DHA- Demon Hunter's Association
Harrison continued with his lesson, namely cell reproduction and mitosis, while I scrambled to find a way to stash Althea somewhere far away from the DHA.
In simple terms, the DHA- Demon Hunter's Association, is a global organization that's been spear heading all military operations to fight against the Demons. I say global because they've been stationed across all seven regions of the world, or rather the regions of the world that survived the Rapture. I didn't know the exact date they were founded, I just knew they've the around long before I was born.
Case in point, the DHA specializes in hunting Demons, the how is where the Angels come in. Anyone fortunate enough to summon an Angel is considered a Contractor, and almost 90% of Contractors end up working for the DHA one way or another. And that there, that's where the issue begins.
Matthew already thinks that Althea is my Angel, and since I've already introduced her to Harrison- and by extension the rest of my class, as my cousin, yet no one seemed to argue falsehoods. From that alone I could reason that Matt was the only one who thought Althea was my Angel. I've already accepted that in this newly rewritten reality the concept of Ria doesn't exist, there is only Althea. That being said, most of it is still the same as my original reality, save for the whole Interface business and Pantheon nonsense.
"You seem distressed, Adjutant." Althea pulled me out of my thoughts.
"Don't call me that when we're at school. Actually, don't call me that ever."
For the remainder of the period, Harrison's lecture on cellular mitosis became nothing more than a droning background track. He could have been explaining how to build a nuclear reactor out of paperclips and I wouldn't have registered a single word. My brain was caught in a catastrophic doom-loop. If the DHA caught wind of an unregistered, highly lethal Aeon sitting in a middle school biology class, they wouldn't just give me detention. They'd bag and tag both of us. And with my luck, they'd probably dissect my glowing hand just to figure out how I bypassed their entire bureaucratic system.
I completely zoned out, my eyes blindly tracking the second hand on the wall clock as it crawled toward our impending doom. Althea, to her credit, remained as still as a statue, though her gaze aggressively tracked every single pigeon that flew past the window like it was a hostile reconnaissance drone.
When the bell finally rang, it sounded less like a dismissal and more like an executioner's gong.
"Alright, leave your bags. Single file. We're heading to the gymnasium," Harrison barked, aggressively shoving his papers into his briefcase.
The walk to the gym felt like a death march. The hallway was a bottleneck of chattering students, all buzzing with the morbid excitement of getting out of normal classwork. I kept Althea practically tethered to my side, constantly side-stepping to block the line of sight whenever a teacher or hall monitor looked at us a little too long.
The gymnasium smelled exactly like it always did—a suffocating, nostalgic mix of floor wax, stale sweat, and cheap body spray. The wooden bleachers were already packed, groaning under the weight of hundreds of restless teenagers. Mr. Harrison herded our class toward the lower sections, and I strategically claimed a spot at the very end of a row, shoving Althea against the concrete wall so she was shielded from the main floor.
A harsh, piercing screech of microphone feedback echoed through the massive room, instantly killing the chatter.
Standing at the center of the basketball court wasn't our balding principal. It was a woman who looked like she belonged on the front lines of an active warzone, not a high school pep rally.
She wore the sleek, militarized midnight-blue uniform of the Demon Hunter's Association. The silver epaulets on her shoulders caught the harsh fluorescent lighting, marking her as someone with serious rank. She had sharp, angular features framed by a severe bob of dark hair, and a pale scar that cut a thin, jagged line through her left eyebrow.
But it wasn't the uniform or the scar that made the air in the gym feel suddenly incredibly heavy. It was the undeniable, suffocating pressure radiating off of her. It felt like standing too close to a roaring bonfire.
"Settle down," she commanded. She didn't shout, but her voice projected across the echoing room with terrifying, absolute authority.
"My name is Captain Heather," she continued, her steely gaze sweeping over the bleachers. "I am a Senior Contractor for the Iaponia Sector of the DHA. I am not a teacher. I am not here to coddle you, or to tell you that everything is going to be fine."
She paced slowly across the polished wood, the heavy heels of her combat boots clicking rhythmically.
"Two days ago, the world experienced a synchronized, global shift in Demon activity. The borders between our reality and the Void are thinning. The Association is stretched to its absolute limits. I am here because if you don't start paying attention to what is happening outside these walls right now, you are going to die."
Beside me, Althea stiffened. Her back went completely rigid against the concrete wall, her bright blue eyes locking onto the Captain with a sudden, predatory intensity.
"Adjutant," Althea whispered, her voice devoid of its usual formal calm. It sounded strained, almost feral. "That woman… she reeks of the sun."
The sun?
Oddly specific analogy if I do say so myself. The sun, huh. Regardless though, Heather continued her announcement.
"That's why, as of today Astral Academy will be working alongside the DHA.. We'll be taking on four promising students from each grade- grades one through twelve, and giving them temporary contracts under the DHA."
Murmurs erupted amongst the students at the gymnasium. My eyes instictively turned to Althea. The day she came into my life was the day the Void got stronger. As a result of that, the leading organization responsible for dispatching Demons was contemplating hiring kids, even on a temporary basis, to join them in the fight against Demons.
"Althea…"
"Yes."
"Whatever happens, you will keep quiet and not attract attention in any way. Agreed?"
Her face straightened, it seemed my orders came across clearly. "Understood." She nodded.
"We aren't looking for heroes," Captain Heather's voice echoed, slicing through the rising murmurs and forcing a heavy, suffocating silence back over the gymnasium. "We are looking for survivors with the aptitude to fight. Tomorrow morning, my unit will return to Astral Academy to begin the selection process. Those chosen will be given temporary contracts, field training, and the resources to protect their sectors. The rest of you will learn how to hide."
She didn't wait for applause, questions, or a formal dismissal from the principal. She simply stepped away from the microphone, turned on her heel, and marched out of the gym. The heavy double doors slammed shut behind her, the sound echoing like a vault locking into place.
For a second, nobody moved. Then, absolute chaos erupted.
The wooden bleachers practically shook as hundreds of students started talking over each other, a volatile mix of sheer terror and misplaced, adrenaline-fueled excitement. Becoming a Contractor was the closest thing this world had to becoming a superhero, but the grim reality of the mortality rate usually kept those fantasies in check. Now, the DHA was literally handing out draft cards to middle and high schoolers. Things weren't just bad; the world was actively bleeding out.
"Alright, that's enough! Keep it moving! Back to your classrooms, single file!" Mr. Harrison shouted, his face pale and sweating as he tried to herd our row toward the exits.
Matthew was already vibrating out of his skin. "Did you hear that, Reach? They're taking students! If I can just bond with a low-tier Angel, I could—"
I completely tuned him out. I didn't care about Matthew's delusions of grandeur. I cared about the fact that a Senior Contractor, someone whose entire existence revolved around hunting supernatural entities, was going to be crawling all over my school tomorrow. And I had the supernatural equivalent of a neon sign sitting right next to me.
Plus, that comment about the sun. Althea had sensed something specific about Captain Heather. Something beyond just a menacing aura. If I was going to survive tomorrow without getting bagged, tagged, and thrown into a DHA black site, I needed to understand exactly what my Aeon was sensing. I needed to check my Interface. I needed to run an "investigation."
And most importantly, I needed privacy.
"Hey, where are you going?" Matthew asked as I abruptly broke formation, grabbing the oversized sleeve of the Dead by Daylight hoodie currently draped over Althea's arm.
"Bathroom," I muttered, not looking back. "Ate something weird. Cover for me."
Before Mr. Harrison could lock his radar onto my departure, I pulled Althea into the thickest part of the crowd, using the sea of identical uniforms to mask our escape. She followed without a single word of protest, her movements disturbingly fluid as she slipped through the throngs of panicked students like water around rocks.
I practically dragged her down the west corridor, moving swiftly away from the science block and toward the older, neglected wing of the school where the teachers rarely patrolled. My heart was hammering a frantic, painful rhythm against my ribs. I spotted the faded sign for the old boys' lavatory, checked over my shoulder to make sure the hallway was completely clear, and shoved the heavy wooden door open.
With one final, desperate yank, I pulled Althea inside the bathroom right behind me, the door slamming shut and locking us in with the smell of cheap soap and flickering fluorescent lights.