Smoke coiled around shattered wooden planks and mud.
Standing in front of a wooden hut that barely looked proper for someone to live in were two silhouettes. One cloaked in the colors white and blue, while the other was draped in all-black, hooded, and masked, a figure who reeked of death.
In a twitch of muscle fibers, the cloaked man leaped skyward, sword in hand, ready to strike.
Before he could come close, a sharp bang split the air, followed by a spark from his sword.
His left shoulder was pushed from the bullet sinking into his flesh, but at the same time, he fired a beam of energy from the tip of his sword that landed squarely on the assassin’s chest, but barely did anything.
Upon landing, he clutched his shoulder in pain.
"Stand down, Axel. Let him die, and move on with your life. What good does it make—for devoting to such a useless trash?" the assassin cackled, already recovered from the blunt force hitting his chest, eyes squinting with malice as he licked the revolver in his hand pervertedly. "From the way I see it, best for you to leave him and join the other side."
Gritting his bloodied teeth, Axel stood again and raised his sword.
"I’m the young master’s sword! I’d rather die than let a scum like you lay a hand on him!" He roared.
For a good moment, the assassin looked at Axel.
And then, he shook his head.
"A shame..." He pointed his revolver forward. "In that case, you can die alongside your honor."
"Raarggh!"
"Spell: Final Bullet..."
Bang!
Another bullet pierced through the air, faster than a normal bullet, and glowing red.
It drilled a hole into Axel’s forehead before he could take the third step.
Despite taking a bullet directly into his brain, Axel remained standing, or rather, he died standing.
His head fell, but his body stayed rigid.
Just like his honor, his body was also stubborn—refusing to fall even in death.
Smirking condescendingly, the assassin spun his revolver—and placed it back into its holster expertly, like doing tricks with his gun was his everyday hobby. He looked around at the corpses scattered across the front yard and shook his head, "So many lives for someone so useless. Not that I mind, of course. More rewards for me."
Nonchalantly, the assassin approached the hut, intending to claim the bounty.
Clink.
His head snapped to the side when he heard something falling to the ground.
He sneered when he realized that it was Axel’s sword that fell.
Before he could comment, his eyes widened seeing Axel’s body began to hiss with energy.
"For fuck’s sake!"
BOOM!
Axel’s body exploded in a spectacular fashion, drowning the area in blue flames.
Coming out of the smoke was the assassin, rolling across the ground like a broken, charred doll.
He was burnt to a crisp, strengthless, and certainly lifeless.
Silence claimed the area again, but inside the hut, it was the complete opposite.
...
Inside, while the commotion was going on, a skinny man with long, unattended ashen-gold hair was lying on the hardwood floor. His skin was very pale, almost dead, or rather, already dead. But the moment the explosion rang, he woke up.
"Heughh...!" Deklan gasped for air and hugged his own body.
He shot awake, hands flailing for balance—heart still plummeting from the dream of falling.
"Man, that feeling of falling while asleep is never pleasant. It shot my adrenaline through the roof."
Deklan scratched the back of his head and looked around, realizing that he was inside a foreign place.
It’s certainly not his house since the state this place was in was pathetic.
Dusty, messy, and there was barely any furniture aside from a worn-out sofa not too far away.
Upon scanning the room, it eventually clicked.
Deklan sprang to his feet and felt his body—remembering that the bitch had transmigrated him without even letting him finish his last wish. Gone was his athletic body—now replaced by a scrawny one that could barely lift a rice sack.
His hair, which was perfect, ink-black, was replaced by ashen-gold.
Of course, he checked what mattered the most.
Deklan grabbed his crotch and nodded his head, "Packing, nice. About the same as mine."
Once he finished inspecting, he spun around to see what he was starting with.
"Young master? What kind of young master lives in this kind of shit hole? Even the public cemetery is better-looking than this horseshit," He clicked his tongue, cursing that bitch for giving him such a bad start. "Hello, anybody here?"
Silence.
Nobody answered his call.
It was only Deklan, himself, and he.
"No cute maid that’d be running to check on me, too?" Deklan rubbed his chin, expecting that much to happen. Not total silence. "Am I some kind of useless young master—in this world? Might as well start as a begga—Hii!"
Deklan jumped when he saw someone lying on the floor.
He had only woken up from the floor, so another person lying there was the last thing he was expecting.
Just then, his eyes narrowed as he inspected this man.
"He’s dead, but wait..." Deklan rubbed his chin, noticing the resemblance to this person. "Is that me?"
At that realization, he looked down at his body and came to realize one glaring thing.
He’s a ghost.
"Eughh..."
Before he could properly digest this finding, he fell to one knee.
His mind suddenly throbbed with otherworldly pain.
Memories rushed into him like an endless torrent—it was his memory, or rather, the previous Deklan.
It lasted an agonizing minute before the pain finally faded away.
"Sigh... As expected, another cliché. No worries," Deklan rose to his feet again, not feeling dejected by his situation at all. In fact, he was a bit glad that he was now in the body of a high-profile person. "If that bitch sent me here and told me to get stronger, then she must want something. Having this kind of background will help me in the long run."
From the memory, Deklan learned that this body belonged to the bastard son of a Marquis.
He goes by the name Deklan Tiernan—the bastard son of Marquis Victor of the Gasea Kingdom. All of his siblings are prodigies that has made a pact with powerful spirits, making them exceptional Exorcists on top of possessing terrifying talent to reach the top.
Just like the bitch said, Ghosts are real in this world.
Hundreds of years ago, the metaphysical realm bled into the tangible reality.
Along with the descent of mana that changed the world thoroughly was the descent of Ghosts, beings that lived in the metaphysical realm that now set their eyes on the world of the living. Now, instead of being separated by a whole realm, Humans and Ghosts are separated by a thin veil.
Humans lived in the tangible veil, while Ghosts lived in the intangible vieil.
Of course, though separated, instances where they clashed were completely normal.
It was precisely why Exorcists were born, people who could harness mana and use it to fight Ghosts.
At the age of ten, kids were assessed to see whether they had Mana Veins, the talent to become Exorcists.
Being the protectors of humanity, Exorcists are revered everywhere around the world, regardless of the nations. Kids could undergo this assessment three times until they reached fifteen, and with each failure, the risk of being possessed and turned into a zombie increases.
But that didn’t stop parents from encouraging their children to keep trying.
Most would only push their kids to try three times—and stop, while others forced their kids to keep trying. Regardless of the risk, greed pushed these parents to keep encouraging their kids. Even in another world, greed will always be one of humanity’s closest companions.
Then again, it made sense for parents to do so.
After all, if their child became an Exorcist, they would be set up for life.
Even the most untalented and weakest Exorcists will do.
Talented Exorcists couldn’t only utilize mana, but also attract good Ghosts widely referred to as Spirits, to assimilate.
If an Exorcist is a superhuman, an Exorcist with a spirit is a super-duper superhuman.
Unlike his siblings, Deklan Tiernan has no Spirits.
Heck, he didn’t even have Mana Veins.
A complete and utter trash that was exiled to this backwater, eastern border of the March of Tiernan to live quietly until he dies. Not only that, he was also a bastard son, so his presence was quite unsightly to some.
No—everyone, since his mother passed away recently.
"This guy must know a lot because he’s in the circle of nobles, that’s good. But seriously, how spineless can you get?" Deklan eyed his supposed body—sprawled on the wooden floor. "Died of a heart attack... from being too scared? Really, bro?"
In the surge of memories, Deklan could see how the previous Deklan died.
He was hyperventilating, afraid, and then... a heart attack.
Pfft.
Deklan couldn’t believe that the ’Deklan’ in this world was a wimp.
"But no matter. Since I inhabit your body now, you can rest assured. From now on, people will know you as Big Balls Deklan!"
[DING!]
Seeing the orange holographic appearing in his vision, Deklan’s lips stretched into a smile.
His golden finger.
"Hooh, thank God..." Deklan rubbed his chest. "She’s a bitch, but not a biiatch, at least. But wait, what’s with this theme? I know it’s Halloween when I died, but is this necessary?"
Deklan stared at the candies and spooky trees decorating the edges of the hologram.
He asked for a System, but he never asked for it to be Halloween-themed.
[Binding the host’s body, please standby...]
[Completed!]
[Analyzing the host’s past life...]
[Notice: the host is a psychopath who watched horror movies in a cemetery!]
[Iron Spine trait has been awarded.]
"I think you don’t know what a psychopath means, system..."
[Notice: the host is active by night and a koala by day!]
[Dual Existence skill has been awarded!]
"O-Oyy! Who are you calling a koala?! I’m lazier!"
[Notice: the host has never feared or believed in Ghosts!]
[Ghost Conqueror skill has been awarded.]
Just as Deklan wanted to say something again, as it seemed the system had inherited the bitch’s annoying personality, he raised his brows when he was presented with five tabs that should be the whole thing of the system.
[Status] [Ward] [Shop] [Inventory] [Expansion]
Among the five, he clicked the one he was curious the most.
"Status."
...
Name: Deklan Tiernan
Persona: - (Single and ready to mingle)
Rank: A Fart
STAT(S)
Strength: F
Agility: F
Endurance: Z
Intelligence: ZZZ
Perception: D
Mental: C
Sanity: 100%
SKILL(S)
[Ghost Conqueror] [Dual Existence]
TRAIT(S)
[Iron Spine]
...
Deklan read through the status window attentively, absorbing every bit of information that he could from one measly page that would be his companion from here henceforth. Once he reached the bottom, he leaned back, as if contemplating.
Then, he sucked in a deep breath and looked straight at the panel again—his gaze deadpan.
"Tell me, system, can you also have a physical manifestation?" He asked, face twitching. "I really want to hit you right now..."