Hardcore Exorcist: Reborn to Grind

Eighteen Months Since Boot Camp Initiation

* * *

It’s been six months since the advanced Boot Camp program began.

Our current objective is mastering mana output.

Six months ago, we received transfusions of Ichor, which granted us this magical power. 

But raw mana means nothing; it only becomes effective when you can control it.

This enables the casting of magic.

“Mm, pass. Next—Ikaku.”

Today is the mana manipulation test. It involves creating ripples in mercury.

First, you pour mercury into a small dish and mix in blood.

Blood is the most versatile and effective catalyst in magical studies. A caster’s own blood serves as a conduit, helping transmit their mana.

You make your mana vibrate through the blood mixed with mercury.

That alone creates ripples in the mercury. It’s the most basic drill for mana manipulation.

“...Failure, Ikaku.”

Instructor Kisame says this with disappointment, running his pen across the clipboard in his hands.

I focused on the contraction for about two minutes, but the mercury never trembled. 

This is me after six months of practice. Meanwhile, all my peers can do it.

At this point, I gotta admit that I’ve hit a plateau. I have no talent for controlling mana.

And I’m spectacularly lacking in power capacity as well.

My peers try their best to teach me, but to my shame, I haven’t succeeded in making the mercury vibrate even once.

“Next, mercury bullets. You get 30 seconds—hurry up and make them!”

The next drill builds on the previous one.

Mercury bullets. The main weapon of Exorcists.

They have a higher specific gravity than lead, offering superior stopping power, while the purifying properties of silver enhance the pain inflicted on Demons.

Due to their liquid nature, they scatter easily inside a Demon’s body after impact, and combined with their toxicity, they deliver high damage as Anti-Demon Soulgear.

The true power of such Soulgear manifests when the user infuses blood into the mercury bullets. The catalytic effect allows the bullets to be imbued with mana, neutralizing and penetrating the magical armor that Demons wear.

“Time’s up! Now I’ll check durability! Leave your mercury bullets as they are!”

All my peers except me are breathing heavily as they line up their blood-infused mercury bullets on their desks.

The most outstanding among them—17-year-old Hayate—has 15 mercury bullets arranged in front of him. All of them show crimson patterns mixed throughout.

“Blood-infused mercury bullets last five minutes at most for inexperienced Exorcists! That’s hardly enough time to pump bullets into a Demon’s skull! You need to maintain them for at least an hour! Anyone who makes pathetic bullets that go limp immediately will get a kick from me! Prepare yourselves!”

All I can do is watch as everyone else keeps hitting new PRs while I’m stuck on warm-ups.

* * *

Two Years Since Boot Camp Initiation

* * *

I’ve turned eight years old, and I’ve completed the advanced Boot Camp training program.

Today, the 102nd Boot Camp Cohort will attempt to obtain Exorcist Licenses.

The licensing exam takes place in the underground training facility. By Demonstrating the ability to actually kill Demons here, the trainees will officially become real Exorcists.

After two years of conditioning that strengthened them in body and mind, the brave boys of the 102nd Cohort step into the training facility.

They’re all armed with guns, magazines, and knives strapped to belts.

A figure is dropped into the room from above by a crane.

The impact hits the floor with a wet splatter, leaving a dark, bloody stain.

But almost instantly, the figure rises with swift movements.

She looks human—a woman around twenty-eight—but her eyes are pitch black, and dark, veined patterns creep across her skin.

A Demon.

“Urr…RAAAH!”

BANG!

A gunshot rings out immediately.

The one who pulled the trigger without hesitation is Hayate, the top trainee.

His first shot misses.

He resets his form, keeps his aim steady, and fires once more.

This time it hits. He follows up with four more shots.

All of them find the Demon’s body.

The Demon collapses from the knees. Still twitching.

Hayate approaches to within about three meters and fires three finishing shots.

“Excellent, Hayate. You pass. What about the rest of you losers? What were those two years for? Why didn’t you shoot? Demons are extremely agile. Don’t miss your chance for a sure hit!”

After Instructor Kisame’s shouting, my peers get in the zone, and they begin killing Demons.

In time, the licensing exam ends.

All of them manage to scrape a pass.

"Be grateful for the pathetic weakling Demons we gave you this time. They were Category 1 bottom-feeders—starved half to death, no less. The real ones will be faster, more brutal, and far more savage. Keep that in mind."

Instructor Kisame delivers this message in a voice trembling with emotion.

My peers bow with tears in their eyes.

“Thank you for everything!!” they shout in unison.

“...This concludes the 102nd Boot Camp program.”

That night, a celebration was held in the training building. A party just for the 102nd Cohort members.

Everyone dove into the spectacular feast with great excitement. All-you-can-eat juice and sweets.

Released from our restricted lifestyle, it felt like heaven.

We talked about our dreams.

One wanted to become a manga artist. One mentioned wanting to try going to school. One said he wanted to make movies. One earnestly confessed he wanted to get a girlfriend. One revealed he simply wanted to live a long life.

“We’re free now, aren’t we?!”

“We can go anywhere! We can protect ourselves!”

“We did it, boys! Yeah!”

“First, I have to go see Sister!”

“Hey, everyone’s gonna be Exorcists, right?”

“Of course. They told us in career counseling, remember? Hard trained Exorcists like us are valuable human resources, so we’ll be in demand. We can make lots of money, so we can choose the life we want while working as Exorcists.”

The next morning, several of my fellow trainees were already packing to leave the dormitory, so I saw them off. They were the group who wanted to gain their freedom even one day sooner.

Most of the trainees seemed to be continuing life at the dormitory. We’re allowed to stay in the dormitory until 18, anyway. It’s a grace period.

Incidentally, I also plan to stay. Plan to… or rather, I have no choice.

Because I haven’t completed the program.

“Ikaku.”

As I’m doing my cool-down, Instructor Kisame calls out to me.

“Yes, it’s the dropout Ikaku. What is it?”

“Never thought you’d be the only failure. Well, if we include Hachiue, that makes two.”

The reason I dropped out is clear.

I can’t manipulate mana. I got absolutely no talent for it.

“Normally, the Akai Orphanage ‘Academic Curriculum’ and ‘Boot Camp’ don’t have dropouts. I can say this now—no matter how bad someone’s grades are, I somehow manage to get them to pass the final licensing exam. That way they can spread their wings in the world.”

It’s the same as how there are no kids who repeat elementary or middle school.

If you do things normally, you normally advance to the next stage. That’s how it’s designed.

“You’re compatible with Ichor, yet you can’t generate any output at all. This is a rare case.”

“It’s shocking. It’s like you’re telling me I can’t move forward from here.”

“You failed Boot Camp. You couldn’t obtain an Exorcist License. If you had said you wanted to go out into the world and make your mark, I would have been troubled about what to do.

But fortunately, you want to be taken into the Akai Clan’s service. Most importantly, you’re still only eight years old. In that case, you still have plenty of time. You should try different things. You might find a breakthrough.”

Instructor Kisame walks away.

“Try different things, huh?”

But what exactly am I supposed to try?

* * *

One Month Since Boot Camp Completion

* * *

I’ve been invited to the West Wing of the Akai family estate.

It’s not because I’ve been promoted and taken into service.

As a rare case specimen—someone compatible with Ichor but with zero talent for mana—I’ve caught the interest of the Akai family’s Mages.

I’ve been doing diagnostics since this morning.

“Hmm, I just don’t get it.”

A bespectacled man mutters while looking at the test results.

His name is Dr. Kobe. He’s not Akai family blood, but he’s a Mage in their service. 

He’s currently playing around with me, his unusual lab rat.

“The mana is disappearing somewhere...? Meaning—”

For me, he’s like a last hope.

Please figure out the cause!

“Hmm, I just don’t really understand...”

Well, that’s the end of that, then.

“Dr. Kobe, I want to become an Exorcist.”

“So I’ve heard. Why do you want it so badly?”

“Because I don’t want to die.”

“That’s heartfelt. That’s exactly why I understand your feelings. You’re constantly being threatened with ‘Demons are gonna kill ya!’ and it’s scary, right?

...Oh, that’s right. I happen to know someone who specializes in techniques for keeping death at bay. I’ll introduce you to him.”

“Techniques? But Dr. Kobe, I can’t handle mana.”

“When I say techniques, I don’t mean mystical arts. They’re 100% human-powered techniques. Well, in a sense, they are spiritual.”

Dr. Kobe leads me to the back of the West Wing.

An old man stands there—half-dressed, silver-haired, and pouring sweat like a waterfall. Russian, by the look of him. His face is sharp, refined. Distinguished.

He’s standing in front of a watermelon set on a raised platform.

It’s not secured. One nudge, and it would roll right off—the kind of watermelon that’s perfectly round and precarious.

The distinguished old man raises his open hand toward it, barely moving. He brushes the rind with a single fingertip.

“Hah!”

With that shout, the watermelon explodes.

He destroyed it with a damn finger tap.

I stare, stunned. The power is unreal.

But what really floors me—only the bottom half of the watermelon is still sitting on the platform. It looks ready to tip over at any second.

That means his strike was so clean, so fast, so precise… the watermelon didn’t even have time to roll.

“Is that... magic?”

“No, that’s Kung Fu—the One-Inch Strike.”

The Russian man looks our way and smiles.

“We meet again, Ikaku.”

“Oh, the agent from before... You’re a martial artist?”

“Cool, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Epic cool.”

“I’ll make you my disciple as a special case.”

“I’m honored, sir!”

“Accepting right away? Good. Well then, let’s begin immediately.”

Try different things, Instructor Kisame said.

This must be what he meant.