Hardcore Exorcist: Reborn to Grind

The Akai family had two heirs.

The firstborn, Lord Masataka, and the second son, Lord Issei.

The two were complete opposites.

Masataka, the thoughtful, cautious one. Impassive, even.

Issei is all passion. Empathetic. Impulsive.

That’s why everyone assumed Masataka would inherit the name. Primogeniture. With equal talent, the title goes to the firstborn.

Issei's chances were always a long shot.

But Issei never gave a damn about succession. He was a free spirit, always looking for a new way to kill time.

Hunt a Demon, post it on social media. Flash his cash like some celebrity. Disappear on trips for days. His love life was just as loud.

He had the stink of new money on him. Some young entrepreneur who struck it rich. He even started his own company, and it did well.

Maybe he was just trying to escape his brilliant older brother's shadow. Build his own power, his own identity, just outside the world of the aristocracy.

Or maybe he just liked lording his status over commoners, desperate for their approval.

That’s probably why he came at me so hard. The “pest” buzzing around his precious little sister.

The message was clear: Don’t get cocky or I’ll crush you.

I’d embarrassed him once, correcting his bullshit ideas about real power and martial arts. He probably held a grudge. His brand of “training” became a daily grind.

It had finally started to taper off. But that didn't mean he left me alone. The opposite, actually.

He started dragging me into his life more. Showing off his forty-plus luxury cars, making me help with maintenance. Pestering me to teach him martial arts when he was bored. Fishing. Tennis.

Did he give up trying to swat the pest, or did he finally accept me?

I never got the chance to ask.

There was a time I saw him as nothing but a pain in the ass. But people are complicated. The longer you’re around someone, the more you see. The good and the bad.

You cycle through hating them and liking them. He was short-tempered, ill-mannered, and a long way from a model citizen.

But he wasn’t a bad person. Just an emotionally clumsy man who loved his family—especially his sisters.

He never failed in his duty as an Exorcist. He even served a purpose for an aristocracy obsessed with its pristine image. On the internet, he was a hell of a lot more famous than Masataka.

I can say it without hesitation. Flaws and all, he was a master with the weight to lead. A man worthy of my service.

“Lord Issei…”

An islet of torii gates. A pool of blood. A magic circle. And Issei’s mangled body.

The words won’t come.

My eyes snap to Sakaki. A faint smile plays on the old woman’s lips. Like this is the most entertaining thing in the world.

“You said something about Homura’s rebirth,” I manage.

“N-haha, ahaha. Yes. I did. What of it?”

“What did you mean… ‘too late’?”

“Oohaha, aha, hahaha. Your brain has already pieced it together. Why bother asking?”

The second the words leave her mouth, I pull the trigger.

Hakuya’s head explodes.

I snap the barrel toward the old woman. Fire.

The slug hits her square in the chest. Her thin frame collapses back into the water.

No time for her to drop the disguise.

I start the reload. Eject two spent shells from Alek's Shotgun. Shove two more in.

I stride toward her. As I get close, I fire twice more into the body in the water.

Eject. Load. Fire again. Two more rounds into the corpse.

I need to be sure.

I step into the water, closing the distance.