Once more, Soren woke up—just as expected—to the blinding lights of the hospital ceiling. This time, he had managed to accumulate enough injuries to have most of his body covered in plaster.

  At some point, he even questioned how he’d survived the surgery… but there were worse things to worry about.

  “First- and second-degree burns, smoke inhalation, one broken rib—and another one that broke again. Not to mention the multiple cuts all over your arms, legs, and chest,” said Adam Hunt, seated beside him. The man in the trench coat tried to light a cigarette, only for a passing nurse to snatch it away with practiced efficiency.

  “Yeah… next time I’ll try not to fall down the stairs,” Soren muttered, eyes drifting toward the bright window.

  The Commission's director stared at him, expressionless, analyzing him from head to toe.

  “I’ll admit—you were very thorough in hiding the traces of your showdown. However, there was one very important thing you forgot to do.”

  “...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Soren said, keeping his tone flat.

  “You forgot to dispose of the enormous demon corpse you left roasting like a barbecue. There were also some eye witnesses that allowed us to identify you”

  “Shit…” Soren cursed, slumping in his bed. I should have left those little shits to die...

  “Right now, I could have you arrested for multiple charges: destruction of private property, illegal possession of weapons, unauthorized entanglement with demons... even terrorism.”

  Terrorism? he thought, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple.

  “However,” Hunt continued, “I’d rather offer you a chance to come back and work for me. As for what happened, it’ll all be archived and swept 'under the rug'—as if it never happened.”

  Soren didn’t trust the man at all, but the offer was enough generous for not turning down.

  “Honestly? I remembered how absolutely miserable it was to work alone,” he said, jokingly, before clearing his throat. “I’m more or less inclined to accept your bribe… with one condition.”

  “You really think you’re in any position to negotiate?” the man replied, unimpressed.

  Soren didn’t fold. “No more tests. No more conspiracies. I want to be treated like a legitimate demon hunter.”

  Adam Hunt stayed silent, then rose from his seat to leave.

  “Then I expect to see you on Monday.”

  “Really? What about this?” Soren gestured to his plastered body, clearly unable to move, let alone fight.

  “That’ll be sorted out,” Hunt said coldly, exiting the room.

  Soren swallowed hard. Despite dodging a bullet, it felt like he’d just sold part of his soul to the Devil.

  Not long after, a furred figure slipped awkwardly in through the third-floor window and closed the door behind him.

  “What are you doing?” Soren asked, annoyed.

  “I can’t stay away unless you tell me to,” the demon replied plainly.

  Right...

  “What about Adam Hunt? He could’ve—”

  “He already knew I was out there,” the demon interrupted. “He only let me live because of my connection to you.”

  Soren closed his eyes, exhaling sharply. Argos kept talking.

  “Are you really going back to work for those Commission bastards?”

  “Do we have any other option?”

  “We could try to flee.”

  Soren looked at the casts around his limbs, then raised an eyebrow.

  “I gotta admit… you saved my life back there. Regardless of why, I don’t like owing favors. If you want to flee so badly, I’m fine with breaking the contract.”

  Argos hesitated. The temptation was real—but breaking the bond would put him right back in the Commission’s crosshairs. With Soren under Hunt’s favor, however, he could stand to gain quite a bit.

  “Despite everything, it’s in my best interests to stay. As long as they don’t try to lock me up again.”

  Soren nodded. “Then go collect our money. Leave it back at my place.”

  Once Argos left, Soren was left to his own thoughts.

  “Fifty thousand euros, as agreed,” said the butler, handing the demon a briefcase full of cash. “There’s an extra fifteen thousand for the complications.”

  These rich humans really hand out their money is if their kind didn't die for it.

  As Argos accepted the briefcase, he scanned the manor’s interior. “What happened to the human boy?”

  The butler seemed reluctant but didn’t dare defy the demon. “Master Julian has been reflecting on the recent events. He’s going to need time.”

  Argos merely looked away and left in silence.

  *

  Several days later, Soren reclined on the couch as the demon mounted a television in his apartment.

  “There’s something I’ve been wondering since then,” he said. “I remember you were beaten badly. How did you heal like nothing happened?”

  “As the dog devil, I can regenerate by consuming humans and other living beings.”

  “And how does that relate to dogs at all?” he asked, frowning.

  Argos ignored him.

  “Eating your blood was enough to patch some of my wounds. Normally, it takes nearly half a person’s body.”

  “My blood’s really that special? Why?”

  “I wouldn’t know. The only thing I can say for sure is that it tastes good.”

  Soren frowned even more. “Doesn’t blood taste good to all demons?”

  Argos finished setting up the TV, then stepped back and consulted the manual.

  “Everything tastes awful to us demons. Same goes for the smell. Everyone and everything reeks—but you’re the exception.”

  Now that I think about it… he did mention the way I smell before. Is that really why he’s so interested in me?

  “Well, I’m certianly not feeding you my blood again anytime soon. Besides, isn’t that nasty? Don’t you get diseases from blood? Like HIV or something?”

  Argos rolled his eyes and focused on the remote control.

  Thanks to the money they had earned, Soren was able to buy most of what he wanted. He could finally watch TV in his own living room, sleep in his own bed, and eat food as expensive as he liked.

  He could even afford not to work for a long time—but to keep that life, he still had to answer to Adam Hunt's European Anti-Demon Commission.

  Of course, it wasn’t like he could spend all €70,000 in cash without raising suspicion. Nor could he deposit it in a bank. So he used only what he needed to live comfortably.

  Still, something gnawed at him—unfinished business.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  After days of searching, he and Argos eventually found the missing grimoire. Soren didn’t bother returning it, not after everything it had caused. He had other plans.

  Inside a rented storage unit, Soren placed various offerings—not just jewels he bought with the spare money, but animal sacrifices—and drew a blood circle, just as detailed in the book.

  “Are you sure about this?” Argos asked. “Even if he hears your request, he might recognize you and ignore it.”

  “That could happen. That’s why I doubled down on the offerings. If he’s desperate enough, he’ll bite the lure.”

  Before initiating contact, Soren began drawing salt circles and runes, guided by the notes in an old notebook.

  “‘About the use of barriers… constructing a simple weakening circle,’” he read aloud.

  It was a simple guide, mostly annotations made by his uncle, the one thing that had guided him through.

  Argos remained outside the salt ring, arms crossed, watching.

  “Okay. This should be everything.”

  Soren extended both hands and began the summoning.

  “Great Tiamat, mighty dragon!” he called out, voice overly theatrical. “This servant of yours has several offers for your manifestation, in exchange for granting my wishes!”

  He’s not going to fall for that, Argos thought, unamused.

  The boy’s voice echoed through the warehouse… then silence.

  But suddenly, the bodies and jewels melted into a pool of blood, from which the fiend began to rise.

  “Human! Fear the presence of the great demon Tiamat!” bellowed the dragon, wings spreading wide.

  Soren and Argos exchanged a long, silent glance.

  Oh? Something’s happening… the dragon realized.

  Almost immediately, the manifested dragon devil collapsed to the floor, nauseous and weak. When he lifted his head, he saw the blurred silhouettes of two figures standing above him.

  “It’s… you!”

  Soren smirked, then burst into laughter. “How desperate do you have to be to answer a summoning without checking the surroundings?”

  I fell into a trap!

  Despite his full manifestation, Tiamat’s size was noticeably diminished. He was far from his peak.

  “This is curious,” Argos remarked. “Right now, you have less existential power than I do.”

  It was factly known that demons could resurrect by sacrificing a portion of their existential power. If that reserve ever ran dry, they’d suffer true death—and Hell would replace them with a new incarnation.

  And yet, as Argos had explained before, being killed in a possession shouldn’t have drained Tiamat that much.

  Something must’ve happened between then and now… and we can take advantage of it.

  Together, the pair loomed over the weakened demon, their intent unmistakable.

  This is bad… I need to fulfill the contract and escape! Tiamat thought, panicked.

  Seeing that he wasn’t being killed outright, the dragon cleared his throat and tried to negotiate. “You said you wanted your wishes granted. What can this mighty demon do for you?”

  Soren scratched his chin, pretending to think. “I want you to be my slave.”

  Argos immediately covered his mouth, barely keeping it together.

  “...A slave?”

  Tiamat’s mind spun. The demand was outrageous, but poorly worded. There was no timeframe and neither a definition of ‘slave.’ Withouot those restrictions, the demon was very much able to manipulate the interpretation to his will.

  I could be his slave for five seconds. And it doesn’t mean I can’t harm or kill him.

  Feigning obedience, Tiamat bowed his head.

  “Very well. If that’s what you want—I accept.”

  With consent from both parties, the contract was sealed.

  Argos smirked. “You don’t even know what you just did, do you?”

  “What exactly do you mean?” Tiamat asked, wary.

  “You’re probably thinking of ways to bend the contract to your favor. Go ahead. Try to bargain with Hell.”

  Tiamat stepped back and attempted to manipulate the agreement with his existential power… only to find it unresponsive. His expression twisted with confusion.

  “...What’s happening right now?”

  Arms crossed, Argos turned to Soren. “That’s how it was back then?”

  Soren simply shrugged, amused.

  “No… this can’t be,” Tiamat muttered, despair creeping in.

  As the dragon processed his mistake, Soren pushed part of the salt barrier aside, removing the weakening effect—and allowing the dog devil to step in. Argos cracked his knuckles, a menacing shadow cast over the stunned demon.

  “I still remember how you threw me through a wall, crushed me, and set me on fire.”

  Tiamat turned toward his new master, but the only thing he saw in Soren’s eyes was satisfaction.

  “You two have fun. I’ll be waiting at home,” Soren said, heading for the exit—leaving only the sound of grunts and screams behind.

  In the end, despite the wild detour, Soren felt oddly satisfied. He’d gone from having nothing, constantly hunted and beaten by demons… to having two of them under his control.

  Now, he could only wonder what working for the Commission would truly be like.

  Meanwhile, in the administrative floor of the Commission's headquarters, the sharply dressed Asian woman entered a repurposed closet-office and placed some paperwork on an old wooden desk.

  “So you let him go… only to catch him again,” she said, arms crossed.

  “It was obvious he’d stay around and make a mess,” the slavic man replied, staring off. “Although I’ll admit—he handled the incident well. The entire place was evacuated and the casualties were limited to the possessed. He almost made it out of my grasp.”

  He then turned toward the other head of the organization, waiting for her realization.

  “Well, he does have potential,” she admitted. “Impressive, considering his age. His only problems are his insubordination and recklessness—but it seems you’ve already solved one of those.”

  The man lit a cigarette and spun his chair away from her.

  She simply nodded and left the place.

  *

  Right at the start of the week, the many workers and agents entering the Commission building observed the group walking through the front doors with thinly veiled curiosity.

  Soren, dressed in formal attire, adjusted his black necktie as he stepped inside, followed closely by Tiamat and Argos into the main lobby.

  The two demons remained tense, alert to every movement, their eyes darting across the marble floor and glass walls as they followed the boy toward the reception desk.

  There, Soren leaned over the counter, glancing at the blonde-haired woman who was busy typing on her computer, entirely absorbed in her work.

  “So—”

  “Floor 42,” she interrupted curtly, handing him a folder without so much as a glance.

  Yeah…

  He accepted the folder with hesitation and made his way to the elevators, the demons silently stepping in beside him.

  When the metal doors opened, Soren was greeted by an almost entirely empty floor. The spacious level was framed by floor-to-ceiling windows offering a wide view of the city, only interrupted by the building’s thick structural columns.

  The only thing occupying the space was a single cubicle: a desk with a computer and an old-fashioned phone.

  “Welcome to the Fifth Division,” came a familiar voice. Soren immediately recognized Subdirectress Nasaki, leaning casually against one of the columns, arms crossed.

  His demon companions tensed and shifted closer to their contractor, guarding themeselves on instinct.

  “So, am I really the only member of this Fifth Division?” Soren asked without concern.

  “For now, yes.”

  “I still don’t agree,” he said. “From what I remember, I’m more capable than those Fourth Division hunters. I should at least be in the Third.”

  Nasaki turned away, unaffected by the complaint.

  “Unlike the other divisions, the Director created the Fifth without following the usual criteria.”

  “Then… what’s the point?” Soren frowned.

  “The main purpose of this division is to keep certain individuals—you very much—under observation. That also means you’ll have more freedom in how you operate. You’ll answer only to me and Director Hunt, directly.”

  Soren liked his independence—but part of him still felt deliberately isolated from the rest of the organization. Not that he cared much.

  “As long as Adam Hunt doesn’t try anything crazy again, then I’ve got no problem with it.”

  Subdirectress Nasaki looked him over with faint amusement.

  Nobody talks about the Director like that...

  “In any case, the folder you have contains your firearms permit, public identification, and passport. All other paperwork is on your desk.”

  “Finally,” Soren said, heading over to his new chair and workstation, leaving his two contracted demons standing with the Subdirectress.

  Tension crackled in the air.

  “As for your demon contracts—based on your description, the Commission has officially recognized them as working under you. We won’t take any action as long as they stay in line,” she stated bluntly. “However, avoid drawing attention when operating in public.”

  The demons exhaled in unison, relief visible in their posture.

  “So, when do I get assigned to my first real mission?” Soren asked.

  “We first have to deal with your current condition. Since you’re not at full capacity—and considering some of those injuries came from our first encounter—the Commission will provide resources to assist your recovery. You’ll receive instructions soon.”

  “Understood…”

  “In the meantime, Director Hunt wants you to write reports on every previous demon encounter you’ve had, even before joining the organization.”

  “That sounds exhausting... not to mention it’ll take days.”

  With that, Subdirectress Nasaki finally left the floor, leaving Soren alone in his new office. He began inspecting every cabinet and drawer, just in case someone had left behind a trap or surprise.

  From a monitor high above, Director Hunt observed Soren’s behavior through a security camera. He leaned back in his chair, flipping through the reports as they came in.

  “Dragon devil. Cow devil. Toothpaste devil… clogged toilet devil…” he read aloud, puffing on yet another cigarette.

  “It seems like the United States has a recurring problem with the random manifestation of lower-tier demons,” Nasaki commented, seated across from his desk.

  “‘Ugly angel devil’?” Hunt followed, his eyes drifted toward her.

  “Another angel apparition?” she asked, leaning forward.

  “It Seems like it. According to the report, the 'so-called angel' appeared on top of a construction site in Saint Louis. There were no murders or any other previous incidents.”

  “Perhaps it was on watch duty… but for what?”

  Hunt printed the specific page and handed it to her.

  “Add it to the file with the other angel sightings.”

  Their expressions turned grim. The matter clearly warranted concern.

  Not long ago, Director Hunt began noting sporadic appearances of entities that resembled angels. Unlike demons, they caused no damage—most vanished before anyone could engage them. The sightings were brief, vague, and rare.

  Still, the concern came from a shared belief among veteran hunters:

  Angels don’t exist.

  So far, the Commission hadn’t been able to intercept or track any of them—making Soren’s account valuable.

  After Subdirectress Nasaki left the room, Hunt remained seated, deep in thought.

  But the momentary silence shattered as a sudden gust of wind slammed the office door shut, dropping the room’s temperature instantly.

  “I didn’t expect such a sudden visit,” he muttered, seemingly to no one. Then, from his coat pocket, he produced a golden coin.

  He angled it toward the light, catching the reflection of a blurred, indistinct figure.

  “There is urgent news from Hell,” said the demon, its voice sharp yet weary.

  “Good news or bad news?” Hunt asked, his expression flat.

  “I wouldn't know how to classify it,” the demon admitted. “The Demon Lord’s oracle—the demon of the future—has completely lost its foresight.”

  Hunt raised an eyebrow. “Any idea how that happened? How did the Lord respond?”

  “Only the Seven Deadly Sins have been informed… but I plan to breach the rumor myself.”

  “I see. Keep me updated on any moves the Lord makes.”

  The conversation ended there. The demon faded. Hunt, now alone again, leaned back in his chair with a tired exhale.

  Angels and demons… Whatever this is—it’s not going to get any easier from here onwards.