Kishin blinked in surprise. He had figured that Mura had no chance in reclaiming his spot as Tenth, but to be replaced so quickly and by the captain of Onryō Squadron no doubt. Kirin’s armor was an alabaster white that glimmered in the soft light like a polished pearl.

“What do you mean by ‘final replacement’, your Majesty?” Wendigo inquired.

Mara sat quietly on his grandiose throne, motioning with his pale hand for Nergal to speak.

“In his wisdom, His Majesty has come to a decision on our ever-present matter: the unstable position of Tenth within this organization,” Nergal said. “Henceforth by Emperor Mara’s decree, promotion into the Jikininki Ten is barred. Only by the Emperor’s hand may a successor assume the role.”

“Makes sense to me,” Grendel spat. “When anyone with enough brownie points can join this outfit, you’ll start to see it crumble from within.”

“Precisely,” crooned Mara. “The previous method was an unstable set of affairs set into place by the confused and politically correct. Our nation is at a point where any weakness is no longer tolerated. The shinigami nation of Nirvana plot war against us because we decided to make a change. I believe the most deserving of the tile should belong to our promising Captain, who is always ready to lead the charge.”

“Why was that Mura lad removed anyway?” Jormungandr bellowed, his arms crossed.

“He was given a test to prove his loyalty to the Empire and his fealty to me,” Mara explained. “The whelp failed both, whereas Kirin passed in his stead. That is why I had her accompany him throughout this mission. If one Tenth failed, I would always have a potential spare on standby.”

Kishin was inwardly revolted at how Mara treated them like his tools, but kept his mind clear of such thoughts. He wasn’t sure what powers the Emperor possessed and right now more than ever, he needed to maintain his absolute trust.

Kirin herself decided to add her opinion into the pot as well.

“I for one wish I could have executed the boy for his treasonous display, your Majesty. He brought nothing but dishonor on this sacred organization.”

Lamia made a wry smile at Kirin before placing one hand over the other in an earnest display.

“I’m just happy to have another female on the team. The more, the merrier~” she said. “Isn’t that right, Llorona?”

She looked over at the magical projection seated upon the throne belonging to Sixth. It was a woman of slightly above-average height dressed entirely in a white fur-collared coat with a matching hood. Her face was obscured, wrapped tightly in an indigo scarf that covered everything below the bridge of her nose. The woman’s bangs hung down slightly from the hood, revealing lavender locks of hair with highlights of dark cobalt.

“I completely forgot Llorona was even here! Hahaha, don’t worry if she’s a mute around you, Kirin. She never talks to anyone,” Wendigo laughed; his razor-sharp fangs reflecting the lamp’s glow from above.

Llorona just sat there, motionless. She blinked every now and then, but remained still and quiet. A bright warm light flickered over her torso every so often, indicating that wherever she was currently required a campfire.

“But yeah, Kirin. We’ve all been tested before at some point, so it wasn’t just you,” Wendigo spoke again, trying to get on the newbie’s good side.

“Some more than others…” Jormungandr spoke, glaring out of the corner of his eye at Grendel.

“What?? I can’t help it that I’m simply better than all of you at well, everything!” Grendel mockingly apologized, shrugging with an obnoxious smile.

Kishin had gone through enough of this.

“Will ya shut your goddamn mouth?! I’m sick of all this bickerin’ and bitchin’!!” he shouted. “Might I remind you all this ain’t some homeroom get-together on a Sunday sitcom! This is fuckin’ business!!”

Anger burned in his eyes as Kishin slammed the scabbard of his katana into the once-pristine floor; causing the area to crack apart easily like a thin sheet of ice.

Everyone, Grendel included, sat in silence as Nergal and Mara smiled slightly.

“Thank you, Kishin. I applaud your professionalism as always,” Nergal mewed eerily. “With the induction of Tenth aside, I would also like to inform the council of her predecessor’s trial within the upcoming week. It has been requested to be a private affair; no jury, no press. However if it would please any of you, attendance is permitted.”

Kishin’s grip relaxed slightly at Nergal’s words.

—I can see Mura durin’ the trial!? I gotta write this in my calendar!!”

He smiled to himself, eager to see the man that had caught his interest but also morbidly intrigued in what fate awaited him.

—Bastard better get exiled. If he can, that means I’ll probably get the chance to face him on the battlefield one day!!!

“Just kill the damned lad and get it over with. No need for this whole song and dance,” Jormungandr said in a bristly tone.

“Feel free to stay in Yrdl’var then, darling,” Lamia suggested.

“I shall! Enjoy your merry courtroom while I get piss-drunk with my men! GYAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Jormungandr’s belly laughter could shake a rock into pebbles. His stomach heaved as he continued his amusement, motioning for one of his servants to fetch him something. The servant came back, handing him an unseen object. The magical projection shimmered as Jormungandr lifted a now visible barrel of spiced ale up to his bearded mouth; downing it all in seconds before crushing the cask into a storm of wooden splints flying from his grasp.

“Is this all then, Mara? I have a kingdom to run, just as you do,” Jormungandr spoke, toying with the golden cuffs affixed to the shells of his ears.

“That will be all, yes. You are dismissed,” Mara replied.

Jormungandr’s visage flickered away, leaving his throne empty. Llorona silently did the same, bowing to Mara before turning off her projection as well.

Wendigo stretched and got up from his seat, adjusting his holsters before walking out the door. Lamia bowed and teleported away as a black prism engulfed her body. Grendel’s body quickly shifted away into grains of black sand, flying off toward the exit. Kirin bowed and took her leave as well.

All that was left were Mara, Nergal and Kishin. What seemed like a good minute of silence lingered in the air between the three men.

“Are you well, Kishin?” Mara asked, finally shattering the quiet with his serene voice.

“Yes, your Majesty…”

Mara folded his hands inquisitively. The silhouette of his head turned and peered from behind his veil at the blond devil. Kishin could feel the cold gaze piercing through him, something he had never quite grown accustomed to.

“There is no need to lie to me, Kishin. Do you require a moment between the two of us?”

Kishin thought for a moment. The talk he had with Mura earlier repeated within his soul, or what remained of it at this point. He wanted to ask for the Emperor to gift mercy onto the boy, but knew he’d have more luck asking the moon to shrink down into his hand. At the last moment, he shifted his reply.

“I just… wish they treated ya with more respect. I can tell the others, even my own superior, treat ya like nothin’s changed.”

“You refer to Grendel?” Mara said as Nergal sat in silence.

“Yes…”

Mara smiled behind the black curtain that separated their eyes.

“It is typically the weakest hound that barks the loudest. Grendel is certainly far from weak… but a mongrel nonetheless,” Mara said indifferently. “He still holds more power than you, Kishin. But I know that with my tutelage, you can one day take his place…”

Kishin held his emotions in check. Standing up before his ruler, he bowed before him on his hands and knees.

“My Majesty… I will forever be your instrument, from this breath until my last. Just as it was on that day you saved my life…” Kishin said.

Mara simply looked down at the golden-haired man and grinned.

“… I know.”

❇ ❇ ❇

DIS Maximum Security Institution, Ashuradō — Five days later. Mura was slowly growing more accustomed to his cell the longer he remained inside. Of course, it wasn’t perfect. The toilet was devoid of any water, simply using dissolving magic to disintegrate any waste detected. The food, if it could even be classified as such, was stale rice and water. The white grain served to better camouflage the equally-sized larva hiding within the rice. The water meanwhile tasted as if it had been left outside for the past month.

Mura had currently taken off his prison shirt and rolled it into a lump, which he tossed up and caught while lying on the bed. It was all the demon had for entertainment, having already grown tired of counting the five-hundred and sixty three stones making up the interior of his cell.

—I wonder if he’s sleeping around this time…

Mura caught his ball-shaped lump and set it down, rolling over and sitting up to face his magical barricade.

“Hey stranger! You up?”

The prisoner who had served as his only source of communication murmured across the hall.

“Bloody am now…”

“Good, that’s good. I mean, I’m sorry. I just need something to do, man.”

“Try floggin’ one off like the rest of us. Or sleep! Don’t you ever sleep like a normal person…?”

“I can’t for more than fifteen minutes.”

“Fine, want a bloody bedtime story?” the prisoner scoffed. He hid within the shadows still, never revealing his face or name to Mura in all the days they had spoken.

“Ugh, screw it,” Mura sighed.

“Alright, come off it now. Hey, tell me what kind of girls strike your fancy,” the mysterious prisoner inquired.

“The strong silent type,” Mura said jokingly.

“Amazing, great taste... I’ll bloody start then,” the man whispered to himself. “For me, hmmm… I’d say the thin girls with freckles. Lots of them. Red hair too, all over if you catch my drift,” he said with an aroused laugh. “Just thinking of this one back home, name’s Furfur. Boy oh boy, makes me crack a fat just picturin’ her~”

Mura laughed a little along with his neighbor, not wanting to offend his tastes.

“I… Well, I just like women that are… varied, you know?”

“Varied?” he chortled. “The bloody hell you mean by varied?”

“No, no. Forget I said anything,” Mura said, trailing off with a few chuckles.

“No, come and tell me! Can’t just leave me with somethin’ so vague now!” he inquired.

“Alright, well see, I just prefer women who can keep surprising me. She never runs out of things to talk about and… well, she can just keep me on my toes. I guess I don’t want someone who’s like everyone else.”

“Hah, well ain’t that just romantic. Never figured a killer for one of those types.”

“Can’t judge us all by the same cloth, right?”

“Suppose…” the man said quietly in his thick accent. “Say, you an ass-man or a boobs-man?”

“I dunno,” Mura said, somewhat surprised.

“I gotta say, not many men appreciate what a lady has going on in the rear, Mura. They just don’t and frankly, it saddens me,” he said in a somewhat serious tone.

“Well, I’m more of a personality kind of guy. Don’t give a shit what her ass or tits look like.”

“Gods, you’re gonna make me sick with this romance novella bullshit!” the prisoner laughed.

“Hey, tell me something,” Mura said, somewhat demanding more than asking.

“Eh?”

Mura decided to try his luck again. He couldn’t squeeze it out of the prisoner for the past two days and it had been aching in the back of his mind.

“Tell me what your name is.”

“Ha, piss off!”

“You know I’m just gonna call you ‘Piss Off’ if you keep responding with that every time!” Mura said.

“Whatever, mate. Ain’t gonna tell you my real name, but I’ll tell ya what everyone else calls me. I go by Crow in the underworld, if you get me.”

“Crow, eh? I was imagining something a bit more original.”

“Sorry we all can’t be known as something so amazin’ and creative like fuckin’ Bloodstrider,” Crow spat sardonically.

“I’m just busting your balls, man. Gods, you know what would be nice? A cold stout. Haven’t had one in such a long time…”

“Well, maybe you can request it as your last meal or what have you—”

The conversation between the two men was interrupted by a sudden voice ringing out above Mura.

“Prisoner 982304924: prepare yourself for immediate transport. Your trial will be held later at sunrise.”

Crow laughed as Mura looked up at the ceiling.

“I’ll catch ya on the other side, pissflap! If you make it out with your neck clean, that is!”

Mura looked through the barrier at Crow’s cell, grinning and extending his middle finger to the prisoner as he was beamed away. As the light within Mura’s cell faded, another man was left behind. This one grotesque, tattooed and obese.

“Shit, what a time to shoot through… Replaced him with some larder on top of it all… Guess that really is the last time I’ll see the bugger.”

Crow slumped back against his own bed, somewhat annoyed at the lack of company for the timebeing. He looked up at the ceiling and smirked.

“If this really was the last time, mate… I’ll just have to drink that coldie for ya. In honor of the great ‘Bloodstrider Mura’,” Crow said fondly before kicking back and drifting off to sleep once more.