Vash

Chapter 58

I stood among the ashes of Kokabiel's followers, Laevateinn's flames finally dying down to nothing more than warm metal in my grip. The sword vanished back into my inventory with a thought.

Father Dante was somewhere behind me, probably staring at the devastation with wide eyes. I could hear his ragged breathing. But he could wait.

Rossweisse came first. I don’t know what Loki has done with her, but as much as I wanted to confront Loki back then, there is a huge chance he and Kokabiel would have escaped and hid again. I can’t risk that.

As much as I hate it, I was forced to make a hard decision.

I reached into my mana and activated the tracking spell I'd placed on her gear bag. The magic responded immediately, a golden thread of light appearing in my vision that led north through the mountain passes. She was alive. The spell wouldn't work if she wasn't.

But alive didn't mean unharmed.

"Leon," Father Dante's voice carried across the scorched battlefield. "What about—"

"Five kilometers north," I said without turning around. "There's a cabin Loki mentioned. That's where we'll find her."

"How can you be sure?"

Because I put a tracking spell on her before we left. Because I plan for contingencies.

"I'm sure."

I glanced at the treacherous mountain path ahead. Narrow ledges carved into cliff faces, loose scree that shifted underfoot, and crevasses deep enough to swallow a building. For someone like Dante, it would take hours to navigate safely.

Time Rossweisse might not have.

The grimoire materialized beside me, pages turning to the spell I needed.

"Flight."

Golden wings of pure mana formed at my back. I turned to Dante, who was staring at the magical construct with wide eyes.

"Can you handle flying?" I asked.

"I... what?"

I grabbed him under the arms and lifted off. Dante let out a startled yelp as we rose above the mountainside, but he didn't struggle. Smart man.

The tracking spell led north through the peaks, a golden thread cutting straight through the air. No need to follow treacherous paths or worry about loose rock. Just a direct line to where Rossweisse was being held.

"This is incredible," Dante breathed, looking down at the landscape rushing past below us.

We flew for maybe ten minutes before I saw our destination.

"There," I said, pointing ahead.

The cabin sat in a small clearing, surrounded by pine trees that had been bent and twisted by constant wind. It looked innocent enough. A simple wooden structure with smoke rising from the chimney. If I hadn't been following the tracking spell, I might have mistaken it for some hermit's retreat.

But the spell led directly to the front door. And there were too many footprints in the snow around the building for it to be empty.

"Guards?" Dante whispered.

I counted the heat signatures through the walls. "Three inside. Two more making rounds outside."

"How do you—" He shook his head. "Never mind. What's the plan?"

"You stay here. I go in."

"Leon, you can't just—"

I was already moving.

The first guard never saw me coming. He was patrolling the western side of the cabin, sword in hand, eyes scanning the tree line for threats from the wrong direction. I came up behind him and snapped his neck with a quick twist. He dropped into the snow without a sound.

The second guard was rounding the corner just as I finished with the first. His eyes went wide when he saw me standing over his partner's body. He opened his mouth to shout.

I threw a rock.

The stone took him in the throat hard enough to crush his windpipe. He fell backward, clutching at his neck, making wet choking sounds that died away to nothing.

Two down. Three inside.

I approached the front door and pressed my ear against the wood. Voices.

Rogue exorcists, from the sound of it. And at least one fallen angel mixed in. 

I drew a knife from my inventory.

"Think the boss will let us have some fun with her before—"

The man never finished the sentence before I smashed the door open and put the knife through the base of his skull, severing his spinal cord. He dropped without a word.

His partner spun around, manifesting a light spear. Fallen angel.

"What—"

I was already moving. My hand closed around his throat before he could finish. I squeezed. There was a wet crack as his windpipe collapsed.

Now for Rossweisse.

The cabin was larger than it looked from the outside. Besides the main room and storage area, there was a kitchen and what looked like two bedrooms. The tracking spell led me to a door I hadn't noticed before, partially hidden behind a hanging coat.

It was locked. And not just with a simple latch. I could feel mana radiating from the wood. Binding spells. Wards designed to keep something in rather than keep intruders out.

I placed my hand against the door and channeled mana into it. The wards recognized my power and tried to resist, but they cracked and shattered like glass.

The door swung open.

Beyond was a narrow staircase leading down into darkness. 

I made my way down the stairs, each step creaking under my weight. The air grew colder as I descended, and I could smell something that made my hands clench into fists.

Blood. 

The basement was a single room, lit by a few flickering candles. Chains hung from the walls. Dark stains covered the floor. And in the center of it all, hanging from shackles that glowed with suppression magic, was Rossweisse.

They'd hurt her.

Her silver hair was matted with blood. Bruises covered her face and arms. Her valkyrie armor was gone, replaced by torn and bloodied clothing. But it was the dagger protruding from her side that made my blood freeze.

The same dagger Loki had used to stab my clone. The blade glistened with Eitr, and black veins were already spreading from the wound.

And standing right beside her, one hand still on the dagger's hilt, was Loki himself.

"Ah, there you are," he said conversationally, as if we were meeting for tea. "Right on schedule."

I started to move, but he pressed the dagger deeper. Rossweisse's eyes went wide with pain, a strangled sound escaping her lips.

"I wouldn't," Loki warned. "One wrong move and I twist this blade. The Eitr will reach her heart in seconds."

"Don't." 

"Oh, I don't think so." Loki's smile was cold and calculating. "You see, Leon Mishima. You're strong. Stronger than I anticipated. "

The black veins were spreading faster now, crawling up from the wound toward her chest.

"But strength has a weakness," Loki continued. “And that gives me leverage."

"And since I can't kill you," he said, pulling the dagger free with a wet sound, "I'll make sure you pay in other ways."

Rossweisse's scream echoed through the basement as the poison spread unimpeded. Her eyes met mine, filled with pain and desperation.

"Until next time, dragon," Loki said with that infuriating smile.

He vanished in a swirl of shadows, leaving me alone with Rossweisse's agonized cries.

I crossed the room in three quick strides and examined the shackles. Runes. Designed specifically to suppress divine power and prevent escape. 

I grabbed the chains and pulled. The magic tried to resist, then gave way as my enhanced strength overcame the enchantments. The shackles shattered, and Rossweisse collapsed.

I caught her before she could hit the floor.

The Eitr was spreading fast. Black veins crawled up from the wound in her side, and her skin was already turning pale. The poison was designed to kill gods. A valkyrie wouldn't last long against it.

But I had a solution for that.

I reached into my inventory and pulled out one of the Senzu beans. 

Unlike the original, these Senzu beans could heal everything. Injuries, sickness, disease, poison. Even something as exotic as Eitr. 

Loki would have never expected I would have something like this

"Hey, Alessia." I said softly, cradling her against my chest. "Stay with me."

Her eyes fluttered open. Pain and confusion filled her gaze, but she was conscious.

"Leon?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "Is it really you this time?"

"It's me. I need you to eat this." I placed the bean in her mouth.

Her eyes went wide as the magic took effect. The black veins began to recede. The wound in her side closed. Color returned to her cheeks as the healing accelerated her recovery and purged the poison from her system.

"That's... incredible," she breathed. “They really do work as you said.”

Then she threw her arms around my neck and buried her face against my shoulder.

The relief that flooded through me was overwhelming. She was alive. Hurt, poisoned, tortured, but alive. For a moment, I just held her, letting myself feel the simple fact of her breathing against my chest.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"I'm sorry,"  I said quietly, my voice heavy with guilt that had been eating at me since the moment I'd realized Loki had taken her. "I knew they had taken you. I could have come sooner, but I wanted to understand their plan first. I let you suffer..."

The words tasted bitter. The rational part of me knew I'd made the right call. But the part of me that cared about her wanted to tear myself apart for every second she'd spent in pain. Didn't make the image of her hanging in those chains, bleeding and broken, any less burned into my memory.

"Leon," she whispered, pulling back just enough to see my face.

Before I could apologize again she pressed her lips to mine.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, then deeper as I responded. When we finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against mine.

"It doesn't matter," she breathed. "What matters is that you came for me."

"Thank you," she whispered against my neck.

I held her for a long moment, feeling some of the tension I'd been carrying finally start to ease. She was safe. The plan had worked. Kokabiel was dead, his followers destroyed, and even if Loki had escaped, he'd lost most of his assets.

The cost had been worth it. I just hoped I'd never have to make a choice like that again.

"Come on," I said eventually. "Let's get out of here."

We made our way back up the stairs and through the cabin. Rossweisse paused when she saw the bodies of her captors, but she didn't say anything. She just stepped around them and followed me outside.

Father Dante was waiting where I'd left him, though he looked like he'd been pacing nervously. His eyes went wide when he saw Rossweisse.

"Thank God," he breathed. "Are you alright?"

"I am now," she said.

"What happened to the guards?"

"They won't be a problem anymore," I said.

I looked back at the cabin, then at the smoke still rising from the distant battlefield where I'd killed Kokabiel and his followers. Loki was still out there somewhere, planning his next move.

The next time I see that son of a bitch will be the day he dies.

Chapter 57

The look on Loki's face was worth every second of mana I'd spent maintaining that clone.

I'd been watching from above for the better part of an hour. The clone had performed exactly as intended. It let them think they were winning, let them believe their trap had worked. The clone spell had been one of the first spells I'd decided to master after getting my grimoire, and it had served me well.

I'd suspected something was wrong with Rossweisse the moment we started climbing. Her breathing pattern was off. Her body language was different. Small things that most people wouldn't notice, but I'd spent enough time around the real Rossweisse to know her tells.

The real tell was when she didn't correct Father Dante's theology. The real Rossweisse would have jumped at the chance to lecture him about Norse mythology versus Christian doctrine. She lived for those kinds of academic arguments.

I could have confronted the imposter immediately. Could have blown his cover right there on the mountainside. But I wanted to see his plan. Wanted to understand what kind of trap he thought would be enough to take me down.

So I let it play out. And it had paid off spectacularly.

Loki. The God of Lies himself had walked right into my web without even realizing it.

"Did you really think a simple poison would be enough?" I called down to them, letting amusement color my voice. "Even if you'd managed to hit the real me, Eitr wouldn't have done much more than make me nauseous."

That was a lie, of course. Eitr was nasty stuff, and it probably would have caused me serious problems. But they didn't need to know that. Besides I had contingencies for that too. The Senzu beans in my inventory were better than the original. 

I improved them so that they could heal everything. Injuries, sickness, disease, poison. Even something as exotic as Eitr would have been neutralized within seconds of eating one.

Laevateinn hummed in my grip, the blade eager for violence while the grimoire's pages fluttered beside me, already preparing spells based on my intent.

The trickster god's pale eyes blazed with fury, but I could see calculation there too. He was already working on his next move, his next deception. That was fine. I'd planned for that too.

"Where is Alessia?"

"Alive," Loki replied, his composure returning. "For now. But if you want to see her again, you'll put down that sword and surrender yourself."

I laughed. 

"You think you have leverage?" I gestured at the smoking crater where the monastery used to be. "What makes you think I care about collateral damage?"

The confidence in my voice wasn't entirely fake. Of course I cared about Rossweisse. She was my friend.

"Besides," I continued, "You of all people should know about valkyries. They're warriors. Born and bred for battle. If Alessia is half as competent as I think she is, she's probably already working on her own escape."

And if she wasn't, well. The tracking spell I'd placed on her gear bag would lead me right to her. A little insurance policy she didn't know about, but one that gave me options beyond playing into Loki's hands.

That got a reaction. Loki's confident expression flickered for just a moment, but then his face twisted into something ugly. 

"You think you're so clever," he snarled. "You think you've won?"

The air around him began to distort, reality bending as divine power erupted around him.

"You want to know why we chose the Alps as our base?" Loki's voice carried a manic edge now. "It was because this is where I keep my children. My creations. My masterpieces."

His laughter echoed across the mountainside, cold and bitter.

"Did you really think I would face you without insurance? Without my greatest weapons?"

"I am Loki!" he roared, his voice echoing across the mountain like thunder. "The God of Lies! Father of monsters! And if I cannot take you alive, then I'll drag you down with me!"

A sound split the air. Something primal and terrifying that made the very stones beneath our feet tremble.

Then I saw them.

Rising from the shadows between the peaks, creatures of myth and nightmare began to emerge. First came the wolf. Massive beyond comprehension, with jaws that could swallow mountains and eyes like burning coals. His fur was darker than the void between stars, and when he moved, reality itself seemed to bend around his form.

Fenrir. The God-Devouring Wolf. One of the Top Ten Strongest Beings in the world.

Behind him, something even larger moved through the valleys. A dragon of impossible size, his body thick as ancient trees, with scales that gleamed like polished obsidian. One of the Five Great Dragon Kings, created by Loki himself as his masterpiece. 

Midgardsormr. The World Serpent.

And running alongside them came two smaller wolves, though "smaller" was relative when each was still the size of a house. Fenrir's sons.

Sköll and Hati. 

The anime had done these creatures a disservice. What I was seeing now was nothing like the sanitized versions that had appeared on screen.

"Let's see how you handle a family reunion," Loki laughed, but there was madness in the sound now.

They attacked as one.

Fenrir moved first, his massive form blurring across the distance. His jaws opened wide, and I could see nothing but void beyond his teeth.

Behind him, Midgardsormr uncoiled through the air. The dragon's roar shook the mountains.

Sköll and Hati flanked their father, moving like shadows. Their howls carried something that made my bones ache.

I didn't move.

The attacks hit me simultaneously. Fenrir's jaws closed around my torso. Midgardsormr's tail whipped across my legs while his claws raked down my back. The two smaller wolves bit into my arms.

Kavacha and Kundala blazed to life around me, golden radiance erupting from every plate. The pressure against my skin felt like someone pressing their palm against my arm. Gentle. Harmless.

"Impossible," Loki breathed.

I flexed my arms. Sköll and Hati went flying, hitting the mountainside hard enough to leave craters.

I grabbed Fenrir's upper and lower jaws. The massive wolf struggled, but my grip held.

I began to pry his jaws apart. Fenrir's eyes went wide.

There was a wet crack. Fenrir whimpered.

Midgardsormr struck again, his coils wrapping around my body. I felt pressure that should have crushed my bones to powder. Instead, it was like being squeezed by warm silk.

I reached up and grabbed one of his coils. My fingers sank into his scales. Golden fire erupted along my arm as Midgardsormr screamed as my grip burned through his scales. 

I ripped his coil away and used the leverage to punch him like a club. The dragon whipped through the air and slammed into the mountainside.

The impact shook the entire mountain range. When the debris settled, there was a dragon-shaped crater carved into solid rock.

But they were already recovering. Sköll shook his massive head and snarled, the darkness around his maw crackling with renewed hunger. Hati prowled to my left, his eyes burning brighter than before. The reflected attack had barely scratched them.

Fenrir pulled himself upright, his jaw still hanging wrong but his eyes filled with murderous intent. Midgardsormr coiled through the rubble of his crater, scales gleaming despite the cracks. Blood dripped from his wounds, but he moved with the fluid grace of a predator ready for round two.

These weren't ordinary monsters. They were made to kill and destroy life. That wasn't enough to put them down.

All four of them were still very much in the fight.

I walked toward them

“My turn.”

I raised the Laevateinn above my head. The blade was wreathed in flames that made the air itself burn. This wasn't just fire. This was the concept of ending given form. The sword that would burn Yggdrasil itself.

"Burn, Laevateinn."

The fire spread across the entire mountainside in a wave of annihilation. It washed over Fenrir, Midgardsormr, Sköll, and Hati simultaneously.

Their screams cut through the roar of the flames.

Fenrir tried to dodge, but Laevatein prioritizes life-forms over all else and not even a Deity from the Age of Gods could survive it. The God-Devouring Wolf, one of the Top Ten Strongest Beings, burned.

Midgardsormr's scales provided no protection. The flames ate through his defenses and into the dragon's core. His death throes shook the mountain as he collapsed, reduced to ash.

Sköll and Hati didn't even have time to run. The fire claimed them instantly, their destiny to devour celestial bodies ending in divine flame.

When the fire faded, nothing remained but scorched earth and the lingering smell of burned divinity.

I turned to face Loki.

He was gone.

The space where he'd been standing was empty, only a faint shimmer in the air showing where his teleportation had torn through reality. 

Smart bastard. He escaped.

He'd used the chaos of the battle as an opportunity to slip away while I was focused on his children.

I should have expected that. The God of Lies didn't survive this long by standing around to face superior firepower. Even in other works Loki was a hard being to kill.

Kokabiel and the remaining fallen angels weren't so lucky. They were trying to teleport, reality bending around them as they poured power into their escape spells. But nothing happened. Their forms flickered and failed to fade.

Did they really think I haven’t taken precautions? The only reason Loki managed to escape is that he is clearly superior in magic between the two of us. 

For now.

"What?" one of them gasped. "Why can't we—"

"Did you really think I would allow you to escape?" I said, walking toward them. Laevateinn still flickered with residual flames in my grip. "These Alps will be your burial grounds."

Kokabiel's eyes went wide. "But Loki—"

"Got away because he's stronger than you." I raised the blade. "You, on the other hand, are trapped like rats."

The fallen angels backed away, finally understanding their situation. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

I moved through them like death itself.

The first fallen angel tried to block with a light spear. Laevateinn cut through the divine weapon like it was made of paper, then through the angel's chest. He screamed as the flames consumed him from the inside out.

The second one attempted to fly. I grabbed his ankle and slammed him into the ground hard enough to leave a crater. The impact alone should have killed him. The fire finished the job.

One by one, they fell. Each death was swift, efficient. I wasn't interested in making them suffer. I just wanted them gone.

Within seconds, even Moretti had died, with only Kokabiel remaining.

The Star of God stood alone among the ashes of his followers, his wings spread wide, light spears materializing around him in a desperate display of power.

The fallen angel came at me, moving faster than he had earlier. Desperation, probably. 

Either way, it didn't matter.

I  caught his wrist before his light spear could reach me. The divine armor flared to life across my skin, and his weapon shattered against it like glass.

"Your turn," I said, and drove my knee into his stomach.

Kokabiel folded around the blow, all the air rushing out of his lungs in a single wheeze. But I wasn't done with him yet. Not even close.

I grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face into the ground. Once. Twice. Three times. Each impact left a deeper crater, and by the fourth strike, his nose was pointing in entirely the wrong direction.

"This is for my parents," I said, lifting him up again.

"And this is for every innocent person you've murdered since then."

I threw him straight up into the air, then leaped after him. Laevateinn moved in a perfect arc, trailing fire and starlight.

The blade took his head clean off.

Kokabiel's body hit the ground with a wet thud. His head landed several feet away, eyes still wide with shock.

It was over.

The Star of God was dead.

Chapter 56

Loki watched with absolute satisfaction as the boy staggered, blood seeping between his fingers where he pressed against the wound. The sight of that golden glow flickering and dimming in Leon's eyes was almost better than wine.

Perfect. The performance is flawless.

"Surprised?" Loki let amusement color his voice as he studied Leon's face. "I would be too, if I were you. 

Leon turned to face him, his movements slow and labored. Blood was spreading across his shirt, darker than it should be.

"What... what did you do to me?" Leon's voice carried weakness now, and Loki relished every tremor in it.

The fear is setting in. Good. Let him understand just how outmatched he truly was.

"Oh, that would be the poison." Loki allowed his grin to widen, drinking in the boy's growing desperation. "Allow me to educate you. This particular dagger has been coated with Eitr, the most potent venom in all the nine realms.”

He watched as recognition dawned in those golden eyes. The terror was beautiful to behold.

Eitr attacks the very concept of life itself. It doesn't just poison the body, it poisons the soul. The mana. The divine protections. Everything that you have becomes corrupted and twisted against you.

The boy was clearly fighting to stay conscious now. Loki could see the way he swayed on his feet, the look creeping into his eyes as the poison worked its way through his system.

He's weaker than I thought. I expected someone with his power to last longer against Eitr.

Leon struggled to lift his head, his golden eyes dulled but still burning with desperate concern. "What... what happened to Alessia?" His voice was barely a whisper. "What did you do to her?"

Loki's grin widened at the desperation in the boy's voice. Even dying, still worried about others. How pathetically noble.

“The valkyrie?” Loki mocked, enjoying the expression on Leon’s face. “She's alive, if that's what you're asking. But how long? I’m not sure about that.”

The boy's golden eyes blazed with fury despite his weakening state. "You bastard..."

Kokabiel pushed himself up from the crater, spitting blood and debris. His face was a mask of rage and humiliation as he stared at Leon's crumpled form.

"Look at him now," the fallen angel wheezed, his voice thick with venom. “Crawling in the dirt like the pathetic mortal he is meant to be.”

Loki chuckled, his pale eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "I must admit, I expected more of a struggle. All those stories about his incredible power, and he falls to a single well-placed blade."

Kokabiel whirled on Loki, his eyes blazing with fury. "Why did you wait so long?" he snarled. "Do you have any idea what that little bastard put me through? He humiliated me in front of my followers! Made me look like a weak fool!"

Loki chuckled, his pale eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Oh, my dear Kokabiel, that beating was all part of the plan."

"Part of the plan?" Kokabiel's voice rose to a near shriek. “The bastard almost killed me!”

"And because of that, his guard was completely down when I struck." Loki's tone was maddeningly calm. "If I had attacked immediately, he might have been suspicious. But after dominating you so thoroughly, he believed himself invincible. Untouchable."

The trickster god gestured at Leon's writhing form. "Pride, my friend. It makes even the wisest warriors stupid. I needed him drunk on victory, completely focused on you, so he wouldn't notice the real threat standing right beside him."

"Pathetic," Kokabiel snarled, limping closer. "You made me look like a fool in front of my followers. Me? Kokabiel."

Leon tried to push himself up, his arms shaking violently before giving out. He collapsed back to the rocky ground, gasping for breath.

"That's for my humiliation," Kokabiel spat, then kicked again. "And that's for making me bleed."

Leon curled in on himself, coughing up blood.

"Now, now," Loki said, waving his hand dismissively. “Try to be gentle. We’re not done with him yet.”

Kokabiel's eyes lit up with malicious satisfaction as he spotted movement at the edge of the battlefield. 

"Ah, the pathetic priest.” Kokabiel called out, his voice dripping with mock politeness. "How kind of you to join us. I was wondering when you'd show yourself."

The priest's throat worked soundlessly, his gaze fixed on Leon's prone form.

Loki said conversationally, gesturing toward the priest. "The sole survivor of that delightful massacre. Remember that night, Kokabiel? Such artistry."

Kokabiel's grin widened as he savored the memory. "Of course I remember. Such screams they made."

"I particularly enjoyed the young woman," Loki mused, his pale eyes glittering with malice. "Rebecca, wasn't it? The way she begged for her life when you pressed that blade to her throat."

Father Dante's face went white as the memories crashed over him. "You... both of you..."

“Why spare me?!!”

 "Dead martyrs inspire others to fight back. But broken survivors? They spread fear. They tell stories of what happens to those who oppose us."

"Plus," Loki added with theatrical flair, "we needed him to lure him here. Can't spring a proper trap without the right bait walking into it willingly."

Father Dante's face crumpled, realization dawning in his eyes. "You... you used me.”

"Precisely.” Kokabiel smiled maliciously.

Father Dante fell to his knees, his hands covering his face. "My team...It's my fault.”

"Why?.." Leon's response was barely audible. 

Already guessing Leon’s question, Loki sneered. “Why?”

"This is about your grandmother." The words came out like venom. "Astrid Mishima. That insufferable, arrogant witch who thought she could humiliate me and get away with it."

Loki snarled, his composed mask slipping completely. "Your precious grandmother made me look like a fool in front of the entire Norse pantheon. She made me the laughingstock of Asgard."

Kokabiel watched the exchange with growing interest, finally understanding the true motivation behind Loki's involvement.

"When she died," Loki continued, his voice filled with old rage, "I thought I'd finally have my revenge. I went after her descendants, starting with your father. But Frigga and Odin stopped me. Threatened me!”

The trickster god crouched down beside Leon, his eyes burning with hatred. "I've been waiting decades for this!"

Leon curled in on himself, coughing up blood. The golden glow in his eyes was barely a flicker now.

The Star of God grabbed Leon by the hair and yanked his head up as he turned to his remaining followers, who were watching the scene with a mixture of satisfaction and hatred.

"Let this be a lesson!" Kokabiel called out, his voice carrying across the mountaintop. "This is what happens to those who dare oppose us! The great Leon Mishima, reduced to nothing more than a dying animal!"

Leon's eyes fluttered, his consciousness clearly fading. The Eitr was doing its work, spreading through his system like liquid death.

"Any last words?" Loki asked, tilting his head.

Leon remained silent for a long moment, his breathing shallow and labored. The silence stretched across the mountaintop.

Loki leaned closer, studying the boy's face. "Nothing to say? How disappointing."

The fallen angels behind them murmured amongst themselves, satisfaction evident in their voices. Their leader had been avenged. The boy who had humiliated them was finally broken.

But then something changed.

Leon's lips curved into a smirk.

Before anyone could react, Leon's form shimmered and vanished in a puff of white smoke.

"What—" Kokabiel stumbled backward, his eyes wide with shock.

Loki stared at the empty space where Leon had been lying just moments before. No body. No blood. Nothing but dissipating smoke and the lingering scent of mana.

"A clone," Loki whispered, realization hitting him. “It was a clone!”

The trickster god's face twisted with rage and humiliation. "This whole time... we were fighting a mere clone.”

Kokabiel's voice cracked with disbelief. "But the blood, the poison, he was dying—"

"All an illusion," Loki snarled, his hands clenching into fists. "The little bastard played us. He's been playing us from the very beginning."

The fallen angels looked around nervously, suddenly understanding that their victory had been nothing but fake.

"Where is he?" Kokabiel demanded, his voice rising to a near shriek. "Where is he?!"

As if on cue, a voice resounded across the mountaintop, clear and strong and laced with amusement.

"Looking for me?"

Every head snapped upward. High above them, floating in the sky like some warrior deity descended from the heavens, was perhaps the real Leon Mishima.

The golden armor of Kavacha and Kundala blazed around him like captured sunlight, each plate gleaming with divine radiance. The armor didn't just cover him, it seemed to emanate from him, as if he had become the very essence of the sun given form.

His golden eyes burned with an intensity that made the sun seem dim by comparison.

The Arcanum Grimoire hovered in perfect stillness beside him, its pages fluttering not from wind, but the sheer power emanating from it.. Mana crackled around the tome like lightning, and Loki could feel the raw power radiating from it even at this distance.

But it was what Leon held in his right hand that made Loki's blood run cold.

Laevateinn. The World-Ender. The Flame-Sword of Surtr. The sword of the Sun. The weapon prophesied to burn Yggdrasil itself at Ragnarök. In Leon's grip, the blade flickered with licking heat that could reduce everything it touched to ash.

The mortals had gotten it wrong in their myths, of course. They thought he had forged the sword, that it was his creation. Foolish. The truth was far more humiliating. He had been obsessed with Laevateinn, coveted it with every fiber of his being. He had schemed and plotted for centuries to claim it, only to fail again and again. The myths attributed its creation to him simply because his name had become so intertwined with his desperate desire to possess it.

And now this boy, this insignificant human, wielded the sword that had rejected Loki for centuries.

The rage that filled him was beyond fury. Beyond hatred. It was pure, burning envy that threatened to consume him whole.

The fallen angels below took instinctive steps backward, their earlier confidence evaporating like morning mist. Even Kokabiel, the Star of God himself, stared up at Leon with terror.

This was no mere mortal boy. This was a force of nature. A walking catastrophe.

This was the worst case scenario. The entire plan, all the scheming and manipulation, had been designed to prevent exactly this moment. They needed to keep Leon away from using Laevateinn, to stop him from ever drawing the blade.

They had failed completely.

Loki's hands trembled as he looked up at Leon, finally understanding exactly what kind of monster they had tried to trap.

Chapter 55

But Kokabiel was no mere fallen angel. He was the Star of God, the one who'd fought Michael himself during the Great War. A human boy would not make him cower.

"Ha!" Kokabiel threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing across the mountainside. "Is that supposed to frighten me? Your parlor tricks are nothing compared to true divine fury!"”

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. This wasn't parlor tricks. This was something primal, something that made his every instinct scream warnings. But appearances mattered. His followers needed to see strength, not doubt.

"You want to know about your precious parents?" Kokabiel's grin turned vicious. "Your father begged, you know. Actually got on his knees and pleaded for your mother's life. Pathetic. And your mother—oh, she was so brave right until the end. Right until she realized how far she had to fall."

The temperature spiked again. Kokabiel felt sweat bead on his forehead despite the Alpine cold.

Good. Anger makes warriors stupid. Let him charge up here in blind rage.

"Twenty-seven seconds," Kokabiel continued, his voice carrying easily across the distance. "That's how long it took her to hit the ground. I counted. I wanted to savor every moment of her terror as she fell to her death!"

Leon still hadn't moved. Still hadn't spoken. The silence was somehow worse than screaming would have been.

Kokabiel's left wing twitched involuntarily.

Why isn't he attacking? Why isn't he flying into a rage and charging up here like every other grief-stricken fool I've ever faced?

Behind him, he sensed his followers shifting nervously. Even they could feel it now, the sense that they were staring down something far more dangerous than anticipated.

"What's wrong, Mishima?" Kokabiel called out, forcing mockery into his voice. "Lost your nerve? Or are you finally smart enough to realize you're outmatched? I have twenty fallen angels at my back! This is my prepared ground! You're nothing but a spoiled rich boy playing with toys he doesn't understand!"

Then silence, for a moment everything was tense.

“Are you done?” Leon said,

Before Kokabiel could say more, Leon moved.

One moment he was standing at the base of the mountain, the next he was in front of Kokabiel, close enough that the fallen angel could see his own reflection in the golden glow of Leon's eyes.

Kokabiel's eyes widened. Up close, he could see past the golden glow to what lay beneath. These weren't the eyes of a grief-stricken boy anymore. They were the eyes of something terrifying and primal, something that had decided that mercy was no longer an option.

Before the fallen angel could move, Leon's hand gripped his face.

"What—" Kokabiel started to say, but the words got cut off as Leon's fingers tightened around his skull like a vice.

Then Leon slammed him down.

The mountaintop exploded. Rock and ice flew everywhere as Kokabiel's body carved a crater three feet deep into solid stone. The impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, making the other fallen angels stumble.

"My lord!" one of them shouted.

Kokabiel tried to push himself up, spitting blood and debris. "You little—"

Leon's boot connected with his ribs. The crack echoed like a gunshot.

Kokabiel flew sideways, tumbling across the rocky ground before slamming into a boulder. The rock split in half from the impact.

Kokabiel snarled and launched himself forward, his wings spreading wide. Light spears materialized in both hands as he thrust them toward Leon's chest.

Leon didn't dodge. The spears hit him dead-on, but the divine armor flickered to life across his body just before impact. The weapons shattered against the protection like glass hitting steel.

"Impossible!" Kokabiel gasped.

Leon grabbed the fallen angel by the hair and lifted him off the ground. 

He then threw Kokabiel straight up into the air, then leaped after him. His fist caught the fallen angel in the stomach mid-flight, folding him in half around the blow.

They crashed back down together, Leon driving Kokabiel face-first into the mountain. Another crater formed, this one even deeper.

Kokabiel rolled away desperately, his face a mask of blood and dirt. "Attack him!" he screamed at his followers. "All of you! Now!"

Three fallen angels dove toward Leon from different angles, light spears crackling in their hands.

Leon caught the first one by the wrist and used him as a club to bat away the second. The third one's spear scraped along his armored shoulder, leaving barely a scratch.

Leon easily backhanded the third attacker. The fallen angel spun through the air like a rag doll before hitting a tree so hard it exploded into splinters.

Kokabiel tried to use the distraction to escape, his wings beating frantically as he took to the air. But Leon was already moving again.

He jumped straight up, covering fifty feet in a single bound. His hand closed around Kokabiel's ankle and yanked him back down.

"Where do you think you're going?" Leon asked.

His hand shot out faster than Kokabiel could follow, grabbing the fallen angel by the front of his robes.

Leon gripped his throat as he lifted him off the ground effortlessly. The fallen angel's feet dangled uselessly as those golden eyes stared into his soul.

Kokabiel's eyes widened in terror as he finally understood. 

The mana around Leon intensified, crackling like electricity in the air. 

"Please—" Kokabiel gasped.

Kokabiel's vision blurred as another devastating blow connected with his ribs. The sickening crack of bone filled his ears, but the pain was nothing compared to the cold terror spreading through his chest.

Leon's grip tightened around Kokabiel's throat.

"You know what's funny?" Leon's voice was quiet. The golden glow in his eyes pulsed with each word. "I expected more from the Star of God."

Kokabiel's face was turning purple, but Leon loosened his grip just enough to let him breathe.

"You're weak." Leon tilted his head, studying the fallen angel like he was examining a particularly disappointing insect. "Pathetically weak. I thought someone who fought Michael would at least make me break a sweat."

"Weak?" Kokabiel's eyes blazed with fury. "WEAK?!"

Mana erupted around him in a desperate burst of power. Light spears materialized by the dozens, hovering in the air like a constellation of deadly stars. "I am Kokabiel! I commanded legions in the Great War! I made angels weep and devils flee!"

"And now you're getting beaten up by a high school student." Leon's tone was flat, bored even. "How the mighty have fallen, right?"

Kokabiel roared and launched every spear at once. The air filled with blazing light as dozens of divine weapons converged on Leon from every angle.

Leon didn't even flinch.

The spears hit his armor and shattered like they were made of cheap glass. The golden radiance around him didn't even flicker.

“Weak.” Leon said, and drove his knee into Kokabiel's stomach.

The fallen angel's breathing came in ragged gasps, his divine power spent and broken.

"Any last words?" Leon asked, his voice carrying that same flat, bored tone.

Kokabiel's mouth opened, but only blood came out. His wings twitched uselessly against the rocky ground.

Leon's fist began to glow with concentrated mana. The air around them hummed with lethal energy.

Then something sharp and cold punched through his back.

Leon's eyes widened as pain exploded through his chest. He looked down to see a blade protruding from between his ribs, dark blood spreading across his shirt.

"What—" Leon gasped, his grip on Kokabiel loosening.

The fallen angel dropped to the ground like a sack of meat, wheezing and clutching his throat.

Leon turned slowly, golden eyes blazing with fury and confusion. Standing behind him, still gripping the hilt of an ornate dagger, was a familiar face.

"Alessia?" 

"Oh, Leon." The voice was Alessia's, but the tone was completely different. Mocking. Amused. "You really should pay more attention to your surroundings during a fight."

Leon staggered forward, one hand pressed against the wound in his chest. His mana core was working overtime, trying to heal the damage, but the blade had done something to disrupt the process.

“Who are you?"

The fake valkyrie chuckled. "Very good. Though it did take you getting stabbed to figure it out."

The air around her began to shimmer and warp like heat waves. Her appearance started to shift and change, like a mirage coming into focus.

The modest black robes dissolved into shadows. What stood in their place was something else entirely.

Tall and lean, with sharp, angular features that looked like they'd been carved from marble, his skin was pale as snow, almost translucent. Long white hair that floated behind him like a tail & two chest length bangs.

"Allow me to introduce myself properly." He gave a mocking bow.

"I am Loki, God of Lies, Trickster of Asgard.”

Chapter 54

Chapter 54

The SUV's engine strained as we climbed higher into the Alps, the road narrowing with each switchback. Heavy snow reduced visibility to mere yards ahead, and occasional gusts of wind rocked the vehicle. I sat in silence, watching the world outside gradually transform into an endless expanse of white.

Father Dante had gone quiet after our earlier conversation, his gaze fixed on the monastery map spread across his lap. Occasionally, he would make small notations with a pen, muttering to himself in Latin. While Rossweisse sat beside me, her expression was blank though I could sense her tension in the way her fingers repeatedly tapped her thighs.

We'd been driving for nearly three hours, the weather worsening with each mile. The paved road had given way to gravel, then to little more than a snow-covered track. Our driver, a local guide Rossweisse had arranged, navigated the treacherous path with surprising confidence.

"We'll need to stop soon," the driver announced in heavily accented English. "Road ends two kilometers ahead. Rest must be on foot."

Father Dante looked up from his map. "How far will that put us from the monastery?"

"Five kilometers, maybe six with snow this deep." The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. "Dangerous climb. Very steep."

I nodded, not particularly concerned about the difficulty. My enhanced physiology can easily handle the terrain. The same could be said for Rossweisse. Father Dante was the unknown quantity, though his physical condition seemed adequate for an exorcist.

"What's on your mind?" Rossweisse asked quietly besides me.

“Nothing.” It was a lie. 

In truth, my mind was circling the identity of Kokabiel's mysterious ally. It couldn't be a devil; Kokabiel's hatred for them ran too deep after the Great War. Angels were obviously out of the question.

The Khaos Brigade was a possibility. Their operatives were known to work with anyone who could further their chaotic agenda. But the timeline didn't quite fit with what I knew from the anime's events.

Then there were the vampires. After my encounter with Lady Ashford and her coven, I wouldn't put it past them to align with Kokabiel just to spite me. They had certainly made their displeasure with me clear enough.

It didn't matter. Whatever being had aligned with Kokabiel, they had made a fatal mistake. They had placed themselves between me and my parents' killer. And for that, they would share his fate.

I raised my hand and summoned my grimoire, letting it materialize in my hands.

“Is that a sacred gear?” Father Dante asked.

I ignored him of course.

Flipping through the grimoire now was like reading a weapon catalog. Hundreds of spells, all ready to go. Offensive magic that could level buildings. Defensive barriers that could stop tank rounds easily. Utility spells for every situation I could think of.

I'd spent months preparing for this exact moment.

I didn’t want to be arrogant thinking I am invincible now. I knew that I was not.

The armor was incredible, I'd give it that. Attacks below a certain threshold were completely negated. The truly devastating ones would only inflict ten percent of their intended damage. Weapons that should have pierced straight through my body would leave barely visible scratches but that didn't make me invincible. There were still countless beings in this world capable of destroying me without breaking a sweat.

If someone like Great Red decided I was worth eliminating, this armor would only ensure my death was marginally less catastrophic. 

I decided not to think about it for the meantime as the SUV came to a stop where the road completely disappeared into white. Our driver killed the engine and turned around.

"This is as far as I go," he said in heavily accented English. "Five kilometers up the mountain path." He pointed through the windshield at what looked like nothing but snow and rocks. "Very dangerous in this weather."

I could barely make out what might have been a trail, just a slight depression in the snow winding up between jagged outcroppings. The wind was howling so loud it made the SUV shake.

“Thank you.” I nodded to the driver, before stepping out into knee-deep snow. 

Father Dante struggled out of his seat, already shivering despite his heavy coat. "You think Kokabiel's expecting us?"

"Of course he is." I reached into my inventory and pulled out my winter gear. “Months of no information about him, until now. It’s a trap.”

Rossweisse stepped out beside me, moving through the snow like it was nothing more than sand. Her breath didn't even fog in the frigid air. Clearly also used to this kind of weather, probably worse, knowing where she came from.

"But you're going anyway," 

"Tell me, Alessia, what's the most dangerous part of hunting a pack of wolves?”

"I... what?"

"Finding them," I continued patiently. "Once you know where they are, the rest is just execution. He's gathered all his followers in one place, set up defenses, prepared whatever nasty surprise he thinks will take me down." 

I gestured at the barely visible trail ahead. "Saves me the trouble of hunting them down one by one."

Father Dante stared at us both, his breath coming out in visible puffs.

Dante looked between us, realization dawning on his face. "You're not worried about the trap at all."

"Of course I am worried. But I didn't show up here to be lightly prepared. I had months to prepare for this."

We started up the mountain. Within minutes, the SUV disappeared behind us, swallowed by the storm. Father Dante took point, breathing hard within the first hundred meters. Every few steps, he'd pause to check his compass or squint at nearly invisible trail markers.

I followed twenty feet behind, hands in my pockets, walking like I was taking a stroll through a park. The snow was deeper than Dante's waist in some places, but it barely slowed me down. When he stumbled, I was there to steady him before he even realized he was falling.

"You two are not human at all!" he panted after the third time I caught him.

I shot him a look.

We climbed for another hour. Dante's breathing got more labored. His gloves kept slipping on his walking stick. By contrast, I wasn't even breathing hard, and Rossweisse looked like she could do this all day.

"Break?" Dante gasped, leaning against a boulder.

"If you need one."

He stared at me for a moment, taking in my complete lack of fatigue, then pushed himself upright. "I'm fine."

The wrongness hit me around the two-hour mark. 

I stopped walking.

"We're close," I said.

Dante checked his compass, confusion creasing his brow. "We shouldn't be. The monastery's still—"

"Just over that ridge," I pointed ahead.

"How can you possibly know that?"

Instead of answering, I reached into my inventory and pulled out three small green beans. I tossed one to each of them.

"Take these now."

Rossweisse caught hers and immediately tucked it away. She'd seen what these could do.

Father Dante stared at the bean in his palm like I'd handed him a live grenade. "This looks like..."

"Emergency rations," I said. "If you get hurt in there, eat it."

"Hurt how?"

“Just eat it.”

“Okay…” He grumbled.

We crested the ridge. The monastery sprawled below us as light flickered in maybe half the windows. 

There were also movements on the walls.

"Definitely expecting us," Rossweisse observed.

"Good." I started down the slope without hesitation.

"Wait," Dante called. "Shouldn't we scout first? Make a plan?"

I smiled.

“I have a plan. Attack”

This time, my grimoire materialized in my hand, it flipped open, already reading the intent on what spell I wanted to cast.

I raised my free hand toward the monastery. The air above it began to shimmer, like heat waves rising from hot pavement.

The pages turned on their own, stopping at a spell written in burning letters. The words seemed to pulse with their own light as I read them.

"Meteor."

=====

A point of light appeared in the sky above the monastery. Small at first, like a distant star. Then it grew bigger. And bigger.

Dante's mouth fell open. "Is that—"

What he saw was a meteor easily the size of a mountain.

Holy Mary, Mother of God. Dante's knees almost gave out. He's actually summoning a meteor. This isn't magic. This is divine wrath.

The burning rock screamed through the air, trailing fire and smoke. The people on the monastery walls started shouting. Some of them pointed up at the sky. Others ran for cover.

Too late.

The meteor hit the main tower dead center. The explosion lit up the entire mountain like daylight. Stone and fire erupted in all directions. The sound was like thunder, but louder and longer. The ground shook under their feet.

Dante grabbed onto a nearby rock to keep from falling. He just destroyed half a fortress with a single spell. 

"Incredible," he whispered, Dante's hands trembled as he clutched his equipment bag. Incredible didn't begin to cover it. In thirty years of serving the Church, hunting supernatural threats across three continents, he'd never seen raw power like this. The meteor had done exactly what Leon intended—removed the fortress, scattered Kokabiel's forces, and announced his arrival in the most dramatic way possible.

When the light faded and the smoke cleared, the monastery was gone. In its place was a smoking crater the size of a football field. The ancient stone walls, the towers, the chapel where his team had died—all of it reduced to rubble and ash.

But not everyone was dead.

"Movement," the woman—Alessia, said calmly. "Southeast edge of the crater."

Dante squinted through the smoke and falling ash. Dark shapes were climbing out of the wreckage. At least a dozen figures, their clothes singed but very much alive.

"Kokabiel's tougher than I expected," Leon said, his voice carrying no emotion at all. The grimoire's pages turned again. "Good. I was worried this would be too easy."

Too easy? Dante's legs almost gave out. He thinks summoning a meteor was too easy?

A roar echoed across the mountainside. Not human. Not animal. Something older and infinitely more dangerous.

"There he is," Leon smiled, and Dante felt ice form in his stomach. It wasn't a pleasant expression. It was the look of a predator finally spotting its prey.

Wings spread wide against the smoke-filled sky. Black feathers caught the hellish glow rising from the crater as Kokabiel ascended, his ten wings beating slowly. Even from this distance, Dante could feel the fallen angel's rage washing over them in waves.

Dante's throat went dry. There he was, the fallen angel who'd murdered his entire team. Who'd smiled while slitting Rebecca's throat. Who'd left Dante alive for reasons he still didn't understand.

"LEON MISHIMA!" Kokabiel's voice boomed across the Alps, shaking snow from the peaks around them. 

"So you finally crawl out of your hole like a worm!" Leon said with a smirk.

More wings appeared behind Kokabiel. His surviving followers—at least twenty fallen angels—arranged themselves in a loose formation. Dante recognized some of them as they were the ones who'd helped slaughter his brothers and sisters.

Dante saw Kokabiel gritting his teeth clearly Leon hit a nerve.

“Worm?!  I am Kokabiel! The star of God! I have fought in wars before your ancestors learned to make fire!"

Leon's grimoire materialized in his hands, pages flipping on their own. "And yet here you are, skulking in ruins with a handful of traitors and rogue priests. How mighty."

Kokabiel's expression darkened, but that arrogant smirk remained. "You destroyed nothing! A few stones, some worthless human followers—easily replaced!" He gestured dismissively at the crater. "Did you think your little fireworks display would frighten me?"

Leon laughed. "I thought it would get your attention." 

“Just laugh. You cretin, I will kill you the same way I killed your parents!” Kokabiel smiled, a sight Dante hated as it reminded him of how he killed his team.

Leon went completely silent.

“They thought they could play peacemaker between the factions. Pathetic humans trying to meddle in divine affairs! You should have seen your mother's face when she realized she was falling—priceless!”

Dante felt it immediately—a shift in the air that made his skin crawl. The temperature around them didn't just rise, it spiked. The snow beneath Leon's feet vaporized instantly, turning to steam that hissed and danced around his legs.

But it was more than the heat. There was something else radiating from Leon now, something that made every survival instinct Dante had scream at him to run.

Kokabiel's grin widened, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp. "What's wrong, boy? Cat got your tongue? Or are you finally realizing how outmatched you—"

The fallen angel's words cut off as the very air around them began to distort. Dante watched in growing horror as reality itself seemed to bend near Leon. The ground cracked beneath his feet, not from impact but from pure heat. The metal components of Dante's equipment grew uncomfortably warm despite being dozens of feet away.

Rossweisse took an involuntary step back, her face pale. Even she, a Valkyrie who'd seen countless battles, looked shaken by the sheer intensity of what Leon was radiating.

"Leon-sama," she whispered, but her voice seemed to disappear into the oppressive atmosphere.

Dante had seen rage before. He'd seen fury and hatred and bloodlust during his years as an exorcist. But this? This was wrath distilled into its purest form, controlled by an iron will that somehow made it infinitely more dangerous. A dragon’s wrath.

Kokabiel's smile faltered slightly. The fallen angel's survival instincts, honed by millennia of warfare, were finally starting to recognize the magnitude of what he'd just unleashed.

When Leon finally spoke, his voice was so quiet Dante almost missed it over the sound of steam and crackling energy.

"What did you say about my mother?"

For the first time since the confrontation began, Kokabiel seemed to realize he might have made a mistake.

Chapter 53

The jet's engines hummed as we flew over the Alps.

I glanced across the cabin at Rossweisse, who was calmly reviewing what looked like mission files on her tablet. When I told her yesterday that I was flying to Europe to track down Kokabiel, She insisted on coming with me.

Should've known she'd do something like this.

"I'll have the jet prepared and file the appropriate flight plans."

She said, Then she was gone. I didn’t have time to refuse or talk to her about it.

I was checking over my inventory—Laevateinn secure, Senzu beans ready, armor on standby—when Rossweisse opened a metal case I hadn't seen her bring aboard.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Equipment," she said simply, like it was Tuesday.

I blinked. "I know that. I mean for what?"

She looked at me like I was stupid. "Of course I'm coming with you."

"What?" I sat up straighter. "No. Absolutely not."

Rossweisse didn't even glance up from the case as she checked what looked like combat gear. 

"This isn't a business trip, Alessia," I said, watching her pull out what looked like a modified wand with intricate runic engravings

"I'm aware." She replied. "Which is why you need backup."

I stared at her for a moment, genuinely confused. This didn't make sense. She was a plant—a Norse operative placed in my company to monitor me.

"Why?"

She paused in her equipment check, those sharp eyes meeting mine directly. "Why what, Leon-sama?"

"Why are you doing this?" I gestured at the combat gear.. "This isn't what the Norse sent you for.”

"My assignment was to ensure your safety and provide assistance as needed." She counted off on her fingers. "In the past month alone, that's included managing supernatural corporate contracts, coordinating with multiple pantheons, and covering up a battle between you and one of the most powerful fallen angels in existence. Exactly which part of this falls outside those parameters?"

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. When she put it like that…

"And I don't want to explain to Lady Frigg why I let her friend's grandson get himself killed on a revenge quest." She closed the case with a soft click. "But more than that..."

She trailed off, looking almost uncomfortable with whatever she'd been about to say.

"More than that what?"

“Nothing.” She said she was looking all flustered.

The pilot's voice sounded over the intercom before I could think of a response. "Beginning descent to Milano Malpensa International. Landing in twenty-five minutes."

I looked out the window at Milan and the mountains surrounding it spread out below us. Somewhere beyond those mountains was the fallen angel who'd murdered my parents was finally within reach. 

I glanced back at Rossweisse, who was calmly securing her equipment like she was preparing for just another business meeting.

“Fine. Suit yourself.” 

The smile that spread across her face was the first I'd seen from her since she'd started working for me.

I reached into my inventory and pulled out three small green beans, Senzu Beans. If she was coming with me, better give her something in case.

I'd been preparing for this confrontation with Kokabiel for weeks now. The Workshop had been running constantly, manifesting batch after batch of these healing beans. I had dozens of them stored in my inventory

"Here," I said, holding them out to her. "Take these."

Rossweisse looked at the beans in my palm, then back at my face, her expression skeptical. "Leon-sama, what exactly am I looking at?"

"Emergency healing supplies," I said simply. "If you get wounded, eat one of these."

She didn’t reply but she looked skeptical as she took the beans, turning it over in her fingers. "These look like... regular beans."

"They're not. One bean can heal almost any injury that doesn't kill you outright. Broken bones, deep cuts, internal bleeding—it'll fix it all in an instant." 

Rossweisse's eyes went wide, the smile  dropping from her face completely. That's... that's impossible. Even the most powerful healing magic requires specific incantations, proper runic circles, and significant magical power." 

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Only the Phenex clan's Phoenix Tears can do what you're describing, and those are incredibly rare. Even in Asgard, we might see a few vial every few decades."

“They are better than Phoenix Tears.” I smirked.

She stared at me, clearly shocked. "Better than Phoenix Tears? Do you understand what you're saying? A single vial of Phoenix Tears is worth more than most countries' annual budgets. Devils have started wars over less."

"Which is why you should keep them safe," I said, nodding at the beans in her hand. "Don't lose them. Use them when you need it."

Rossweisse looked down at the beans with new reverence, carefully tucking them into a small pouch on her belt. "Where did you get these? Even Lord Odin doesn't have access to healing items of this caliber."

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters!" She lowered her voice, leaning closer. "If these do what you claim, they're more valuable than..." She paused, seeming to recalculate the value in her head. "Well, almost anything in the Nine Realms."

I shrugged. "They're just something I picked up. Don't worry about it."

Her expression had shifted from skeptical to intensely curious. I could practically see the questions forming behind her eyes, but thankfully she kept them to herself.

"We should prepare for landing," she said instead, buckling her seatbelt. "I've arranged for a car to meet us at the private terminal.”

I nodded, turning back to the window as the plane banked gently, beginning its final approach. Milan sprawled beneath us, ancient and modern architecture blending together like a patchwork quilt.

=====

The private terminal at Milano Malpensa was exactly what you'd expect—sleek and discreet.

As we descended the stairs from the jet, four figures stood waiting beside a pair of black SUVs. Three men and one woman, all with the unnaturally perfect posture that marked trained exorcists.

"Church representatives," Rossweisse murmured.

I adjusted my cufflinks and continued down the steps. My eyes swept over them once, cataloging and dismissing them in the same glance.

The woman stepped forward as we reached the tarmac—tall, blonde.

"Mr. Mishima," she extended her hand. "I'm Sister Helena. Cardinal Benedetti sends his regards."

I looked at her outstretched hand for two seconds longer before she withdrew her hand, the slightest frown creasing her brow. "The Church maintains an interest in all supernatural activities within our jurisdiction. Particularly those involving fallen angels."

“I don't recall requesting a welcoming committee. And how did you know I was coming to Milan?"

 "The same way Azazel knew where to find Kokabiel. Our intelligence networks occasionally... overlap."

"Are you suggesting the information Azazel gave me came from the Church?"

"Let's just say that certain intelligence was shared through appropriate channels." 

Then she continued.

"We've learned of your purpose here in Northern Italy," Sister Helena continued, maintaining her professional tone despite my evident disinterest. "The Cardinal has authorized me to offer Church assistance in your... endeavor."

I stepped around her, heading toward our waiting car. My driver rushed to open the door.

"Not interested." 

Sister Helena moved to intercept, placing herself between me and the vehicle. "Mr. Mishima, this isn't a casual offer. Kokabiel is—"

The temperature around us rose several degrees. The snow on the tarmac began to melt in a perfect circle around where I stood.

"Move." Just one word, but the exorcists' hands instantly drifted toward concealed weapons.

"The Church has been hunting Kokabiel for centuries," she persisted, though she took half a step back. "His activities fall under our purview as much as yours."

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, lacking any warmth. "Centuries? And yet he still lives. How... effective you've been."

One of the men stepped forward from behind Sister Helena—younger, with dark hair and intense eyes.

"I've mapped his defenses, his followers, his patterns. Information you don't have." he said, his voice tight.

I turned my gaze toward him, saying nothing for several long seconds. 

"Father Dante." He introduced himself.

Another second of silence stretched between us. "And why, Father Dante, should I care what you know?"

His jaw tightened. "Because I know about his new ally. They've been meeting at the monastery for weeks."

“And how do you know that? And what makes you think I care about his new ally.”

Father Dante's jaw tightened. "Few days ago, when Moretti revealed his true allegiance. Moretti and Kokabiel weren't alone when he slaughtered my brothers and sisters."

Sister Helena stepped forward again. "Mr. Mishima, we understand your... reservations about the Church." Her eyes flickered briefly to Rossweisse.

"We're not asking for your trust," Sister Helena continued. "Just cooperation. Father Dante knows the monastery's layout. He was supposed to lead the team that would infiltrate it before Moretti turned on them."

I remained silent, weighing my options. Rushing in blind when there were unknown variables would be foolish.

"How do I know I can trust you?" I asked Father Dante directly. "Your organization hasn't exactly been forthcoming."

Father Dante reached inside his jacket. The other exorcists tensed, but he slowly withdrew what appeared to be a worn leather wallet. He opened it, revealing a photo of five people in clerical attire, smiling at the camera.

"This was my team," he said quietly. "Maria. Thomas. Elijah. Rebecca." His finger traced each face with reverence before returning the photo to his pocket. "All dead because Father Moretti betrayed us. I'm the only survivor."

I glanced at Rossweisse, who gave me a nearly imperceptible nod. 

"Fine. Just Father Dante," I said finally. "The rest of you stay behind."

Sister Helena began to protest. "That's not—"

"Those are my terms," I cut her off. 

The air around us grew charged with tension as Sister Helena considered it.

Father Dante, however, was already moving toward our car.

"I accept your terms," he said simply.

Sister Helena shot him a warning look, which he ignored.

"Father Dante—" she began.

"They killed my entire team," he said, voice low but firm. "I watched Moretti smile as he slit Rebecca's throat. I don’t know why they spared me but I'm not missing this chance."

Sister Helena's lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval, but she didn't try to stop him. "Very well." 

I turned and walked toward the car where Rossweisse was already holding the door open.

As Father Dante loaded his equipment—a duffel bag and what looked like sword cases—into the trunk.

Sister Helena approached me one last time.

"Mr. Mishima," she said, her voice pitched low, "Please be careful…Things are not simple as it seems.”

I nodded once. Then I slid into the car, Rossweisse following behind me.

Father Dante joined us moments later, settling into the seat across from us. His posture was rigid, his eyes constantly moving between us, nervous.

As the car pulled away from the airport, I could see Sister Helena making the sign of the cross through the tinted windows. Whether it was a blessing or a warning, I couldn't tell.

Chapter 52

The abandoned warehouse smelled like rust and old rain. I'd chosen this location deliberately, far from any civilians, so that if things went sideways again, we wouldn't level half of Tokyo.

Azazel was already there when I walked in, leaning against some busted support beam. He straightened up when he saw me coming.

"Leon-kun," he said. "Thanks for meeting me."

I stopped about ten feet away. Close enough to talk, far enough to move if I needed to. "You said you had news about Kokabiel."

"Right to business." He pulled out a tablet, fingers moving across the screen. "We found him. Northern Italy, near the Swiss border. He's been busy."

The months since our fight had been... complicated. We'd maintained a professional relationship—information sharing, basic coordination, but everything else? All of it was gone.

“He's been gathering followers."

I took the tablet, studying the images. Kokabiel looked exactly like I remembered from the anime—wild black hair, that arrogant smirk, wings that screamed 'I'm better than everyone else.' But the people around him...

"Rogue exorcists," I noted, recognizing some of the gear. "Quite a few of them."

"And worse." Azazel's voice darkened. "He's managed to recruit some of the Church's more... radical elements. Priests who believe the peace between factions is an abomination."

I swiped to the next image and froze. Among the crowd of followers was a face I recognized—one of the priests who'd been at my meeting with Cardinal Benedetti in Rome.

"Father Moretti," I said quietly. 

Son of a bitch.…He lied to me. He was involved. 

I knew there was something fishy about that damn priest. I made a mental note to make him pay.

"You know him?"

"We've met." I handed the tablet back. 

"He's planning something big, Leon-kun. Something that would make our little Shinjuku incident look like a fireworks display."

I studied his face, looking for any sign of deception. There was none.

“I won’t thank you for this.”

“I don't expect too.”

“...I’ll kill him. I don’t care if he is your brother.”

Azazel was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was steady. "I know."

For a moment, we just stared at each other. 

Azazel studied me for a long moment. "You've changed, Leon-kun.”

I didn’t answer.

After a moment of silence he pulled out another device, this one looking like a modified GPS. "Kokabiel's base is here—an abandoned monastery in the Alps. The approach is difficult, the defenses are substantial, and he'll see you coming from miles away."

"Good. I want him to see me coming."

“I know you are strong, but Kokabiel is cunning so be careful.”

I nodded as I pocketed the GPS.

"Leon-kun." His voice stopped me as I turned to leave. "For what it's worth... I am sorry. About your parents. About lying to you. About all of it."

"Sorry doesn't bring them back," I said quietly.

"No. It doesn't."

I walked toward the warehouse exit, my footsteps echoing in the empty space. At the door, I paused.

"Azazel."

"Yes?"

I wanted to say something, but the words won’t come out.

“Nevermind.” Then I was gone.

=====

High in the Swiss Alps, the abandoned monastery of San Benedetto clung to the mountainside like a wound in the rock. 

The old monastery was freezing, and Kokabiel was getting sick of pacing around like some caged animal.

"Damn it," he muttered, stopping in front of the tall windows. Snow was falling heavy outside, which pretty much matched his mood.

When he'd first heard about Leon Mishima, he hadn't even bothered. Some ordinary rich kid whose parents he'd killed? Why waste time on a nobody? The real prize was destroying the Mishima Corporation itself—all those fancy treaties and neutral ground bullshit.

The Mishima Corporation had always been more bark than bite, protected by old treaties and the mutual greed of various factions rather than any real power.

Destroying it should have been simple.  The vampires would probably care—but they were weak. The devils were too busy with their own politics. The Norse were distant, and the other pantheons viewed it as beneath their notice. A few strategic strikes, some carefully placed blame, and the whole neutral ground nonsense would crumble.

But then Shinjuku happened.

Kokabiel ran a hand through his hair, wings twitching. The reports were insane. The kid had fought Azazel—his own brother—and walked away. Had that freaking weapon. Made the entire supernatural world nervous.

"Having second thoughts?"

Kokabiel spun around fast. A figure was standing by the altar, barely visible in the shadows.

"I'm not scared of some human brat," Kokabiel said, though his voice came out sharper than he wanted.

"Of course not." The figure stepped into the light.  "What's one little dragon boy against the mighty Kokabiel?"

"Watch your tongue," Kokabiel snarled, finally spinning to face his unwelcome ally. "I agreed to this alliance for mutual benefit, not to suffer your mockery."

The figure emerged from the shadows near the altar.

"Of course. My apologies." The smile was all teeth and no warmth. "I merely find it... interesting... how quickly your enthusiasm dimmed once you learned what the boy truly possessed."

Kokabiel wanted to blast this asshole into next week, but he needed the help. For now, anyway.

This creature had approached him months ago with promises of chaos, of renewed war, of everything Kokabiel had yearned for since the Great War's end. But every conversation felt like being dissected by a particularly sadistic scholar.

"The plan remains sound," Kokabiel said through gritted teeth. "The boy will come. He's emotional, reckless in his grief. He'll charge in here seeking vengeance, and when he does—"

"You'll destroy him with what, precisely?" The figure began circling him slowly. "Your light spears? Your considerable power? Against the blade that will burn at Ragnarök?"

"I have more resources than mere brute force—"

"Yes, yes. Your followers. Your preparations. Your righteous fury." The dismissive gesture was infuriating. "Tell me, Kokabiel, what happens when Surtr's flame cuts through everything you've so carefully arranged?"

Before Kokabiel could formulate a response, heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. Father Moretti burst through the doors, his face pale and glistening with sweat despite the mountain cold.

"My lord," he gasped, dropping to one knee on the stone floor. "Leon Mishima arrived in Milan twenty minutes ago."

Kokabiel felt ice settle in his stomach. All his planning, all his careful preparation, and he was still genuinely afraid of facing that sword.

His mysterious ally laughed—a sound like crystal shattering. "Excellent timing indeed. You may withdraw, priest."

Father Moretti glanced nervously between them before scrambling to his feet and fleeing the chamber.

Once they were alone again, the laughter faded into that cold, calculating smile.

"You're enjoying this," Kokabiel accused.

"Of course I am." The figure moved toward the windows, gazing out at the falling snow. "Chaos is always... entertaining. And this particular scenario has such delicious potential for widespread conflict."

"For what purpose? If the boy kills me—"

"Then you die gloriously." The casual tone made Kokabiel's wings bristle. "And the supernatural world mourns a proud fallen angel who perished fighting against the stagnation of false peace."

"And if I kill him?"

"Then you've eliminated a significant threat to the current order." The mysterious figure turned back toward him. "Either outcome serves to destabilize the careful balance that's kept things so... tediously peaceful."

Kokabiel stared at him. "You don't actually care which of us survives."

"I care about the aftermath, not the specific casualties." The smile turned predatory. "Though I must admit, witnessing Laevateinn in actual combat should prove quite... educational."

"You're using me as a catalyst."

"Just as you're using me for resources and knowledge." The figure's expression remained unchanged. "We both desire war's return, Kokabiel. We simply have different motivations for that desire."

The truth settled between them like a blade drawn in the darkness. They weren't allies—they were two predators temporarily sharing the same hunting ground, each waiting for the opportunity to devour the other.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Simply be yourself. The proud fallen angel seeking to restart a glorious war." The mysterious figure's smile turned sharp. "Let him come to you. Let his rage carry him into our prepared ground."

"And you?"

"I'll ensure the stage is properly set." The figure's expression turned almost playful. "After all, the best conflicts require the right... atmosphere."

Kokabiel watched his temporary partner disappear back into the darkness, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the growing certainty that he was merely another piece in someone else's grand design.

But that was acceptable. He'd been underestimated before.

When this was finished, when the boy lay dead and war had returned to the world, he would settle his accounts with this bastard manipulator.

Assuming, of course, he survived the next few hours.

====

Author's Note:

Any guesses who it is?

Chapter 51

Chapter 51

The training facility beneath the Sitri family estate was impressive, even by supernatural standards. The reinforced walls could probably withstand a nuclear blast, and the space was large enough to accommodate full-scale combat exercises. Magic circles lined the floor in intricate patterns, ready to activate various training scenarios at a moment's notice.

I stood in the center of the room, adjusting my grip on a practice sword while Sona's peerage arranged themselves around the perimeter. It had been her idea—a "friendly" training session to help integrate their newest member and, I suspected, to show off her boyfriend's capabilities to her servants.

"Are you certain about this, Leon?" Sona asked from her position near the control panel. "My peerage has been training together for years. They work well as a unit."

"I'll be fine, besides, this is supposed to be training, right? Everyone learns something."

Tsubaki stepped forward, her usual composed expression firmly in place. As Sona's Queen, she was clearly the leader of this little exercise. "We appreciate you taking the time to help us train, Mishima-san. It's not often we get to practice against someone with your... caliber."

There was something in her tone that made me glance at her. Tsubaki had always been polite but distant with me, professional to a fault. But now there was a tension in her posture.

"Just Leon is fine," I said, offering a small smile. "We're all friends here, right?"

"Right!" The enthusiastic voice came from the newest member of the group—Saji Genshirou, a first-year student who'd recently been reincarnated as Sona's Pawn. 

I caught Saji's glance toward Sona—that look of barely concealed longing mixed with admiration. The same pathetic puppy-dog expression Issei wore whenever he stared at his precious "Buchou” in the anime.

 Saji's feelings for Sona were obvious to anyone paying attention. 

Too bad for him. Sona was mine now, and I had no intention of letting some mediocre Sacred Gear user with delusions of grandeur interfere with that. 

Whatever romantic fantasies Saji harbored about Sona, I planned to crush them thoroughly, preferably before they could take root and become a problem and this sparring session is the perfect way to establish my dominance.

"So," I said, letting my voice carry just enough confidence to draw attention, "who wants to go first?"

The silence stretched for a moment as the peerage exchanged glances. I could see them sizing me up, trying to figure out the best approach. Smart. Too bad it wouldn't help them.

"Actually," I said, setting the practice sword aside and rolling my shoulders, "I think I'd prefer if you all came at me together. Make it more... challenging."

"All of us?" Momo asked, her voice uncertain. "At once? That's—"

"You're underestimating us, Mishima-san." Tsubaki said.

“Am I?”

"Leon," Sona's voice carried a warning from the control panel. "Perhaps we should start with—"

"No, it's fine Sona-sama,"Tsubaki interrupted as she raised her hand. “If we can't handle a training exercise, what good are we?.”

I could feel Sona's disapproval radiating from the booth, but she didn't say a thing anymore.

As expected Tsubaki made the first move, as Queen, she had access to all piece abilities, and she used them masterfully. She vanished with Knight speed, appearing behind me with a practice blade enhanced by Rook strength, aimed precisely at my shoulder.

I sidestepped without looking, letting mana flow into my legs as I pivoted. My backhand caught her wrist mid-strike, the enhanced strength sending her stumbling backward despite her supernatural durability.

"Coordinate formation seven!" Tsubaki barked, immediately taking command.

The response was instant. Tsubasa Yura, the sole Rook, charged from my front—pure brute force, her enhanced devil strength making each step crack the reinforced floor. Meanwhile, the two Bishops spread out in opposite directions around me.

Momo Hanakai began weaving ice magic, frost spreading across the floor in intricate patterns meant to limit my mobility. Reya Kusaka started her fire spells, magic circles layering as she built toward something devastating. 

Ruruko Nimura, despite being a Pawn, showed surprising tactical awareness as she moved to cut off escape routes.

Years of coordinated training showed—the Knight provided mobility and flanking, the Rook delivered raw power, the Bishops controlled the battlefield with magic, and even the Pawn showed tactical acumen beyond her piece's typical role.

Too bad coordination meant nothing when the power gap was this vast.

I let Tsubasa's punch connect with my chest, the Rook's enhanced strength creating a shockwave that spider-webbed the reinforced floor. She stared in disbelief as I didn't even budge, her strength meaning absolutely nothing against my mana-reinforced body.

I lifted her off the ground and threw her across the room with casual ease. She crashed into the far wall, leaving a crater in the reinforced concrete.

Tomoe came next, using Knight speed to attack from three different angles in rapid succession. Her enhanced mobility was impressive—she moved like a blur, striking and retreating before most opponents could react.

I caught her mid-dash, my enhanced reflexes making her speed look like slow motion. A gentle tap to her temple sent her joining Tsubasa in unconsciousness.

Momo's ice prison formed around me. The temperature dropped to low levels as she poured her power into the construct, frost spreading in beautiful but deadly patterns.

I flexed my shoulders and the entire prison exploded outward, shards of ice scattering like confetti. The backlash sent Momo sliding backward, her concentration shattered.

Unfortunately for her, tactics only worked when you had the power to back them up. I appeared behind her in a burst of speed, tapping her shoulder gently. She spun around, eyes wide, just in time for my finger to touch her forehead. Down she went, unconscious but unharmed.

Reya's massive fire spell finally completed—"Salamander's Wrath!"—and flames hot enough to melt titanium filled half the training room. 

I walked through the inferno like it was a breeze, mana protecting me from heat. The flames parted around me, unable to so much as singe my clothes.

Reya's confident expression shattered as I emerged completely unscathed. "That's impossible!"

A tap to her forehead sent her joining her teammates in unconsciousness.

Tomoe had been desperately weaving healing magic, trying to revive the fallen while maintaining barriers. Tactics to keep the team functional through support. Unfortunately for her, it was not enough.

She spun, barriers forming instantly around herself in layered shells. Impressive defensive magic—each barrier was stronger than the last, creating a nearly impenetrable fortress.

I placed my palm against the outermost barrier and channeled mana. The entire defensive network collapsed like a house of cards, the magical feedback knocking Tomoe unconscious immediately.

That left only Tsubaki, who had been observing everything with the gaze of someone realizing they were completely outmatched. As Queen, she should have been coordinating, but there was nothing left to coordinate.

"Still want to continue?" I asked, turning to face her fully.

Her answer was to attack with everything she had—Queen piece versatility at its absolute limit. She moved with enhanced Knight speed, struck with amplified Rook strength, defended with multilayered Bishop barriers, all while her Queen abilities let her access techniques that should have been impossible for a single piece.

She created phantom duplicates of herself—a Queen's unique ability to manifest aspects of other pieces simultaneously. Six Tsubakis attacked from different angles, each using a different piece's specialty. It was genuinely masterful, a display of devil combat techniques that would have overwhelmed most opponents.

I caught all six blades easily.

"Not bad," I said honestly as she strained against my grip, all her duplicates trembling with effort. "Unfortunately, not enough."

With a gentle pulse of mana, I disrupted the magic sustaining her duplicates. They dissolved like smoke, leaving only the real Tsubaki frozen in place as I held her blade.

I released her blade and tapped her forehead—the same gentle tap I'd used on the others. She collapsed gracefully, the last of Sona's peerage defeated.

The training room fell silent except for soft groans from the unconscious devils scattered across the floor. None were seriously injured of course, but the message was delivered with clarity.

I brushed the dust off my clothes and looked up at the control booth where Sona sat in stunned silence.

"That was educational," I said with a slight smile. "For everyone involved."

The demonstration was complete. I wasn't just stronger than her peerage, I existed in a completely different category of power.

"Well," Sona said from the control booth, "that was quite the demonstration."

I looked around at her scattered peerage. "They'll be fine. Just needed a wake-up call.”

Tsubaki stirred first. She sat up slowly, looking at me like I'd just violated several laws of physics.

 "You alright?" I said, offering her a hand up.

She nodded and accepted the help, though she looked unsteady.

The others began regaining consciousness one by one. Tsubasa held her head, looking like she'd been hit by a freight train. Momo stared at the puddles of melted ice around her with bewilderment. Reya kept examining her hands as if they'd betrayed her.

Sona descended from the control booth, her expression carefully neutral. "Everyone to the medical bay. Standard post-training protocols. Make sure there are no lasting effects."

Her peerage filed out, each throwing glances back at me that mixed wariness with newfound respect. 

Once we were alone, Sona studied my face. "You were holding back considerably."

"Of course. Can’t exactly destroy their spirit if I ended it in seconds right?"

Sona smiled. “Very thoughtful of you and…"

She trailed off, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

"What?" I asked, grinning. "Finish that thought."

"It was rather... impressive." The blush deepened. "You were magnificent."

"Magnificent?" I stepped closer, backing her against the wall. "That's quite the compliment, Sona Sitri."

"Don't let it go to your head," she said, but her breathing had quickened.

"Too late." I braced one hand against the wall beside her head. "You find me very attractive."

“I do." Her eyes flickered to my lips. "What are you planning to do about it?"

Instead of answering, I leaned down and captured her lips with mine. She responded immediately, her arms sliding around my neck as she kissed me back with surprising intensity. All that poise melted away as she pressed against me.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing harder, she rested her forehead against mine.

"We should return upstairs," she whispered, though she made no move to step away.

"Should we?" I asked, my thumb tracing along her jawline.

"The others will wonder where we are."

"Let them wonder." I kissed her again, softer this time. "I'm exactly where I want to be."

"You're terrible."

"You love it."

As we headed up the stairs, my phone buzzed with a message. 

It was Azazel.

“Let’s meet, I found Kokabiel.” 

After months of searching, hunting for any trace of the bastard who'd killed my parents, he'd finally surfaced.

"Leon?" Sona's voice was soft, concerned. "What's wrong?"

I looked up from my phone to find her studying my face with those  eyes. She could read me better than anyone, there was no point in lying to her.

"It's Azazel," I said quietly. "He found Kokabiel."

Her eyes widened slightly. She knew about the truth of my parents' deaths, and knew I'd been searching for him for months now. 

Truth was, I'd been preparing for this moment longer than she realized. I had items I planned to queue in my Workshop specifically for tracking Kokabiel down, backup plans in case my and Azazel's leads went cold.  

And even with Laevateinn at my disposal, I wasn't taking any chances. Kokabiel might be weaker than Azazel, but he was still old, experienced, and desperate. Desperation made even weak enemies dangerous.

And knowing he has another group backing him up? I couldn't afford to be complacent. Not when it came to my parents' killer.

"Do you need backup?"

"No," I said softly. "This is something I need to do myself.”

She stepped closer, reaching up to cup my face. "Just promise me you'll come back."

"I promise."  I leaned into her touch.

Chapter 50

I stared at the bloodstained sheets for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes. The dragon's blood in my veins hummed with satisfaction, like it had claimed something precious, and that thought made my stomach twist.

A soft knock at my bedroom door made me freeze.

"Young master?" Hayama's voice, carefully neutral as always. "Breakfast is ready when you are."

"Just... give me a few minutes," I called back.

"Of course, sir." A pause. "I took the liberty of having the housekeeping staff begin their duties on the second floor this morning. They'll attend to the first floor later."

The first floor. Where my study was. Where we'd started last night before somehow ending up here.

My face burned. Of course Hayama knew. The man had been running this household for decades—he probably knew everything that happened under this roof. Including the fact that I'd apparently lost my mind and slept with an SS-class criminal on my desk.

"Thank you, Hayama," I managed.

"Also," his voice continued through the door, still perfectly professional, "I've taken the liberty of disposing of any... paperwork that may have been damaged during last night's... late work session."

Jesus Christ. He really did know everything.

"I appreciate your discretion."

"Always, young master."

I stumbled into the bathroom, turning on the shower as hot as I could stand it. As the water hit my skin, more memories surfaced. The way Kuroka had shivered when I touched her. The sounds she'd made. How she'd whispered my name like a prayer.

And the hunger. God, the hunger that had consumed us both. Like nothing I'd ever experienced before.

I was no virgin in my previous life, I'd had my share of experiences. Nothing spectacular, but enough to know what I was doing. College hookups, a few relationships that lasted more than a month. I thought I understood physical intimacy.

But Leon Mishima had been a virgin. Seventeen years old, wealthy heir, too busy with corporate training and supernatural politics to pursue anything beyond polite conversation with girls at formal events.

Last night was my first time in this body. And somehow, despite the confusion and the supernatural compulsion that had driven us both to madness, it had been...

Better than anything I'd ever experienced in either life.

The thought made me feel guilty and exhilarated in equal measure. Whatever had happened between Kuroka and me, whatever primal force had taken control, it had been intense beyond anything I could have imagined

The Dragon's Elixir was just supposed to enhance my physical abilities, grant me draconic strength and healing. But this? This felt like something else entirely. Something primal that had taken over the moment I'd touched her.

Dragons were territorial creatures. Possessive. And apparently, that extended to more than just hoarding gold. Even now, thinking about it made my pulse quicken in ways that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

"Fuck," I muttered, running both hands through my hair. The elixir had changed more than I'd realized. More than I'd wanted it to.

I forced myself out of bed and headed for the training room. Ever since the Shinjuku Incident, my daily sessions with Azazel had stopped. Not that I could blame him—after seeing what I was really capable of, he probably figured there wasn't much left he could teach me.

Besides, I was still angry at him. He knew that. I'd made damn sure he knew that.

I closed my eyes and reached into the Celestial Workshop, letting the familiar scenery surround me.

I checked my current projects, watching the timers countdown. Still days and weeks left for most of them. The Sacred Gear Extractor, E.V.E., the enhanced NZT formula.

=====

Sunday morning arrived with clear skies and the kind of crisp air that made Tokyo look almost peaceful. I stood outside the small café in Shibuya, checking my phone for the third time in five minutes.

A date. With Koneko.

"You're early," came a familiar, quiet voice.

I turned to find Koneko approaching, and my breath caught slightly. She wasn't wearing her usual school uniform or the simple clothes I'd grown used to seeing her in during our lunch breaks. Instead, she had on a cream-colored sweater that looked impossibly soft, a pleated skirt, and knee-high socks. Her white hair was styled differently too—still short, but with a small clip holding back her bangs.

She looked... beautiful and cute.

"You look beautiful,"

A faint blush colored her cheeks. "Thank you." She paused, golden eyes studying my face with that intense focus she sometimes got. "You smell different today."

My stomach dropped. Of course she'd notice.

"Different how?"

Koneko tilted her head, that cat-like gesture I'd grown fond of.

"Familiar," she said finally, but she didn't elaborate. Instead, she looked up at the café's sign. "Is this where we're eating?"

I glanced at the menu posted in the window, noting her sudden attention. "Actually, I was thinking we could explore the food district. I heard there's a place that makes the best taiyaki in Tokyo, and there's a ramen shop that's supposed to have a secret recipe..."

Koneko's eyes lit up—the most animated I'd ever seen her. "Food tour?"

She stepped closer, slipping her hand through my arm with more enthusiasm than I'd expected. "There's also a wagyu stand in Shibuya that only opens on weekends. And a crepe shop that makes seasonal flavors." 

As we started walking, I couldn't help but smile. This was a side of Koneko I'd never seen before

"So where do we start?" I asked.

She was quiet for a moment, then looked up at me with those golden eyes. "Taiyaki first. Then we work our way through the district." A pause. "If that's okay with you."

“Of course.”

=====

The taiyaki stand was tucked between a clothing shop and a small bookstore, steam rising from the griddle where an elderly man carefully filled fish-shaped molds with sweet red bean paste.

"Two taiyaki, please," I said to the vendor, who nodded.

Koneko stood beside me, and I noticed how she was practically vibrating with anticipation.

"First time here?" the old man asked as he handed us the steaming pastries wrapped in small paper bags.

"For him," 

"Months?" I raised an eyebrow as we moved away from the stand.

She took a careful bite, eyes closing briefly in what looked like pure bliss. "Heard the other girls talking about it. Never had reason to come to Shibuya on weekends before."

I bit into my own taiyaki and nearly groaned. The elderly vendor knew his craft—the exterior was perfectly crispy while the inside was soft and warm, the red bean paste sweet but not overpowering.

"Good?" 

"Amazing," I said honestly. "Where to next?"

“Takoyaki.”

As we walked, she stayed close to my side, occasionally bumping my arm when she got distracted by a particularly interesting smell or sight. It was endearing how animated she became around food.

The takoyaki vendor was a middle-aged woman with flour-dusted hands and a warm smile. She drizzled sauce over the octopus balls with artistic precision, sprinkling bonito flakes.

"You two make a cute couple," she said as she handed us our order. "Young love is so sweet."

Koneko went very still beside me, her face turning pink. I cleared my throat.

"Thank you," I said, accepting the takoyaki and leaving it at that.

We found a small table at a nearby standing area, and I watched as Koneko carefully blew on her first piece before taking a bite. The expression of pure contentment on her face was worth the price of admission alone.

"Leon," Koneko said quietly, pulling me from my sensory analysis.

"Yeah?"

She was looking down at her food, golden hair falling to partially hide her face. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

“Your smell…” she paused, seeming to choose her words carefully. "It reminded me of someone. Someone I haven't seen in a long time."

"Someone important?” I feigned ignorance.

“My sister. We were... separated when we were younger." Her hands tightened slightly around the takoyaki container. "She's SS-class wanted by the devils now. For killing her master."

The pain in her voice was subtle but unmistakable. I set down my food, giving her my full attention.

"She killed our devil master." Koneko's voice was barely above a whisper, but there was confusion in it. "Everyone says she went mad with power, that nekomata aren't meant to use senjutsu. That it makes us lose control."

"And you? What do you think?"

Koneko was quiet for a long moment, staring down at her food. "I don't know," she finally whispered. "Kuroka always told me never to use senjutsu. Said it was dangerous for our kind. But then she..." Her voice trailed off.

Koneko's fingers curled slightly under mine. "Sometimes I dream about her. Wonder where she is, if she's safe, if she thinks about me too." She let out a shaky breath. "Yesterday, for just a moment, I thought I caught her scent. But that's impossible. She wouldn't come near Kuoh.”

"Maybe," I said carefully, "she's closer than you think. Maybe she's watching out for you in ways you don't realize."

Koneko's eyes searched my face, and for a moment I worried she could see right through me. But then she nodded slightly.

"Maybe," she whispered.

"Come on," I said, standing and offering her my hand. "Let's find that wagyu stand you mentioned.”

A small smile tugged at her lips as she took my hand. "It's this way."

Chapter 49

Later that evening, I was in my study trying to catch up on some paperwork when a certain black shadow materialized from nowhere.

"Well, well," a sultry voice purred from the shadows near my bookshelf.

I didn't even look up from my reports. "You know, most people use the front door. It's this crazy new invention." I knew who it was without looking.

I sighed.

I really should invest in warding items for my next manifestation.

A woman stepped out of the darkness, and I finally glanced up to see her properly. Long black hair with golden highlights that caught the lamplight. Cat-like golden eyes that glowed faintly in the dim room. A figure that would make most men forget their own names, barely contained in what looked like a traditional Japanese outfit that had been modified to show off every curve.

Kuroka. Koneko's older sister. SS-class criminal. And based on the killing intent radiating off her like heat from a furnace, she wasn't here for a friendly chat.

“Kuroka.”

“You know me?"

"Of course I know you,"

"Of course you do..," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she sauntered closer. Her hips swayed with each step.. " I suppose I should have expected much from someone who preys on innocent little girls."

Now I did look up fully, setting down my pen with deliberate calm. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't play dumb with me, nya~" The casual verbal tic slipped out as her facade cracked slightly. "You think I don't know what you've been doing to my precious little sister?"

She moved closer, and I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands were positioned to strike. This wasn't just posturing—she was genuinely furious.

"Making her cry. Breaking her heart. Using her for your own sick pleasure." Her eyes flashed dangerously, pupils dilating. "I should tear your throat out right now, nya."

"You're misinformed," I said calmly, leaning back in my chair.

"Am I?" She was right in front of my desk now, leaning forward to give me an excellent view of her assets while simultaneously looking like she wanted to murder me. The contradiction was very... Kuroka. "Because what I heard was that you made my Shirone cry today. That you told her you were dating someone else, nya."

Ah. So that's what this was about. Someone had given her a very incomplete version of my conversation with Koneko.

"Your sources need better context," I said, studying her face. There was genuine pain behind the anger, real fear for her sister.

"Do they?" Her claws extended, razor-sharp and glowing with youkai power. The air around her shimmered with barely contained energy. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're just another bastard who thinks he can play with my sister's feelings, nya."

The protective fury in her voice was unmistakable. For all her reputation as a criminal, as someone who'd supposedly killed her own master, the genuine love and concern for Koneko was written all over her face.

"You really care about her," I said softly.

"Of course I care about her!" Kuroka snapped, her composure finally cracking completely. "She's the only family I have left! The only thing that matters to me in this whole fucked-up world! And I won't let some privileged little prince hurt her, nya!"

The verbal tic was coming out more frequently now, a sign of how emotionally compromised she was.

"Then you should know I'd never hurt her."

"Words," Kuroka hissed, her tail appearing and lashing behind her in agitation. "Just pretty words from a pretty boy. I've heard them all before, nya."

She attacked without warning.

Fast as lightning, claws crackling with youkai energy aimed straight for my throat. But there was something about the attack—it was deadly serious but also oddly restrained, like she was testing me rather than trying to actually kill me.

I caught her wrist mid-strike, stopping her claws inches from my throat.

"Interesting," I said calmly, not even breathing hard.

Her eyes widened in shock. "That's impossible, nya—"

I applied just a little more pressure to her wrist. Not enough to break anything, but enough to demonstrate the gap between us. Her claws retracted involuntarily.

"Impossible," she breathed, struggling against my grip. "You're just a human—"

"Am I?"

That's when I let a tiny fraction of my mana leak out. Just a whisper of the dragon's essence that flowed through my veins.

The effect was immediate and completely unexpected.

Kuroka went completely still in my grip, her golden eyes dilating. A shiver ran through her entire body, and I felt her pulse spike under my fingers. Her breathing became shallow, and a flush crept up her neck.

"Oh," she whispered, her voice suddenly breathy and confused. "Oh my, nya..."

I frowned. That wasn't the reaction I'd expected. Fear, maybe. Submission, possibly. But this? This looked almost like...

"Vali was right," she murmured, her struggles ceasing entirely. Her body swayed slightly, and I caught a scent in the air—something wild and intoxicating. "You really are strong, nya."

That explained how she'd found me. Vali must have told her about our sparring sessions.

"He mentioned you were powerful," she continued, her voice dropping to a purr that seemed to vibrate through the air between us. "But I thought he was exaggerating. Vali tends to do that when he finds a new toy to play with, nya."

"Didn't Vali tell you about the Shinjuku Incident?" I asked, genuinely confused. Didn't she know about my fight with Azazel?

"Hmm? About what, nya?" Kuroka looked genuinely confused, though her breathing was getting more erratic.

That's when I noticed something was wrong. Heat was crawling up my spine like liquid fire. My skin felt too tight, like I was burning from the inside out. The air in the room suddenly felt thick, charged with something that made my pulse race.

"I beat the shit out of Azazel three weeks ago," I said, trying to focus through the strange sensation. "Almost killed the bastard. Half of Shinjuku's still being rebuilt."

The color drained from her face, then rushed back in a deep blush. She swayed, actually swayed on her feet.

"That was you, nya?" Her voice cracked. "The Shinjuku Incident?"

"Guess you've been too busy stalking my lunch dates to keep up with current events."

But I was having trouble concentrating on our conversation. Something was happening to both of us, something primal and overwhelming.

"What's... what's happening to us, nya?" Kuroka gasped, her voice shaky and confused. Her pupils were blown wide, almost swallowing the gold of her irises entirely. She looked as lost as I felt.

She stumbled forward, closing the distance between us. Her hands landed on my chest and I felt the tremor running through her whole body. Her scent was everywhere now, filling my lungs and making rational thought nearly impossible.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice coming out rougher than intended. "But I can't... I can't think straight."

It was true. Every thought felt sluggish, wrapped in cotton, except for the overwhelming need to touch her, to have her touch me. My usual control, the careful discipline I'd built up through months of training, was completely gone. All that existed was the fire under my skin and the woman in my arms.

Like something primal had been triggered in both of us. Dragon meeting cat, maybe. Or just the perfect storm of pent-up emotions and supernatural energies.

Kuroka's breathing was coming in short, desperate pants. Her hands fumbled with the buttons of my shirt, clumsy in a way that told me she was just as affected as I was. "This is crazy, nya," she whispered, but she didn't stop.

"Kuroka..." My hands found her waist without conscious thought, pulling her closer.

Her golden eyes locked on mine. There was pure hunger in her gaze, but also confusion and something that might have been fear. Not of me, but of what was happening to us.

"I came here to threaten you, nya," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not... not this."

I could smell her now—something wild and intoxicating that made the rational part of my brain shut down completely. And I'd been wound tight for weeks, board meetings and training sessions and dead parents pressing down until I couldn't breathe.

Then she kissed me. All desperation and teeth and need, like we were both drowning and this was the only air left. Her tongue traced my lower lip before diving deeper, and I tasted something sweet and dangerous.

Suddenly I was lifting her onto my desk, papers scattering to the floor. Her legs wrapped around my waist and she made a sound that went straight to my spine—half purr, half moan.

No words. Just heat. Just need. Just two supernatural beings caught in something neither of us understood.

My hand slid up her side, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her outfit. When I cupped her breast, she arched into my touch with a gasp that was pure feline pleasure.

"Don't stop, nya," she whispered against my mouth, her claws digging into my shoulders. "Please don't stop."

I shouldn't be doing this. Some rational part of my brain was screaming that this was a terrible idea. But that voice was getting fainter by the second, drowned out by the fire in my veins and the woman writhing beneath my touch.

I kissed down her neck, dragging my mouth along her pulse, and her whole body shivered beneath me. My hand found the tie holding her outfit together and pulled, revealing smooth pale skin that seemed to glow in the lamplight.

She wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Of course she wasn't.

"Oh god, nya," she moaned, arching into my touch. Her nails dug into my back through my shirt, probably leaving marks I'd feel tomorrow. But right now, the slight pain only added to the fire consuming us both.

Her legs tightened around my waist, pulling me closer, and I could feel the heat radiating from her core even through my pants. The rational part of my mind—what little was left—knew this was moving too fast, that we were both clearly under some kind of influence we didn't understand.

But when she looked at me with those golden eyes, pupils dilated with need and confusion, when she whispered "Don't stop, nya" in that broken, desperate voice, I knew there was no turning back.

=====

I woke slowly, awareness creeping in through layers of exhaustion. My entire body ached in ways that had nothing to do with supernatural training as sunlight streamed through the curtains of my bedroom.

For a moment, I just lay there, trying to piece together how I'd gotten from my study to my bed. The events of last night came flooding back in fragments. Kuroka appearing in my office. The confrontation about Koneko. That overwhelming heat that had consumed us both like wildfire.

The desperate way we'd torn at each other's clothes on my desk. The way she'd moaned my name. How we'd somehow made it to the bedroom, though I couldn't remember walking here. Just her skin against mine, the sounds she made, the way she moved beneath me.

I groaned, pressing the heel of my palm against my forehead. What the hell had happened to us? It was like every wall I'd built around my emotions had just crumbled at once, leaving nothing but raw need and primal hunger.

The bed was already empty, the sheets still warm but cooling fast. A piece of paper lay on the pillow where Kuroka's head should have been.

My hand trembled slightly as I picked up the note. Her handwriting was elegant but hurried, like she'd written it in a rush to leave before I woke up.

Leon,

Whatever that was last night, it wasn't supposed to happen, nya.

But this doesn't change anything. If you hurt my sister, I'll kill you.

I stared at the note for a long moment, reading it twice.

That's when I noticed the sheets.

Dark spots on the white fabric that I'd mistaken for shadows in the dim morning light. But as my eyes adjusted, as the reality of what I was seeing hit me, my blood went cold.

Blood. Dried, but unmistakably blood.

Fuck..

=====

Author’s Note:
So yeah… Kuroka’s part of the harem now. 😌

Chapter 48

Three days had passed since then. Three days of fielding calls from nervous board members, approving emergency window repairs, and pretending the hole in my thirty-floor office wall was just "architectural renovation."

Three days of Alessia handling an endless stream of "requests for audiences" from supernatural factions who'd suddenly discovered an urgent need to discuss business partnerships.

Looks like word had gotten out. About what I did. About my meeting with Indra. 

Now, walking through the school gates felt surreal after everything.

"Leon!"

I turned to find Issei jogging up behind me, his bag bouncing against his hip as he tried to catch up. His usual goofy grin was plastered across his face.

"Yo, man!" He fell into step beside me, slightly out of breath. "You look like crap."

"Thanks for the assessment," I said dryly. "Really what I needed to hear this morning."

"No, seriously!" He gestured at my face with both hands. "You've got those dark circles under your eyes. And your hair's all—" He made some vague swooping motion. "Have you been sleeping?"

"Define sleeping."

The truth was, I didn't technically need sleep anymore. The Dragon's Elixir had taken care of that particular human requirement. But I still did it anyway—for my sanity more than anything else. Turns out your brain needs downtime even when your body doesn't.

Problem was, the past few days had been spent lying awake, staring at the ceiling, mind racing through many things  instead of actually resting. Mental exhaustion was still very much a thing, even if physical fatigue wasn't.

"You know, that thing normal people do where they close their eyes and dream about boobs?"

I nearly choked. "Of course. That's what you dream about."

"Don't judge me!" His face turned red. "A man has needs! Speaking of which—" He leaned in conspiratorially. "I heard some crazy rumors about explosions downtown. You didn't happen to see anything weird, did you?"

If only you knew, buddy.

We walked into the building, joining the stream of students heading to their lockers and first period classes. The familiar sounds of school life—lockers slamming, conversations echoing off the walls, the squeak of sneakers on polished floors—felt oddly comforting after the supernatural chaos of the past few days.

"Oh! That reminds me," Issei said, digging through his bag. "Matsuda wanted me to ask if you've got any tips for talking to girls."

"Why would he think I have tips?"

"Dude, seriously?" Issei gave me an incredulous look. "You're like the school's mysterious prince. Half the girls here have your name written in their notebooks with little hearts around it."

"That's disturbing."

"That's awesome!" He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "Look, he even made a list of questions. 'How do you make your hair so perfect?' 'What cologne do you use?' 'Do you practice your mysterious stare in the mirror?'"

I grabbed the paper and read it. The questions got progressively more ridiculous. "'What's your secret pickup line?' 'How many girls have you kissed?' 'Can you teach us the ancient art of being ridiculously good-looking?'"

"Tell Matsuda that being 'ridiculously good-looking' isn't something you can teach."

"So you admit you're ridiculously good-looking!" Issei pointed at me triumphantly. "I knew it! You totally know how hot you are!"

A group of first-year girls walking past us suddenly started giggling and whispering. One of them actually dropped her books when I glanced their way.

"See?" Issei gestured wildly. "That! Right there! How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"That thing where you just exist and girls lose their minds!"

I bent down to help the first-year pick up her books. She turned approximately the same shade as a tomato and stammered out a thank you before practically sprinting away with her friends.

"I don't do anything," I said, straightening up.

"Bullshit," Issei muttered. "There's gotta be a technique. Some kind of secret. Maybe it's genetic? Are your parents super attractive too?"

The mention of my parents sent a familiar pang through my chest. "Were. And yeah, they were."

Issei's expression immediately shifted. "Ah, shit. Sorry, man. I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine." I waved him off. "But to answer your question, there's no secret technique. I just... treat people like people."

"That's it? That's your big secret?"

"Pretty much."

"That's the lamest superpower ever."

Then I caught a glimpse of red hair at the far end of the hallway.

Rias Gremory stood near the trophy case, talking to Akeno. But the moment she spotted me, her entire body language changed. Her shoulders tensed, her smile became forced, and she took a half-step backward.

Our eyes met for just a second. Something flickered across her face before she quickly looked away.

Was that fear? I guess she heard about what happened too.

She turned away quickly, practically dragging Akeno in the opposite direction.

"Huh," Issei said, following my gaze. "Weird. Usually Rias-senpai at least waves when she sees us. She looked like she saw a ghost or something."

"Maybe she's having a bad morning."

"Yeah, probably." He shrugged, already losing interest. "Girls are weird. Speaking of which, you should totally come with me to the Occult Research Club after school! I've been trying to work up the courage to join for weeks."

"Pass."

"Come on! You could be my wingman! With your mysterious prince powers and my... uh..." He paused. "Okay, I don't know what I bring to the table, but still!"

"Your overwhelming enthusiasm?"

"Exactly!" He grinned. "So you'll come?"

"Not a chance in hell."

If only you knew, buddy. Probably soon enough.

The morning passed in a blur of classes I couldn't focus on. Teachers droned about subjects that felt trivial compared to the supernatural politics swirling around me. My mind kept drifting to other things.

When lunch finally arrived, I made my way to the roof, carrying the elaborate bento Hayama had prepared. 

Koneko was already there, sitting in our usual spot. She looked up when I approached, those golden eyes studying my face with that peculiar intensity she always had.

"You look tired," she said simply.

"So I've been told." I sat down beside her, opening the bento box. "Multiple times today, actually."

She didn't respond immediately, just watched as I unpacked the food. 

"You smell like her," Koneko said quietly.

"Huh?"

"Sona-kaichou." Her voice was even flatter than usual. "Her scent is all over you."

Ah. Right. Enhanced senses. I'd forgotten about that.

"We had dinner yesterday," I said carefully.

Koneko's eyes narrowed slightly. "Just dinner?"

The question hung in the air between us. I could lie, deflect, change the subject. But something in her expression stopped me. The careful blankness she always wore had cracked just enough for me to see something vulnerable underneath.

"We're dating," 

Her shoulders stiffened, and for just a moment, something flashed across her face before she could hide it behind her usual mask.

"I see," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable. I watched as she carefully rearranged her expression, building those walls back up brick by brick.

"Koneko—"

"It's fine," she cut me off, her tone back to its usual flat monotone. "You don't owe me explanations."

But it wasn't fine. I could see it in the set of her shoulders, the way her hands clenched slightly in her lap, the careful distance she'd put between us on the bench.

"Hey," I said softly, reaching out to touch her hand.

She flinched away from the contact.

"Don't," she whispered. "Please."

Something twisted in my chest. She was pulling away, and it hurt more than I'd expected.

"Koneko, look at me."

She shook her head, staring down at her hands.

"Please."

Slowly, reluctantly, golden eyes met mine. They were bright with unshed tears.

"I like you too," I said quietly.

Her breath hitched. "But you chose her."

"I didn't choose anyone over you." I shifted closer, ignoring the way she tensed. "Sona and I... it's complicated. But that doesn't change how I feel about you."

"How do you feel about me?" The question was barely audible.

Instead of answering with words, I reached up and cupped her face gently, thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped despite her efforts.

"Like this," I whispered, and kissed her.

Her lips were soft, warm, trembling slightly under mine. For a moment she was frozen, shocked. Then she melted into the kiss, her hands fisting in my shirt as if afraid I might disappear.

When we broke apart, she was crying openly now.

"I was so scared," she whispered against my lips. "When you said you were dating her, I thought—"

"That I didn't want you anymore?"

She nodded, unable to speak.

"Never," I said firmly, pulling her closer. "You're important to me, Koneko. You always will be."

"You're different," I said finally. "What I feel for Sona, what I feel for you—they're not the same thing. I can't rank them."

She pulled back slightly to study my face. "You really mean that?"

"I really mean that."

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. The first real smile I'd seen from her in days.

"Does she know?" Koneko asked. "About me?"

I nodded.

"Typical devils," Koneko muttered.

"Is that okay with you?"

Koneko was quiet for a long moment, considering. Then she nodded slowly.

"As long as you don't forget about me."

"Not possible," I said, pulling her into my lap in our familiar position. "You're too cute to forget."

That got a small laugh out of her. She settled against my chest, some of the tension finally leaving her body.

"I like this better," she said quietly.

"What?"

"When you're honest with me." She looked up, golden eyes serious. "Don't hide things from me anymore, Leon. Please."

Seeing the trust and vulnerability there, I found myself nodding.

"I'll try," I promised.

We sat together in silence after that.

"Leon?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

She was quiet for so long I thought she might not answer. Then, barely audible:

"For choosing me too."

Author’s Note:
Apologies for the delayed update. Work has been especially demanding lately, and it’s taken up most of my time and energy. I appreciate your patience and support.

Chapter 47

Indra stood on the observation deck of Tokyo Tower, the city sprawling beneath him like a circuit board made of light. The mortal realm always fascinated him - the way humans built their towers of glass and steel, reaching toward the heavens with stubborn determination.

But tonight, his thoughts weren't on mortal ambition. They were on Leon Mishima.

"Arrogant little brat," he muttered with dark amusement, though his tone held grudging respect. "Throwing gods out of windows like they're common trash."

That had been... unexpected. Most mortals - even those touched by supernatural power - showed some instinctive deference when confronted with true divinity. Fear, awe, the primal recognition that they stood before something far beyond their understanding.

Leon Mishima had shown none of that.

The boy had looked at those minor gods with nothing but cold irritation, then proceeded to dismantle them with the casual efficiency of someone dealing with particularly annoying insects. No hesitation. No doubt. Just brutal, overwhelming force applied with surgical precision.

"He looked at me like he was deciding whether I was worth his time," Indra said, and found himself genuinely impressed despite his annoyance. "Presumptuous little dragon."

Dragon. Yes, that's what the boy was becoming, wasn't it? The essence was there, woven through his being like golden thread through silk. But it wasn't natural dragon heritage - this was something else. Something crafted. Deliberate.

And the Kavacha and Kundala... seeing them manifest around the boy had been like watching ghosts from the past return to life. Divine armor didn't just accept any wielder. It chose those worthy of its protection, those who embodied the principles it was created to serve.

Karna had been such a warrior. Noble despite his circumstances, loyal despite betrayal, powerful despite the odds stacked against him. The armor had loved him, protected him, made him nearly invincible until his own honor became his downfall.

And now it served a teenage boy who had the audacity to threaten gods in their own faces.

"What would you think of your successor, old friend?" Indra asked the stars, his mind reading the surface thoughts of every being within a ten-mile radius - a habit that had grown stronger over the millennia. The city below teemed with desires, fears, ambitions, but none as interesting as the memories of that cold-eyed boy.

The wind didn't answer, but something in its whisper suggested amusement.

Indra's phone - a concession to modern mortal communication that he'd grown surprisingly fond of - buzzed with an incoming message. He glanced at the screen and his expression shifted to something more calculating.

Lord Shiva requests immediate audience. The matter concerns the Mishima heir and his... potential. - Parvati

Ah. So word had already reached the Destroyer. That was... predictable. Shiva had always been interested in those who could bring about proper destruction, and young Leon certainly qualified.

This could complicate his own plans. Indra had been gathering forces for decades, preparing for the inevitable confrontation with Shiva. The God of Destruction was too powerful, too unpredictable to leave unchecked. But if Shiva took an interest in the Mishima boy...

"Interesting," Indra murmured, his tactical mind already working through possibilities. "Very interesting indeed."

With a thought, he dissolved into lightning and electricity, his consciousness racing through power lines and satellite networks toward Mount Kailash. Some conversations required careful handling, especially when they involved beings who could unmake reality with a thought.

But as he traveled, Indra found himself smiling with genuine anticipation. Leon Mishima had just become a much more valuable piece on the board. And in the grand game between gods, valuable pieces were worth fighting for.

=====

Alessia finished cleaning up the office with supernatural efficiency, her divine nature making short work of rubble and broken glass. By the time she was done, only the missing window remained as evidence of the morning's violence.

"I'll have the glass company here within the hour," she told Leon, who was reviewing damage reports on his tablet. "And building maintenance will reinforce the remaining windows against... future incidents."

"Thanks." He glanced up, that small smile playing at his lips again. The same one that had been appearing more frequently since his dinner with Sona Sitri. "Sorry about the mess."

"Occupational hazard," she replied, though privately she'd found the display of power... impressive. "Will there be anything else?"

"Actually, yeah." Leon set down his tablet, those striking blue eyes focusing on her with the kind of attention that made her pulse quicken. "I keep meaning to ask - you're not really just an executive secretary, are you?"

Alessia felt her breath catch. Had she been that obvious? "I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

"Come on, Alessia." His voice was gentle but knowing. "Normal secretaries don't clean up after battles with minor gods like they're tidying up after a coffee spill. Normal secretaries don't have the kind of connections that get things done with a single phone call."

She studied his face, looking for suspicion or anger, but found only curiosity. Patient, understanding curiosity that somehow made lying to him feel impossible.

"I'm very good at my job," she said carefully.

"The best." He leaned back in his chair, and the way the afternoon light caught his features made something flutter in her chest. Strong jaw, those impossibly blue eyes, the way his hair fell just slightly across his forehead... "Which is why I'm not asking you to leave or explain yourself. I'm just saying I know you're more than you pretend to be."

The flutter became a full-on swarm of butterflies. When had she started noticing things like the way he moved with unconscious grace? Or how his voice got softer when he was being kind?

"And I appreciate you being here," he continued, completely unaware of the effect his words were having. "Whatever your real reasons."

Because I was ordered to protect you, she thought. Because the All-Father owes your family a debt. Because Lady Frigg asked me personally to keep you safe.

"You're welcome," she managed, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

Leon's phone buzzed, and he glanced at it with that soft smile again. Another message from Sona, probably. The way his entire expression lightened whenever the devil heiress contacted him was... well, it was sweet. And completely unfair to Alessia's increasingly complicated feelings.

"I should let you get back to work," she said, gathering her tablet and the last of the debris. "The afternoon schedule is relatively light - just the quarterly review with the European division."

"Sounds thrilling." Leon's smile turned wry. "Thanks again, Alessia. For everything."

The warmth in his voice did terrible things to her composure. She nodded and escaped to her own office, closing the door and leaning against it with a soft sigh.

"This is ridiculous," she whispered to herself. "You're Rossweisse. Former Valkyrie. Guardian of Odin himself. You don't get crushes on mortal boys."

Except Leon Mishima wasn't exactly mortal, was he? The power he'd displayed, the way he'd faced down Indra without flinching - that was something far beyond human capability.

And the way he'd just accepted her obvious secrecy without demanding explanations... Most powerful beings wanted to know everything about everyone around them. Leon seemed content to let people keep their mysteries as long as they didn't threaten what he cared about.

Her phone rang, jarring her from increasingly inappropriate thoughts. She glanced at the caller ID and felt her stomach drop.

"All-Father," she answered, switching to Old Norse automatically.

"Rossweisse!" Odin's voice boomed across dimensions with perverted glee. "My dear bodyguard! Tell me, how's that boy treating you? Any romantic developments I should know about?"

Heat flooded her cheeks. "All-Father, this is about business—"

"Bah! Business is boring!" Odin's laughter rumbled like thunder. "I heard our young dragon threw some minor gods around like toys. Quite impressive! Almost makes me want to test him myself... after I finish checking out these delightful 'maid cafes' the humans have invented."

"You're supposed to be focusing on pantheon relations," Rossweisse said through gritted teeth, "not... whatever perverted activities you're engaging in."

"Details, details! Now, about this Leon boy - handsome fellow, isn't he? Rich, powerful, mysteriously attractive..." Odin's tone turned slyly amused. "Perfect boyfriend material for a certain Valkyrie who's been single for far too long."

"I am NOT—" Rossweisse caught herself before she could shout. "My relationship status is not relevant to my mission."

"Oh, but it is! A happy Valkyrie is an efficient Valkyrie!" Odin chuckled. "Besides, the boy clearly has good taste. I've seen how he looks at you through my ravens. That appreciation for both beauty and competence? Very wise."

"You've been spying on me through Huginn and Muninn?" Rossweisse's voice pitched higher with indignation.

"Spying is such an ugly word. I prefer 'concerned oversight.' And I must say, watching you fumble around with romantic feelings has been quite entertaining. Almost as good as those human soap operas!"

Rossweisse buried her face in her free hand. "Why did Lady Frigg assign me to this?"

"Because you're perfect for the job, my dear. Competent, loyal, and in desperate need of a boyfriend." His tone shifted slightly, becoming more serious despite retaining its perverted edge. "The Mishima family has always been important allies. Young Leon especially so. Keep him safe, Rossweisse. And if you happen to find personal happiness in the process... well, that's just good planning."

"My duties come first," she said firmly.

"Of course they do! But there's no rule saying you can't enjoy yourself while being dutiful." Odin's grin was audible. "Now, I must go. There's a 'cat girl cafe' I simply must investigate for... diplomatic purposes. Give my regards to your handsome young charge!"

The line went dead, leaving Rossweisse staring at her phone in a mixture of mortification and exasperation. Odin knew. Of course he knew. The All-Father saw everything - and apparently found her romantic struggles hilarious.

But between his perverted teasing, he'd also given her implicit permission to pursue her feelings while maintaining her duties. Even if his methods were absolutely infuriating.

Through her office window, she could see Leon in his ruined office, sunlight streaming through the missing glass as he worked. His concentration was absolute, completely focused on whatever document he was reviewing.

Beautiful and brilliant and far more dangerous than he let most people see.

"Secondary," she whispered to herself, watching the way afternoon light turned his hair to spun gold. "Right. Everything else is secondary."

But as she watched him work, completely unaware of her observation, Rossweisse had to admit that some things were becoming harder and harder to categorize as "secondary."

Especially when they involved piercing amber eyes and rare, genuine smiles that made even former Valkyries forget their divine composure.

Chapter 46

Chapter 46

The dinner was actually nice, once Serafall stopped making exaggerated heart shapes with her hands from across the restaurant. There's something surreal about being on a forced date with a devil heiress while her sister provides running commentary through interpretive gestures.

The quiet between us wasn't uncomfortable - more like the pause before a chess move, weighted with possibility. Sona cut into her salmon with surgical precision, each movement deliberate and controlled. Even in this ridiculous situation, orchestrated by her chaos-incarnate sister, she maintained that perfect composure that had first caught my attention months ago.

"This is strange," she said finally, not looking up from her plate.

"The restaurant? The forced romantic dinner? Or the magical girl providing color commentary from across the room?"

"All of it." A hint of a smile touched her lips. "But mostly... this feeling of inevitability."

I knew what she meant. Everything that had led us here - the business meetings, the chess games, the careful dance around conversations that meant more than we were ready to admit. It had all been building toward something, and Serafall had just pushed us off the cliff.

"That's very philosophical for a devil."

"Devils invented philosophy," she said dryly. "We had eternity to think about our mistakes."

The conversation drifted to safer territories after that - the hospital project, recent supernatural politics, anything that didn't require us to examine whatever this thing between us had become. 

"Leon." She reached across the table, covering my hand with hers. Her skin was cool, precise, like everything else about her. "About what I said earlier. About sharing affection."

"Yeah?"

"I meant it." Her violet eyes met mine directly. "Devil society operates differently than human culture. Multiple relationships, political marriages, peerage bonds - it's all perfectly normal. Expected, even."

"And you're comfortable with that?"

"As long as I'm first," she said simply, and there was something in her voice - not jealousy, but a quiet certainty that brooked no argument. "I won't share power, Leon. But I can share affection, if it comes to that."

The weight of that statement settled between us. She wasn't asking about hypotheticals. She was establishing ground rules for a future that felt both distant and immediate.

From across the restaurant, Serafall made another exaggerated heart shape with her hands, her magical girl outfit sparkling under the ambient lighting like a disco ball had achieved sentience. I glared at her, and she just grinned wider, clearly delighted by our emotional progress.

"Your sister is never going to let us live this down, is she?"

"Oh, absolutely not." Sona's lips twitched with the kind of amusement that suggested years of dealing with Serafall's particular brand of sisterly chaos. "She'll probably have our children's names picked out by tomorrow."

"Children?" My voice came out as a squeak, completely destroying any pretense of supernatural badass I might have been maintaining.

"Figure of speech," Sona said quickly, though her cheeks turned that delicate shade of pink that made her look less like a calculating devil heiress and more like a girl trying to navigate feelings that didn't fit neatly into strategic categories. "For now."

=====

I was still smiling like an idiot when I got to the office the next morning.

Last night kept replaying in my head. Even being kidnapped for a forced romantic dinner had turned out... nice.

Really nice.

"Stop grinning like that," I muttered to myself, dropping into my chair. "You look like a lovesick teenager."

Which, technically, I was. At least the teenager part.

I pulled up the morning reports, trying to focus on quarterly projections instead when a sharp knock at my door cut through my thoughts. "Come in."

Alessia stepped inside, her usual professional composure tinged with something that looked like concern. "The Hindu representatives have arrived, sir. They're... insistent about meeting with you immediately."

"Let me guess - they're not here to discuss our temple maintenance contracts."

"No, sir." Her expression grew more serious. "They seem particularly interested in recent events. Specifically, the armor you displayed during your confrontation with Azazel.”

Right. The Kavacha and Kundala. I should have seen this coming. Ancient Hindu divine armor suddenly appearing in the hands of a human teenager? Of course they'd want answers.

"Do they now?"

"Yes, but..." She paused. "They're being quite aggressive with the staff. Demanding immediate audience, making threats about divine retribution."

I felt my good mood evaporating. "Threats?"

"Nothing overt. But they seem to believe you're in possession of stolen artifacts." Alessia's voice carried that careful neutrality she used when she thought I might do something violent. "They're... not being diplomatic about it."

"Send them in."

"Sir, perhaps we should schedule—"

"Now, Alessia."

She nodded and withdrew. I leaned back in my chair, letting my expression settle into something cold and professional. If they wanted to come into my office making demands, they'd get the courtesy I reserved for hostile business meetings.

Which was to say, none at all.

The three who entered looked exactly like what I'd expected from minor Hindu deities trying to play big league politics. The leader was tall, dark-skinned, with the kind of bearing that screamed 'divine authority' to anyone who didn't know better. His companions flanked him like bodyguards, all sharp suits and barely contained power.

"Leon Mishima." The leader's voice carried an accent that sounded like it came from somewhere far older than any human civilization. "I am Agni's herald, Tejasvi. We represent the interests of the Hindu pantheon in this matter."

"What matter would that be?" I kept my voice level, professional.

"The theft of sacred artifacts belonging to our pantheon." His eyes flashed with divine fire. "The Kavacha and Kundala. Divine armor forged by Surya himself, meant only for his chosen champions."

"I see." I steepled my fingers, studying their faces. "And you believe I've stolen these artifacts?"

"You displayed them publicly during your battle with the Governor-General of the Grigori." One of the companions spoke up, his voice harsh with accusation. "Divine armor that has been missing for centuries, suddenly appearing in the hands of a human child."

Child. The word hit like a slap.

"Interesting theory." I kept my voice calm, though I felt heat building behind my sternum. "Do you have any proof of this theft you're accusing me of?"

"The artifacts themselves are proof enough," Tejasvi said dismissively. "No human could legitimately possess such divine constructs. You will return them immediately, along with an explanation of how you acquired stolen goods."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Will I now?"

"Yes." His voice carried the weight of divine command, the kind of tone that probably made mortals fall to their knees in worship. "Surrender the armor and submit to questioning about your theft, and we may be merciful in our judgment."

I stared at him for a long moment, feeling something cold and ugly unfurling in my chest. "Let me make sure I understand this correctly. You've come into my office, accused me of theft without evidence, and are now demanding I surrender my property based on your assumptions."

"They are not your property—"

"And threatening me with divine retribution if I don't comply." I stood slowly, my hands flat on the desk. "In my own building. On my own territory."

"You are mortal," the third one spoke for the first time, his voice dripping with disdain. "Your 'territory' means nothing to divine beings. You will surrender what you have stolen, or face the consequences."

That was it. The last thread of my patience snapped.

"Get out." My voice came out low, dangerous.

"Excuse me?" Tejasvi blinked, clearly not expecting defiance.

"I said get out." I walked around the desk, moving with deliberate slowness. "You have thirty seconds to leave my office before I remove you myself."

"You dare threaten us?" The second one stepped forward, power crackling around his form like heat shimmer. "We are divine beings, child. You are nothing but—"

He didn't get to finish.

My fist caught him in the solar plexus, enhanced by just enough mana to send him flying across the room. He crashed through my office window in an explosion of glass and concrete, his cry of shock cut short by the sound of his body hitting the courtyard thirty floors below.

The other two stared at the hole where their companion had been, then at me. Divine shock and very human fear warred across their features.

"Twenty seconds," I said conversationally.

Tejasvi's face contorted with rage. "You assault a divine being? In the name of Lord Indra, I—"

I moved.

They were fast - faster than humans, faster than most supernatural creatures I'd fought. But I'd been training with Vali Lucifer and sparring with the Governor-General of the Grigori. These minor gods might as well have been moving through molasses.

I caught Tejasvi's wrist as he tried to summon fire, twisted, and threw him into the wall hard enough to leave a crater in the reinforced concrete. The third one tried to flee, his speed carrying him toward the broken window.

I was faster.

My hand closed around his throat, mana flowing through my grip with lethal intent. His feet dangled off the ground as I lifted him effortlessly, his divine nature meaning nothing in the face of raw power.

"You come into my territory," I said quietly, squeezing just hard enough to make breathing difficult. "You threaten my people. You make demands based on assumptions and arrogance."

His eyes bulged, hands clawing uselessly at my arm.

"And you call me child." The mana in my grip intensified, and I heard the wet crack of vertebrae starting to compress. "Big mistake."

"My, my. Quite the display."

The voice cut through the room, carrying an undercurrent of dark amusement. I turned, still holding the minor god by the throat, and froze.

Standing in the ruins of my office doorway was a man who looked deceptively casual - aloha shirt, circular sunglasses, buzz-cut hair, and a jeweled necklace that seemed to catch light that wasn't there. But the power radiating from him made my mana core hum with recognition, and when he smiled, I could feel storm clouds gathering in the distance.

Indra. King of the Gods. Lord of Heaven. War God.

And he looked... amused.

"Well, well. The infamous Leon Mishima." His voice carried a sarcastic drawl that somehow made him more dangerous, not less. "The boy who made Azazel sweat. I have to say, your reputation precedes you."

"And you are?" Oh, I knew who he was. 

"Oh, come now." He adjusted his sunglasses with theatrical flair. "Don't tell me you don't recognize the one and only Sakra? Though I suppose you humans call me Indra these days."

I slowly opened my hand, letting the minor god drop to the floor where he gasped and clutched his throat. "Let me guess - you're here about the armor."

"Partly." Indra strolled into the room, hands in his pockets, completely ignoring the destruction around him. "But mostly I'm here because these idiots"—he gestured dismissively at his subordinates—"decided to threaten my business interests."

"Your business interests?"

"The Mishima Corporation, naturally." He picked up a piece of shattered glass from my desk, examining it with apparent fascination. "We've been shareholders since your grandfather's time. Quite profitable, really."

His tone was conversational, almost bored, but I could feel the weight behind his words. This wasn't a god who'd come seeking justice for his subordinates. This was a businessman protecting his investments.

"I see. And their behavior?"

"Unauthorized. Foolish. Counterproductive." He dropped the glass, letting it shatter on the floor. "Really, sending junior gods to intimidate one of our most valuable partners? Where's the subtlety? Where's the finesse?"

Tejasvi struggled to his feet, divine blood trickling from his mouth. "My lord, he assaulted—"

"He defended his territory," Indra cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Something you three were apparently too arrogant to consider before barging in here making demands."

His smile didn't reach his eyes as he turned back to me. "You'll have to forgive them. Young gods these days have no appreciation for proper politics. They think divine status means they can throw their weight around without consequences."

"And what do you think?"

"I think," Indra said, his voice taking on a sharper edge, "that respect is earned, not demanded. Your grandfather understood that. Your father understood that. And apparently, so do you."

He gestured with one hand, and his three subordinates simply vanished - teleported away without ceremony or explanation.

"Now then," he continued, settling into one of the chairs that hadn't been destroyed, "let's have a proper conversation. About business, about politics, and about those rather impressive artifacts you've been sporting."

I studied his face, looking for the trap, the angle, the hidden agenda. This wasn't the benevolent king of myths. This was a war god who'd been playing supernatural politics since before human civilization existed.

"Coffee?" I offered, gesturing to the intact chairs near what used to be my window.

"Please."

With the armor and weapon at my disposal, I was confident I could hold my own against him if things went sideways. But as the heir of Mishima Corporation, neutrality wasn't just a preference—it was my responsibility. The delicate balance my grandfather had built depended on me not picking sides, even when gods came knocking with pointed questions about divine artifacts.

We sat in silence while Alessia - who had appeared with amazing timing and professional calm - served coffee and pretended not to notice the gaping hole in the wall or the divine being radiating power across from her boss.

"You have questions,"  

"Many." Indra took a careful sip of his coffee, nodding appreciatively. "The Kavacha and Kundala are... special to us. Divine armor of the highest caliber. Created by my dear father Surya for his son Karna during that unfortunate business with the Kurukshetra War. When they disappeared after the great war..."

"You assumed they were lost forever."

"Or stolen by ambitious mortals who thought they could wield divine power." His eyes met mine directly. "Seeing them manifest around you during your battle with Azazel was... surprising.

It was quite impressive, by the way. The man's been getting too comfortable in his position. A little humbling never hurt anyone."" There was something predatory in his smile, the kind of expression that suggested he'd enjoyed watching two powerful beings tear each other apart for his entertainment.

I kept my expression neutral. "I can imagine."

"How did you acquire them?"

"My grandfather," I lied simply.

"Takeshi Mishima." Indra nodded slowly. "I see…But how did he come across it?"

I shrugged. "He never told me. Just said it was insurance, in case things went badly."

It wasn't entirely a lie. Grandfather had left me a lot of things - knowledge, connections, responsibilities I was still discovering. If he'd somehow acquired divine artifacts and hidden them away, it would fit with everything else I'd learned about the man.

"Insurance." Indra's eyes glinted with what might have been approval. "Yes, that sounds like Takeshi. Always planning three moves ahead."

"You're not going to demand I return them?"

"Return them?" Indra laughed, a sound like distant thunder that made the remaining windows vibrate. "Young Mishima, your grandfather earned the right to those artifacts through service to our pantheon."

I blinked. "He did?"

"Oh yes. During the Rakshasa uprising of 1947. Back then, Takeshi was just a fledgling businessman. Takeshi provided... crucial assistance. Logistics, weapons, safe passage for our agents." Indra's expression grew more serious. "Without his help, that conflict would have spilled into the mortal world. Millions would have died. It would have caused all sorts of unpleasant publicity."

Another piece of the puzzle that was my grandfather's life. The man had been everywhere, involved in everything, making deals and building relationships that still protected his family decades later.

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both of us thinking. Then Indra spoke again, his tone shifting to something more businesslike.

"I came here for another reason as well. To meet the new heir to Mishima Corporation in person."

"And?"

"The Hindu pantheon has been a shareholder in your family's enterprise since its conception," he said, studying my face. "We have significant investments in your success."

The thing is. The supernatural faction involved in my company don't actually really care who runs the company. As long as their interests are protected. The profits, the neutral ground, the services we provide.

The vampires, the devils, the fallen angels - none of them care about the Mishima family specifically. They only care about the arrangement Grandfather built.. My father understood this and adapted to it. And now it's my turn to prove I can maintain the balance.

The supernatural world functions on stability, young Mishima. Disruption is costly, change is dangerous. They don't care about your personal feelings or motivations - they only care about competence and ability.

"And your assessment?"

"You've demonstrated power sufficient to enforce your will." His eyes flicked to the hole in my wall. "You've shown restraint in not killing my overzealous subordinates. And you've maintained the diplomatic courtesy necessary for supernatural politics."

He stood, straightening his jacket. "The Hindu pantheon will continue our business relationship with Mishima Corporation. Your grandfather's arrangements remain in effect.

Welcome to the big leagues, young Mishima. Try not to get yourself killed too quickly. It would be bad for business."

After he left - through the door this time, like a civilized person - I sat alone in my ruined office, staring out through the hole where my window used to be.

The view was actually pretty nice, now that I thought about it.

=====

Author’s Note:

Quick apology in advance if anything feels a little off from canon. It’s been years since I last read the original material, and I’m currently doing a reread to refresh my memory. Honestly, most of what’s in my head right now is a mix of fanfics I’ve been binging, so if something slips through, that’s probably why. 

That said, feel free to correct me if you catch anything off, I genuinely appreciate it!

Chapter 45

Chapter 45

"She's coming to see you. NOW. I'm sorry."

Wait what?

I stared at the messages, my brain trying to process what I was reading. Sona's sister knew about us? And she was coming here? Right now?

"Shit," I muttered, standing up from my desk so fast my chair rolled backward. "Shit, shit, shit."

Serafall Leviathan. One of the Four Great Satans. Sona's overprotective older sister with a magical girl obsession and enough power to level countries.

And she was apparently on her way to give me the "big sister talk."

My phone buzzed again.

"Hide. Or run. I don't know. She's very... enthusiastic about protecting me." - S

Another buzz.

"Also she might freeze you into a popsicle if she doesn't like you." - S

"Great, Just great."

I could try to run, but where would I go? And honestly, running from Sona's sister felt like the worst possible first impression I could make.

I was still debating my options when the air in my office suddenly got colder. Not gradually. Instantly. Like someone had opened a portal to Antarctica.

A magical circle flared to life in the middle of my room, blue light casting dancing shadows on the walls. Sparkles. Actual sparkles were coming out of it.

"Oh no," I whispered.

The circle completed, and she stepped through.

Serafall Leviathan looked exactly like she did in the anime, except somehow more intense in person. Twin-tailed black hair, that ridiculous magical girl outfit complete with star-tipped wand, and an expression that was equal parts excitement and barely contained homicidal intent.

"Leon-kun☆!" she declared, pointing her wand at me dramatically. "So you're the boy who stole my precious So-tan's heart☆!"

I held up both hands, trying to project calm confidence instead of the mild panic I was feeling. "You must be Serafall-sama. Sona's told me a lot about you."

"Oh oh oh☆!" She bounced on her toes, eyes sparkling with an enthusiasm that somehow made her more terrifying. "You're even cuter than I imagined☆! I can see why my precious So-tan likes you☆!"

"Thank you?" I wasn't sure if that was the right response, but it seemed safer than anything else.

She circled me like a predator studying prey, though her smile never wavered. "But☆! Just because you're cute doesn't mean you get a free pass☆! You kissed my little sister☆!"

Ah. There it was.

"Yes," I said simply. No point in lying. "I did.

Serafall stopped circling, blinking at me in apparent surprise. "Eh☆? You're not going to deny it☆?"

"Why would I deny it?" I met her gaze directly. "It happened. I'm not ashamed of it."

For a moment, she just stared at me. Then her expression shifted to something more serious, though she still held her wand like she might use it.

"Do you care about her?" The question was simple, but I could feel the weight behind it.

"Yes, very much."

"Are you going to hurt her?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Not if you can help it?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "That's not a very reassuring answer."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Look, Serafall-sama, I can't promise I'll never hurt her feelings. People hurt people they care about sometimes, even when they don't mean to. But I can promise I'll never hurt her on purpose. And I'll do everything in my power to protect her."

Serafall studied me for a long moment, her head tilted like she was trying to solve a puzzle. "You're not what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"Someone who would grovel☆! Or lie☆! Or try to bribe me with magical girl merchandise☆!" She paused. "Though if you happen to have any limited edition Magical Girl Milky figures☆..."

"I don’t."

“...”

Another long moment of silence. Then, suddenly, Serafall's serious expression melted away, replaced by that terrifying cheerful smile.

"Okay☆!" she declared. "You pass the first test☆!"

"There are more tests?" I asked weakly.

"Oh yes☆! Lots and lots☆!" She bounced again, clearly delighted. "But don't worry☆! Most of them won't be life-threatening☆!"

"Most of them?"

"I have to make sure you're worthy of my precious So-tan☆!" Her expression turned deadly serious again. "She's the most important thing in the world to me☆. More important than politics, or the underworld, or anything☆. So if you hurt her..."

The temperature in the room dropped another ten degrees. Ice crystals started forming on my windows.

"I understand," 

"Good☆!" The ice vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "Oh, this is so exciting☆! My little sister's first love☆! I have to plan the wedding☆!"

"Wedding?" I choked.

"What kind of flowers do you like☆? Roses are classic but maybe too traditional☆! Ooh, what about ice sculptures☆? I could make them myself☆!"

"Serafall-sama," I said quickly, "don't you think we're getting a little ahead of ourselves?"

She blinked at me. "Are you saying you don't want to marry So-tan☆?"

The question hit me like a truck. Did I want to marry Sona? We'd literally just had our first kiss a few hours ago. But looking at Serafall's expectant expression, I realized there was only one safe answer.

"I..." I swallowed hard. "If Sona wanted that, someday, then yes. I would be honored."

Serafall squealed so loudly I was surprised the windows didn't shatter. "This is perfect☆! Oh, So-tan is going to be so happy☆!"

My phone rang, saving me from whatever wedding planning nightmare was about to unfold. Sona's name flashed on the screen.

"Answer it☆!" Serafall commanded. "Put it on speaker☆!"

I did as ordered, partly because refusing Serafall anything seemed like a bad idea right now.

"Leon?" Sona's voice was tight with worry. "Are you alive?"

"Still breathing," I confirmed.

"Leon-kun passed the first test☆!" Serafall announced cheerfully. "He's very polite☆! And he wants to marry you☆!"

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

"He... what?" Sona's voice came out as barely a whisper.

I closed my eyes. "We'll talk about it later."

"Oh yes you will☆!" Serafall clapped her hands together. "Right now☆! I'm teleporting you both to a nice romantic restaurant☆!"

"That's really not—" I started.

"No arguments☆!" Another magical circle started forming. "So-tan needs a proper first date☆!"

Before I could protest further, the circle expanded beneath my feet. The world blurred, and suddenly I was standing in what looked like an upscale restaurant. Dim lighting, candles on every table, the works.

Another flash of light, and Sona appeared beside me, looking slightly disheveled and very, very embarrassed.

"Onee-sama," she said through gritted teeth, "what did you do?"

"I got you a romantic dinner reservation☆!" Serafall beamed, completely ignoring the death glare her sister was giving her. "The best table in the house☆!"

"This is kidnapping," I pointed out.

"This is matchmaking☆!" Serafall corrected cheerfully. "Now sit sit sit☆! You two have so much to talk about☆!"

Sona and I exchanged a look. There was no point in arguing with Serafall when she was like this. We reluctantly took our seats at the table she'd indicated.

"I'll be watching from over there☆!" Serafall pointed to a booth across the restaurant where she'd apparently already ordered herself a parfait. "Have fun☆!"

Once she was out of earshot, Sona buried her face in her hands. "I am so sorry. She gets... overly enthusiastic sometimes."

"Sometimes?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Most of the time," she admitted. "Are you okay? She didn't threaten to freeze you, did she?"

"Only a little." I reached across the table and gently pulled her hands away from her face. "Hey. Look at me."

Violet eyes met mine, still filled with embarrassment.

"I meant what I said," I told her quietly. "About caring about you. About protecting you."

Her cheeks flushed pink. "And the... marriage part?"

"That too." I squeezed her hands gently. "Though maybe we could try dating first?"

A small smile tugged at her lips. "That would be more conventional."

"There's something else we should probably talk about," I said, my voice growing more serious. "About us. About what this means."

Sona tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath. This was harder than facing down Serafall. "I need you to know... there might be other women in my life.."

Her expression didn't change, which somehow made it worse.

"I know how that sounds," I continued quickly. "But with everything that's happening, the supernatural world, the people I'm meeting..." I thought about Koneko, about our quiet lunches together, the way she curled up against me. "I don't want to lie to you or hide anything."

Sona was quiet for a long moment, studying my face. Then she said something that completely caught me off guard.

"So what?"

I blinked. "What?"

"So what if there are other women?" She said it like she was discussing the weather. "Leon, I'm a devil. Polygamy is common in our society. Multiple relationships, peerage bonds, political marriages—it's all perfectly normal."

"It is?"

"Of course." She leaned back in her chair, looking amused at my surprise. "Did you think devil nobles were monogamous? Most high-ranking devils have multiple partners. It's expected, really."

I stared at her. "And you're... okay with that?"

"As long as I'm first," she said simply. "As long as you don't hide things from me. And as long as whoever else you choose treats me with respect." Her eyes glinted with something that might have been possessiveness. "I won't share power, Leon. But I can share affection."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." She reached for her water glass, taking a delicate sip. "Though I reserve the right to approve or disapprove of your choices."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Of course you do."

From across the restaurant, Serafall waved at us enthusiastically, her parfait forgotten as she watched our conversation with obvious interest.

"Your sister is staring," I pointed out.

"She's always staring when it comes to my love life." Sona sighed. "She's been planning my wedding since I was twelve."

"And now she actually has a groom to plan around."

"Don't encourage her," Sona said, but she was smiling. "Though... Leon?"

"Yeah?"

"About what you said earlier. About marriage." Her cheeks were pink again. "Maybe someday isn't as far away as you think."

Chapter 44

Back at the Mishima estate, I found Alessia waiting for me in my office, a stack of reports on my desk.

"How was your meeting with Sona Sitri?" she asked, her expression neutral.

"Enlightening," I replied, setting my bag down. 

She nodded, apparently satisfied with my vague answer. "These just came in," she said, indicating the files. "Reports on Kokabiel, including his known associates and possible locations."

"From Azazel?"

"Some. Others from our own sources."

"Any patterns?"

"Nothing clear yet," she said. "But there are signs he's gathering forces. Recruiting rogue exorcists. Building resources." She paused, then added, "There's something else you should know. We've had several... visitors this afternoon."

I looked up quickly. "What kind of visitors?"

"People from three different supernatural groups. A kitsune from the Yokai faction, and messengers from the Hindu and Greek gods." Her voice stayed business-like, but I noticed the slight tightness around her eyes. "They've asked to meet with you. Right away."

"All in one day? That's... quick."

"Word travels fast in the supernatural world." Alessia's expression remained carefully neutral. "Especially when someone wields Laevateinn against the Governor-General of the Grigori."

“Thanks” She left.

 "Tell them I'll meet with them tomorrow. I need time to read these files first."

"Of course." She turned to leave.

"Thank you, Alessia."

After she left, I sank into my chair, letting out a long breath. The Kokabiel situation was complicated enough without half the supernatural world suddenly wanting a piece of me. But I couldn't blame them. If someone with a world-ending sword suddenly appeared on my radar, I'd want to check them out too.

I spent the next hour going through the files, making notes, connecting dots. Kokabiel was smart, he left few traces, changed locations frequently, and kept his inner circle small. But nobody's perfect. There were patterns if you knew where to look.

When my eyes needed a break, I pushed back from the desk and closed them. 

Closing my eyes, I reached inward as the Workshop formed around me. The familiar starry void opened up, workbenches and tools floating in cosmic space. It felt more vibrant somehow, the stars brighter, the energy more alive. Was that new, or had I just not noticed before?

I checked the list of projects, looking at the ones I'd started a week ago, right after Laevateinn was finished and before the "Shinjuku Incident."

Yeah, that's what they're calling it now. Sounds better than "that time Leon and Azazel nearly destroyed downtown Tokyo."

[Sacred Gear Extractor: 31 days left]

This thing was going to be crucial. Not just useful—crucial.

I'd been thinking about it for weeks now. There were Sacred Gears out there that could change everything. Annihilation Maker, Zenith Tempest, Dimension Lost—powerful artifacts just sitting inside people who had no idea what they really possessed.

"Can't rely on luck forever," I muttered, checking the timer again.

Sure, I could recreate Sacred Gears in the Workshop. But the manifestation times? Not worth. We're talking months, maybe years for the really broken ones.

The Extractor was different. It wouldn't be like the crude methods other factions used. No torture, no permanent harm to the wielder. Just a clean, precise removal that left both gear and host intact. 

[E.V.E. : 29 days left]

The second project was purely practical. Based on the AI helpers from various fictions in my old life with all their capabilities combined, E.V.E. would help me run Mishima Corporation, study supernatural threats, and plan responses, freeing me to focus on more urgent matters.

E.V.E. would be more versatile and powerful, drawing on elements from J.A.R.V.I.S., Friday, Cortana and even Skynet (minus the whole "kill all humans" directive). A truly independent AI assistant who could manage multiple systems simultaneously.

[NZT-48 - Enhanced Formula: 10 days left]

The third was maybe the most useful right now, a perfect version of the drug from "Limitless," but without the bad side effects and with lasting results instead of short-term ones. Better thinking, perfect memory, faster pattern spotting. With supernatural politics getting more and more complex, I needed every edge I could get.

I'd tweaked the formula, ensuring it wouldn't cause dependency or the nasty side effects shown in the movie. Once taken, the changes would be permanent—neural pathways optimized, brain efficiency maximized, cognitive processing accelerated.

Ten days. Just ten days until I could think circles around even the most ancient beings.

As I studied the list, something caught my eye. I pulled up the info for Avalon, a project I'd thought about months ago but put aside because it would take too long to make.

[Avalon: 250 days]

I frowned. That wasn't right. When I first checked, it had been 300 days. I looked at several other possible projects, checking their times against what I remembered.

The Holy Grail: 330 days, down from 350. The Infinity Gauntlet: 470 days, down from 500. The Hogyoku: 350 days, down from 385.

What changed?

Then it hit me. I got stronger!

The Workshop wasn't just a static tool, it was connected to me, to my power. As I grew stronger through training, through the Dragon's Elixir, through actual combat experience with Azazel, the Workshop responded. Manifestation times decreased as my power increased.

I laughed out loud. The implications were huge. Items I'd written off as too time-consuming might eventually become viable. If the trend continued, what might be possible in a year? Two years?

I pulled up another item I'd been curious about—a perfected version of the Super Soldier Serum. Originally estimated at 600 days, it now showed just 498.

I was getting stronger. And the Workshop is too.

This changed everything. My long-term plans, my priorities, the timeline for acquiring certain abilities, all of it needed reassessing.

I just needed to hold everything together until then. Find Kokabiel. Deal with supernatural politics. Not die.

Simple, right?

I smiled grimly. At least things couldn't get much more complicated.

My phone buzzed again. A text from Sona:  “My sister knows about us."

I stared at the message.

Scratch that. Things could definitely get more complicated.

—

Sitri Estate, Underworld - Same Evening

Sona sat at her desk in her private study, staring at a stack of paperwork that hadn't moved in the last hour. The words kept blurring together every time she tried to focus.

She'd kissed him.

Heat rushed to her cheeks again. She pressed her palms against them, trying to cool the burning sensation that had been coming and going since she left the student council room.

"Get it together, Sona," she muttered to herself, but her voice came out breathier than intended.

The memory kept replaying in her head. The way Leon had looked at her, intense and surprised. How she'd just... leaned in. Without thinking. Without calculating the consequences like she normally did.

The firm pressure of his lips against hers. How natural it had felt, despite being completely impulsive.

And the way he'd looked at her afterward—like she was the only person in the world that mattered.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. This was ridiculous. She was Sona Sitri, heiress to one of the most prestigious devil families in the underworld. She didn't make impulsive decisions. She certainly didn't kiss dangerous boys in student council rooms.

Except apparently she did.

A teleportation circle flared to life in the corner of her study, its blue light casting dancing shadows across the walls. Sona quickly straightened in her chair, arranging her expression into something more composed.

"So-tan☆!"

Serafall materialized in a whirl of movement and sparkles, her magical girl outfit practically glowing with cheerful energy. She struck a dramatic pose, pointing at Sona with her star-tipped wand.

"Your super amazing big sister has arrived to check on—" She stopped mid-sentence, tilting her head like a confused puppy. "Ehh? So-tan, your face is all red☆!"

"I'm not red," Sona said quickly, turning back to her paperwork. "You're imagining things, onee-sama."

"Ooh, you totally are☆!" Serafall bounded over, circling her chair like an excited child who'd found a new toy. "Did something happen at school today☆? Did someone confess to you☆? Was it a love letter☆? Oh oh, was it a dramatic rooftop confession like in those shoujo manga☆?"

"Nothing like that happened," Sona said firmly, though her cheeks were heating up again.

Serafall's eyes went wide, and she gasped dramatically, pressing both hands to her cheeks. "Wait wait wait☆! I can see it in your eyes, So-tan☆! Something definitely happened☆!"

Before Sona could respond, Serafall's expression suddenly shifted to something more serious, though she still bounced slightly on her toes. "Actually, So-tan, we need to talk more about what happened today☆. That sword fight between Leon-kun and Azazel-chan☆."

Sona set her pen down carefully. "We already discussed this when you called earlier, onee-sama."

"I know, but now I've had time to think about it more☆!" Serafall studied her face with uncomfortable intensity, though her voice remained cheerful. "The whole underworld is buzzing, So-tan☆! A human—or mostly human—wielding one of the most dangerous weapons in existence☆! Fighting the Governor-General of the Grigori to a standstill☆!"

"Leon is... capable."

"Capable☆?" Serafall's voice pitched higher, and she threw her hands up dramatically. "So-tan, this boy could probably fight even me for a while☆! That's not 'capable,' that's 'potentially world-ending'☆!"

Sona frowned. "He's not a threat to—"

"How do you know☆?" Serafall leaned forward, her expression becoming unusually focused despite the cheerful tone. "What do any of us really know about him☆? He appears out of nowhere with draconic essence, unknown abilities, weapons that shouldn't exist☆! Even Sirzechs-chan is nervous about him☆!"

"Sirzechs-san is nervous about Leon?" That was news to her.

"Of course he is☆!" Serafall spun around once, her magical girl outfit swirling. "When someone shows up who can potentially threaten devil society, we pay attention☆! The question is, what's Leon-kun's endgame☆? What does he want☆?"

Sona thought about Leon's words earlier. His quiet determination to protect what mattered to him. The way he'd talked about building something better than what came before.

"He wants to protect people," she said finally. "His company, his territory, the people he cares about."

"And you believe that☆?"

"Yes."

"Why☆?" The question was sharp, probing, though Serafall's smile never faltered. "What makes you so certain☆?"

Sona hesitated. How could she explain the chess games? The quiet conversations? The way he looked at problems like puzzles to be solved rather than obstacles to be crushed?

"I've worked with him for months," she said. "I've seen how he thinks, how he approaches problems. He's not... he's not like other powerful beings."

"Different how☆?"

"He doesn't want to rule. Doesn't want to conquer. He just wants—" She paused, searching for the right words. "He wants things to make sense. To be fair."

Serafall stopped bouncing and tilted her head, studying Sona's face with the kind of intensity that only came when her sister complex was activated. After a long moment, her eyes widened.

"So-tan☆..." she said slowly, "you care about him☆."

It wasn't a question.

"We're business partners," Sona said automatically.

"So-tan☆." Serafall's voice was gentler now, though she still ended with a star. "I'm your onee-sama☆. I can see it in your face when you talk about him☆."

Sona felt heat creeping up her neck again. "It's complicated, onee-sama."

"Complicated how☆? Because he's human☆? Because he's dangerous☆? Because—" Serafall stopped mid-sentence, her eyes going impossibly wide as her mouth formed a perfect 'o'. "Oh☆. Oh my☆."

"What?"

"So-tan☆..." Serafall's voice dropped to a whisper, though she looked like she might vibrate out of existence from excitement. "You're in love with him☆!"

The words hit her like a physical blow. Sona opened her mouth to deny it, to say Serafall was being ridiculous, but nothing came out.

Because she wasn't wrong.

"So-tan☆," Serafall squealed suddenly, clapping her hands together and spinning in a circle, "this is so exciting☆! My little sister found love☆!"

"Onee-sama—" Sona started, but Serafall was already in full sister-mode.

"Oh oh oh☆! Is he treating you well☆? Is he romantic☆? Does he bring you flowers☆? Wait wait, more importantly—" Her expression suddenly turned serious and slightly dangerous, "he better not be taking advantage of my precious So-tan☆! Because if he hurts you, I'll freeze him into a popsicle☆!"

"It's not... we're not...yet"

"Does he know☆?" Serafall asked quietly.

"Yes..." Sona said as she touched her lips unconsciously.

Of course, this didn't escape her sister's eyes.

"You kissed☆?!" Serafall's voice reached a pitch that could probably shatter crystal.

"No! No!" Sona tried to deny it, but her face was burning red now.

Serafall's eyes went impossibly wide, sparkling with excitement. "Oh my gosh oh my gosh☆! My precious So-tan had her first kiss☆! With the super powerful dragon boy☆!" She started bouncing up and down like a hyperactive child. "This is so romantic☆! Like something out of a magical girl anime☆!"

"Onee-sama, please—"

"I have to meet him☆!" Serafall declared suddenly, her magical girl outfit flaring with power. "Right now☆! I need to see if he's worthy of my precious little sister☆!"

Sona felt her blood go cold. "Wait, onee-sama, you can't just—"

But Serafall was already forming a teleportation circle, her wand glowing with magical energy. "I'm going to give him the big sister talk☆! Don't worry, So-tan, I'll be gentle☆!" Her smile was absolutely terrifying. "Unless he's not treating you properly☆!"

"Onee-sama, no!" Sona shot up from her chair, but it was too late.

With a flash of blue light and sparkles, Serafall vanished.

Sona stared at the empty space where her sister had been, panic rising in her chest. Leon had no idea what was coming. Serafall in full protective sister mode was a force of nature that could probably level mountains.

Her hands shaking slightly, Sona grabbed her phone and quickly typed out a message:

"My sister knows about us."

She hit send and immediately followed with another:

"She's coming to see you. NOW."

Sona sank back into her chair, burying her face in her hands.

"I think," she said to the empty room, "I may have made a terrible mistake."

Chapter 43

I stood amid the ruins, Laevateinn still radiating heat in my hand, when the first scream cut through the night.

Reality crashed back like a physical blow.

The city. The people. In my rage, I'd forgotten where we were, forgotten everything except my need for answers. My vision, so focused on Azazel during our battle, now expanded to take in the devastation around us.

Buildings with gaping holes punched through concrete and steel. Shattered glass carpeting the streets below. Fire alarms wailing, their shrill chorus joining the distant sound of approaching sirens.

And the people.

Civilians gathered at the edges of the destruction, some filming with their phones, others helping the injured. A woman cradled a bleeding child. An old man sat dazed on the curb, his face streaked with dust and blood.

"Shit," I whispered, the sword's flames dimming slightly as horror replaced rage.

I'd done this. In my single-minded pursuit of answers, I'd turned downtown Shinjuku into a war zone.

Azazel stepped up beside me, his expression grave as he surveyed the damage. "This is why I wanted to talk somewhere private."

My jaw clenched. "Don't."

"We need to contain this," he said, ignoring my warning. "Every supernatural faction in Japan just felt what happened here. And the humans..." He gestured to the gathering crowd below. "They saw everything."

He was right. I hated that he was right.

—

Three days later

The headline on the newspaper read: "MISHIMA CORPORATION LEADS EARTHQUAKE RECOVERY EFFORTS." Below it, a photo showed emergency workers in Mishima-branded gear helping clear debris from what remained of a high-rise apartment building.

I set the paper down on my desk, rubbing my eyes. I hadn't slept much since that night. How could I?

The official story, now accepted by everyone from local officials to international news outlets, was that Shinjuku had experienced a localized but powerful earthquake. Structural engineers had been quoted explaining how the unusual damage pattern resulted from the area's specific geological features.

Not a single mention of a battle between supernatural beings. No amateur footage of a man in black armor wielding a flaming sword. No witness accounts of a twelve-winged angel hurling spears of light.

Azazel's memory manipulation had been thorough and precise.

"The final reports are in," Alessia said, entering my office with a tablet. "Seventeen injured, no fatalities. Property damage estimates stand at approximately 3.2 billion yen."

I nodded, relieved that no one had died. That had been my biggest fear, that in my rage, I'd caused deaths I couldn't undo.

"The relief fund?"

"Fully operational. Medical expenses covered, temporary housing secured for the displaced residents." She scrolled through data on her tablet. "The reconstruction contracts have been signed. Work begins tomorrow."

I'd mobilized every resource at my disposal. Emergency response teams, medical staff, construction crews, PR specialists, all deployed within hours of the "earthquake." Money flowed freely, bureaucracy melted away, and the Mishima name opened doors that would have remained closed to others.

It was the least I could do.

"And the... other matter?" I asked.

"Reports from various factions confirm what we suspected. Your display of power has not gone unnoticed. The Norse and the Hindu are particularly... intrigued."

I bet they were. One of their legendary weapons, wielded by a human teenager against the Governor-General of the Grigori? I imagined Odin himself was probably laughing somewhere in Asgard.

"And Kokabiel?"

"No sign yet. But Azazel reports increased activity among certain fallen angel factions. Movements that suggest preparation."

I leaned back in my chair, staring out at the Tokyo skyline. 

"There's something else," Alessia added, her tone shifting slightly. "Sona Sitri has requested an urgent meeting. She seems... concerned about recent events."

Of course she was. I'd effectively announced my supernatural nature to the entire supernatural world with all the subtlety of a nuclear explosion.

"Tell her I'll meet her after school tomorrow." I turned back to my desk, pulling up more reports on the reconstruction efforts.

Alessia nodded and turned to leave.

"And Alessia?"

She paused at the door.

"Thank you."

A small smile touched her lips. "Just doing my job, sir."

After she left, I sat alone in my office, thinking about how quickly everything had changed. In a single night, I'd gone from a hidden player in the supernatural world to a name on everyone's lips.

—

The student council room was empty when I arrived, save for Sona herself. She stood by the window, silhouetted against the afternoon light, her posture rigid. I closed the door quietly behind me, but she didn't turn.

"Do you have any idea," she said, her voice carefully controlled, "what you've done?"

I set my bag down on a chair. "Hello to you too, Sona."

She turned then, violet eyes sharp behind her glasses. "Don't. This isn't the time for your usual deflections."

"What do you want me to say?"

"The truth would be a good start." She crossed her arms. "A flaming sword that made even my sister nervous. The Kavacha and Kundala—divine armor that was supposed to be lost centuries ago. And power enough to fight the Governor-General of the Grigori to a standstill."

She shook her head. "I knew you were strong, Leon. I've always sensed that. But this..."

I walked to the chess table and sat down. "I never claimed that."

"No, you didn't." She moved to sit across from me, her movements precise, controlled. "But there's quite a difference between ‘strong' and 'wielding weapons that terrify gods.'"

"I didn't think it would matter to you."

"Not matter?" She leaned forward, voice rising slightly. "The Four Great Satans held an emergency meeting about you. My sister called me personally to ask about you. Every faction is scrambling to reassess their position now that they know what you're capable of."

That got my attention. "Serafall knows about me?"

"Of course she does." Sona's eyes narrowed. "She's the Leviathan. Did you think you could unleash that kind of power and the rulers of the Underworld wouldn't notice?"

"What did you tell her?" I was curious.

"That you're the Mishima heir I've been working with on our hospital project. That you've never shown any hostility toward the devil kind." She hesitated. "That I... trust you."

I fell silent.

"When I heard what happened in Shinjuku, do you know what my first thought was?" She continued.

I shook my head.

"I wondered if you were safe." 

Sona..

Now I feel  like shit.

"I've never met anyone like you," she continued. "Someone who challenges me intellectually. Who sees me as more than just the Sitri heiress or Serafall's little sister."

"You've always been more than that to me," I said softly.

Her eyes met mine, and for once, the careful mask she always wore slipped entirely. "What am I to you, Leon?"

The directness of the question caught me off guard. In all our conversations, all our chess matches, we'd carefully danced around this, whatever this connection between us was.

"You're..." I searched for the right words. "You're the first person in this world who made me feel like I belonged somewhere. You saw me. The real me."

"That's not a very precise answer."

"Precision isn't always possible with feelings."

"Feelings?" 

I reached across the table, covering her hand with mine. Her skin was cool to the touch, but she didn't pull away.

"Yes, feelings. Complicated, messy, completely illogical feelings that I don't know what to do with." I smiled slightly. "Especially since you're a devil heiress and I'm... whatever I am."

"A human with draconic essence, divine armor, and a world-ending sword," she supplied helpfully, but there was a hint of humor in her voice now.

"See? Complicated."

"I've never been afraid of complexity."

"No, you haven't." I squeezed her hand gently. "It's one of the things I admire about you."

"Just one?" A small smile played at the corner of her mouth.

"I could list others, but we'd be here all day." I paused. "And I suspect you still have official devil business to discuss."

She sighed, though she didn't withdraw her hand. "Yes. Unfortunately, I do. The various factions are watching you now, Leon. Some will see you as a potential ally, others as a threat."

"And the Sitri Clan?"

"That depends." Her expression grew serious again. "What are your intentions?"

"Right now? Find Kokabiel. Make him pay for my parents' deaths. After that..." I shrugged. "I haven't thought that far ahead."

"You should." Her grip tightened on my hand. "The supernatural world doesn't allow for improvisation. Alliances, territories, power balances, these things matter."

"And where do you fit in all this?"

Her violet eyes held mine. "Where do you want me to fit?"

The question was loaded with implications, possibilities that stretched far beyond our current situation.

"By my side," I said simply. "If you want to be there."

The blush returned to her cheeks, deeper this time. "That's... a significant statement."

"I mean it."

For a long moment, she just looked at me, something vulnerable and uncertain in her expression. Then, with deliberate care, she leaned across the chess table.

Her lips were soft against mine, the kiss brief but unmistakable. When she pulled back, her eyes were wide, as if surprised by her own boldness.

"I've never done that before," she admitted quietly.

"Was it okay?" I asked, equally soft.

A small smile touched her lips. "Acceptable.

I couldn't help laughing. Only Sona would analyze a kiss like a scientific experiment.

The moment hung between us, fragile and precious. For a few seconds, we were just two people acknowledging a connection that had been building for months.

Then reality intruded in the form of a knock at the door.

Sona withdrew her hand from mine, composure returning instantly as she adjusted her glasses. "Enter," she called.

Tsubaki opened the door, her expression professionally neutral. "Forgive the interruption, Kaichou, but your next appointment has arrived."

"Thank you, Tsubaki." Sona's voice betrayed nothing of our previous conversation. "I'll be with them shortly."

As Tsubaki closed the door again, Sona turned back to me. "We're not finished with this discussion. Both the official and... unofficial parts."

"I look forward to continuing both," I said, rising from my seat.

"Leon." Her voice stopped me as I reached for the door. "Be careful. Kokabiel is dangerous—more dangerous than you know."

"I will be."

"And..." She hesitated. "Come back. When it's done."

"I promise."

And I meant it.

Chapter 42

These past few days, Azazel has been avoiding me. And it was probably for the best. I was not ready to face him yet.

Still, It didn’t help what I learned in Rome. 

He knew something and I need to know.

By the time Laevateinn finished. I decided to look for him.

I found Azazel in his usual spot, a private bar on the top floor of some obscure building in Shinjuku. The kind of place that didn't exist in any directory and required three separate elevator rides to reach.

"Leon-kun! It's been a while." His face lit up with that infuriating grin as I approached his table. "What a pleasant surprise. Drink?"

"No." I slid into the seat across from him, setting my phone face-down on the table. "We need to talk."

Azazel raised an eyebrow, taking a leisurely sip from his glass. "So serious today. Did the Bible thumpers say something to upset you?"

I stared at him, letting the silence stretch uncomfortably long. His smile never faltered, but something in his eyes shifted, a wariness creeping in around the edges.

"What do you know about my parents' deaths?" I asked finally, keeping my voice level.

If the question surprised him, he didn't show it. "A terrible tragedy. Plane crash, wasn't it? You have my deepest sympathies."

"Cut the bullshit." I leaned forward. "Lightning magic. Fallen angel signature. Ring any bells?"

That got a reaction. Just a flicker, a momentary tightening around his eyes, but it was there.

"Ah," he said, setting down his glass. "I see you've been doing some digging."

"The Church had evidence. Evidence that suggests fallen angel involvement."

Azazel sighed, suddenly looking every bit the ancient being he was. "The Church has a long history of blaming us for things we didn't do, Leon-kun. It's practically a tradition at this point."

"So you're saying you know nothing about it?"

"I'm saying," he replied carefully, "that I had nothing to do with your parents' deaths."

I watched his face, looking for tells. Listening to the careful wording of his answer. Nothing to do with it. Not that he knew nothing.

"But you know something," 

Azazel twirled his glass, ice cubes clinking softly. "Leon-kun, in my position, I know many things about many events. It doesn't mean I'm involved in all of them."

"Stop dodging the question." My fingers tightened around my own glass. "Do you know who was responsible?"

He studied me for a long moment. "And if I did? What would you do with that information?"

"I'd find them," I said simply. "And make them pay."

"Ah, revenge." Azazel smiled sadly. "The most predictable of human responses. And the most destructive."

"It's not revenge," I said through gritted teeth. "It's justice."

"Is it?" He leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Or is it just anger looking for a target?"

My patience snapped.

"They were my parents," I hissed, slamming my hand on the table hard enough to make the glasses jump. "Tell me what you know."

Azazel's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're not ready for that information. Not yet."

"That's not your decision to make."

"Actually, it is." His voice hardened, all pretense of casual friendliness evaporating. “For your own protection."

Something inside me snapped. “Mine?”

The bar's lights flickered as mana surged through my system, golden energy crackling across my skin. Glasses on nearby tables shattered. The temperature in the room plummeted, then spiked.

"I don’t need your ‘protection’," I growled. "I'm done with games. Tell me the truth or—"

"Or what?" Azazel's eyes glowed faintly, his own power stirring in response to mine. "You'll throw a tantrum? Attack the Governor-General of the Grigori? That would be... unwise."

"I don't care who you are." The mana was flowing freely now, golden light pouring from my eyes. "I will have answers."

Azazel stood slowly, his casual demeanor gone. "Walk away, Leon. Cool down. We'll talk when you're thinking clearly."

"NOW!" I roared, my voice resonating with power.

The entire bar trembled. Windows cracked. Bottles behind the counter exploded one after another.

Azazel's expression darkened. "You're making a mistake."

"The only mistake was trusting you."

I reached for the Kavacha and Kundala, calling them from my inventory. The divine armor materialized around me in a flash of golden light, piece by piece locking into place with a sound like distant thunder.

Azazel's eyes widened in genuine shock. "That's... impossible. Those artifacts were lost centuries ago."

I stood before him, fully armored, mana crackling around me like lightning. The black material gleamed in the dim light, etched with ancient runes that pulsed with power.

"Last chance," I said, my voice echoing metallically through the helmet. "Tell me what you know."

Azazel's surprise faded, replaced by something more dangerous, calculation. "So the dragon has teeth after all." Light gathered around his shoulders. "Very well. If this is the lesson you need to learn..."

Twelve wings, black as midnight, tipped with violet, unfurled from his back, shattering what remained of the ceiling. His casual clothes dissolved, replaced by ornate battle robes that seemed to absorb the light around them.

"I tried to do this the easy way," he said, power gathering in his palm. "Remember that."

I shifted into a fighting stance, channeling mana into my limbs. "No more secrets. No more lies."

"Very well."

He moved.

I barely saw it, just a blur of motion, a displacement of air, before his fist connected with my chest. Even through the armor, the impact felt like being hit by a freight train. I crashed through the wall, through concrete and steel, before my body carved a trench into the rooftop of the adjacent building.

I rose slowly, the armor absorbing much of the damage. Azazel hovered at the edge of the hole, wings spread wide, watching me with ancient eyes.

"Still want to play?" he called.

I answered with action.

Mana Burst exploded through my legs, launching me forward with enough force to shatter the rooftop beneath me. I closed the distance in an instant, fist cocked back, golden energy spiraling around my arm.

Azazel raised a hand, a shield of light forming, but I was faster than he expected. My fist crashed through his barrier, connecting with his jaw in an explosion of golden energy that lit up the night sky.

The impact sent him flying backward, crashing through several buildings before disappearing from sight. The shockwave from the blow shattered every window within a half-mile radius.

For a moment, everything was silent.

Then the night exploded with light as Azazel rocketed back, a look of genuine shock on his face. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"That... actually hurt," he said, sounding more surprised than angry. "What are you really, Leon Mishima?"

I didn't answer with words. Instead, I channeled more power through the armor, golden light blazing from every seam. The dragon's essence within me roared to life, hungry for battle after being constrained for so long.

Azazel hurled a spear of light, his signature weapon, directly at my chest. I caught it with one hand, the divine armor allowing me to grip the energy weapon without harm. With a flex of my fingers, I shattered it into a thousand fragments of light.

His eyes widened. "Impossible."

I launched myself at him again, faster this time. We met in mid-air, the collision creating a thunderclap that echoed across the city. For several seconds, we exchanged blows at speeds no human eye could follow, each impact releasing shockwaves that cracked concrete and bent steel.

I caught his fist mid-strike, stopping it cold. "Now tell me what you know."

Azazel tried to pull away, but I held firm. Surprise flickered across his face again, genuine this time, not the calculated reactions he usually displayed.

"You shouldn't be this strong," he muttered.

"Yet here we are." I tightened my grip, and he actually winced.

He unleashed a point-blank wave of light energy, a desperate move to create distance between us. I released him and rode the blast backward, landing on my feet at the edge of the building.

Azazel hovered thirty feet away, reassessing me with those ancient eyes. A deep gash ran across his cheek, and his robes were torn in several places. Despite the damage, there was still that arrogant confidence in his posture, the certainty of a being who had survived millennia of battles.

"Last chance. Tell me everything now."

Azazel remained silent, his eyes calculating. Did he think I couldn't kill him? That I'd already shown him everything I had?

"So that's how it is."

I didn't want to do this. But he'd left me no choice.

"I didn’t want to do this," I said, my voice low. "But you left me no choice."

I reached into my inventory and wrapped my fingers around the hilt of a weapon I'd been saving—a weapon that had just finished manifesting days ago.

"You think I showed you everything?" I pulled my hand out, drawing the sword in a single, fluid motion.

Laevateinn emerged in a blaze of apocalyptic fire.

—

Azazel’s POV

Azazel had expected many things from this confrontation.

The armor had been a surprise, Kavacha and Kundala were supposed to be lost centuries ago, mere legends in the annals of divine history. The boy's strength was shocking too, far beyond what he had shown.

But this? This was impossible.

The sword in Leon Mishima's hand was unmistakable. Wreathed in flames that shouldn't exist in this reality, its blade carved from material no mortal forge could produce. The heat it radiated wasn't just physical, it was conceptual, the very idea of fire given form and purpose.

Laevateinn.

The World-Ender. The Flame-Sword of Surtr. The weapon prophesied to burn Yggdrasil itself at Ragnarök.

For the first time in millennia, Azazel felt something he'd nearly forgotten.

Fear.

Not concern. Not caution. Pure, primal fear.

Because that sword could kill him. Not just injure his physical form or force him to retreat, but end him completely. Erase him from existence.

"Where did you get that?" he whispered, voice barely audible over the sword's hungry roar.

Leon's eyes glowed. "Does it matter?"

The boy lunged forward, faster than Azazel could track. The sword traced an arc of molten destruction through the night air. Azazel barely managed to dodge, feeling the heat sear his wings as Laevateinn passed within inches of his face.

The building behind him wasn't so lucky. The blade cleaved through concrete and steel as if they were paper, the entire structure groaning as its support beams melted away. Seconds later, the top three floors collapsed in a roar of dust and flame.

Azazel summoned a shield of light, but even as he poured power into it, he knew it was futile. Laevateinn wasn't just a weapon—it was a concept, a primordial force that predated the very idea of "shield."

Leon attacked again, this time with a horizontal slash that sent a wave of fire cascading across the rooftop. Azazel took to the air, wings beating frantically as the heat scorched his robes and skin.

Yet even in his fear, Azazel noticed something.

Leon was holding back.

The boy could have ended this already. A direct strike with Laevateinn would have annihilated Azazel completely. Instead, Leon was attacking the space around him, driving him back, cornering him.

Azazel's back hit the remains of a wall. Nowhere left to retreat.

Leon advanced slowly, Laevateinn's flames casting harsh shadows across his armored form. "I won't ask again."

At that moment, Azazel realized how completely he had misjudged the situation. 

And now, faced with a weapon that could unmake him, Azazel understood just how catastrophic that mistake had been.

"It was Kokabiel," he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

Leon paused, the sword still raised. "Kokabiel?"

"One of my brothers. A Cadre among the fallen." Azazel's voice was steady despite the fear coursing through him. "He's... extreme in his views. Has been since the Fall."

"He killed my parents." It wasn't a question.

Azazel nodded once, grimly. "Your father was negotiating with the Church and Heaven. One that would have solidified neutral zones and made war between the three factions even more difficult."

"And Kokabiel didn't want peace." Leon's voice was cold.

"No. He wants the Great War to resume. He believes the fallen angels should have won, that we were robbed of our victory." Azazel closed his eyes briefly. "He's been planning for centuries, looking for the perfect spark to ignite the conflict anew."

"And you knew." The sword's flames intensified, responding to Leon's anger. "You knew and you did nothing."

The accusation hung between them, heavy and damning.

"By the time I confirmed it was him, it was already done." Azazel's wings drooped slightly. "I suspected, yes. But I had no proof until after your parents were already gone."

"Why protect him?" Leon demanded, taking another step forward. The heat from Laevateinn was almost unbearable now, like standing at the edge of the sun. "Why lie to me?"

Azazel looked away, something like shame crossing his ancient features.

"Kokabiel and I... we were created together. Emerged from the same divine thought at the dawn of creation." His voice grew quieter. "Before names, before Heaven, before the Fall—we were brothers in the truest sense."

He met Leon's glowing eyes through the helmet.

"I don't agree with what he did. I've been working to contain him, to limit his influence. But I couldn't... I couldn't bring myself to forsake him completely."

"So you chose him over justice for my parents." Leon's grip tightened on Laevateinn's hilt.

"I chose to handle it myself," Azazel corrected. "To find a way to stop him without destroying him. To..." He trailed off, realizing how hollow his justifications sounded.

The truth was simpler. And more shameful.

"I was weak," he admitted. "I thought I could contain the situation. Control the damage. Instead, I've only made things worse."

For a long moment, Leon just stared at him, the sword still raised. Azazel waited, wondering if this was how his millennia of existence would end—at the hands of a human boy wielding a weapon from beyond the realms.

Then, slowly, Leon lowered Laevateinn. The flames didn't diminish, but they no longer seemed to reach hungrily toward Azazel.

"Where is he now?" Leon asked.

Azazel exhaled slowly. "I have no idea. but he's gathered followers, rogue exorcists, disaffected fallen. He's making his move soon."

"And what will you do when he does?"

The question cut to the heart of Azazel's dilemma. Kokabiel was his brother, yes. But he had crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed. And now, with the power Leon had demonstrated, the situation had fundamentally changed.

"What I should have done from the beginning," Azazel said finally. "Stop him. By any means necessary."

Leon studied him for what felt like an eternity, the divine armor and apocalyptic sword creating an image more terrifying than any mere fallen angel could hope to match.

"If you're lying to me again—"

"I'm not." Azazel cut him off. "I've seen what you can do now. What you're willing to do." His eyes lingered on Laevateinn. "I'd be a fool to risk it."

As they stood amid the ruins of their battle, Azazel felt a deep, unfamiliar ache in his chest. For all his millennia of existence, he'd rarely formed genuine connections with others, especially humans. But Leon had been different. 

And now, looking into those eyes, Azazel knew with certainty that he'd lost something irreplaceable. The easy camaraderie, the grudging respect, even the sardonic banter, all gone, shattered by his own deception.

This wasn't the Leon who'd rolled his eyes at Azazel's jokes or complained about his training methods. This was someone harder, colder, forged in the fires of betrayal and loss. The boy he'd come to know, perhaps even care about in his own way, was gone.

And Azazel had no one to blame but himself.

Chapter 41

The plane ride to Rome was quiet. I'd never flown to Rome without my parents before. Now it was just me and Alessia, my new executive secretary who sat across from me reviewing documents.

"We'll be landing in thirty minutes, sir," she said, placing a tablet in front of me. "The Vatican delegation will meet us at a private airstrip."

I scrolled through the briefing documents.

"These Church contracts," I said, trying to focus. "What exactly are we providing them?"

Alessia glanced up from her tablet. "Primarily technology. Advanced security systems for their archives, specialized equipment for artifact preservation. Your grandfather had... unique insights into their needs."

"And why do they need me there in person? I thought everything was handled remotely."

"Normally, yes." She hesitated. "But with recent events, they're insisting on meeting the new head of Mishima Corporation face-to-face."

Recent events. Right.

"They're testing me too, aren't they?"

"Everyone is, sir." Alessia's voice was gentle but firm. "The supernatural world functions on a clear hierarchy. Your position needs to be established."

I nodded, thinking about my position. Dad never had to deal with this. As far as I knew, he'd been completely ordinary, just a normal human running an extraordinary company that straddled the supernatural world.

I studied her for a moment. I still wasn't used to her presence,  the board had insisted I needed an executive secretary "befitting my position".

She was efficient. Terrifyingly so. And somehow seemed to know everything about both sides of Mishima Corporation's business.

Alessia was Scandinavian – her silver-white hair usually pulled back in a tight bun and turquoise eyes that seemed to hold centuries of wisdom. She looked young, maybe mid-twenties, but I knew better. Much better.

Because I recognized her instantly. Rossweisse. A Valkyrie. Odin's bodyguard. She was hiding her identity, of course, playing the role of "Alessia".

I'd decided to play along with their charade. For now, it was more useful to have her think her cover was intact while I figured out exactly why the Norse faction had planted her in my company.

Still my thought drifted back to my dad.

Dad..

How the hell had he managed it?

The thought hit me like a freight train. My father had somehow taken over after Grandfather died and run everything smoothly. He'd navigated vampire contracts, negotiated with devils, maintained boundaries with fallen angels, all while being utterly, completely human.

"Sir?" Alessia's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, just thinking." I leaned back in my seat. "My father—how did he handle all this?”

Alessia tilted her head slightly. "Based on my knowledge. Your father was... exceptionally skilled at delegation. He maintained a network of trusted advisors for supernatural matters."

"But he was just human," 

"Yes. Which made his accomplishments all the more impressive."

"They recognized his position as your grandfather's successor. They understood the value of maintaining established relationships with Mishima Corporation." She paused. "And they feared crossing certain lines."

"Because of Grandfather's legacy?"

"Partly." Her eyes met mine. "But mostly because your father was exceptionally good at making contingencies. Everyone knew that harming him would trigger... consequences."

"What kind of consequences?"

"The kind that even gods would prefer to avoid." Her smile was thin. "Your grandfather built safeguards into the very fabric of his agreements. Dead man's switches, essentially."

Damn.

"And now?" I asked. "Do those safeguards protect me?"

"Some do," she admitted. "But you're in a transition period. The supernatural world is... reassessing."

Translation: they were circling like sharks, testing for weaknesses.

"Your father was extraordinary in his own way," Alessia said quietly, as if reading my thoughts. "But he also had years of preparation. Your grandfather made sure of that."

I hadn't. My parents' deaths had thrown me into the deep end without warning. Without the careful guidance Dad must have received.

"The Norse," I said abruptly, watching her face. "Why did they recommend you specifically?"

If she was surprised by my directness, she didn't show it. "The Norse faction has always maintained cordial relations with Mishima Corporation. When they heard of your... situation, they offered their support in the form of my services."

"Just being neighborly, huh?" I couldn't keep the skepticism from my voice.

Alessia's expression softened slightly. "It's more personal than you might think. Your grandmother was Scandinavian. Did you know that?"

I blinked, caught off guard. I knew Grandmother had been European, but the specifics weren't clear in my memory or Leon's.

"She was Norwegian," Alessia continued. "Astrid Larsen before she married your grandfather. She and Lady Frigg were... quite close. As was her friendship with All-Father Odin."

That was unexpected. "My grandmother knew Lady Frigg and Odin? Personally?"

Alessia nodded. "She was remarkable, brilliant, fearless, and surprisingly comfortable with the supernatural. She helped establish many of the Norse-Mishima agreements that still stand today."

My mind raced with this new information. Grandfather's vampire contracts and devil negotiations were one thing, but having a grandmother who was on first-name basis with the king and queen of Asgard? That put things in a completely different light.

"So this is what—repaying an old debt? Honoring my grandmother's memory?"

"The Norse don't forget their friends," Alessia said simply. "And Lady Frigg was particularly fond of your grandmother. When news of your parents' deaths reached Asgard, she personally suggested I be assigned to assist you."

"And what do they want from me?"

"For now? Your safety and success." Her expression turned serious. "They want the Mishima Corporation to remain as your grandfather and grandmother built it, a neutral zone. A buffer between competing factions."

Just like Grandfather had designed it. I wondered if Dad had felt this same pressure, the weight of maintaining a delicate balance he hadn't created.

—

The welcome party consisted of three people. Two men in simple black suits with white collars, priests, obviously, and a woman in more formal business attire. All three bowed slightly as I approached.

"Mr. Mishima," the woman stepped forward. "I'm Sister Gabriella, liaison for technological acquisitions. These are Father Moretti and Father Chen."

I shook their hands. Sister Gabriella's grip was firm, professional. The two priests were more hesitant, like they were afraid of catching something from me.

"Thank you for accommodating us on such short notice," I said, falling into the practiced corporate heir routine. "I understand there are matters requiring immediate attention."

"Indeed." Sister Gabriella gestured toward a waiting black sedan. "If you'll follow me, Cardinal Benedetti is expecting you."

Alessia tensed beside me. "Cardinal Benedetti? We were scheduled to meet with Bishop Torino."

Her expression remained neutral, but I caught the slight narrowing of her eyes. She pulled out her tablet, fingers flying across the screen. "The change wasn't in our itinerary," she noted quietly.

The priests exchanged glances.

"There's been a change of plans," Father Moretti said. "The Cardinal specifically requested to meet with Mr. Mishima personally."

Well, that wasn't suspicious at all.

The drive through Rome was surreal. Ancient ruins next to bustling cafés. Scooters zipping past buildings older than most countries. History and modernity colliding in chaotic harmony.

This was my first time being in Rome, both past and present life.

We passed through a series of security checkpoints before entering Vatican City. The guards eyed me with thinly disguised suspicion, hands resting near concealed weapons.

"Is it always this intense?" I asked Sister Gabriella.

"Security has been... enhanced recently," she replied carefully. "There have been incidents."

The car stopped in front of an unassuming building away from the main tourist areas. No signs, no markings, just weathered stone and heavy wooden doors.

"This way, please."

Inside was a stark contrast, sleek, modern offices with state-of-the-art technology. People in both religious and business attire moved purposefully through the halls.

We were led to a conference room where an elderly man in a cardinal's robes waited. He stood as we entered, leaning heavily on an ornate cane that looked more like a weapon than a walking aid.

"Leon Mishima," he said, his accent thick but his English perfect. "At last we meet."

"Cardinal Benedetti." I bowed slightly. "I wasn't expecting such a high-level reception."

"These are unusual times." He dismissed the others with a wave. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss."

Once alone, the Cardinal studied me with piercing blue eyes that seemed too sharp for his aged face.

"First, let me offer my condolences for your parents. Their deaths were... unfortunate."

"You sound like you knew them."

"I met your father once. Your mother several times." He tapped his cane against the floor. "Impressive people. Especially considering their... associations."

"You mean the business?"

"I mean their willingness to stand at the crossroads between worlds." He leaned forward. "Not many humans can do that without being consumed by it."

My guard went up instantly. This wasn't standard business talk.

"With respect, Cardinal, I was told this meeting was about contract renewals."

"It is." He smiled thinly. "But contracts between Mishima Corporation and the Holy See have never been merely about business, have they?"

Before I could answer, the Cardinal reached inside his robes and withdrew a small wooden box. He placed it on the table between us.

"Do you know what this is?"

I shook my head.

"This," he said, "is a relic detector. Specialized equipment your grandfather designed for us twenty years ago. It can sense items of supernatural origin—holy artifacts, cursed objects, demonic residue."

He opened the box. Inside was what looked like a compass, but instead of a needle pointing north, it had a small crystal suspended in the center.

"Fascinating," I said, trying to sound politely interested rather than wary. "And it still works?"

"Oh yes." The Cardinal's smile didn't reach his eyes. "In fact, it's working right now."

The crystal was spinning rapidly, glowing with a faint blue light. Pointing directly at me.

"Cardinal—"

"You see, Mr. Mishima, this device doesn't just detect relics." He closed the box with a snap. "It also reacts to beings of significant supernatural power. Angels. Devils. And occasionally..." he paused meaningfully, "dragons."

So much for keeping a low profile. They already knew.

"Is this an accusation?" I kept my voice steady.

"Merely an observation." He set the box aside. "Your grandfather was forthright about his dealings with various supernatural factions. He understood that knowledge was safety."

"And what do you want to know?"

"The nature of what you've become." His voice hardened. "And whether it represents a threat to the balance your grandfather helped maintain."

I leaned back, weighing my options. Denial seemed pointless. The detector had already outed me. But revealing too much could be dangerous.

"I'm still figuring that out myself," I said finally. "But I can assure you, I have no interest in disrupting any balances."

"Yet power like yours inevitably does exactly that." The Cardinal picked up his cane, running weathered fingers along its length. "Already there are... ripples. The vampire covens are in disarray after your little demonstration. The devil houses are watching you with great interest. Even the fallen have taken notice. Even other pantheons are watching you."

"Sounds like you have excellent sources."

"The Church has been monitoring supernatural activities for millennia, Mr. Mishima. Long before your family became involved." His eyes narrowed. "Which brings me to the real reason for this meeting."

He pulled a folder from beneath the table and slid it toward me.

"What's this?"

"Information about your parents' plane crash."

My heart jumped. I opened the folder with hands that suddenly felt cold.

Inside were photographs. Surveillance images. Flight data. And most disturbingly, close-ups of wreckage that showed clear scorch patterns.

"The official investigation ruled it mechanical failure," Cardinal Benedetti said quietly. "We believe otherwise."

I stared at the images, my throat tight. "What are you saying?"

"The pattern of damage suggests magical interference. Specifically, a targeted strike using high-level lightning magic."

"Lightning magic?"

"A specialty of certain fallen angel factions." He tapped one of the photos. "These burn patterns are distinctive. No natural lightning could create them."

Why are you showing me this?"

"Because your parents maintained a delicate balance between multiple supernatural factions. Their deaths have created a vacuum that many are eager to fill." The Cardinal's voice was grim. "Including those who may have orchestrated their murder."

"You think fallen angels killed my parents?"

"I think," he said carefully, "that you deserve to know what you're dealing with. The supernatural world is larger and more dangerous than you realize."

"And what does the Church want in return for this information?"

Cardinal Benedetti smiled. "A continuation of our existing arrangement. Perhaps expanded in certain areas."

"Such as?"

"Access to some of your more... specialized holdings. Artifacts your grandfather collected over the years that might be of interest to our scholars."

Of course. Nothing was ever free in this world. 

"I'll need to review exactly what you're requesting," I said, my mind still reeling from the photos. "And verify this information independently."

"Of course." He nodded. "Take the folder. Consider it a gesture of good faith."

I stood, tucking the folder under my arm. "Is there anything else, Cardinal?"

He looked at me for a long moment. "Just a word of advice, from someone who has watched supernatural politics unfold for decades. Be careful who you trust, Mr. Mishima."

"Noted." I turned to leave, then paused. "One more thing. If what you're saying is true, why would fallen angels target my parents specifically?"

"That, young man, is the question you should be asking everyone."

—

The return flight was silent. I sat alone in the main cabin, the folder from Cardinal Benedetti open on the table in front of me.

Fallen angels. Lightning magic. 

The door to the cabin slid open, and Alessia entered with a tablet and a fresh cup of coffee. She set both down in front of me without a word.

"Thanks," I said, more out of habit than genuine gratitude. My mind was elsewhere.

I need to talk to Azazel, and clear this once and for all.

As much manipulative and cunning that bastard is, he has nothing to gain from killing my parents.

After Laevateinn of course.

Chapter 40

That night, I couldn't sit still.

The mansion felt too quiet. Too empty. Every room reminded me of them—Dad's study where he'd explain company politics, Mom's sitting room where she'd plan charity events. Even my own room felt wrong, like I was wearing clothes that didn't fit anymore.

I needed to get out. Needed to move. Needed to hit something.

"Young master?" Hayama appeared in the doorway as I was putting on my hunting gear. The long black coat, the white wolf mask. "Are you going out?"

"Yeah." I checked my phone. Almost midnight. "Don't wait up."

"Sir..." He hesitated. "Perhaps tonight isn't the best—"

"I'm fine," I cut him off. "I need this."

He studied my face for a moment, then nodded. "Be careful."

The Tokyo streets were different at night. Darker. More honest, somehow. During the day, everything was bright and clean and fake. At night, the real city came out to play.

And so did the monsters.

I moved across the rooftops, letting my enhanced senses guide me. The city hummed with supernatural energy if you knew how to feel for it. Most humans couldn't. They'd walk right past a vampire feeding in an alley or a rogue devil hunting for souls.

Lucky them.

It didn't take long to find what I was looking for.

The scream came from three blocks away—high, terrified, cut short. I was moving before I even consciously decided to, leaping from building to building like some kind of supernatural Batman.

The alley was narrow, dark, reeking of garbage and fear. And in the middle of it, a stray devil was having dinner.

The thing used to be human once. Maybe. Now it was all twisted limbs and too many teeth, crouched over what looked like a businessman in an expensive suit. The guy was still breathing, but barely.

"Hey," I called out, landing behind the devil with a soft thud.

It turned, yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. Blood dripped from its claws.

"Another human?" Its voice sounded like grinding glass. "How convenient. I was still hungry."

I tilted my head, feeling that familiar cold rage building in my chest. "You know what? Perfect timing."

The devil lunged.

I didn't even bother dodging.

My fist caught it mid-air, mana exploding through my knuckles. The impact sent the thing flying backward into the brick wall hard enough to leave a crater.

"What—" It tried to get up, confusion and pain twisting its features.

I was already there, grabbing it by the throat and lifting it off the ground. My grip tightened, and I felt its windpipe start to collapse.

"You picked the wrong fucking night," I said quietly.

The devil clawed at my arm, trying to break free. Its talons scraped against my skin, drawing blood that healed almost instantly.

"Please—"

I punched it in the gut. Once. Twice. The third hit went completely through its torso, my fist emerging from its back in a spray of black blood.

It looked down at the hole in its chest, eyes wide with shock. "How...?"

"Because I'm angry," I said, pulling my hand free. "And you're here."

The devil collapsed, twitching once before going still.

I stood there for a moment, breathing hard. The businessman was unconscious but alive—he'd wake up tomorrow thinking he'd been mugged. Lucky bastard.

My phone buzzed. A supernatural alert app Yamamoto had given me, tracking unusual energy signatures across the city.

Three more strays. All active. All hunting.

"Perfect," I muttered, wiping blood off my hands.

The next one was in Shibuya, stalking a group of college students outside a club. This one looked more human—just pale skin and red eyes, dressed in clothes that had seen better decades.

"Excuse me," I called out as it cornered the students in an alley.

The devil turned, hissing. "This is my territory, whelp. Find your own prey."

"Actually," I said, cracking my knuckles, "you're my prey."

It moved fast. Devilishly fast. But I'd been training with Vali, and compared to the White Dragon Emperor, this thing was moving like a snail.

I caught its wrist as it tried to claw me, twisted, and broke the arm at three different points. The devil screamed, a sound like breaking glass.

"Shh," I said, grabbing its head with both hands. "You'll wake the neighbors."

I twisted. Hard.

The head came off with a wet pop.

Two down.

The third stray was different. Smarter. It had holed up in an abandoned warehouse in the industrial district, probably sensing that something was hunting its kind.

Too bad for it, I was really getting into the groove now.

I kicked the warehouse door off its hinges, the metal shrieking as it flew across the empty space.

"Come out, come out," I called, walking into the darkness. "I know you're in here."

Something moved in the shadows above me. I looked up just as the devil dropped from the rafters, all claws and fury.

I caught it by the ankle and slammed it into the concrete floor hard enough to crack the foundation.

"That's three," I said, standing over the broken body. "Anyone else want to play?"

Silence.

Disappointing.

I made my way back across the city, feeling more centered than I had in days. The rage was still there, burning in my chest like a coal. But it felt... focused now. Useful.

My parents were dead. Murdered by someone and until I found out who, every stray devil, every monster that thought it could hurt innocent people was going to pay the price.

Not justice. Not heroism.

Just anger with a target.

The mansion was dark when I got back, Hayama having retired for the night. I cleaned up in my bathroom, washing the blood from my hands and clothes.

In the mirror, I looked... different. Harder, maybe. 

My phone buzzed with a text from Sona: "Are you alright?"

I stared at the message for a long moment, then typed back: "Fine. Just tired."

I set the phone aside and lay down on my bed, still fully dressed. Tomorrow I'd go back to school, sit through classes, play chess with Sona, pretend everything was fine.

—

The next morning brought the kind of corporate bullshit I was really not in the mood for.

I was sitting in the main conference room, pretending to listen to some board member drone on about quarterly projections, when Yamamoto slipped me a note.

Unexpected visitors. Conference room B. Now. Old friends.

Old friends. That was code for 'people we've dealt with before who are about to become a problem.'

I excused myself from the meeting, ignoring the disapproving looks from the suits around the table. Let them think I was just a grieving kid who couldn't handle the pressure. Better that than the truth.

Conference room B was smaller, more private. The kind of place we held meetings that never appeared on any official schedule.

Three people were waiting for me. Hayama stood near the window, his usual perfect posture just a bit too stiff. He caught my eye and gave the slightest shake of his head.

Not good.

"Leon Mishima," the woman in the center said, standing as I entered. She was tall, elegant, with silver hair and eyes like winter storms. Pale skin that looked like it had never seen sunlight. "My condolences on your loss."

"Thanks," I said, not moving from the doorway. "And you are?"

"Lady Evangeline Ashford," she replied with a practiced smile that showed just a hint of fang. "Though I believe your grandfather knew me as Eva."

Vampire. The other two as well.

The guy to her left was younger looking, maybe appeared to be in his thirties, but with eyes that were way too old. The woman on the right had dark hair and the kind of beauty that felt dangerous to look at directly.

"We've been business partners with your family for quite some time," Lady Ashford continued. "Your grandfather was... accommodating to our needs."

"What can I do for you?" I asked, staying right where I was.

Hayama cleared his throat. "Lady Ashford, perhaps we should review the existing agreements before—"

"The old agreements died with Takeshi," she cut him off, not even looking his way. "We're here to discuss new terms."

"New terms?"

"We've been very patient, Leon," the male vampire spoke up, his voice carrying centuries of arrogance. "Your family has provided... adequate services over the years. Blood banks with clean supplies. Discrete transportation. Safe houses."

"And in return, we've allowed Mishima Corporation to operate in our territories without interference," Lady Ashford added. "A mutually beneficial arrangement."

"But now circumstances have changed," the dark-haired woman said, speaking for the first time. Her voice was like honey over broken glass. "You're seventeen years old, Leon. Hardly equipped to honor the commitments your grandfather made."

I felt my jaw clench. "Get to the point."

Yamamoto stepped forward. "Young master, perhaps I should explain the historical context—"

"A mere mortal should know his place," Lady Ashford's voice cut through the air like ice. 

The male vampire's lips curled back in a sneer. "Perhaps we should remind this servant of the hierarchy."

He moved faster than human eyes could follow. His hand shot out, fingers curved like claws, aimed straight at Yamamoto’s throat.

I moved faster.

My fist caught the vampire's wrist mid-strike. The crack of breaking bone echoed through the room. He screamed—a high, inhuman sound that made the windows vibrate.

"Touch him," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper, "and I'll rip your fucking head off."

The vampire tried to pull away. I squeezed harder. His wrist bent at an unnatural angle.

"You dare—" Lady Ashford started.

"Shut up." I didn't look away from the male vampire's face. Watched his expression shift from arrogance to pain to fear. "Yamamoto speaks for this family. He's earned that right."

"Release Viktor immediately," the dark-haired woman hissed, fangs extending. "He was merely correcting an insolent servant—"

"Make me."

Heat crawled up my arm. Golden light leaked from where my fingers wrapped around Viktor's broken wrist. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. He whimpered.

Lady Ashford's eyes went wide. "What are you?"

I smiled. Let them see teeth that were too sharp. "Someone you shouldn't have fucked with."

Viktor dangled from my grip like a broken doll.

"You know what your problem is?" I walked around the table toward Lady Ashford. Each step deliberate. "You think I'm some helpless kid."

Viktor's feet dragged across the carpet. He tried to pry my fingers loose with his good hand, but my enhanced strength made it impossible.

"Release him this instant," Lady Ashford demanded, but her voice shook. She kept staring at Viktor's mangled wrist. "You don't understand what you're dealing with."

"No," I stopped three feet from her, "you don't understand what you're dealing with."

I let my mana flow. Just a little at first.

The air in the room changed instantly. Pressure built like an incoming storm. The vampires' eyes went wide as my overwhelming mana washed over them in waves.

"Impossible—" the dark-haired woman started, then her words died in her throat.

"Here's what's going to happen." I released more mana, letting it pour out of me like a dam bursting.  "You're going to honor the original contracts. Every. Single. One."

"What are you?" Viktor whispered, his face pale as death. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite vampires not being able to sweat.

"Your new boss." I smiled, letting even more mana bleed out. The air shimmered around me like heat waves. "And if any of you ever threaten my people again, I'll personally hunt down every member of your bloodline."

Yamamoto pressed himself against the far wall. I could see him struggling to breathe under the weight of my mana.

"You have sixty seconds to get out." I lifted Viktor higher, my overwhelming energy making the air itself feel thick as molasses. "Starting now."

Lady Ashford tried to speak but couldn't form words. The sheer pressure of my mana was crushing down on all of them.

"Fifty seconds."

I opened my grip. Viktor collapsed, gasping like a drowning man. The vampires were on their knees now, ancient predators brought low by raw, suffocating power.

The dark-haired woman crawled toward Viktor. "We... we understand," she choked out.

"Good." 

They stumbled toward the door supporting each other. 

Lady Ashford managed one last look back. "We... we'll honor... the contracts."

The door slammed behind them.

"Sir," Yamamoto said carefully, "are you alright?"

I let out a long breath, feeling my mana settle back into my core. 

"Yeah. Just needed to make a point."

He moved to the window, watching three figures hurry across the courtyard below. 

"They've been testing boundaries since your grandfather died. I believe they understand the new ones now."

"Tell me about the agreements," I said, slumping back into my chair. 

Yamamoto pulled a thick folder from his briefcase. "Your grandfather's vampire contracts. Lady Ashford's coven controls most of the blood trade in Western Europe. Clean supplies, voluntary donors, medical-grade processing."

"And we facilitate this, why?"

"Because the alternative is them ripping throats out in back alleys." He set the folder in front of me. "Takeshi-sama believed in managed chaos. Give them what they need through legitimate channels, and they stay out of the headlines."

I flipped through the documents. Supply chains, shell companies, distribution networks spanning half of Europe. My grandfather had built an empire on keeping monsters fed.

"What did they actually want?" I asked.

"Control," Yamamoto said simply. "They've been our suppliers for decades. Now they want to flip the script—make us their subsidiary instead of the other way around."

"How many other factions are circling?"

"Seventeen at last count." His voice went grim. "Devils, fallen angels, various god pantheons, a few dragon clans. Everyone wants a piece of what your family built."

I closed the folder with a snap. "And they all think I'm weak."

"They think you're young. There's a difference." Yamamoto moved to the door, checking the locks. "But after today's little demonstration, word will spread. That should buy us some breathing room."

"Or paint a bigger target on our backs."

"Perhaps. But better to be feared than pitied." He returned to his chair. "There's something else. Your travel arrangements for Rome have been finalized."

Right. Rome. The Vatican had been sending increasingly urgent messages about contract renewals. Something about changes in Church policy that couldn't wait.

"When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning, sir. The jet is fueled and ready."

I nodded.

Chapter 39

I didn't sleep that night. Couldn't.

Instead, I sat in Dad's office - my office now - going through everything .

By morning, I had three cups of cold coffee and a growing list of questions that needed answers.

The official crash report was on my desk when Hayama brought breakfast I wouldn't eat. Pilot error, they said. Sudden storm, mechanical failure, tragic accident.

Bullshit.

I'd been on that plane dozens of times. Dad had trained with the best pilots money could buy. The maintenance records were perfect. And storms don't just appear out of nowhere over the Pacific without any weather service detecting them.

"Hayama," I called, not looking up from the report.

He appeared instantly, like he'd been waiting right outside. "Yes, young master?"

"I need to talk to our head of security. And I want the real employee files - not the sanitized versions."

He nodded without hesitation. "I'll arrange meetings with the supernatural personnel immediately, sir."

An hour later, I was sitting across from Yamamoto-san, our head of security. Normal-looking guy in his forties, expensive suit, calm demeanor. 

"You wanted to see me, Mishima-sama?" His voice was respectful, but his eyes were calculating.

"I want to know what really happened to my parents."

He didn't even pretend to misunderstand. "The official report-"

"Is garbage." I leaned forward. "You're not human, are you, Yamamoto-san?"

"So you are already aware of the supernatural, Mishima-sama.” A slight smile. “I am Yokai, actually. Tengu, but we've served the Mishima family for three generations."

"Then you understand why I need the truth."

His expression grew serious. "There were... irregularities. The flight plan was changed last minute. The storm appeared suddenly in an area of clear skies. The wreckage..." He hesitated.

"What about the wreckage?"

"Too complete. When planes crash in storms, debris spreads over miles. This was... contained. Almost like something gathered it all in one place."

My hands clenched into fists. "Magic."

"Likely. But proving it would be..." He spread his hands. "Difficult. The supernatural world has ways of covering its tracks."

Before I could respond, my office door opened. I was about to snap at whoever had walked in without permission when I froze.

Azazel walked in, looking exactly like he always did - casual clothes, easy smile, hands in his pockets. But something was different about his timing.

"Leon-kun," he said, his voice unusually gentle. "I heard about your parents. I'm truly sorry for your loss."

I stared at him for a moment.

Should I ask him for help? The thought crossed my mind immediately. Azazel had resources, connections, knowledge of the supernatural world that I desperately needed. If anyone could help me investigate my parents' death, it would be him.

But something held me back. Call it paranoia, call it instinct, but I couldn't shake the feeling.

What if he's involved? What if this is all part of some plan?

The thought made my stomach twist, but I couldn't ignore it. 

"Thank you,"

Azazel's expression softened. "How are you holding up?"

"As well as can be expected." I kept my voice neutral, professional. "It's been... difficult."

"I can imagine." He glanced at Yamamoto, who had gone very still. "If there's anything I can do to help..."

"Actually, there is something I've been wondering about," I said.

"How did my grandfather manage it? Getting all these supernatural factions to cooperate with him?"

Azazel's eyebrows raised. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he was just a human. No powers, no special abilities. How did he convince devils and angels and gods to work together? To trust him with their secrets?"

A smile tugged at Azazel's lips. "Ah, that. Your grandfather was remarkable, but he didn't do it alone."

"What do you mean?"

"Your grandmother, Astrid Mishima. She was... special."

Grandma? My memories of her was vague to be honest.

I leaned forward. "Special how?"

"She was a Longinus wielder. Specifically, the Zenith Tempest."

I froze, I didn’t expect that. 

A Longinus. One of the thirteen most powerful Sacred Gears in existence. Tools capable of killing gods.

"She was powerful," Azazel continued. "She was unlike its previous wielders. And she was more than that, she had connections. Favors owed from different factions. She saved a lot of important people over the years."

"And when she married Grandpa?"

"Those connections became his. Those favors became leverage. That's how he was able to build the arrangement. Not through strength or intimidation, but through old debts and mutual respect."

It made sense. Perfect sense. And it explained why the supernatural world had accepted the Mishima family as neutral ground.

"I see," I said. "That explains a lot."

But even as I nodded and asked follow-up questions, I was watching Azazel carefully. Looking for tells, for signs, for anything that might give away what he really knew.

And I found... nothing.

Azazel's expression was perfectly genuine. His concern seemed real. His body language gave away nothing suspicious. Every micro-expression, every subtle tell I'd learned to read - they all pointed to someone who was exactly what he appeared to be.

A mentor offering support to his grieving student.

If Azazel was hiding something, I wouldn't be able to tell. Not with my limited experience reading supernatural beings. He'd been playing these games since before my great-great-great-grandparents were even born.

The guy's lived for millennia. He's had centuries to perfect the art of deception.

"Thank you," I said as he prepared to leave. 

"Of course, Leon-kun. I'm here whenever you need me."

After he  and Yamamoto left, I sat in silence for a long time.

I closed my eyes and reached into my Celestial Workshop, checking on my queue.

And there was Laevateinn.

Manifestation time remaining: 14 days.

It felt like forever. I needed to get stronger. Fast.

I pulled up my Workshop again, staring at the timer. Laevateinn was using all three slots to speed things up. But what if I could push it harder? Force it somehow?

Come on. There has to be a way.

I reached deeper into the Workshop, past the floating tools and glowing blueprints. Into the core where thoughts became real things.

I need power. I need it now.

The Workshop hummed around me. For a second, I thought something shifted. Like maybe the rules could bend if I wanted it bad enough.

But then everything snapped back. Same timer: 14 days.

Damn it.

Fine. If I couldn't speed up the sword, I'd work on everything else. Double my training. Triple it. Push my body until it broke, then push harder.

I sighed.

Two weeks. Just two more weeks. 

Then.

Revenge.

I opened my eyes, staring out at the skyline. Somewhere out there were the people who had killed my parents. 

They had no idea what was coming for them.

Just fourteen more days.

Then the real hunt would begin.

–

A week later, I finally returned to school.

A week of board meetings, legal paperwork, and corporate damage control. A week of pretending I knew what I was doing while the vultures circled. A week of barely sleeping, barely eating, barely functioning as I tried to hold together an empire.

But the company is stable now. 

Walking through the gates of Kuoh Academy felt surreal. Like stepping back into a world that didn't matter anymore.

The stares started immediately. Whispers followed me down the hallway.

"That's Leon Mishima..."

"His parents died in that plane crash..."

"He looks terrible..."

"Poor guy..."

I kept my face blank, ignoring them all. 

The classroom fell silent when I entered.

"Leon..." As I took my seat, I heard Issei.

"Hey, man. Good to have you back."

I looked at him. His usual goofy grin was gone, replaced by something like genuine concern.

"Thanks." 

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say more, then seemed to think better of it. The rest of class, he kept shooting worried glances my way.

During lunch, I made my way to the roof, carrying the elaborate bento Hayama had prepared. 

Koneko was already there, sitting in our usual spot. She looked up when I approached, those golden eyes taking in my appearance without comment.

I sat down beside her, opening the bento box. The food looked perfect, as always. But I had no appetite.

We sat in complete silence. She just sat there, her presence a comfort beside me.

I pushed food around in the box, managing a few bites. 

After a while, she reached over and patted my head once. Gentle. Simple. The way she always did.

But this time, the touch carried something different. Comfort. Support. Like she was saying everything she couldn't put into words.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

She nodded once, then went back to eating like nothing had happened.

But I could feel her watching me sometimes. 

When the bell rang, she stood up and waited while I packed away.

"Tomorrow," 

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

----

Author's Note:

So any suggestions on what item/weapon/armor you would like to see next?

Chapter 38

I was in my study that evening, staring at papers I couldn't read, when Hayama knocked softly.

"Young master? Miss Shitori is here to see you."

Sona. I'd forgotten we were supposed to meet about the hospital thing. The thought of trying to talk business right now made me feel tired.

"Tell her I'll call her later," I said without looking up.

"I... already tried, sir. She said no."

Of course she did. Sona never gave up easily.

"Fine. Send her in."

The door opened, and Sona walked in. She wasn't wearing her school uniform or fancy clothes. Just a dark sweater and jeans, her hair down. She looked... different. Softer.

"I brought tea," she said quietly, putting a thermos and cups on the table. "And I canceled our meeting."

I blinked. "What?"

"The hospital project. I moved it to next week." She poured tea into both cups. "I'm not here for business, Leon."

Something in her voice made me really look at her. Her purple eyes were watching me with an expression I'd never seen before - gentle, worried, almost... caring.

"Then why are you here?"

"Because you're hurting." She sat down across from me, holding her tea. "And because I... I care about you."

The words hit me hard. I'd been trying to hold it together for days, pretending to be the strong heir even when everything inside was falling apart.

"I'm fine,"

"No, you're not." Her voice was soft but sure. "Leon, you don't have to pretend with me."

I stared at her, feeling something crack inside my chest. All the walls I'd built up, the mask I'd been wearing - it all felt so heavy.

"I don't know what I'm doing," I whispered.

She didn't say anything. Just waited.

"They taught me everything. Every part of the business, every person, every plan. Dad would explain board meetings to me after, tell me about the politics, the supernatural stuff, how to read people." My voice was getting shaky. "I thought I was ready. I thought I got it."

"But?"

"But I can't think straight. I sit in those meetings and all I can think about is how he should be there, not me. How he'd know what to say, what to do." I put down my pen with shaking hands. "I'm seventeen, Sona. I'm seventeen and I'm supposed to run a company worth billions, deal with supernatural politics I barely understand, and I can't even get through a simple meeting without falling apart."

The words hung between us. I'd never said that to anyone - not even to myself.

Sona put down her tea and came around the desk. Before I could react, she was kneeling beside my chair, her hands covering mine.

"Leon," she said softly. "Look at me."

I did, and saw something in her eyes that made my breath catch. Not pity. Not the cold interest I'd gotten used to from other devils. Just... warmth. Understanding.

"You're not supposed to have all the answers right now," she said. "You're hurting. Your parents just died, and everyone expects you to step right into their place. That's not fair."

"But the company-"

"Will be okay while you figure things out." Her grip on my hands got tighter. "You're not alone in this. You have people who want to help."

"Like who?" The question came out bitter. "Board members who think I'm just a kid? Supernatural people who probably think I'm weak?"

"Like me." The words were barely a whisper. "You have me."

Something broke open in my chest. All the pain, the fear, the loneliness I'd been carrying - it all came rushing out at once.

I started crying. Not quiet tears like at the funeral, but ugly, gasping sobs that shook my whole body. All the hurt I'd been holding back, trying to be strong, trying to be good enough for my parents.

Sona didn't say anything. She just pulled me forward, wrapping her arms around me as I completely fell apart. Her sweater was soft against my face, and she smelled like vanilla and something that was just her.

"I miss them so much," I choked out between sobs. "I miss them and I'm scared I'm going to mess up everything they built."

"You won't," she said firmly, one hand stroking my hair. "You're stronger than you think, Leon. I've seen it."

I don't know how long we stayed like that - me crying into her shoulder while she held me, whispering quiet words. Eventually, the crying stopped, leaving me empty but somehow lighter.

I pulled back slowly, suddenly aware of how close we were. Sona's face was inches from mine, her eyes soft with worry and something deeper I didn't want to think about.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"You don't need to thank me." She reached up, brushing away my last tears with her thumb. "This is what people do for each other. What... what friends do."

The word 'friends' hung between us, heavy with all the things we weren't saying. The way she was looking at me, the way my heart was racing even through the grief - this felt like more than friendship. But neither of us was ready to say it yet.

"I should go," she said softly, but she didn't move.

"Stay," I said before I could stop myself. "Please. Just... for a little while."

She nodded, going back to the chair beside me. We sat quietly, drinking our tea as it got dark outside.

For the first time since Hayama told me the news, I didn't feel completely alone.

My phone buzzed on the desk, breaking the quiet. A new message.

I almost ignored it - I'd been getting sympathy calls and business stuff all week. But something made me pick it up.

The message was from Dad's phone. 

My blood went cold. I stared at the screen, not breathing.

"Leon?" Sona's voice seemed far away. "What is it?"

I couldn't answer. Couldn't move. Just stared at that impossible message from a dead man's phone.

The preview showed only the first few words: "Son, if you're reading this..."

I stared at the phone screen, my hands shaking.

"Leon?" Sona's voice was full of worry. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't look at her. Couldn't think straight. A message from Dad's phone.

"I need..." I started, my voice cracking. "I need you to leave. Please."

"Leon-"

"Please." I finally looked up at her, and whatever she saw in my face made her step back. "I need to be alone right now."

She hesitated, clearly not wanting to go. But something in my expression must have convinced her.

"Okay," she said softly. "But call me if you need anything. Anything at all."

I nodded, not trusting my voice. She gathered her things and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

The moment she was gone, I grabbed my phone with trembling fingers and opened the message.

Son, if you're reading this, then your mother and I are dead.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I had to read them three times before they sank in.

I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry you have to go through this. I set this message to send automatically if something happened to us. I hoped I'd never need it.

My vision blurred. I wiped my eyes and kept reading.

There are things I never told you. Things I should have prepared you for, but I wanted to keep you safe. I wanted you to have a normal life as long as possible.

The world isn't what it seems, Leon. There are things out there - supernatural things. Devils, angels, fallen angels and gods. They're real, and they're part of our business. Your grandfather made deals with them long ago. That's how Mishima Corporation became what it is.

I stopped breathing. He knew. Dad knew about the supernatural world.

Your mother didn't know. I kept her out of it to protect her. She died not knowing the truth, and maybe that's for the best. Some knowledge is too dangerous.

But you need to know now. You need to understand what you've inherited. Not just a company, but a responsibility. A balance that's kept the peace for decades.

My hands were shaking so hard I could barely hold the phone.

If you're reading this, we probably didn't die in an accident. I can't say more but be careful, son. Trust no one completely. Not even those who claim to want to help.

The room felt like it was spinning. They were murdered. My parents were murdered.

I know this is overwhelming. I know you're scared and angry and lost. But listen to me carefully - your life matters more than the company. More than any deal or responsibility or legacy.

If it gets too dangerous, if you feel like you're in over your head, walk away. Sell the company. Leave Japan. Live a quiet life somewhere safe. I would rather have you alive and poor than dead and rich.

Tears were streaming down my face now.

You're stronger than you know, Leon. Smarter than you give yourself credit for. But you're also my son, and all I've ever wanted is for you to be happy and safe.

I love you. Your mother loved you. Whatever happens next, remember that. Remember that we were proud of you. That we believed in you.

But most of all, remember that your life is worth more than anything else. Don't throw it away for a company or a legacy or anyone else's expectations.

Be safe, son. Be smart. And if you can't be both, choose safe.

All my love, Dad

I let the phone drop onto the desk and buried my face in my hands.

They were murdered. My parents were murdered because of the supernatural world I'd been diving deeper into every day. The very world I'd been training for, preparing for, thinking I could handle.

And Dad had known. He'd known about devils and angels and all of it, but he'd kept it from me. Kept Mom from knowing. Tried to protect us both.

But it hadn't been enough.

The message was clear - he'd suspected something might happen. Had prepared for it. And his last words to me weren't about the company or responsibility or carrying on the family legacy.

They were about staying alive.

Your life matters more than the company.

The words echoed in my head as I sat there in the dark, crying for parents who'd died trying to keep me safe from a world I was already neck-deep in.

A world that had just become infinitely more dangerous.

I cried until there were no more tears left. Until my chest felt hollow and my eyes burned. I cried for my parents, for the life we'd never have, for the innocence I'd lost.

And when the tears finally stopped, something else took their place.

Cold. Hard. Absolute rage.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand and stood up slowly. My reflection in the dark window looked different somehow. Older. Harder.

"This is the last time," I said to the empty room, my voice hoarse but steady. "The last time I cried. “

I picked up my phone and deleted the message. Whatever Dad had been afraid of, whoever had killed them, they thought they were dealing with a grieving teenager. A normal human boy who'd inherited more than he could handle.

They were wrong.

My mind started racing, going through possibilities. Who would want my parents dead? Who would benefit from destabilizing Mishima Corporation?

The Khaos Brigade. Those terrorists loved chaos, loved destroying the balance that kept the supernatural world stable. Our company was a perfect target.

Devils. Maybe someone who thought they could take over our supernatural contracts if the human leadership was gone.

Fallen angels who disagreed with Azazel's involvement. 

Even ambitious gods who saw our neutral stance as a threat to their own power plays.

The list was endless. Without evidence, I couldn't be sure who had pulled the trigger. Could be any of them. Could be all of them working together.

But I was sure of one thing.

Whoever was responsible for this.

They had no idea what they'd unleashed.

I didn't care if it was gods or devils or the entire supernatural world.

They were going to die.

All of them.

Chapter 37

The reality of it crashed over me in waves, each one stronger than the last. My chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

They were gone. Actually gone.

Not just away on business this time. Not just missing another dinner or school event. Gone forever.

I'd never hear Dad's laugh again. Never see Mom roll her eyes at his bad jokes. Never sit awkwardly through another family dinner where they asked about school and I gave vague answers about classes I barely paid attention to.

A sound escaped me, half laugh, half sob. God, I'd been so caught up in my supernatural training, that I'd barely spent any time with them lately. Always thinking there would be more time later. Always putting it off, telling myself they were busy with the company anyway.

And now there was no more time.

A sob escaped me before I could stop it. Then another. And suddenly, I was crying for the first time since I'd arrived in this world.

For my parents, whose lives had been cut short. For the years we'd never get. For all the conversations we'd never have.

And for myself, suddenly more alone than I'd ever been.

The irony wasn't lost on me. All my supernatural power, all my careful planning and training, and I couldn't protect the people closest to me from a simple plane crash.

What good was any of it if I couldn't save my own family?

The tears eventually stopped, leaving me hollow and exhausted. I laid back on my bed, still fully dressed, staring at the ceiling again.

My parents were dead.

And somewhere deep inside, past the shock and grief, a terrible suspicion was starting to form.

That feeling I'd had—that sense of impending doom? It hadn't been paranoia after all.

It had been a warning. One I hadn't understood until it was too late.

And now I had to wonder: was this really an accident? Or was it something else? Something connected to the supernatural world I'd been diving deeper into every day?

I didn't know. But I was going to find out.

Tomorrow, I would be the grieving son. I would talk to authorities, deal with lawyers, handle the press.

But tonight, I made a silent promise to my parents, and to myself.

If someone was responsible for this, they would pay. No matter what it took, no matter who they were.

I would make sure of it.

—

I didn't sleep.

How could I? Every time I closed my eyes, I saw their faces. 

By the time dawn crept through my windows, I was still sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at nothing.

Everything felt... empty. Like someone had hollowed me out and left just the shell behind.

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.

"Young master?" Hayama's voice, still gentle but back to his professional tone. "The authorities are here."

Right. The real world doesn't stop just because your life falls apart.

"Give me five minutes," I called back, my voice hoarse.

I splashed cold water on my face, threw on a clean shirt, and tried to look like I wasn't completely broken inside.

I was failing.

—

The next few days blurred together like some horrible dream I couldn't wake up from.

Police interviews. "No, I don't know why they changed their flight plans."

Media outside the house. "The Mishima heir declined to comment at this time."

Lawyers. So many lawyers. All of them speaking words that barely registered in my brain.

And through it all, Hayama stayed by my side. The only constant in a world that had suddenly shifted under my feet.

The funeral was the worst part.

I stood there in a black suit, watching them lower my parents into the ground. It didn't feel real. None of it felt real.

Half of Japan's corporate elite showed up. Politicians. CEOs. People whose names I should have recognized but couldn't focus on.

And scattered among them, I noticed something that would have interested me more if I could feel anything beyond the hollow ache in my chest.

Supernatural beings. Lots of them.

There was a woman with an aura that felt distinctly fox-like. A tall man whose presence screamed "devil nobility." Even someone who might have been one of the actual Maou, though I couldn't bring myself to care enough to look closer.

My grandfather really had built something extraordinary. 

"Leon."

I turned to find Sona beside me, dressed in black, her expression soft with genuine sympathy.

"I'm sorry," she said simply. "They were good people."

I nodded, not trusting my voice. Her presence helped, somehow. Made the crushing weight a little more bearable.

After the service, as people started leaving, she squeezed my hand once.

"If you need anything," she said quietly. "Anything at all."

Then she was gone, and I was alone again with dirt on expensive shoes and a hole where my heart used to be.

—

The real nightmare started three days later.

I walked into the Mishima Corporation boardroom - a room I'd been in dozens of times before, sitting beside my father as he taught me the business. Now I was taking his seat.

It felt wrong. Everything about this felt wrong.

The board members looked at me with a mixture of sympathy and concern. These weren't strangers - I'd grown up knowing most of them. Had sat through meetings where Dad walked me through quarterly reports and strategic decisions.

I knew how to do this. I'd been preparing for it my whole life.

So why did everything feel so impossible now?

"Let's begin," I said quietly, opening the folder in front of me.

The quarterly reports. I'd helped compile half of these numbers just last month, working late with Dad to analyze the European markets. The data should have made sense - it always had before.

But now, staring at the spreadsheets, the numbers seemed to blur together. My mind kept drifting to the last conversation I'd had with Dad about the Yamamoto acquisition. He'd been excited about the potential, sketching out projections on his tablet while Mom rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm.

"The Yamamoto subsidiary integration is proceeding ahead of schedule," the CFO was saying. "Just as you and your father projected last quarter."

Right. The integration I'd helped plan. The projections I'd run myself.

"Good," I managed. "What about the European expansion?"

"Still waiting on regulatory approval, but the groundwork you laid with the Frankfurt office should expedite the process."

I nodded. I remembered that trip. Dad had taken me along to meet with German officials, teaching me how to navigate international regulations. He'd been proud when I'd caught a discrepancy in their filing requirements that could have delayed everything by months.

The memory hit me like a physical blow. I had to grip the edge of the table to steady myself.

"Sir?" The CFO's voice seemed to come from far away. "Are you alright?"

I blinked, realizing everyone was staring at me. My breathing had gotten shallow, my hands were shaking slightly.

"I'm fine," I lied. "Continue with the report."

But I wasn't fine. Every agenda item reminded me of something - a lesson Dad had taught me, a strategy we'd developed together, a problem we'd solved side by side. The knowledge was all there in my head, but accessing it felt like trying to think through thick fog.

"The Grigori contract renewal needs your signature," someone mentioned, sliding papers across the table.

I stared at the documents. Another thing I'd helped negotiate. Another piece of the puzzle my parents had slowly revealed to me over the years. They'd been preparing me for this responsibility, grooming me to take over when I was ready.

But I wasn't ready. Not like this. Not without them.

My hand trembled as I reached for the pen. The signature that came out barely looked like my own handwriting.

"Are there any other pressing matters?" I asked, my voice barely steady.

The room exchanged glances. They could see I was struggling, these people who'd watched me grow up in this corporate world.

"Perhaps we could table the remaining items until next week," suggested the CFO gently. "Give you time to... adjust."

I wanted to say no. Wanted to push through like my parents had taught me. But I couldn't. The grief was a weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe, impossible to think clearly.

"Yes," I whispered. "That would be... thank you."

I stood up carefully, afraid my legs might give out. "Meeting adjourned."

I walked out, leaving behind a room full of people who'd believed in me, who'd expected me to seamlessly step into my father's shoes.

I was failing them. Failing the company. Failing everything my parents had worked to build.

Hayama was waiting outside, his expression carefully neutral but kind.

"You did well, young master," he said softly.

"No, I didn't." The words came out flat. "I froze up in there. I couldn't focus on anything."

"You're grieving," he said simply. "Your parents would understand."

The mention of my parents made my throat tighten. "They spent years preparing me for this. Teaching me everything I needed to know. And now when it matters most, I can't..."

I couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't admit how completely lost I felt despite all that preparation.

"Perhaps," Hayama said carefully, "you need time to process. "

I looked at him. 

"I just..." I started, then stopped. "I just want them back."

The admission hung in the air between us, raw and desperate.

Hayama's expression softened. "I know, young master. I know."

And for the first time since the funeral, I let myself cry again.

Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Later that afternoon, I found myself sitting across from Sona in the student council room, a chess board between us as usual. I'd showered and changed, but couldn't completely hide the stiffness in my movements.

"You're favoring your right side," Sona observed as she made her opening move.

I smiled wryly. "Nothing escapes you, does it?"

"Very little," she agreed. "Especially when it concerns people I'm interested in."

The casual way she said it made something flutter in my chest, but her expression remained composed, violet eyes fixed on the board.

"Training accident," I explained, moving my pawn. "Got a bit carried away."

She raised an eyebrow. "Just you getting carried away? Or did someone help?"

I hesitated, then decided partial honesty was best. "Azazel brought a sparring partner."

Yes, Sona already knew I had been in contact with Azazel. After our talk the other day, I'd finally opened up to her about my supernatural "mentor" situation. I told her how Azazel had basically forced his way into my life, declaring himself my guide to the supernatural world whether I wanted one or not.

"Azazel is self-serving," she'd warned me, "but not malicious in the way many supernatural beings are. Still, be careful what you reveal to him."

That memory faded as Sona's voice pulled me back to the present.

"Anyone I know?" she asked sharply, leaning forward slightly.

"Maybe." I deliberately kept my answer vague. "Strong guy. White hair. Superiority complex you can see from space."

Her eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. "Vali Lucifer."

It wasn't a question.

Sona was silent for a moment, studying the board but clearly not focusing on the game. "Be careful with him. He's not like other devils. Power is all that matters to him—power and the thrill of testing it against worthy opponents."

"And now he thinks I might be one," I sighed. "Lucky me."

"It's not funny," she said sharply. "Getting his attention is... complicated. The White Dragon Emperor isn't someone to take lightly."

I leaned back, surprised by her intensity. "I'm being careful, Sona. I promise."

Her expression softened slightly. "Good. Just... keep it that way."

We played in silence for a few moves, the only sound the soft click of pieces against the board. I found myself watching her more than the game—the careful precision of her movements, the slight furrow of concentration between her brows.

"Can I ask you something?" I said finally.

She looked up. "Of course."

"Why does it matter to you? If I get myself in trouble with Vali or anyone else?"

The question hung in the air between us. Sona's hand paused over a bishop, then withdrew.

"Is it so strange that I'd be concerned about a friend?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

"No," I admitted. "But most devils I've met don't get concerned about humans unless there's something in it for them."

She met my gaze directly. "Then perhaps you need to meet better devils."

I couldn't help smiling at that. "Maybe I already have."

A faint blush touched her cheeks, and she quickly returned her attention to the board. "Your move," she said, but I caught the small smile she tried to hide.

As I considered my next move, I realized something had shifted between us. The careful dance of business partners and supernatural allies had evolved into something I couldn't quite define—wasn't ready to define, maybe.

But whatever it was, I found myself looking forward to seeing where it might lead.

"Check," Sona said, breaking into my thoughts.

I blinked down at the board, realizing I'd let my guard down completely. Her queen had me cornered.

"You're distracted today," she observed.

"It's been an eventful morning," I admitted, moving my king out of danger.

"Do you want to postpone?" she offered. "We could reschedule if you're too tired."

"No," I said, more quickly than I intended. "No, this is... nice. After everything else today."

Her expression softened again, and this time she didn't try to hide her small smile. "Yes, it is."

We continued playing, and for a little while, the rest of the world faded into the background. It was just Sona and me, and a chess board.

—

Two weeks.

That was how fast time flies.

I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling and mentally tracking my Workshop queue for the hundredth time. There was still a month left before Laevateinn finished manifesting. My apocalyptic trump card is still out of reach when I was starting to feel like I might need it soon.

These past few days, I'd been sparring with Vali almost every other day. The White Dragon Emperor was brutal but effective as a training partner. Each session left me bruised, exhausted, and undeniably stronger. Everyday I am getting better, my reactions faster, my techniques sharper.

But despite all that progress, something felt wrong.

It was like an itch at the back of my skull that I couldn't scratch. A nagging feeling in my gut that something was coming. Not specific enough to be a warning, just a vague sense of impending trouble that kept me up at night.

My own personal spidey sense going haywire.

I rolled onto my side, watching shadows play across the wall as a car passed by outside. Was I just being paranoid?

I checked my phone. No messages from Azazel, Sona, and from the company. Just a normal Tuesday night.

So why couldn't I shake this feeling?

I sat up, rubbing my face with both hands. Maybe I was overthinking things.

Three sharp knocks at my door cut through the silence.

"Young master?" Hayama's voice. Steady as always, but... different somehow. 

"Come in," I called, suddenly alert. Hayama never bothered me this late unless it was important.

The door opened slowly. Hayama stood there, perfectly composed as always, but his face... I'd never seen him look like that before. Pale. Almost gray. Like someone had drained all the blood from his face.

"What is it?" I asked, already standing, already knowing this was bad. Really bad.

"Young master..." Hayama began, then stopped. He took a breath, visibly steadying himself. "I'm afraid I have grave news."

The feeling in my gut intensified, cold and heavy, like I'd swallowed a block of ice.

"There's been an accident," he continued, his voice mechanical now, like he was forcing each word out. "Your parents' plane... it went down over the Pacific an hour ago."

The world seemed to tilt around me.

"What?" The word came out barely audible.

"Emergency responders are on the scene, but..." His voice cracked, the first time I'd ever heard his perfect composure slip. "There are no survivors, sir."

No survivors.

The words hung in the air between us, impossible to process, impossible to accept.

"That's not..." I started, then stopped. My brain wasn't working right. Couldn't form thoughts. Couldn't string sentences together.

"I'm deeply sorry, young master," Hayama said, and I could see that he was. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hands trembling slightly at his sides.

I realized I was still standing, frozen in place. My legs felt numb. My whole body felt numb, actually, like I was floating outside of it, watching this happen to someone else.

This couldn't be real.

My parents couldn't be dead.

They were just here last week. Dad had been complaining about the new trade regulations. Mom had been planning a charity gala. They were supposed to be in Tokyo until Friday, then fly to New York for meetings. The trip across the Pacific wasn't scheduled until next month.

"There must be a mistake," I said, my voice sounding strangely calm to my own ears. "They weren't supposed to fly out yet."

"There was an emergency board meeting called in San Francisco," Hayama explained gently. "They took the company jet this morning."

This morning.

They'd been gone before I woke up.

I hadn't even said goodbye.

I sat down heavily on the edge of my bed, the room spinning around me.

"The authorities will need to speak with you," Hayama continued, "but I've asked them to wait until morning. The company's legal team has been notified. They're already working on... arrangements."

Arrangements. Such a small, neat word for the chaos that follows death.

"Thank you," I managed, the words automatic, meaningless.

Hayama hesitated, then took a step toward me. "Is there anything I can do for you, sir? Anything at all?"

I looked up at him, this man who had served my family for decades. Who had known my parents far longer than I had in this life. His grief was as real as mine, just better contained.

"No," I said. "I just... I need some time."

He nodded, understanding. "Of course. I'll be nearby if you need me."

With a small bow, he withdrew, closing the door softly behind him.

And just like that, I was alone.

My parents were dead.

Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Azazel moved to the edge of the room, giving us space. Vali stepped forward, removing his hands from his pockets in what seemed like slow motion.

"Don't hold back," he said. "It would be insulting."

I summoned my strongest practice sword from my inventory, channeling mana through it until the blade hummed with energy. "Wouldn't dream of it."

For a moment, we just stood there, sizing each other up. The air between us felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.

Then Vali moved.

He was fast—faster than anyone I'd ever fought. One second he was across the room, the next he was right in front of me, fist cocked back for a strike.

But thanks to my enhanced senses, I could track him. Barely.

I brought my sword up to block, channeling Mana Burst through my arms and legs for extra strength. The impact when his fist met my blade sent shockwaves through the room, cracking the floor beneath us.

"Not bad," Vali said, looking genuinely surprised. "You actually saw me coming."

I didn't waste breath on a response, instead using the moment to counter with a slash aimed at his midsection. He dodged it effortlessly, but I didn't let up, chaining attacks together in a fluid sequence that would've overwhelmed most opponents.

Vali wasn't most opponents.

He weaved through my attacks like they were coming in slow motion, that bored expression never leaving his face. When he finally counterattacked, it was with a kick so fast I almost missed it entirely.

I managed to bring my arm up to block, reinforcing it with mana, but the force still sent me skidding back several feet.

"Is that all?" Vali asked, not even breathing hard.

I gritted my teeth and pushed more mana through my system, feeling my muscles tighten in response. "I'm just warming up."

This time I initiated, crossing the distance between us with a burst of speed that would've been impossible for me a week ago. My sword became a blur as I attacked from multiple angles, mixing in kicks and punches to break his rhythm.

For a brief, glorious moment, I thought I had him on the defensive.

Then his expression changed. The boredom gave way to focus, and suddenly, it was like fighting a different person entirely.

His counterattack was devastating. A series of strikes so precise and powerful that I could barely keep up with my enhanced reflexes. Each blow that connected, even when blocked, sent pain shooting through my arms.

"Better," he said as we broke apart. "But still disappointingly ordinary."

That did it.

"Ordinary, huh?" I muttered, and decided to stop holding back.

I dropped the sword, letting it clatter to the ground. Vali raised an eyebrow, clearly thinking I was giving up.

He couldn't be more wrong.

I closed my eyes for just a second, centering myself. Then I reached deep into my core, to where my mana is.

And I let it explode.

Blue-white energy erupted around me like a supernova, crackling across my skin in electric arcs. The ground beneath my feet cracked and splintered from the pressure alone.

Vali's eyes widened slightly – the first real reaction I'd gotten from him.

I didn't give him time to respond. One moment I was standing there, the next I was right in front of him, palm aimed at his chest. The mana burst I unleashed would've liquified concrete.

Vali managed to dodge – barely – but the edge of the blast caught his shoulder, spinning him halfway around.

"Finally," he said, and I caught the ghost of a smile on his face. "A real fight."

What followed was nothing like the measured sparring of before. This was raw, primal, a clash of power that shook the foundations of the training room. Each blow we exchanged carried enough force to level buildings. My mana rippled and flared with each movement, turning simple strikes into devastating attacks.

We clashed in the center of the room, his fist meeting my mana-charged palm with an impact that sent shockwaves through the air. The force of it blew us both backward, and I used the momentum to flip mid-air, landing in a crouch on the far wall before launching myself right back at him.

"You've been holding back," Vali accused, blocking a kick that would've taken a normal person's head off.

"So have you," I shot back, catching his counter-punch and using his momentum to throw him across the room.

He recovered instantly, landing gracefully on his feet. "True. But that's about to change."

I felt it then—a shift in the air, a pressure that made my ears pop. Vali's aura intensified, blue-white light beginning to shimmer around him.

Azazel's voice cut through the tension. "That's enough for now."

We both froze, turning to look at him. Azazel stood with arms crossed, watching us with an expression that mixed amusement with caution.

"As entertaining as it would be to watch you two level this entire facility," he continued, "I think we've learned what we needed to today."

Vali looked like he wanted to argue, the light around him still pulsing with barely contained power. But after a moment, it faded, and he straightened up.

"Fine," he said, eyes still locked on me.

I gradually pulled my mana back, letting the blue-white energy subside until it was just a faint glow beneath my skin. My muscles ached pleasantly, buzzing with the aftermath of channeling so much power.

"You're stronger than you look," Vali said, studying me with renewed interest. "Much stronger."

I shrugged, "I work out."

That actually got a snort from him—not quite a laugh, but close.

Azazel strolled over, looking between us with that calculating expression scientists get when examining particularly interesting lab specimens.

"Well, that was illuminating," he said. "Leon, your control has improved significantly. And your raw output..." He whistled. "Impressive for someone who only recently awakened their power."

I nodded.

"As for you," Azazel turned to Vali, "still too eager to jump straight to Balance Breaker. Not everything requires nuclear options."

Vali just shrugged, unconcerned.

"So," I said, rolling my shoulders to ease some of the tension, "same time next week?"

Both of them looked at me with surprise.

"You want to do this again?" Azazel asked.

"Why not?" I replied. "Best way to improve is to fight people stronger than you, right?"

Vali studied me for a long moment, then nodded. 

Azazel looked between us, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Very well—same time next week."

As they turned to leave, Vali paused at the door. "You're not what I expected, Leon Mishima."

"Is that a good thing?" I asked.

"We'll see." With that cryptic response, he was gone, Azazel following with a casual salute in my direction.

Once alone, I let out a long breath and slumped against the wall. Every muscle in my body ached.

I had held my own against Vali Lucifer. Not fully powered Vali, admittedly, but still. The guy who could go toe-to-toe with gods, and I hadn't been immediately flattened.

Besides, I was holding back too.

I am fully confident I would not lose should we fight for real.

Chapter 34

Chapter 34

I woke up early, staring at my ceiling while Sona's words from yesterday kept looping in my head.

Trust isn't demanded, it's earned.

Something about that made me feel warm inside. I shook my head. No time to get distracted.

"Focus, Leon," I muttered, throwing off my blankets and heading to shower.

The cold water hit me hard, waking me up instantly. Perfect. I needed a clear head today.

With Azazel gone on "business”, I had the whole day to myself. 

The underground training room was dead quiet as I locked the door behind me. 

I stripped down to my training pants and sat cross-legged in the middle of the room. 

I closed my eyes and pulled the Body of the Everflame manual from my inventory.

The book appeared in my hands. Its pages glowed with a soft golden light.

"Alright," I sighed, opening to the section I'd been stuck on for weeks. "Let's try this again."

My progress wasn't the problem—I was definitely getting stronger. I moved faster, hit harder, and healed quicker than any normal human. But something was missing. There was this barrier I couldn't break through.

According to the manual, there was a stage where the mana in my body would start actively reshaping it, making my muscles better, bones stronger, and every part of me.

But I kept hitting a wall.

"What am I missing?" I mumbled, flipping through pages I'd read a hundred times.

My eyes caught on a line I'd seen before but never really understood:

"The flame seeks not control, but surrender. In the moment of yielding, true strength is born."

Just because I created the manual using the workshop doesn’t mean I am easily able to understand it outside of it. 

"Screw it," I said, snapping the book shut. "Let's try something different."

I set the manual aside and closed my eyes, focusing on my mana core. I could feel it pulsing like a second heartbeat inside me.

Instead of pulling the mana out in controlled streams like usual, I took a deep breath and just... let go.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then—

"Holy shit!"

My eyes snapped open, but I wasn't seeing the training room anymore. Everything looked golden, like I was seeing through flame-colored glasses. I could actually see the mana now—not just feel it—flowing through my body in bright rivers of light.

"Surrender," I gasped, finally getting it. 

The mana wasn't just flowing through me anymore, it was rewriting me from the inside out. I could feel it seeping between cells, adding layers of energy to my bones, rebuilding my muscles to be more powerful.

I lost track of time. It could've been minutes or hours, I couldn't tell. But when the gold finally faded from my vision and I came back to myself, I felt... completely new.

I looked at my hands. They looked the same, but they weren't. Nothing was. Every inch of me had been forged like metal in fire.

Slowly, I stood up. The movement felt weird—too easy, too light. I felt like I should be heavier with all this power packed inside me.

"Let's test this," I whispered, turning to the reinforced training dummy in the corner.

I didn't use Mana Burst. Didn't add any extra energy. I just... moved.

My fist hit the dummy, and the impact shook the whole room. The dummy just disintegrated, sending concrete dust and steel fragments flying everywhere. This didn’t happen before.

"What the hell..." 

A laugh bubbled up, half shock and half excitement. This was what the manual was trying to tell me. Control was necessary, but surrender was transformation.

I needed to test more.

I called a simple sword from my inventory, one of the disposable steel ones I used for practice. It appeared in my hand, gleaming in the light.

Without using any active mana, I swung it through the air. The blade moved so fast it left faint afterimages. When I stopped, I looked at the sword.

The metal was glowing red-hot just from the speed of the swing.

I spent the next few hours testing everything, pushing limits I didn't know I had. Speed that let me cross the room in a blink. Strength that bent metal like paper. Reflexes so sharp I could catch falling debris mid-air.

And through it all, my mana core barely dipped despite everything I was doing.

"Fuck," I panted, not from exhaustion but from the pure rush. "I just leveled up big time."

—

The next few days were weirdly peaceful, just me training during the day and playing chess with Sona in the afternoons.

I should've known better than to enjoy it. Whenever things start feeling normal in my life, the universe seems to take it as a personal challenge to fuck everything up.

And right on cue, it delivered.

I was in the training room early Monday morning, working through the new techniques I'd discovered since my breakthrough. The place still showed signs of damage despite the hasty repairs, but at least it wasn't a complete disaster zone anymore.

"Impressive progress," came Azazel's voice from the doorway. "You've been busy while I was gone."

I turned, wiping sweat from my forehead. "I thought you weren't coming back until tomorrow."

"Plans change," he said with that irritating smirk of his. "Besides, I brought you a present."

That's when I noticed he wasn't alone.

There was someone standing slightly behind him—a guy about my age with silver hair and cold blue eyes. He was dressed in casual clothes, hands in his pockets, looking at me with the bored expression of someone forced to attend a party they had zero interest in.

But underneath that boredom was something else. Something dangerous.

The moment our eyes met, I felt it—power. Raw, ancient power that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. My mana core reacted instinctively, pulsing in response to the threat.

I knew who this was before Azazel even opened his mouth.

"Leon, meet Vali. Vali Lucifer."

Fuck.

Vali Lucifer. The White Dragon Emperor. Wielder of Divine Dividing. Descendant of the original Lucifer. Walking disaster with daddy issues.

And possibly the strongest person in my age group in the entire DxD universe.

"This is who you wanted me to meet?" Vali asked Azazel, his voice flat with disappointment. "He doesn't look like much."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Azazel chuckled. "Why don't you two get acquainted? I'm sure you'll find some common ground."

I shot Azazel a glare that could've melted steel. "What exactly is happening here?"

"Training," Azazel said simply. "You've progressed nicely on your own, but theory only gets you so far. You need practical experience against someone who can challenge you."

I raised my brow at that. To be honest, I needed it; Azazel was not a good sparring partner; our strength differences were massive.

Vali's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. Interest, maybe. Or annoyance. Hard to tell with this guy.

"I was told you might provide a decent sparring match," he said coolly. "Though I'm starting to doubt that."

The dismissal in his tone sparked something in me.

"You might be surprised," I said, matching his cool tone.

Vali's lips curved into the ghost of a smile. "I doubt it. But I'm willing to be proven wrong."

Azazel clapped his hands together, looking far too pleased with himself. "Excellent! Rules are simple: no lethal force, training area boundaries only, and I reserve the right to step in if things get out of hand."

"Wait, we're doing this now?" I asked.

"No time like the present," Azazel replied. "Unless you're not feeling up to it?"

The challenge was clear. Back down now, and I'd never hear the end of it. Plus, Vali would write me off completely.

"Fine," I said, rolling my shoulders. "Let's do this."

Chapter 33

Chapter 33

My phone buzzed the moment I left my final class of the day. Sona's name flashed on the screen, and I felt a twinge of resignation. I'd been expecting this call since my rooftop conversation with Rias.

"Yes?" I answered, stepping away from the crowd.

"My office. Now." Sona's voice was clipped, brooking no argument.

I pocketed the phone without responding. Our months of business partnership had never ventured into supernatural territory, but that barrier had clearly been broken today.

The student council room was empty except for Sona, who sat behind her desk with a chess set already arranged. No Tsubaki hovering nearby, no other council members. Just us.

"Close the door," she said, not looking up from the board.

I closed it and sat down in the chair facing her. The chess set between us was a comfortable and familiar sight; we had played many games together during our business meetings over the past few months.

She had never lost a match, although our last three games had been very close. Each time, she managed to turn the game around at the last moment.

Even though I could easily defeat her using my workshop, I chose not to. I felt that winning that way would be cheating, and I didn't want to win like that.

"Thank you for coming," she said, not looking up from the chessboard. "Please, sit."

"Black or white?"

"Your choice today," she replied, finally meeting my eyes.

I considered the board briefly. "Black."

She nodded, rotating the board so the white pieces faced her. "Very well."

She moved a pawn forward—the most common opening move. Classic, straightforward, revealing nothing.

"So what happened?" Sona asked me.

"What do you mean?" I still played ignorant, perhaps hoping she didn't know.

"Please, I already knew."

What?

Her fingers moved her bishop across the board. "I've always known you were different, Leon. From our first meeting."

Again. What?!

Perhaps seeing my expression, she continued.

"Your draconic scent. Your mana signature." She adjusted her glasses, a hint of amusement in her expression. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

I set my knight down, processing this revelation. 

My mind immediately raced to all the ways I'd screwed up.

Damn it. How could I have been so stupid?

All this time, I'd been focusing on getting stronger. Making myself more powerful. But I'd completely ignored basic concealment items. Nothing to hide what I'd become.

I was so focused on building my strength that I forgot about staying hidden. Amateur mistake. The kind that gets you killed in this world.

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

"I was waiting for you to tell me yourself." She captured one of my pawns with elegant efficiency. "Everyone has secrets worth protecting. I chose to respect yours."

Something warm and unexpected bloomed in my chest. All these months, she had known and had given me space. She was so much better than that Rias. Much better.

That level of patience and respect wasn't something I'd encountered often, especially not in the supernatural world.

"That's... surprisingly considerate," I admitted.

"Not all devils are manipulative schemers."

"Just most of them?"

"The ones you need to worry about." She studied the board. "Your move."

I advanced my knight, still thinking about her revelation. "So what changed? Why confront me now?"

"Yesterday's display made things... complicated." She looked up from the board, violet eyes meeting mine directly. "You revealed yourself to Rias. That changes the dynamic."

"And you're not happy about it."

"I would have liked to be your first confidant." She said as she captured one of my pieces. "But that was your decision to make."

"Are you jealous?" I joked with her.

"Not at all," she quickly replied, but I noticed the slight blush on her cheeks. She looked really cute.

"But it wasn't like that," I sighed. "She tried to control me, to manipulate me into working with her after I said no.

"I understand..." She grew quiet after that. "I'm sorry for what Rias did."

"Don't apologize, it's not your fault."

Then there was silence between us.

"So, you knew about Mishima Corporation's links to the supernatural world, right?" I tried to change the subject.

"Of course," she replied. "Everyone in the supernatural world knew about the deal Takeshi Mishima made."

"Your grandfather was... quite remarkable for a human."

"And yet you never mentioned it."

"It wasn't relevant to our business arrangement." She moved her queen across the board. "Or so I thought."

I leaned back in my chair. "Let's stop dancing around this. What do you want to know?"

She studied me for a long moment.

"Nothing."

Huh?

"What do you want to tell me?" She countered softly. "I don't need to know everything about you, Leon. Your secrets are yours to keep or share as you choose."

I stared at her, caught completely off guard. In a world of supernatural politics where information was currency, here was Sona Sitri—brilliant, calculating Sona—telling me she didn't need to know my secrets.

"That's... not how this usually works," I managed.

"No," she agreed, moving her rook. "It's not."

"Most people would demand answers."

"I'm not most people." Her violet eyes met mine directly. "I am a Devil."

My heart skipped a beat. Literally skipped.

"Why?" After a while, I finally asked.

She considered the question for a moment, her fingers hovering above her knight.

"Because trust isn't demanded, it's earned," she replied. "And I'd rather earn yours than force it."

The warmth in my chest spread.

Then I laughed, genuinely laughed for what felt like the first time in weeks. "You're dangerous, Sona Sitri."

"I'll take that as a compliment." She captured one of my knights with her queen. "Check."

I moved my king out of danger, studying her carefully. "Aren't you worried? About what I might be capable of?"

"Should I be?" she asked, her expression serene.

"Maybe."

"I've watched you for months, Leon," she said simply. "I've seen how you think, how you act, how you treat others. I don't believe you'd use it carelessly."

The faith in her voice was humbling. And terrifying. What if she was wrong about me?

"Your move," she reminded me gently.

I advanced a pawn, trying to rebuild my strategy. "So what happens now?"

"That depends on you." She countered my move effortlessly. "Do you want things to change between us?"

Did I? The business partnership had been working well. Our chess games had become the highlight of my week. And now there was this new understanding between us, this tentative trust.

"No," I decided. "I like what we have."

Something flickered in her eyes. Is that relief? It was gone too quickly to tell.

"As do I," she said softly.

"Though I might have questions sometimes," I added. "About the supernatural world."

"I'll answer them if I can."

"And I might need advice occasionally."

"I'll offer it when appropriate."

I smiled, feeling the tension drain from my shoulders. "So nothing changes?"

"Perhaps one thing," she said, moving her bishop. "Checkmate."

I stared at the board in disbelief. She'd trapped my king without me even noticing.

"Damn."

Sona Sitri watched Leon leave the student council room, his shoulders more relaxed than when he'd entered. She allowed herself a small smile as the door clicked shut behind him.

Despite her composed exterior, her heart was still beating a touch faster than normal. Their conversation had veered dangerously close to territory she rarely explored—trust, vulnerability, and something perilously close to genuine affection.

She hadn't planned to be so forthcoming with him. In fact, she'd spent the hour before his arrival meticulously planning a careful, measured approach to confronting his supernatural nature. 

Her fingers absently rearranged the chess pieces, resetting the board. Leon had improved considerably since their first match. A few more months, perhaps weeks,  and he might actually present a real challenge. The thought pleased her more than it should.

"Kaichou?"

Sona looked up to find Tsubaki standing in the doorway, her expression carefully neutral.

"Is everything alright?" Tsubaki asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

"Yes, why wouldn't it be?" Sona replied, perhaps too quickly.

Tsubaki's gaze flicked to the chess board and back. "Your meeting with Mishima-san... did he explain what happened with Rias-sama?"

Sona sighed. News traveled quickly in the supernatural world, especially in a territory as small as Kuoh. Of course Tsubaki would have heard about Leon's confrontation with Rias.

"We discussed it briefly," she said, adjusting her glasses. "He confirmed what we already suspected."

"That he's not entirely human?"

"That, and more." Sona's fingers hovered over a knight, remembering the way Leon had moved his pieces—bold, occasionally reckless, but always with purpose. "He's powerful, Tsubaki. More than he realizes, I think."

"Is he a threat?" Tsubaki asked, direct as always.

Sona considered the question. By any objective measure, an unpredictable power in her territory should be classified as a potential threat. The logical response would be surveillance, containment strategies, and contingency plans.

"No," she said finally. "Not to us."

"I see,"

As she turned to leave, she paused at the door.

"Kaichou... may I speak freely?"

Sona looked up, surprised. "Of course."

"In the time I've served as your Queen, I've never seen you look at anyone the way you look at him."

Heat rushed to Sona's cheeks before she could control it. "Tsubaki—"

"I'm not suggesting anything inappropriate," Tsubaki continued calmly. "I merely want to say... I think he's good for you. You seem more... yourself when he's around."

Before Sona could formulate a response, Tsubaki had slipped out the door, leaving her alone with her thoughts and a perfectly arranged chess board.

Sona sat back in her chair, letting out a slow breath. This situation was evolving in ways she hadn't anticipated. Leon Mishima had somehow slipped past her carefully constructed defenses, becoming something more complicated than a business partner, more nuanced than a potential peerage member.

A friend? Yes, but that word felt insufficient.

A potential ally in the turbulent supernatural politics of Kuoh? Certainly.

Something more?

Sona pushed that thought firmly aside. Whatever was developing between them would have to wait. The supernatural world was taking notice of Leon now, and that meant complications, dangers, and opportunities she needed to prepare for.

She picked up her phone, hesitated for a moment, then sent a brief text:

"Same time tomorrow? -S"

His reply came almost immediately:

"Looking forward to it. I might even win this time."

Despite herself, Sona smiled.

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

I walked into school with deliberate calm, head high, posture relaxed. Today was business as usual. Yesterday's incident at the café was simply that—an incident. Best to maintain my routine, keep up appearances.

The stares felt different today—more intense, more speculative. Word must have spread about me meeting with Rias, though thankfully not about what had actually happened. 

Issei wasn't there yet, which was a relief. I wasn't in the mood for his energy this morning.

Classes dragged by, each minute feeling like an hour. When the lunch bell finally rang, I headed for the rooftop as usual, the elaborate bento Hayama had prepared tucked under my arm. 

Despite everything, I was looking forward to my daily ritual with Koneko. Her quiet presence had become a necessary calm in the storm of supernatural politics.

I pushed open the door to the roof and stopped cold.

Koneko was there in our usual spot, but she wasn't alone. Rias Gremory stood near her, crimson hair catching the sunlight as she turned to face me.

My grip tightened on the bento box. "What are you doing here?"

Koneko's eyes flicked between us.

"I need to speak with you," Rias said, her voice carefully controlled. "I thought this might be... neutral ground."

I glanced at Koneko, who met my gaze steadily. There was something in her eyes—a warning? Concern?

"How did you know I'd be here?" I asked, though I already suspected.

"I've seen you two," Rias admitted. "It's hard to miss Koneko disappearing every lunch period. I... checked on her once."

Spying, in other words. Keeping tabs on her servant.

I moved to my usual spot beside Koneko, placing the bento between us. Instead of climbing into my lap as she often did, Koneko maintained a small distance, clearly sensing the tension.

"Say what you need to say," I told Rias, keeping my voice level.

"I came to apologize." She remained standing, hands clasped in front of her. "What I did yesterday was wrong. Using my influence on you—it was inexcusable."

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"It's a habit," she continued when I didn't respond. "With humans, a small suggestion is useful for smoothing negotiations, avoiding conflict."

"I came to apologize." She remained standing, hands clasped in front of her. "What I did yesterday was wrong. Using my influence on you—it was inexcusable."

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"It's a habit," she continued when I didn't respond. "With humans, a small suggestion is useful for smoothing negotiations, avoiding conflict."

"That does not excuse you," I said coldly, deciding to confront the elephant in the room.

"No," she agreed, meeting my gaze. "It does not, and I am sorry."

Beside me, Koneko shifted slightly. She already knew I wasn't normal—had probably sensed it from the beginning with those heightened nekomata senses of hers. But hearing it confirmed seemed to change something in her posture.

"My brother contacted me last night," she added. "He felt your power surge from the Underworld. That's... unprecedented."

That got my attention. Sirzechs had sensed me from another realm? I'd known I'd slipped, but not that badly.

"I haven't told him anything specific yet," Rias assured me, reading my expression. "I wanted to speak with you first."

"Why?" I challenged. "Gathering intelligence before reporting back?"

"No," she said, surprising me with her directness. "I wanted to understand if you're a threat. To my territory. To my peerage." Her eyes flicked briefly to Koneko.

"I've been here for months," I said tightly. "Attending your school. Sitting in your classes. Having lunch with Koneko every day." I gestured between us. "Not once have I caused trouble until you tried to control me."

Rias had the grace to look uncomfortable. "I made a mistake."

"A mistake?" I laughed, the sound harsh even to my own ears. "You tried to strip away my free will. To make me a puppet."

"It was wrong," she acknowledged. "And I'm sorry."

Koneko's eyes were on me now, watching intently.

"What do you want from me, Rias?" I asked, deliberately using her first name.

"Assurance," she replied. "That you're not a threat. That whatever power you possess won't endanger this town or its people."

"I have no interest in your territory," I said firmly. "Or your supernatural politics. I just want to live my life."

"That may not be possible," she said, almost gently. "Power attracts attention. In our world, neutrality is—"

"I don't care about 'your world,'" I cut in. "I didn't ask to be part of it."

Rias fell silent, studying me. "What are you? How did you come to possess dragon essence?"

I almost laughed. She was still fishing for information, still trying to categorize me.

"That's my business," I replied.

We stared at each other for a long moment, the tension palpable. Koneko remained silent beside me, but I could feel her attention on both of us.

"What happens now?" Rias finally asked.

"Now? You go back to your club. I eat my lunch. We pretend yesterday never happened."

"And if I can't do that?" she challenged. "If my brother demands answers?"

"Tell him I'm neutral," I said. "That I have no interest in faction politics. That I'm not a threat unless threatened."

"And if he wants to meet you?" she pressed.

I set my jaw. "Then I'll meet him. But I'll give him the same answer."

Rias nodded slowly. "For what it's worth, I believe you. But others may not be so easily convinced."

"That's their problem," I said flatly.

She turned to leave, then paused. "Koneko."

The white-haired girl looked up.

"You don't need to report on this conversation," Rias said softly. "What happens between you and Leon... it can stay private."

With that, she left, the door closing quietly behind her.

Silence stretched between Koneko and me. I waited for questions, accusations, anything—but she just reached into the bento box, pulled out a rice ball, and held it out to me.

"Eat," she said simply.

I took it, surprised. "You're not going to ask?"

Golden eyes met mine. "Not my business."

That caught me off guard. "Even though I'm apparently part dragon?"

She shrugged, reaching for another rice ball. "Explains the smell."

I stared at her for a moment, then let out a small laugh. The tension in my shoulders eased slightly.

Without another word, Koneko climbed into my lap, settling in her usual position. The familiar weight was oddly comforting after the confrontation.

We ate in companionable silence, the meeting with Rias already fading into the background. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface. Her apology had been genuine, I believed that much. But it didn't erase what she'd tried to do.

Still, as Koneko leaned back against my chest, eating from the bento we shared, I realized something important. In this world of supernatural politics and gods, maybe I'd found one person, one devil, who saw me as more than just a piece on a chessboard.

Chapter 31

I walked away from the café with my fists clenched so tight my knuckles turned white. Each step was measured, controlled, as if I was afraid the ground might shatter beneath my feet.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

One moment of anger. One slip of control. That's all it had taken to reveal everything I'd been trying to hide.

The cool evening air did nothing to calm the storm raging inside me. My mana still burned through my veins, hot and volatile. Part of me wanted to turn around, to go back and finish what I'd started. To make her pay for trying to manipulate me like a puppet. To show her exactly what happens when you try to control something far beyond your understanding.

But I couldn't. Not with Sirzechs Lucifer in the picture. Her brother, one of the Four Great Satans, with power that made Azazel look like a child playing with matches. I wasn't ready for that kind of confrontation. Not yet. 

I ducked into an empty alley and slammed my fist into the brick wall. The concrete cracked and crumbled, dust raining down as I pulled my hand free.

"Stupid," I muttered. "So fucking stupid."

I'd let my emotions get the better of me. After all my careful planning, all my meticulous preparation, I'd blown my cover because a devil princess tried to hypnotize me into a business deal. It was almost laughable.

But I wasn't laughing.

Rias Gremory now knew I wasn't human. Worse, she'd seen the dragon's essence leak through. There was no walking that back, no convincing her it was a trick of the light or her imagination. Devils were many things, but stupid wasn't one of them.

I needed to get ahead of this. Damage control.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, half-expecting to see a message from Rias already. Instead, it was Hayama.

"Young master, your 7 PM training session with Ishikawa-san has been confirmed."

Azazel. Perfect. Just what I needed right now—a smug fallen angel poking at my defenses while I was already on edge.

I texted back a confirmation and shoved the phone back in my pocket. At least Azazel already knew about my abilities. No need to pretend around him.

The walk home was a blur. By the time I reached the mansion, my anger had cooled from white-hot rage to simmering resentment. I was still furious at Rias for trying to manipulate me, but I was equally angry at myself for losing control.

In my room, I paced back and forth, running through scenarios, calculating risks, and planning countermoves. The chessboard had been upended. The pieces were scattered. Now I needed to figure out how to turn this disaster into an advantage.

Rias knew.

But how much did she know? She'd seen the dragon essence, but did she understand what it meant? Would she connect it to the Dragon's Elixir? Would she realize it wasn't a Sacred Gear?

And what would she do with that knowledge?

Tell her brother? Probably.

Tell Sona? Almost certainly.

Come after me directly? Unlikely. She'd been genuinely afraid. That wasn't something you could fake.

I checked the Workshop. Laevateinn was still progressing. It was comfort before, but now? Not so much now that I have a ticking clock.

My phone buzzed again. This time it was a text from an unknown number:

"We should talk. Soon. -R.G."

I stared at the screen, a humorless smile tugging at my lips. That didn't take long.

How had she even gotten my number? Devil magic, probably. Or simple networking—I was the Mishima heir, after all. My contact information wasn't exactly a state secret.

I didn't reply. I needed time to think, to plan, to get my own head straight before engaging with her again.

A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts.

"Enter," I called.

Hayama stepped in, his expression as professionally neutral as always. "Young master, Ishikawa-san has arrived early for your session. He says it's urgent."

Azazel was here already? That couldn't be good.

"Send him up," I said, resignation coloring my voice.

Hayama bowed and withdrew. Moments later, Azazel strolled into my room, looking amused and concerned in equal measure.

"So," he said, closing the door behind him, "I hear you had quite the little power display in a public café today."

My blood ran cold. "How do you—"

"Please," Azazel waved dismissively. "I felt that spike of draconic energy from across town. So did every other supernatural being with half-decent senses. You might as well have set off magical fireworks spelling 'not human' in giant letters."

I froze, my entire body tensing. "Draconic?"

Azazel's eyes narrowed slightly, studying my reaction. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

"Oh? Is that a surprise I see?" He tilted his head. "Did you think I wouldn't notice that your mana has distinctly draconic properties? It's quite obvious to anyone with experience in such matters."

My mind raced. He'd known. All this time, he'd known about the Dragon's Elixir—or at least its effects.

"Why didn't you say anything?" I demanded. 

Azazel shrugged, the gesture casual, but his eyes sharp and calculating. "I prefer to let people share their secrets when they're ready. Trust is earned, not demanded." He leaned against my desk. "I figured you'd tell me when you trusted me enough. Or when you slipped up badly enough that we'd need to have this conversation anyway."

He gestured vaguely in my direction. "Seems we've arrived at the latter scenario."

I sank onto the edge of my bed, running a hand through my hair. "That bad, huh?"

"Oh, it gets better," Azazel continued. "Sirzechs Lucifer himself has already called me, asking if I knew anything about a 'draconic presence' that was apparently having tea with his little sister."

"Shit." The word came out as a whisper.

"'Shit' indeed, Leon-kun." Azazel crossed his arms. "You want to tell me what happened? And please, spare no details. I do so love a good story involving angry dragons and terrified devil princesses."

I looked up at him, finding no humor in his quip. "She tried to use her power on me. To manipulate me into agreeing to a business partnership."

Azazel's eyebrows shot up. "And that made you angry enough to break your cover? I've seen you shrug off worse provocation from me."

"This was different," I snapped. "She tried to take away my free will. To control me like a puppet."

"Ah," Azazel's expression shifted to understanding. "Dragons and freedom. Always a sensitive topic."

He wasn't wrong. The Dragon's Elixir had changed me in ways I was still discovering. The visceral, primal reaction to someone trying to manipulate my mind... it had touched something deep, something that wasn't entirely human anymore.

"So what now?" I asked.

Azazel shrugged. "Now? Now you adapt. Your carefully constructed 'normal human' façade is broken, at least where the devils are concerned. You can't put that genie back in the bottle."

"I know that," I said, frustration creeping into my voice. "I'm asking what my options are."

"Well, you could run," he said casually. "Pack up, disappear, start over somewhere new. Not my recommendation, but it's an option."

I shook my head. "I'm not running."

"Didn't think so." He nodded approvingly. "Option two: double down. Own it. You've got power. That makes you a player in the game, not just a piece."

"A player with very powerful enemies," I pointed out.

"Potential enemies," Azazel corrected. "The devils aren't monolithic. Neither are the angels, the fallen, or any other faction. There's plenty of room for... negotiation."

I considered this. Then something else occurred to me. Something that made my jaw clench again.

"Wait," I said, leaning forward. "What happens to Rias for this? She violated neutrality. The Mishima Corporation is neutral ground, right? That's what you told me. And she tried to control the heir to that corporation."

The question hung in the air between us. Azazel's expression shifted, became more careful.

"Leon-kun..." he began, then sighed. "Nothing will happen to her."

"Nothing?" I stood up, anger flaring again. "She broke the rules. She violated—"

"She's the sister of Sirzechs Lucifer," Azazel cut me off. "Not just any Maou, but Sirzechs himself. Acclaimed as the strongest devil in history. One of the most powerful beings in existence, period."

He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "At worst, she'll get a stern talking-to. A slap on the wrist. Maybe some extra training in diplomacy. But actual consequences? No. When you're that powerful, when you're that connected... the rules bend."

I stared at him, feeling something cold and bitter settle in my stomach. "So that's it? She can just do whatever she wants?"

"Welcome to supernatural politics," Azazel said with dark amusement. "Where justice is relative and power trumps everything else."

The unfairness of it hit me like a physical blow. Rias could have stripped away my free will, turned me into a puppet, and she'd walk away with nothing more than a lecture. Because of who her brother was.

"That's fucked up," I said quietly.

"Yes," Azazel agreed. "It is."

"What would you do?" I asked.

I considered this. "What would you do?"

Azazel laughed. "Me? I'd probably make some ill-advised joke, then try to turn the whole situation into an opportunity." His expression grew more serious. "But you're not me, Leon. And frankly, that's probably for the best."

He pushed off from the desk and walked over to the window, looking out at the city lights. "The Gremory girl will be curious. Cautious, but curious. Her brother will be concerned. The Sitri girl—well, she'll be calculating how this changes the balance of power at that little school of hers."

"And you?" I asked. "What's your stake in all this?"

He turned, offering a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm still deciding. But I'm leaning toward 'highly entertained observer' with a side of 'occasional mentor to a stubborn dragon-blooded human.'"

My phone buzzed again. Another text from the same unknown number:

"Please. It's important. -R.G."

Azazel caught my expression. "The princess calling?"

I nodded.

"You're going to have to talk to her eventually," 

He was right. I couldn't avoid this confrontation forever. Better to face it head-on, control the narrative, set boundaries.

"I'll handle it," I said.

Azazel studied me for a moment. "I believe you will." He glanced at his watch. "Now, shall we proceed with your regularly scheduled training? I think you could use a healthy outlet for all that pent-up draconic rage."

I stood up, rolling my shoulders. "Fine. But no holding back today."

"Oh?" His eyebrows shot up in amusement. "Feeling ambitious, are we?"

"No," I said, my voice hardening. "Feeling like I need to be ready. For whatever comes next."

As we headed down to the training room, my mind kept circling back to one thought: The game had changed. I'd been knocked off balance, forced to reveal my hand too early.

But I wasn't out of moves yet. Not by a long shot.

Rias Gremory wanted to talk? Fine. We'd talk.

But this time, I'd make damn sure she understood exactly who she was dealing with.

No more pretending to be just another human. That mask had been shattered beyond repair.

Time to show the devil princess what the dragon could really do.

Chapter 30

Chapter 30

The rest of the school day dragged on with excruciating slowness. By the time the final bell rang, I had brainstormed and discarded a dozen different approaches for my meeting with Rias. In the end, I decided to play it straight, keep the conversation focused on business, and avoid making any commitments.

As promised, Rias was waiting at the school gates, the evening sun setting her crimson hair ablaze. She stood alone, which surprised me—I'd half expected her entire entourage nearby.

"Mishima-kun," she greeted with a smile. "Thank you for meeting with me."

"Gremory-senpai," I nodded in return. "Where would you like to discuss business?"

"There's a nice café just a few blocks from here. Quiet, private booths. Perfect for our conversation."

"Lead the way," I said, careful to keep my expression neutral.

As we walked, I noticed the stares following us. It was like moving through a sea of jealousy and admiration. Rias either didn't notice or was so used to it that she didn't react. 

"They certainly seem interested in us," Rias observed, glancing around.

I shrugged. "People will talk. It doesn't matter."

She looked at me curiously. "Most would either enjoy that kind of attention or actively avoid it."

"I've got bigger concerns than high school gossip," I replied simply.

"Besides, I prefer to keep a lower profile."

"Hard to do when you're the mysterious, handsome transfer student who also happens to be heir to one of Japan's largest corporations," she pointed out with amusement.

I sighed. "When you put it that way, it sounds like I'm in some kind of shoujo manga."

"Or a light novel," she added with a smile. "The transfer student with a secret past who catches the eye of the school's most popular girl."

If only she knew just how accurate that description was. 

The café she led me to was quiet and private—a small, elegant establishment with dark wood furnishings and soft lighting. The host recognized Rias immediately, bowing deeply before leading us to a secluded booth in the back.

"You come here often?" I asked after we ordered tea.

"It's one of my favorites," she admitted. "They make excellent Earl Grey and don't mind if I stay for hours reading."

I studied her as she spoke, looking for any tell-tale signs of her true nature. Nothing obvious—no slipped demonic aura, no glowing eyes. Just a beautiful girl talking about tea. She played human flawlessly.

Our tea arrived, and Rias took a delicate sip before getting down to business.

"So, about why I wanted to meet," she began, setting her cup down. "I've been watching your partnership with the Shitori family with interest."

I bet she had. Two devil heiresses competing for the same human resource? I kept my face carefully blank.

"It's been a productive collaboration," I replied neutrally. "The first hospital breaks ground next month."

"Impressive pace," she nodded. "The Gremory Enterprise has been looking to expand our business relationships in Japan. We're interested in forming a similar partnership with Mishima Corporation."

"In what capacity?" I asked, cutting to the chase.

Rias smiled. "Luxury real estate, primarily. My family's conglomerate specializes in high-end properties, entertainment venues, and exclusive tourism experiences across Europe. We're looking to establish a stronger presence in the Asian market."

"I'm familiar with Gremory Enterprise," I said, meeting her gaze directly. "Your family's properties are certainly... impressive."

And likely built with devil magic and supernatural influence, I added mentally.

"Thank you," she replied, clearly pleased I knew of their business. "We believe a joint venture combining Mishima's technological innovation with our luxury expertise could be quite profitable."

"I appreciate the offer," I said, maintaining eye contact, "but I'm not interested in pursuing a partnership at this time."

Rias's smile froze mid-curve. Her teacup stopped halfway to her lips, suspended in air for a heartbeat too long. Those blue eyes blinked once, twice, the pupils dilating slightly in surprise.

"I..." Her voice trailed off as she set down her cup with a small clink against the saucer. 

My refusal had genuinely caught her off-guard. I fought back a smile at the small crack in her perfect composure.

"May I ask why?" she finally managed, a touch of pink creeping up her neck.

Something tugged at the corner of my chest as I watched her struggle to recompose herself. 

"Strategic direction," I replied simply. "The luxury market isn't where Mishima is focusing our resources right now. And frankly, your business model doesn't align with our current standards."

I left unsaid that I suspected much of their "success" came from supernatural influence rather than actual business acumen.

Rias tucked a strand of crimson hair behind her ear, her competitive spirit visibly rekindling. "Perhaps I haven't properly conveyed the benefits of this partnership. The Gremory name carries significant weight in certain circles, and our clientele—"

"Is exclusive, I'm sure," I cut in gently. "But my decision stands."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, determination replacing the momentary vulnerability. It was fascinating watching her cycle through emotions so quickly—surprise, embarrassment, determination—all genuine, all displayed on her face with an openness I hadn't expected from a devil.

"You're not what I expected, Mishima-kun," she said finally, studying me with renewed interest.

"I get that a lot."

The laugh that escaped her transformed her face entirely—eyes crinkling at the corners, dimples appearing on cheeks slightly flushed from our exchange. 

"I can see why Sona speaks highly of you," she said, leaning forward slightly, emphasizing her impressive ‘assets’. "Most business heirs your age would jump at a chance to partner with my family's enterprise."

"I'm not most heirs," I said simply, while sipping my tea.

"No, you certainly aren't." Something in her tone shifted, became more... appraising. "Perhaps I should consider a different approach—"

“I apologize for my rudeness, Gremory Senpai, but the Mishima Corporation is just not interested,” I interrupted her.

Rias fell silent, then she leaned forward, her eyes flashing with determination. "I don't often take no for an answer, Mishima-kun. Our partnership could be... beneficial in ways you haven't considered."

A subtle pressure settled around us—the air growing heavy, a faint reddish glow reflecting in her blue eyes. I felt her demonic power wash over me, an invisible current designed to bend my will toward hers.

To simply make me say "yes."

"Perhaps you should reconsider," she said softly, her voice taking on a hypnotic quality.

I stared back at her, unaffected. The manipulation slid off me like water on glass, repelled by the dragon's blood coursing through my veins.

And something inside me snapped.

This devil—this creature who wore the face of a schoolgirl—had just tried to strip away my free will. To control me like a puppet. To make me dance to her tune without a second thought.

White-hot rage flooded my system. Not the fleeting irritation I'd felt with Azazel or the annoyance of dealing with supernatural politics. No, this was something more, a primal fury—a volcanic pressure building beneath my skin, demanding release.

"Did you just try to use your power on me?" My voice came out quiet, dangerously calm, belying the inferno raging inside.

—

Rias leaned forward, her eyes flashing with determination. "I don't often take no for an answer, Mishima-kun. Our partnership could be... beneficial in ways you haven't considered."

She released a subtle pulse of her power, just enough to influence a human mind. Nothing that would harm him, simply a gentle nudge that had worked countless times on business associates. Humans were so easy to persuade with just a touch of demonic influence.

"Perhaps you should reconsider," she said softly, infusing her voice with gentle compulsion.

Leon Mishima stared back at her, completely unaffected. The manipulation that should have worked on any normal human slid off him like water on glass.

"Did you just try to use your power on me?" His voice came out quiet, dangerously calm.

Her eyes widened in shock—first at the failure of her compulsion, then at being called out. But how? He was human. Sirzechs had personally assured her that all background checks on the Mishima heir showed nothing supernatural. Her brother wouldn't miss something like this.

Her eyes widened in shock, first at the failure of her compulsion, then at being called out.

The temperature in the café dropped several degrees.

Rias Gremory froze, her body instinctively reacting to the sudden shift in the atmosphere. The polite, composed business heir across from her had vanished, replaced by something... else.

The table between them trembled. The teacups rattled against their saucers. A hairline crack appeared in the window beside their booth.

Golden light pulsed beneath Leon's skin, bleeding through in erratic flashes. The air around him shimmered with heat, distorting like a mirage. His eyes, normally a calm blue, flared with an ancient power she recognized immediately.

Dragon.

Impossible. Yet undeniable.

From the moment Sona had mentioned the Mishima heir, Rias had been intrigued. "Intelligent and business-savvy," Sona had said. "Unnervingly perceptive. Someone to watch." Coming from Sona, such words were practically effusive praise.

The school rumors painted him as aloof, mysterious—the untouchable prince. Girls whispered about his striking looks and quiet confidence. Boys grumbled about his effortless academic excellence and apparent indifference to his own popularity.

Nothing in those stories had prepared her for this.

Her devil instincts screamed danger. In her life, few presences had ever evoked such primal fear in her. Being one of them, her brother.

"You dare?" Leon's voice resonated oddly, as if another, deeper voice echoed beneath his own. "You would try to manipulate me? Control me? As if I were some mindless pawn in your game?"

The glass of water on their table began to boil. The leather of the booth where his fingers gripped began to smoke.

Rias's hand trembled as she reached toward him, desperate to defuse the situation. "Mishima-kun, I—"

"Do not speak." Each word carried weight, pressing down like physical force.

Rias's throat constricted, not from magic, but from pure instinctive submission in the face of a greater predator. She, a high-class devil, heiress of the Gremory clan, found herself pressing back against the booth, unable to maintain her usual composure.

How had she missed this? How had everyone missed this? A being with draconic essence walking the halls of Kuoh, sitting in classes, partnering with Sona—all while hiding power that rivaled some of the strongest creatures in the underworld.

She'd assumed he was human. Perhaps with a useful Sacred Gear she could add to her peerage, or business connections she could leverage. Just another piece to collect.

What a catastrophic miscalculation.

Other patrons in the café had begun to notice something wrong. A waiter stood paralyzed halfway to their table, confusion and fear battling on his face.

Leon closed his eyes. Inhale. Exhale.

With visible effort, he began pulling the power back in. The air around him gradually settled. The golden light faded from his skin. The trembling ceased.

When he opened his eyes again, they were human once more, though the cold fury remained.

"I believe our business is concluded," he said tightly, control restored but anger still evident in every tense line of his body. "Don't ever try that again."

"What are you?" she whispered, unable to contain the question.

Leon stood, dropping money on the table. "Someone you shouldn't have underestimated."

As he walked away, Rias remained frozen in place, her mind racing to recalibrate everything she thought she knew. Leon Mishima was no ordinary human. Not a Sacred Gear user to be recruited. He was something ancient and powerful—something that had hidden in plain sight.

Something that now knew exactly what she was.

Rias Gremory had made many mistakes in her life. But this—underestimating Leon Mishima—might prove to be her most dangerous error yet.

—

Chapter 29

I hurt in places I didn't know could hurt.

After two hours of getting my ass handed to me by Azazel in our "training session," my body felt like one giant bruise. Sure, I healed fast thanks to the Dragon's Elixir, but that didn't stop the pain while it was happening.

"Not bad for a first session," Azazel said, not even breaking a sweat as I lay sprawled on the training room floor. The bastard looked like he'd just finished a light stretching routine instead of throwing me around like a ragdoll for hours.

"Says the guy who wasn't used as a human punching bag," I groaned, forcing myself to sit up. "Is it always going to be like this?"

"Worse, probably," he replied cheerfully. "But you'll improve quickly. You already have good instincts and your physical abilities are impressive for a human. With proper training, you would become quite formidable."

Coming from the leader of the Fallen Angels, that was... actually kind of a compliment. Though my ego wasn't feeling particularly soothed as I limped to the shower.

"Same time tomorrow?" Azazel called after me.

"You're a sadist," I muttered.

"I'll take that as a yes!"

—

By the time I arrived at school, my body had mostly recovered, though the memory of getting tossed around like a toy remained painfully fresh. I slumped into my seat, already exhausted despite it being only 8 AM.

"Dude, you look like crap," Issei observed helpfully, leaning over from his desk.

"Thanks for the update," I replied dryly. "Rough morning."

"Stayed up all night doing rich person stuff?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

If he only knew. 'Yeah, I was getting brutalized by a fallen angel who's decided to be my supernatural mentor. Just normal Tuesday things.'

"Something like that," I said instead.

Before Issei could probe further, the classroom door slid open, and conversation instantly died. Even without looking, I knew who had entered—Rias Gremory, the school's number one idol and secret devil princess.

The collective intake of breath from the male population (and some of the female population) was audible. Issei practically vibrated with excitement beside me.

"Dude, it's her!" he whispered loudly. "The crimson-haired goddess!"

I glanced up, trying to look appropriately surprised rather than wary. Rias was making her way directly toward our desks, her long red hair swaying with each step, uniform perfectly pressed, smile dazzling. Every eye in the classroom followed her movement.

"Mishima-kun," she said, stopping at my desk. "I was hoping to speak with you."

I could practically feel Issei's jealousy radiating beside me.

"Me?" I asked, playing it cool. "What can I help you with, Gremory-senpai?"

Her smile widened slightly. "The student council president mentioned you're handling the Mishima Corporation's side of your joint venture. I was hoping to discuss a potential partnership with my family's business as well."

Ah. So that's what this was about. Business. Or at least, that was the pretense.

"Of course," I replied smoothly. "Did you have a particular time in mind?"

"Are you free during lunch? We could meet in the Occult Research Club room."

The Occult Research Club. Her territory. Her peerage's base of operations. Where she could easily corner me with her entire devil squad present.

"I actually have a prior commitment during lunch," I lied, not wanting to enter her domain just yet. "But I'm free after school, if that works for you."

Something flickered in her eyes—surprise, maybe, at being declined—but her smile never faltered.

"After school would be perfect," she agreed. "Shall I meet you at the school gates?"

"I'll be there."

With a nod and another dazzling smile that sent half the class into cardiac arrest, Rias turned and walked out, leaving chaos in her wake.

The moment she was gone, Issei grabbed my shoulder.

"DUDE!" he exclaimed, shaking me. "You just—she just—you're meeting HER? After school? Alone?"

"It's just business, Issei," I said, trying to extricate myself from his grip. "Both our families run companies. It's not that unusual."

"Not unusual?!" he spluttered. "Do you know how many guys would kill to be in your position right now?"

They might want to reconsider that desire if they knew that she is an actual devil who could probably obliterate them with a thought if she wanted to.

"I'll be sure to appreciate the opportunity," I said, patting his hand in mock reassurance.

"You better!" he warned, finally releasing me. "And I want details. Not weird perverted details," he added quickly. "Just... like... is her hair as shiny up close? Does she smell like strawberries? Is her skin as perfect as it looks?"

"I'll be sure to take detailed notes on her follicle health," I deadpanned.

Before Issei could respond, the teacher walked in, ending our conversation but not the curious stares from our classmates.

—

Lunch came, and I escaped to the roof before Issei could drag me into another Rias-focused interrogation. 

One notable aspect of Kuoh Academy is its impressive size. Given how large it is, it's surprising that it is still referred to as an academy, since it offers both middle school and college education as well.

As expected, Koneko was already there, sitting on the bench in the corner, partially shaded by the water tank. Her golden eyes tracked me as I approached, carrying the ornate bento box Hayama had prepared.

It had started innocently enough. A few weeks ago, I found her on the roof one day. She'd commented on my scent, I'd offered her some of my sandwich, and somehow it had turned into... whatever this was. 

By the third day, she was sitting in my lap. By the end of the week, I was bringing extra food. By week two, Hayama had noticed and taken over, preparing what he called "proper nutrition for a growing young man and his friend."

The old butler suspected something; he'd start giving me knowing looks whenever he handed over the increasingly elaborate lunch boxes. I wasn't sure what he thought was happening, but the truth was stranger than any high school romance he might be imagining.

"Hey," I said, taking my usual spot beside her. "Hayama outdid himself today."

I opened the lacquered box to reveal an artfully arranged traditional Japanese meal—rice shaped into a small mountain, grilled salmon, perfectly cut vegetables, and what looked like handmade dumplings arranged in the corner. Hayama had even included a small container of what I knew was Koneko's favorite sweet red bean paste.

Her eyes widened slightly—the Koneko equivalent of jumping up and down with excitement.

Without a word, she promptly abandoned her position and climbed onto my lap, arranging herself comfortably. It had been startling the first few times, but by now it was just part of our daily routine. 

I'd long since figured out it was the nekomata in her, drawn to the draconic energy the Dragon's Elixir had infused into my body. Cats and dragons had strange affinities in mythology. Apparently, that held true here as well.

I mean, think about it. Dragons and cats have much in common. They are both carnivores, both love to curl up in the sun for a quick nap, and both twitch their tails in annoyance. Suffice it to say, Dragons are cats.

Of course, I pretended not to know any of this. As far as she knew, I was just a normal human who didn't mind being used as furniture and smelled good.

"Smells good," she said, referring to either the food or me, possibly both.

I handed her a pair of chopsticks. "Help yourself."

Another part of our routine is sharing the meal Hayama prepared. At first, I'd brought separate portions, but Koneko seemed to prefer eating from the same container. There was something almost feline in the way she'd wait for me to take a bite first, then select her own piece from the same area.

I'd researched cat behavior after the first week, and it turned out it was a trust thing. I never mentioned it. Better to let her think I was oblivious.

I still didn't understand how we'd fallen into this strange relationship. Maybe she just liked warmth and food, and I provided both.

Whatever the reason, these quiet lunch periods had become the most peaceful part of my day, just sitting, eating, and idly stroking her hair while she purred so quietly only my enhanced hearing could detect it.

Without prompting, I raised my hand to her head, scratching gently behind her ear. The tension visibly left her shoulders as she leaned into the touch.

"Heard you're meeting Gremory-senpai after school," she said, reaching for a dumpling.

"You know Gremory-senpai?" I asked, pretending to be surprised.

Koneko nodded, taking her time to chew before answering. "Part of the Occult Research Club."

"Occult Research Club?" I raised an eyebrow, playing ignorant. "What's that about? Ghost stories and Ouija boards?"

She gave me that flat stare again, the one that somehow made me feel like she was seeing right through me.

"Study supernatural things," she said simply, then, after a paus,e added, "Mostly just talking about myths and legends. Nothing real."

The lie was so obvious I almost smiled. Instead, I nodded thoughtfully.

"Sounds... interesting, I guess. Didn't take Gremory-senpai for the superstitious type."

Koneko shrugged, reaching for another piece of salmon. "She likes strange things."

"Is that why you're in it?" I asked casually.

Her chopsticks paused halfway to her mouth. "I'm not strange."

"Never said you were," I replied, resuming the gentle scratching behind her ear. "Just wondering why you joined."

She seemed to consider this for a moment. "Buchou asked me to."

"You're close with her, then?"

Koneko's expression remained neutral, but something flickered in her eyes. "She helped me. Before."

"That's nice of her.”

Koneko nodded once, then changed the subject. "Why is she interested in you?"

Direct as always. I shrugged, affecting confusion.

"Business stuff. Boring corporate partnership talk."

The warning bell rang, saving her from further questioning. She slid off my lap with that same small sigh I'd come to expect.

"Thanks for lunch," she said, watching as I packed up the empty bento box.

"Same time tomorrow?" I asked.

She nodded, then reached up to pat my head just once, quick and a little awkward.

"Why do you do that?" I couldn't help asking.

The faintest trace of pink touched her cheeks. "You do it to me."

"Yeah, but you seem to like it."

She looked away. "Maybe you need it too."