I've never been so uncomfortable in my life, and everything from my head to my feet hurts. I can only imagine how crappy my sleeping posture's become, all because of this cheap slab of bricks I sleep on. I'll throw this mattress out today, no doubt about it. Wait, what the hell am I thinking?

  There's no way I've still got that mattress, and there's no way I'm still in that place. Let's evaluate. I left quickly, went back home, stopped by at that office, and then... I scream out loud, quickly pushing off the wall I'm resting on to sit up, cracking my skull against something hard.

  Wincing in pain, I fall over to my side and grab the top of my head. I hear somebody else groaning and quietly cursing, and open my eyes slowly. From my bed on the filthy ground, I can see a woman dressed all in white, her hand on her forehead. Now, why's she here? Come on, think of a reason why you'd end up in this situation.

  I notice suddenly that there's nothing warm trickling over my face anymore, and I lift my head off the ground, looking down. There's no pool of blood, so, obviously, the bleeding must've stopped, and the one responsible is right there across from me. My cry for help couldn't have echoed too far, so me coming out here to this area in particular was a stroke of fortune.

  For the first time today, I honestly feel lucky. I look off into the distance, and the building is burnt badly, but the fire's stopped. I probably have her to thank for that as well. Wait, now's not the time to get lost in my thoughts! Quickly, I sit up and say to my savior, "Th-thanks. Really, you're a lifesaver - Irene, right? O-oh, sorry, also, I really didn't mean to hit you, I just, uh..."

  I'm stumbling over my words because my brain is simply refusing to think of them. Not a big surprise, with how red my clothes have gotten, but still, it's a bit embarassing. Irene's got a small scratch on her forehead, that quickly vanishes as she touches it. In my half-consciousness, I see her staring daggers into space above. Looks really can kill among mages, so I slowly start to panic. But, her expression completely shifts as she looks back at me, switching to bedside manners on a dime.

  "You look okay, thankfully, but you should've let me finish. I haven't refilled all your blood yet, which is why you're acting like an idiot. That's the most favorable explanation."

  Yeah, that makes sense to me right now, and I'm happy that she wants me to be happy, so I just sit there and wait for her to continue. There's silence for a moment, and she has to clear her throat for me to realize that I haven't said anything back. I quickly nod along, and lay back, feeling more ashamed than I've ever been, just wishing that this would be over with.

  She scoots on over, and jabs her index finger right over my heart. The familiar prana pulses outwards, and black markings envelop her hands. The sensation of veins and arteries getting filled out isn't one you get to feel every day, and I can almost feel my rationale returning to me with every second.

  I sigh in relief. It feels so good being whole again. "Now, I can say thank you, properly," I say to her, putting on a confident smile, still feeling a bit awkward. I've been a bit too vulnerable around this person in one day. "You're very welcome. Would you like to come admire your handiwork?"

  Very casually, Irene turns around and begins to walk over to the building. She stalls for a moment, turning back to me, but I've already gotten up and grabbed my suitcase, so we just continue onto the building. It's gotten really dry inside, and the walls are blackened and charred. A singular half-molten arm lies on the floor, and Irene turns to me, looking for explanation.

  "I had to do a slightly large-scale ritual, so I went to the edge of town and looked for somewhere empty, but something else had the same idea as me, some kind of ghoul. It was camped out here, and caught me by surprise, but I fought it off. I think it escaped into the sewers? Everything's still a bit foggy, so I can't say for sure."

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  She crouches over to gently grab the arm, trying to keep it in one piece. She mutters something to herself, and a wave of energy ripples through the air. "Right. You did well for yourself. Go rest up, I'll finish the job," she remarks coolly, and begins to walk away, slowly, looking down at the arm as she does- wait, no, "I can't let you do that. This is my problem, and most importantly, my hunt."

  She tilts her head in confusion. Answering all her unspoken questions, I rummage in my suitcase, and draw out the certificate I summoned a couple minutes ago. Thankfully, it's still totally intact. "Huh. You went and formed your own agency. Congratulations. I'll send a bouquet your way."

  She seems to be waddling around the point, so I continue to press, "So, this is is my quarry to chase. I won't let you one-up me here." The typical caring expression that she wears has turned blank with exasperation. "Well, if you want to join in with me, you could've just asked. We - our agencies, that is, can just collaborate. You don't think it's wise to just rush in blind and alone, do you?"

  "...Definitely not. Well, let's get going. You're tracking it by its arm, right? We should hurry," I reply sheepishly. Let's try to be less presumptuous, Filia.

  Once again, I escaped the gates of hell by the skin of my teeth. The burns, the mark of my miscalculation, still litter my body.

  What a terrifying man. All that malice emerged from something so small and frail.

  The next time, I will surely slaughter him. There is no question about it. An accident only occurs once.

  A levitating, rotating arm leads the way for me and Irene. After ripping off the grate and expanding the entry, we made our way into the sewer system, and a short crawl later we happened upon some wider streams. We avoid the crap-fluid, sticking to the dry walkways both for cleanliness and to avoid anything lurking in the waters.

  I remember hearing somewhere that there are crocodiles in the sewer system, and that's just freaky. There's no conversation made between the two of us and that's for the best. Even now, I'd still like to distance myself from her. After all this, it's for the best if we're just distantly acquainted hunters who see each other every once in a while for networking reasons, or something.

  "Stop," she calls out. The hand seems to be confused, jittering in place, unsure where to go. We're at a fork in the road, and standing at the opposite end of the banks, is a short figure in a red coat. Irene turns to me to confirmation, but I shake my head. "That's not what attacked me."

  Several more come out of the shadows, just watching... and on the far right, the tall and filthy monster who tried to kill me. Its arm has already regrown, and its face is only slightly burnt; I feel suddenly incredibly uneasy. We're stuck in a stalemate, and I look to my side at Irene, and I'm surprised. She seems totally calm, even though there's way more of them than advertised, a total of six. Could she have been expecting this?

  The moment my concentration shifts, I hear the rustling of cloaks, and we are assaulted by five enemies at once. On instinct, I rush forwards, but Irene is swifter than all of us, breaking their formation with some kind of explosion of force, blasting one into the concrete and spreading the others out. I stall back, conjuring flames preparing for a counterattack from the scattered ghouls, but nothing comes, as chilling words resound through the chaos of the tunnel.

  "Leave the boy to me."

  I barely manage to turn my head when something crashes into me, sending me soaring off my feet across the left tunnel, my head banging against the side of the wall before I spin to a stop in the middle of the shit-stream, a bit dazed. After getting drop kicked thirty meters, that's the most I could ask for. Counting my blessings, I get back on my feet, facing my foe.

  As it saunters through the filthy river, I get a good look at it for the first time. Long matted black hair nearly reaching its shoulders, a long cloak, its original white still slightly visible under all the dried blood and guts stuck to it. Its pale face is beautiful even while marred by red, and as our eyes meet, I freeze. The raging battle, my heartbeat, and the splashing footsteps all fade away, dominated by that gaze. The beast's mouth opens, and the coming exhale snaps me out of my trance, leaving me stumbling back. Those fangs are unmistakeable. I've made a terrible mistake; that is no mere ghoul.

  "Don't despair, hunter. Your last moments will sate my hunger for... oh, at least a week."