Chapter 2: Chapter 2 - Do You Believe Demons Exist, Sister?
The days flew by, and there were only seven days left until his sixteenth birthday. Daemom was packing his suitcase with his clothes and personal belongings. In just one day, he would be traveling to another state to walk through the gates of Brighton Hall Boarding School.
There was no one in the room, no one came to say goodbye or said anything about his departure. This didn't bother him in the slightest. Daemom didn't care about these people he would never see again; his only concern at the orphanage was the Headmistress, though he knew the woman didn't need his concern. She was as strong, if not stronger, than all the people in the orphanage combined.
Closing his suitcase with a zipper, he sighed and sat on his bed, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath. The itch on his back wasn't helping him concentrate at the moment. The feeling of something trying to break out from his back was becoming increasingly unbearable. It wasn't once or twice that he caught himself thinking about using a knife to cut open his back and see what was happening inside.
Fortunately, reason prevailed over feelings, and he didn't torment himself again—something he had promised never to do after the incident.
After staring at the wall for a while, Daemom stood up, grabbed his leather jacket, and left the room without a second thought. He needed some air to clear his mind.
Walking through the streets of Modesto, passing by people on the sidewalk, Daemom couldn't help but think that these people lived in a completely different world from his own—a world that few could see. He was sure he wasn't the only one with this gift, or curse, as one might call it.
Still, Daemom liked how special he was. Being normal was not something he deeply desired. Being like these people who lived just to live wasn't what he wanted for his life. He wanted to be someone important, not just another insignificant orphan in the world.
The world seemed so unusual and mysterious that he wanted to delve deeper into it and never leave. Even if one day he were to die because of it, he would be content with death because he did what he wanted with his life.
Suddenly, Daemom's blue eyes fell upon a church, perhaps the most beautiful building in the small town of Modesto.
Built of ancient stone, the church showcased a Gothic architectural façade, with its slender towers pointing towards the sky and arched windows adorned with colorful stained glass depicting biblical stories.
As he approached, the attention to detail became evident: the solid wooden doors richly carved with scenes of angels and saints, and the flowers blooming around, adding a touch of life and color to the scene. In the courtyard, a fountain of crystal-clear water flowed from a stone sculpture, where doves and local birds came to refresh themselves.
Honestly, Daemom estimated that a lot of the city's public funds had been allocated to build this magnificent church.
If you're wondering if Daemom is an atheist, you're partially right and wrong. He believed that God existed, but he had no devotion to the Omnipotent and Omnipresent Lord. The idea of a God protecting humanity was nice, but he preferred that humanity paved its own way. A child would never grow up living forever beside their parents.
Despite this, Daemom liked the church. He liked what it represented, and it was also the only place where he had never encountered a demon, almost as if something sacred protected the surroundings from demonic influence.
As for the existence of angels, if they existed—and they probably did—Daemom had never seen one personally, even alongside children, the purest souls he had ever encountered. Perhaps his eyes couldn't see them, or maybe they didn't want to be seen in the first place.
After some thought, Daemom stepped forward and entered the sacred place. Inside the church, wooden pews were perfectly aligned, facing each other. Beside the white pillars that supported the entire Gothic religious building were statues of angels holding swords and shields. A peaceful and silent atmosphere enveloped the entire space.
The church was empty; no one was praying at this hour of the morning. However, Daemom assumed that this church was packed with faithful followers every night.
Sunlight streamed through the beautiful stained glass windows and coincidentally fell onto the center of the platform above the steps. Behind the spot where the priest stood, the statue of the crucified Jesus Christ seemed even more sacred.
For some reason, Daemom's eyes couldn't leave the statue of Jesus Christ. There was something about it that made it impossible for him to look away, even for a moment.
But, for a brief moment, Daemom swore he saw the statue smile at him, but he figured he was overthinking it. He felt he needed more sleep.
"I see you've been looking at the statue of the Holy Spirit for quite some time, child." Daemom only managed to tear his eyes away from the statue when he heard a gentle and peaceful voice beside him. He turned his head and saw a woman around thirty years old, wearing black and white clerical clothes, with a necklace bearing the sign of the cross around her neck. Her green eyes gazed at him with a surprisingly gentle look.
"Sister," Daemom greeted the woman with a smile, his eyes looking directly into her soul. He usually didn't like to look into others' souls; after all, through them, he could see all of a person's secrets, whether they were lying or not.
But unlike the grayish hue that most people possessed, the woman before him had an almost entirely white soul—a soul that only children had but lost as they grew up and were shaped by their environment.
Although he was not a believer in God, Daemom admired people who had resolute principles and faith. The woman in front of him was one of those people. Even ten demons together would have a hard time tempting this woman to sin.
Seeing the woman gesture for him to sit on the pew, Daemom blinked a few times and accepted after a moment of reflection. He wanted to ask a question he had always wanted to ask. The woman sat beside him, a smile playing on her lips.
"Do you believe that demons can exist, Sister?" Daemom's words surprised the woman, who gave a deep look at the extraordinarily handsome young man sitting next to her.
"I believe, or at least I want to believe. After all, where there is light, there are shadows," she replied, touching the silver cross on her chest. Her gentle and calm voice resonated particularly clearly in the silent environment of the church.
If a devout person looked at her at that moment, they would think they were seeing a true saint.
She looked at Daemom seriously and asked, "Do you need help with something, my child? The doors of the church are always open to those in need."
Normal people don't ask a nun about demons unless they have serious doubts about their beliefs or something grave has happened recently. Given Daemom's age, the woman bet on the latter option. The young man beside her needed help, be it spiritual or physical.
Daemom looked at the woman in silence for a moment and replied with an amused tone, "Of course not, Sister. I'm just curious."
He had already received the answer he wanted from the nun.
With that, he made the sign of the cross to the statue of Jesus and walked toward the church exit. As he walked, he could feel the nun's gaze following him until he completely left the church.
As he left the Gothic building, Daemom couldn't help but think about the woman's look when he mentioned whether she believed in the existence of demons. He had abilities that allowed him to see the human soul; he knew when someone was lying or telling the truth.
In his eyes, that woman had lied. Her soul had darkened slightly. Although it was a tiny, almost imperceptible change, he could still see it clearly.
The woman knew of the existence of demons or at least firmly believed they existed.
Daemom had always been sure that he wasn't the only one to see demons in the entire world. If there were people with the same gift, the church was an obvious place for those with the ability to see demons and other supernatural entities.
"Interesting," Daemom murmured to himself as he left the church.
His world was becoming more and more interesting, and that was what he wanted. A boring world was not what he desired.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone