Back at the Commission's headquarters, Soren walked through the hallways of the administrative floor, followed closely by his two demonic contracts. He approached the coffee machine and began filling a couple of cups for himself.

  Meanwhile, the dog devil’s attention was drawn to the TV, which was airing images from the previous day’s events. A satisfied grin stretched across his face.

  “Indeed, spreading fear through that world-sized theater increased my existential power considerably,” he rejoiced.

  “You think?” Soren muttered, unimpressed. “You still look like a weak mutt to me.”

  The short-statured dragon devil also toddled up, clutching onto Soren’s pant leg like an overgrown infant.

  “Master…” he bowed, voice trembling with false humility. “If you ever come across another such opportunity, you can always count on your loyal servant”

  If Tiamat were to get stronger, I’d be able to use the dragon transformation for longer…

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Soren nodded slowly.

  The days after his first job at the flower shop were busy for the organization. Administrative staff were swamped, working overtime on budgets, restructuring, and planning.

  As for Soren, he was assigned a handful of unremarkable cases. Dealing with low-level demons and investigating minor disturbances was simple enough—he preferred not to complain about easy work.

  Occasionally, he was tasked with accompanying Agent Matsuda to oversee new recruits from the Fourth Division.

  "So, you said the demon went that way?" Matsuda asked a witness, gesturing for the other agents to follow a fresh trail of blood.

  For a moment, Soren couldn’t help but think of the Third Division agent as 'Momma Chicken,' given how the recruits flocked behind him.

  Despite staying on high alert, the memory of the Crocodile and Alligator demons faded into the background. To his own surprise, nothing out of the ordinary happened.

  And so, Soren began to believe he had finally found some peace and stability. He still pondered the mystery behind his uncle’s disappearance, but every lead pointed back to the same closed alley.

  However, after a month of working for the EAC, Soren received a call from Subdirectress Nasaki. She summoned him to the Director’s "office."

  The small space held both organizational heads, Agent Matsuda, and the unmistakable presence of a First Division hunter: Renzo Vitale.

  There was also another young adult in uniform. He had long, curly brown hair and tanned skin.

  "O’Connors! Long time no see!" Renzo greeted energetically, completely surrounding him.

  Soren ignored the radiant energy and turned toward the higher-ups with a raised eyebrow.

  "What’s going on? Why was I called here?"

  Both Matsuda and the unfamiliar hunter were visibly startled by Soren’s casual tone toward Director Hunt and Subdirectress Nasaki, though the two didn’t seem to mind.

  "Soren, let me introduce Hunter Theo Pereira, from the Second Division," Nasaki said at last.

  The two shook hands, only to realize they were the center of attention.

  "Sorry, but I do feel kind of out of place with all the Av*ngers gathered in front of me," Soren quipped.

  Does this kid want to die? Theo wondered, eyeing the Director’s reaction.

  But the Slavic man merely scratched his chin, his gaze drifting off as if no one else were in the room. Nasaki simply adjusted her collar and looked away.

  Agent Matsuda leaned in and muttered to Pereira, "You better get used to it."

  Eventually, Director Hunt looked up, his sharp eyes locking with Soren’s as he lit a cigarette.

  "Not long ago, we received a request from Japan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs. They’ve asked for our help with demonic activity on their territory," he explained.

  "I thought the Commission only operated in Europe," Soren interjected.

  "The EAC takes on international requests every now and then, mostly to secure diplomatic favors," Nasaki clarified.

  "That’s why I’ve decided to send a team," Hunt continued.

  "...And what does that have to do with me?" Soren kept insisting, gesturing to himself.

  Renzo threw an arm around his shoulders. "You’re part of the team, kid," he said with a wink.

  Oh...

  "So it’s us four?" Soren counted all the agents around.

  The Director leaned forward. "Subdirectress Nasaki is going with you as well."

  Now that I think about it, Agent Matsuda is definitely from Japan... Maybe Nasaki is too, but that may be jumping to conclusions...

  "I have good relations with Kotou—the Japanese anti-demon organization—and some contacts in the Public Safety Commission," Nasaki said. "Needles to say, this operation will proceed under my authority."

  The presence of a First Division hunter and one of the organization’s heads means this is no ordinary job... But even then, why do I have to go?

  The meeting was soon dismissed. Soren followed Nasaki down the hall.

  "I still don’t get it. Why me?"

  "Well, since you work directly under the Director and me, once I’m gone, you’ll have to do whatever he tells you. Is that what you want?"

  "Not really, but still... You’ve got someone from the First and Second divisions, and Matsuda—it’s obvious why he’s going. What could I possibly contribute?"

  Theo, trailing behind, caught wind of the exchange. He was genuinely curious why someone from a division he didn’t even know existed had been included.

  "I can’t tell you much about the mission, but we expect to run parallel errands during our short stay. You’ve proven useful—handy, even. Besides, Director Hunt sees this as an opportunity for you to integrate more with the organization. It’ll be good work experience."

  "You said 'opportunity'... So does that mean I can say no?"

  Nasaki stopped in her tracks. After a moment of silence, she responded decisively.

  "No."

  Soren sighed, running a hand through his hair.

  "Alright. When do we leave for Japan then?"

  "Tomorrow. But before that I need you to come by my office. I’ll send you the details later," she said, disappearing into the labyrinth of cubicles.

  And just when I thought life was finally getting normal...

  *

  Later that day, near the end of his shift, Soren received the email with the time summoning him to Nasaki’s office.

  The orange glow of the setting sun spilled through the windows as he approached the tall door leading to her private chambers. He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  He’d only caught glimpses of the room before. Her office was by far the largest on the 76th floor—nearly the size of the main lobby. The red, modern furniture formed a spacious sitting area. Art and decorations lined the walls, towering bookshelves circled the space, and a large fireplace anchored the far end.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Soren sat on the oversized red couch, silently admiring the surroundings.

  Nasaki rose from her long marble desk and joined him on the couch, pouring herself a glass of red wine.

  "Do you remember the four methods used to hunt demons?"

  "Blessed and cursed items, contracts, summons... and some weird word I forgot," he said, scratching his head.

  "Mantras... Good. What I’m about to share with you cannot be repeated to anyone."

  "And if I do, even by accident?"

  Nasaki gestured toward his neck. A pair of translucent hands suddenly appeared, gripping it lightly. It was what Director Hunt had previously referred as his 'bodyguard contract'.

  "Right..." he gulped. "I'll treat it like one of those NDAs people love to brag about."

  She smiled gently and took a sip as the mark in his neck disappeared.

  “Long ago, the ancient demon hunters discovered that two kinds of imperceptible supernatural energies were produced on our side of reality: positive and negative,” Nasaki began, her voice even and measured. “As you already know, demons thrive on what they call 'existential power'—which is nothing more than synthesized negative energy, born from human fear, hatred, and despair. In that sense, Hell operates like a living organism—feeding ceaselessly on our world.”

  “I see,” Soren replied. “So what happens to the positive energy?”

  “Most of it is wasted,” she said plainly. “There is no clear opposite to Hell. No equivalent system that processes or collects positive energy in the same way. However, a handful of demonic entities are capable of harnessing it. Tell me, does the name Lilith mean anything to you?”

  “Isn’t she supposed to be the mother of all demons? Adam’s first wife? Like, as in Adam and Eve...?”

  Nasaki raised an eyebrow, faintly amused. “It seems like you have your fair share of religious knowledge.”

  “The bane of my childhood. I always hated Sundays for that” Soren shrugged.

  “In any case,” she continued, refilling her glass with a gentle motion, “the story of Adam and Lilith isn’t entirely myth. The so-called 'father of humanity' was, in truth, the first demon hunter.”

  The first of our kind…?

  “But Adam and Lilith’s tale is a tangent for another time,” she added. “What matters now is that, despite her exile in Hell, Lilith has been tied to demon hunting traditions since the beginning. Contrary to popular belief, she has always been on the human's side." Nasaki assured, her eyes lost in the red color of her drink. "She possesses a unique ability: to synthesize fragments of positive energy and convert them into existential power. However, the process is riddled with limitations.”

  She paused briefly, swirling the wine in her glass an shifting her attention to the boy before continuing.

  “For one, the amount of existential power she can produce is meager compared to what Hell generates by the second. Moreover, since she’s sealed on the other side, Hell actively interferes with any attempt to transfer positive energy from or to our world. Even so, there is still one method by which her ability can still be used—through a contract.”

  Soren leaned forward, listening intently.

  “By forging a contract, Lilith can serve as a conduit—channeling the positive energy generated by an individual into existential power that only that individual can wield.”

  That’s a whole other level of using the power of demons against demons, Soren thought outloud, only to be heard by the other part.

  “Precisely,” she said, nodding. “Beyond the contract itself, you can think of a Mantra as an oath. One made to Lilith—and more importantly, to yourself. The more faithfully you follow that oath, the more positive energy you generate. This in turn can be used to strengthen your physical abilities and may even unlock what we know as 'prayers'—manifestations akin to demonic powers.”

  “So… a Mantra is basically a demon contract disguised as a blessing? Is that how blessed items like silver bullets and salt actually work?”

  “More or less. Demons draw their power from ideas—and they’re equally vulnerable to them. When enough people fear something, a corresponding devil grows stronger. Conversely, when people believe a weapon or symbol holds power against demons, that belief can turn it into a real weakness. Silver, by itself, is useless. But if generations of belief say otherwise, then it becomes lethal. The Mantra works on a similar principle—except the effect is internalized in a person.”

  “I think I get it now… That’s how my uncle was able to fight devils like 'War' while still being human?”

  “Indeed. Yet your uncle was a rare hunter who solely mastered the use of blessed items and Mantras—likely pushing them beyond known limits. That being said, many high-level demons can be dealt with through standard demonic objects and contracts as well. One example you know is none other than Director Hunt. He is the strongest hunter in the world right now, and most of his strength comes from demonic contracts. However, he still believes that the next generation of succesful hunters will need mastery of both tools.”

  Even before hearing it from her, Soren had sensed there was far more to Adam Hunt than his fa?ade of a Cold War-era spook. He recalled the stained blade hidden beneath his trench coat, and how he could unsheathe it with mechanical speed and precision.

  Still, the mystery surrounding his uncle weighed heavier on his mind.

  “If that’s the case… what was Uncle Sullivan’s oath?”

  Nasaki’s smile faded slightly. “That information is known only to Director Hunt and Mr. Cunningham. Besides, mantras are deeply personal. What worked for your uncle likely wouldn’t generate power for anyone else. A Mantra is shaped not only by challenge, but also from each person's traits and strengths.”

  Makes sense. All that being said… the one reason I’m here must be—

  “You want me to take on a Mantra?” Soren asked aloud, brow furrowed. “You once told me I’d only learn about it if I climbed the ranks. Not much has changed since then. Why now?”

  She finished her wine in silence, then placed the glass aside.

  “Regardless of your relationship to Sullivan, Director Hunt sees potential in you. With the right tools, you could become the kind of hunter this organization needs. Right now, you have your contracts and your gear. But that won’t be enough to face the challenges ahead.”

  She leaned forward slightly, voice lowering with calm precision.

  “There are no ways to grow stronger—truly stronger—without giving something up. Humans have always been weak. Our war with demons goes back millennia, far beyond the incident seven years ago. And it doesn't share the romantisicsm of a tale like 'David versus Goliath'. We’ve always been on the losing side. Our victories have come only recently—and they came at great cost.”

  She let that statement settle in the room before continuing.

  “The rise of the primordial evils marks the greatest danger the world has ever faced; and with each passing day, the demons grow stronger. Once you understand the full picture, standing by and doing nothing stops being an option.”

  She took a deep breath, then met Soren’s gaze.

  “Your uncle's doings bought us enough time. But now, it is up to us to take action.”

  Subdirectress Nasaki’s discourse was more than compelling—it bordered on irrefutable. She didn’t need to manipulate, persuade, or dramatize. Her words resonated with the weight of undeniable truth, spoken with the composed authority of someone who had seen the world from above and beneath its surface.

  And yet, at that moment, Soren still felt no innate obligation to the world that might push him beyond what he was already doing. He had grown separated from social structures and institutions, and his contact with people was almost minimal. He only cared for himself, and the very few who had stood on his side.

  But now he suspected that one of Hell’s most formidable entities—the Demon of Oblivion—was behind the collapse of everything he had once called a life. If he truly sought retribution or answers, he needed to acquire the means necessary to bring down anything that stood on the way.

  Needles to say, the lesser head of the organization was satisfied with his determination.

  "Very well. I accept your proposal," Soren finally agreed, to which the other figure curved her lips with satisfaction.

  "Then, what follows is for you to choose a rule or restriction that you'll be capable of enduring for your oath. The harder it is to follow, the stronger it will make you— but don't push it too far. Think about yourself and what you can realistically do."

  Soren didn't like the idea of making an important decision with little to no time to reflect, but still took the chance to ponder about it.

  "Could you at least give me some functioning examples? Maybe yours, if you are to have one— or someone else's," he shrugged.

  "I bear a mantra, indeed, but it won't serve as good example given all the related exceptions. Instead, I can give you the most practical examples. Do you remember Hunter Renzo?"

  "Sure thing."

  "Renzo specializes in both his mantra and demon contract. His main proficiency is close combat, and his chosen weapon it's the sword. His mantra limits to fighting only with a sword, which is as disadvantageous in this era as you can think. In exchange, he gains slightly increased permanent strength the more he battles with it. However, were he to use any other weapon, he becomes as weak and fragile as an ordinary person. So, to help ensure his effectiveness in combat, Renzo was given a high-powered demonic object— which you must have seen already"

  Soren recalled the fancy-looking and heavy golden sword that was strapped to the First Division hunter wherever he went.

  "Another hunter from the First division has a demonic contract that grants her mental manipulation— at the cost of gradually driving her towards insanity. She swore an oath in conjunction that grants her increased mental resilience the more she is exposed to the horrors of the world."

  "So the effects more or less cancel each other out..." Soren scratched his chin thoughtfully.

  "Either if its to maximize a skill or offset a possible weakness, the most important thing you should focus on is the potential of growth over time. That will eventually become far more valuable than any immediate benefit you could gain from a self-imposed restriction."

  With that said, Soren began inspecting his options. His main weapons were the guns left behind by his uncle, and he also relied on the stolen power he had scammed from weak demons somehow.

  Still, he trusted most in his precision with firearms. He thought of possible restrictions tied to that— like always aiming for critical precision, or dealing with his enemies in the least amount of time.

  "I think I more or less have an idea... but I'd like to think it through a bit more. It is an important decision, after all."

  "That's remarkably wise from you. Very well. The concealment of your mantra can wait until the end of the current assignment. You are free to go and enjoy the night however you like. But, I wouldn't recommend sleeping now because of the flight time and the jet lag. It's better to sleep along the way."

  "Thanks for the advice... I guess."

  And just like that, Soren stood up and left the office in haste, leaving the woman behind as she casually reached for another bottle of wine to keep drinking.