changed.
She met William Collins.
He was kind. Gentle. Patient.
At first, Sarah didn't trust him. She wasn't used to warmth. But William never pushed. He listened. He laughed with her. Slowly, carefully, he broke down the walls she had built around her heart.
She fell deeply in love.
They married not long after, and for the first time in her life, Sarah felt whole. They lived modestly but happily. Every morning, she woke up grateful. Every night, she fell asleep believing life could remain kind.
But happiness, she learned, was fragile.
One afternoon, William never came home.
His carriage had collided with a horse cart on a narrow road. The impact crushed his chest. He died before anyone could help him.
Sarah's world shattered.
She screamed until her voice broke. She wept until her eyes burned. And when the grief finally hollowed her out, she withdrew from the world entirely.
She stopped leaving her house.
Stopped speaking to neighbors.
Stopped existing in the eyes of the town.
Inside her home, she turned to the books she once loved—but now, they were not enough. She searched for something deeper. Something forbidden.
She began experimenting with dark magic.
Night after night, she worked in her basement, mixing herbs, chemicals, and remnants of dead creatures. Her hands shook as she wrote symbols and incantations, desperate and reckless.
She wanted one thing.
To bring William back.
Children from the town noticed the strange smells. The closed windows. The silence. One night, daring each other, they snuck inside her house.
What they found terrified them.
Jugs filled with dead animal parts. Human remains. Herbs soaking in dark liquids. Sarah stood in the center, murmuring to herself as she mixed something thick and black.
One sentence burned into their memories:
"I will bring the dead back to life."
They ran.
The town didn't hesitate.
That same night, they dragged Sarah from her home. They didn't ask questions. They didn't listen. They tied her to a wooden pole in the center of town and lit the fire.
Sarah screamed—not in fear, but in rage.
As the flames consumed her flesh, she cursed them.
She cursed the town.
She cursed the world.
"This world is rotten," she cried.
"And you will all suffer for it."
"One day, I will return as the Goddess of Creations."
"And I will bring death upon this world."
She died screaming.
Lisa's fingers trembled as she turned the page.
After Sarah's death, the town searched her belongings. They found her notebook—filled with forbidden experiments, resurrection attempts, and black magic.
Two symbols appeared repeatedly.
The first:
An eye with a vertical line through it.
The second:
An eye enclosed within a circle.
There was little explanation, but enough to terrify.
The notebook stated:
The Eye with the Vertical Line symbolized the Chosen Ones—beings meant to guide souls.
The Eye-Circle Symbol represented the Goddess of Creations herself.
The book ended with a chilling note.
After Sarah Good's death, ghosts and demons began to appear across the world.
Some humans developed abilities.
They became known as Exorcists.
Demons ranked themselves—from lower demons to upper demons, and finally, the Chosen Ones.
For centuries, it was war.
Lisa closed the book.
The room felt smaller.
Heavier.
She stared at the ceiling, mind spinning. It took her several seconds to realize she was holding her breath.
"This isn't random," she whispered.
The murders.
The symbols.
The eye-circle drawn in blood.
"This is a cult," she said aloud. "A cult worshipping Sarah Good."
Her hand tightened around the wine glass.
"And Reid knows something…"
Her phone buzzed on the table.
She didn't pick it up.
The barrier shimmered around the ring.
Jay flexed his hands.
His arms transformed—skin darkening, muscles thickening, fingers stretching into razor-sharp demon claws. A low growl escaped his throat.
Across from him, Sota stood calmly, eyes half-lidded, posture relaxed.
"Ready?" Itsuki-sensei asked.
Jay nodded.
Sota simply smiled.
"Begin!"
Jay lunged.
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he swung his claws toward Sota's chest—fast, brutal, merciless.
But Sota wasn't there.
Jay's claws sliced through empty air.
Sota had already moved.
Jay spun, slashing again, his attacks coming in rapid succession—left, right, downward strikes meant to overwhelm.
Sota dodged each one with minimal movement, his body flowing as if he were already watching the fight unfold seconds ahead.
Too fast… Jay thought.
He swung harder.
Sota ducked beneath a claw, stepped inside Jay's guard, and slapped Jay's ribs with a flat palm.
Pain exploded through Jay's side.
He staggered back.
"That's future vision," Jay muttered.
Sota nodded. "You're predictable."
Jay snarled and charged again.