CHAPTER LIV
~The Midnight Carnival~
As the group of exorcist families pressed through the torrent and neared the looming entrance of the school building, shadows seemed to gather and twist beneath the eaves. Kaito squinted, his instincts prickling—something was wrong. The heavy rain made the world blur and shimmer, but even through that curtain, he sensed a presence.
From within the darkness, a sliver of pale skin pierced the gloom—a woman’s hand, slender and gloved, flicked out from the folds of a midnight cloak. Her hood covered her face, shadows swallowing all but the sly curve of her mouth. She moved with deliberate grace, index and middle fingers pinching a richly embossed envelope as she held it aloft under the downpour, edges gleaming in the distant lightning.
Her smile deepened, half mockery and half challenge. “Go on, take it,” her voice teased—a silky, haunting dare that carried even through the thunder.
Haruki’s father narrowed his eyes, suspicion hardening in every line of his face. He stepped forward, cloak dragging through puddles, reaching for the envelope.
“HEY! Stop right there!” Kaito’s father bellowed, his voice slicing the rain. “Think, Haruki’s father! This is dangerous!”
“I have a name,” came the cool reply, lips curling into a smirk. Without further hesitation, Akihiko—Haruki’s father—snatched the envelope and broke the seal.
Nozomi’s father stepped up, urgency clear in his voice. “Think carefully, Akihiko! This isn’t a—”
But he was cut off.
A blinding light exploded from the paper, engulfing all eight figures in its electric glow. Their outlines blurred, dragged forward by an invisible force, arms flailing as the world shattered around them. In an instant, the only thing left was the invitation, fluttering to the wet stones and soaking through in the storm.
Beneath the ancient eaves, the cloaked woman lingered a heartbeat longer, rain sheeting down her glossy, midnight cloak. A smirk twisted the visible slice of her face—a glimmer of dark amusement.
With a gentle whisper, she vanished into the night.
Who was she?
Fujita Mei.
Under the flickering neon buzz and the worn canvas of The Midnight Carnival tent, a hush fell over the restless hush of night. A single spotlight cracked through the darkness, catching the little joker perched like a sly coyote on the edge of the center ring. His crooked grin stretched wide beneath a patched cowboy hat, eyes sharp as flint sparking with mischief and menace.
“Well, howdy there, folks,” he drawled, voice rough as a dusty trail. “Welcome to the wildest, most twisted midnight hootenanny you ever laid eyes on. Y’all ready to ride the storm? ’Cause tonight, this carnival’s gonna pull your bones out, dust ’em off, and spit new tales down your throat.”
His grin deepened, and with a slow, deliberate wink, his voice boomed off the crimson velvet walls and empty wooden benches that surrounded the dusty ring. Row upon row of empty seats swallowed the silence — but here was the rub:
Opposite from each other, the exorcists and supernaturals were seated in mirrored grandstands — twin galleries wrapped in velvet shadows. They sat eye to empty space, each trapped in their own silent prison of crimson cloth and polished wood. A ghostly veil stood between their worlds—no gaze could cross, no glance dare meet. Both camps rattled, nerves raw, every empty chair a hollow reminder that tonight it was only them alone... and the show.
From the breath of smoke that curled beneath the tent’s roof, the first act sparked alive. A sudden surge, and flames leapt hungrily from torches wielded by fire dancers, bodies spinning in twin rivers of red and gold. The heat breathed heavy, thick as molasses, curling around skin and soul. Flames hissed, snapping sharp and quick, tracing wild, intricate wind-dances that blurred in the smoky air.
One dancer, sweat gleaming like starlight on copper skin, spun her torch close to her throat and murmured, “Feel it burn deep, y’all. This flame don’t just scorch flesh — it strips away the lies you tell yourself.” Her voice was soft but fierce, eyes burning brighter than the torch she wielded.
Another dancer leapt forward, twirling, “Shame, fear, sins — it all melts beneath the fire’s tongue. Let it lick you clean.”
As another flame flickered higher, a male dancer grinned, smoke curling from his lips like a secret. “Let the fire take what binds ya. Ain’t no chains hold once you dance with the inferno.”
The joker snapped his fingers, a crack sharp as a whip. “Well now, this’ll scorch off more than just yer worries tonight,” he growled. “Ain’t no campfire tales here, friend. This flame’s got teeth, and it’s hungry for truth.”
The heat wrapped tight around the crowd, thick and alive, the scent of burning cedar and night wind hanging heavy. Skin prickled under the blaze’s hungry stare.
Without pause, the air shifted, and with a gasp the spotlight swooped upward. Airborne acrobats took flight in a violent ballet—arrows shot through the tent’s cavern, twisting and flipping with reckless grace. Limbs carved arcs of danger; their flight was a prayer whispered to the cruel gods of gravity.
One acrobat’s voice rang out, breathless and wild: “Every twist’s a promise to the sky—never falter, never fall.”
A young acrobat, hair plastered by sweat, shouted from above, “Catch me if yer quick enough! There’s no nets in these parts but faith and fast hands!”
Another, somersaulting through the heavy air, grinned, “Gravity’s just a hoax we tell ourselves.”
“High stakes, sharp eyes,” another warned, voice tight. “One slip, and the fire’s waiting to tell the tale.”
The joker growled low, “One miss, partner, and it’s a ticket straight to the fire dancers below.”
Suddenly, a raucous blast shattered the tension. Clowns tumbled in like storms, faces twisted in wild painted smiles, their eyes sharp and predatory beneath layers of garish paint. They spilled laughter like poison, juggling balls that hissed, flowers that exploded like fireworks, balloons that popped with sinister snaps.
“Who’s the joke now?” one shrieked with mad glee, tossing a custard pie on a wild arc. “You think it’s safe to laugh? Think again!”
Another cackled with dripping irony, “Step right up, make way for chaos! The joke’s on all of you!”
“The world’s upside down and we’re the punchline!” a third crowed, juggling sharp knives while grinning.
The joker threw back his head in sharp laughter. “Laugh and shout if you want, but these fools? They ain’t harmless clowns—they’re chaos knit tight in rainbow clothes, here to gnaw up your sense whole.”
From the gloom stepped the ringmaster, a shadow draped in a cloak darker than the night itself. His cane tapped twice, sharp as thunderclaps, bending the tent’s heavy silence at his will.
“Every note, every breath, listens to me tonight,” he thundered, voice rolling like a secret storm. “In chaos, there is order; in ruin, kings are crowned.”
The joker’s voice dropped, gravel thick with warning. “Don’t forget who spins this web of ruin. Cross the ringmaster, and you best pray you don’t get tangled.”
Smoke curled thick between fingers that wove illusions—cards burst into fire, shadows danced with impossible shapes, bending reality like a crooked mirror.
A conjurer stepped forward, voice like a twilight breeze, “We take what you hide inside—your secret fears, the lies you clutch—and give ’em shape, color, bite.”
Another whispered from the smoke, “What you won’t believe, we make you see.”
The joker’s grin sharpened. “Magic ain’t tricks—it’s truth dressed up to spook ya.”
From shadows, beasts of myth emerged: lions with coats like molten silver, snakes glittering like spilled glass, and a monstrous bird spreading wings wide as whispered legends. Their growls weathered like thunder, handlers cracking wands and whips, commanding with ancient songs.
One handler sang in a low chant, voice jagged and raw, “Breathe the wild, feel the ancient blood, respect the soul of the beast or pay the price.”
The lion’s deep rumble echoed, eyes locked on unseen prey. A serpent hissed, scales shimmering with ghostly light.
“These creatures hold the heart of the carnival,” the joker said softly, tipping his hat low, “and they ain’t for the faint of heart.”
The tent darkened again as dancers of shadow told tales of lost love and cursed fates, flickering silhouettes moving in a haunting, silent ballet. A whispered voice slithered through the darkness, “In every shadow lies a secret, in every light a lie—watch close, or be fooled.”
Then the little joker’s voice cut through the breathless hush one last time.
“Now saddle up, cowpokes. It ain’t just a show — it’s a hunt.” His voice danced on the edge of challenge. “Between them exorcists and supernaturals out yonder, it’s a scavenger game with tricks and traps. Find the secrets, snatch the prize, or get swallowed by the night.”
Suddenly, the glass pane between their grandstands shattered, splintering into glittering dust. For the first time, unseen enemies caught glimpses across the divide. The game was no longer hidden — it was on.
Only the little joker stayed calm, his grin wide as the open prairie, laughter ringing like rusted bells.
“Let’s get this rodeo rollin’, partners. No one leaves till the last secret’s unearthed and the dust settles. So keep yer eyes sharp and your wits sharper. May the sharpest shadows win.”
The Midnight Carnival’s heartbeat quickened — the wildest, most dangerous midnight show had just begun.
...Suddenly, the glass pane between their grandstands shattered, splintering into glittering dust. For the first time, unseen enemies caught glimpses across the divide. The game was no longer hidden—it was on.
The crimson velvet curtains rustled as the grandstand on the exorcists’ side trembled. A sharp crack echoed through the tent—the sturdy wooden grandstand groaned, then splintered. Dust and loose splinters fell as the benches suddenly gave way. Eyes shot wide open, and for the first time, the exorcists and supernaturals found themselves staring, face to face across the ring of swirling chaos.
Fury flared in the exorcists’ eyes, a silent storm breaking free.
Kaito’s father’s voice roared, thick with anger and disbelief, “Those creatures! How dare they sit so calmly like they own the night! This ain’t some playground for fiends!”
Kaito’s glare locked directly onto Rin’s eyes—sharp, accusing, burning with unspoken history and raw tension. A bolt of obvious fury struck Kaito’s chest as he hissed under his breath, “Rin... always stooping to bring us low.”
Haruki’s father, calm and cool as midnight steel, flipped a pendant on his wrist that glimmered with a soft blue hue. His steady gaze only fueled the fire in Kaito’s father’s heart, making his voice louder and more bitter.
“That charm ain’t just for show—mark my words, Kaito, these supernaturals aren’t as weak as you think.”
“No!” Kaito’s father bellowed. “They’re abominations— not to be trusted.”
“Enough.” Nozomi’s father’s voice cut through the rising storm, sharp and commanding. “Stop the shouting—it won’t save us.”
Ren’s father leaned forward, voice edged with strategy and concern, “We need a plan, and fast. This chaos won’t wait for our pride.”
On the other side, Rin’s gaze was steady but mocking, leaning forward with a sly smile. “Why’s that, Kaito staring daggers at me like I’m the villain in this tale?”
Kagami’s voice was low, bitter: “Of course he’s pissed—Yuzuki-chan’s no joke to any of us. There’s more at stake than just pride tonight.”
Shingure simply clicked his tongue, tsk’ing softly. “Such bitter men, clinging to grudges while the world burns beneath our feet.”
Saito shook his head, voice heavy with grim acceptance, “We won’t be surviving the night if this hatred blinds us.”
Mofumi’s eyes darted around nervously, a subtle tremor in her breath.
Before another word could pass, a violent crack ripped through the air, both grandstands trembling violently. The seats beneath every exorcist and every supernatural lurched—then dropped like stones into a void of pure black.
Screams and gasps filled the air as the old wooden structures splintered, tossing them into an endless, starless abyss waiting below.
The little joker’s laughter rang out, louder now, fractured and wild.
“Y’all wanted the ride—or the fall. Welcome to the in-between, partners. Buckle up. Ain’t no tellin’ when we hit bottom.”
As the wooden grandstands crumbled away beneath them, the exorcists and supernaturals plummeted into an endless black void, swallowed whole by the yawning dark. The ring of lights, the crimson tents, the roaring crowd—all vanished into silence and shadow.
When the freefall finally ceased, they found themselves standing on cold ground, but it was no familiar field or floor. Around them stretched infinite walls lined with doors—hundreds of them, piled high and deep in every direction, some cracked open, some sealed tight, others humming softly with strange energy.
The abyss was a maze built of endless gateways, a prison of choices and secrets.
Tension ignited immediately. Rage flared from the elder exorcists—except Akihiko, Haruki’s father, who stood tall but calm. Like wild storm-hounds unleashed, the furious exorcists lunged at the supernaturals, voices rising in shouts and curses.
Kaito’s jaw tightened. Without hesitation, he drew his katana with a clean, swift motion, the blade glinting cold beneath the mirror’s fractured light. His eyes locked on Rin, tense and searching.
“Move,” Kaito said simply, voice steady but heavy as he lunged forward.
Rin, in his small form, grinned wide and side-stepped with a breezy pirouette, dodging the attack with the ease of a practiced trickster. “Whoa, dude! Easy there—this isn’t a sword rehearsal, it’s a stage show. You sure you wanna cut the main act?” he teased, flicking a finger at Kaito’s blade while flashing a sly smile.
“Don’t make me regret letting you live,” Kaito shot back, brow furrowed, circling cautiously.
Just then, Kaito’s father roared, a deep, furious bellow that shattered the cold silence. He lunged with brutal force toward Mofumi and Saito, his voice thick with rage. “Creatures like you should’ve been snuffed out generations ago!”
Mofumi’s whiskers twitched in irritation as she sidestepped, her eyes gleaming with unbothered calm. “Chill out, grandpa. If you’re gonna throw a tantrum, at least keep up.”
Saito, cool and collected, raised a hand lazily, blocking a harsh swipe with minimal effort. “You humans think death is your right? We’ve endured through centuries. If you want a fight, you’ll have to try harder than that.”
The chamber exploded into chaos. Kaito drove at Rin with sharp, direct strikes, each move crisp and practiced. Rin twisted and flipped like a mischievous shadow, darting between reflections in the glass with playful flips and cheeky quips.
“Catch me if you can, big guy!” Rin taunted from a dark corner, grinning with mischievous glee. “Your sword’s fast, but my moves are slicker than your pops’ tantrum.”
To be Continued...
ns216.73.216.134da2
and then Add to home screen.