Rade's Demon Elimination Service

Chapter 1: How To Kill an Immortal... and Fail Miserably

Sigh was what Kalleid did as he neared the club room. The enlistment form was still there, bare as a newborn. He was afraid of what will happen once he get inside of the club room, but he wasn't counting of having the time of his life.

"Maybe, I can just go straight home."

There was an askance tone on how he said it, and he actually wanted to go home. Away from the school. Away from murderers. Away from this desolated club room. Maybe he will fare better if he laze around, watch a couple of chit lits, get ideas from mangas, or even just play some random video games, those with roleplaying features.

Maybe he will do better, but he bet he won't escape the next day... or even the next and it was, again, unfair.

"Everything is unfair," he added and his hand has already reached towards the knob of the door with great reluctance.

Inside, there was a boy with a rather long hair that was holding a calligraphy brush, his nose was smeared with black ink and beside his white rice paper was an ink stone tablet. The boy didn't look up when the rusty hinges of the door creaked, and with steady hands holding the round calligraphy brush against the rice paper, he spoke to Kalleid.

"Club teacher—"

"Adviser," Kalleid interrupted and pushed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. It kept on falling since his nose hasn't healed just yet; it was crooked and it was extremely painful.

That was when the boy looked up from his ugly calligraphy. The characters weren't given justice and only looked like crawls of a ferocious chicken. He slowly set the brush down on the ink stone's container, a solid hard steel against the slate black rock that was the ink stone. When he spoke, Kalleid has the disgusting honor of seeing the other boy's blackened tongue due to continuously dipping of the brush on it.

"Adviser," the boy said sharply, "the club adviser, who ever he is, told us to prepare for the club exhibition. I'm thinking of a horror house—"

"Not enough funds," Kalleid said and sighed again. He slumped down the old chair and placed his backpack on the wooden table that was as equally old as his ancestors.

"Or a reading about paranormal compilation books—"

"Boring," Kalleid answered, "and would you really put any effort on it? Because I sure won't."

"Or we could just not do it," the other boy decided, finally, and shrugged, his hand reached out to the brush and started with his ugly calligraphy. "Why do you always need glasses anyways?"

Kalleid put on a frowning face as if the other boy never asked that question to him every time to make use of the silence.

"Poor eyesight," Kalleid responded and his gaze dropped down to the rice paper that was being written on. It quickly absorbed the ink though the lettering was horrendous and can never be justified.

"You're like an immortal," response of the boy, "and that's your weakness?"

"That's because I am an immortal," was all that Kalleid said before shutting his mouth.

Neither he nor the other boy, of whom he has been a companion to and fro, said anything and the silence stretched out to an excruciating length that Kalleid almost groaned. He squinted his eyes at the one sitting across him.

"New York," Kalleid said and pursed his lips, he was waiting on him but the other boy never did acknowledged the elephant in the room. It made Kalleid irritated and he pushed down his glasses on the bridge of his nose again, after that, he doesn't know what to do with his hands and he became more awkward.

"Kalleid," New York, the other boy's name, said but in a mocking tone as though he doesn't really cared.

Kalleid squinted hard on New York's calm expression. It felt like no one could shake the tranquility on New York's hand that was still holding the brush and giving horrendous strokes on the rice paper. That made Kalleid more and more furious.

"If you won't say it," New York finally said, looking up from his masterpiece and putting down the brush gently on the circular container of the ink stone, "then I won't. What's the use of it anyways? You never let me do anything."

Kalleid's lips pursed further.

It wasn't that he doesn't want to say anything, it was just he doesn't know how and it was still rather blurry for him. He was still thinking and he knew that for the week that passed, he was stalling and he knew it wasn't fine. Now there was New York who Kalleid thought would know better than him on what to do and how to handle everything.

"Elora Isolde Aldam," New York finally said, "the girl's still onto you?"

"She's persistent, New York," Kalleid defended himself, "persistent! Do you know how many times I've been stabbed by her this week?"

New York actually stopped and held up his fingers to start counting. It infuriated Kalleid further and he leaned over to shut those counting fingers. He held New York's hand tightly, and he looked at him with burning seriousness.

"I still feel pain! Pain with every stab and tear on me!" Kalleid complained.

"Do you want me to do something to her?" New York finally asked, exactly what Kalleid was hoping for. The next words though were not exactly what Kalleid would like to hear. "I can summon someone from the Watchtower, some more hunters, to dispatch her."

"No! No, nothing like that," Kalleid exclaimed at New York incredulously. "I just want her to stop."

Rolling his eyes, New York also leaned toward Kalleid while his fingers were still enveloped on the other boy's thin fingers. There was still that mocking tone on his voice and maybe it was a permanent one, similar to how the immaculate innocent puppy expression that was forever plastered on Kalleid's face.

"Don't get involve with her," New York only said, "I've put up boundaries all around the school. Stay out of her sight and she won't see you."

"That's how staying out of sight generally works though," Kalleid muttered and pouted at New York who only scoffed at him and pulled at his hand.

"Then maybe I would tear down the boundaries—" New York said casually, but Kalleid was already shaking his head so hard that it won't probably take the wickedly sharp blade of that girl's to take it off. "She's probably a vagabond. Don't get bothered. You can't die, so a little blood won't hurt you that much."

"That's exactly the point why I'm complaining!" Kalleid exclaimed, at this time, he went to New York's side and finished his calligraphy for him in a single stroke. With a flourish, he set the brush down again on where he picked it up. "It hurts! I still feel pain, I told you. And it isn't about getting stabbed or being an immortal. I only heal fast, but that doesn't make me invulnerable to everything."

New York only calmly closed his eyes and stood up from where he was sitting on. He picked up his bag and turned towards Kalleid until they were almost nose to nose.

"Then fight her," New York advised. A sarcastic smile was placed on his lips before he went passed Kalleid who groaned and groaned. "I suggest you show her that you can't defeat her— or I mean she can't defeat you. Either way, she'll get a move on when she gets tired. Until then, stabby stabby stab. Anyways, I'm still here... and we're watching you so it should be fine."

And Kalleid couldn't wait for that big possibility of when that girl actually gets tired. He would never forget the determination that he saw on the girl's eyes. They were bloodshot from exhaustion, but she kept on surging on. Kalleid thought it was admirable, except the determination surging through within those eyes was the determination of killing him.

He sighed.

"Gotta go, luv, don't let the rogue hunter take your head off or something," New York said and Kalleid heard the door closing behind him indicating that he has been, indeed, left alone inside the room.

New York, you bastard, Kalleid thought sardonically though his expression betrayed nothing of his evil thoughts about the other boy. He started going about what should be done and organized in the club. As he went through files and paperworks, not much really, Kalleid thought of the disbandment of the club and if that was a near future for them or if that was actually a certainty now.

The Supernatural Club of Kalleid's high school has only two members.

Kalleid Hiro.

New York Aledeia.

And no one.

Maybe even New York's older brother, London, but Kalleid wasn't really holding up much hope for the older boy.

As per the regulations of the school, New York and him have to get a few more members to qualify to be called as a club or the school administration would force them to disband. He doesn't know how to do that, for sure, but with the lost of the club room, the operations they have established within the school grounds would be affected greatly.

Kalleid sighed again.

After mopping the floor diligently, Kalleid started to leave the club room. As usual, his meeting with New York was an absolute useless one. He doesn't even know why they even try when they both knew what they were to each other and they were not.

It took him a while before he finished every single thing, meticulously picking the trash and segregating it and even just dusting the shelves gathering dirt just by sitting on the corner of the room. It was past the dismissal time when he finished and when he stepped outside, Kalleid felt a lingering presence and even a fool itself cannot possibly be fooled by how masterful the camouflage of Elora Isolde Aldam was.

"I can see you," Kalleid said in a deadpan tone and he couldn't help the sigh that started from his mouth and escaped from his nose.

He was dead tired, and he was certain as heck that he wouldn't, not now or even never actually, defeat or even just match with this girl. He stepped around to face her figure that was hiding behind a chair. Her long dark hair was hiding her face and she jumped slightly as though stealth wasn't one of the aspects of her job.

"Come on out," Kalleid said gently, "why do you do this?" he asked her as the girl get out from her hiding space. She kept her head down shyly and Kalleid wasn't able to get a good look at her face.

"I heard hunters from around here kill demons to extract their core and sell them," she said innocently. Firm on her hand, there was already a sword prepared. It was slightly curved and only have one sharp edge, but Kalleid was never one with weapons. "With the money from your core, I might not be able to worry about rent, food, rent, and money, and food for months to come."

"I meant—" Kalleid sighed "—we've been going at this for a whole week. I can't be killed and you can't kill me. Shouldn't that be the end of the story?"

I even wanted to save you from jumping off the building and then it turns out it wasn't needed at all, Kalleid added on his mind sullenly.

"Then why can't you be killed?" she stubbornly asked with the same determination that Kalleid was starting to hate dearly. "Can you tell me so I can kill you now?"

"Why would I tell you—?" Kalleid asked then quickly stopped himself. "Just drop it and let's do this—"

Before he even finished his sentence, Kalleid was already running away from the girl who was shouting behind him.

"Please let me kill you!" Kalleid heard her say after him.

He didn't look back to see a girl wearing a crocheted cardigan over the freshmen's uniform with a deadly weapon by her hand was in pursuit of him.