@Sho Minazuki@kapuchu@Zarkun@Lugubrious@Lazo@floodtalon

Akoni had separated from Lily and Fenn on the way to their ultimate destination, though it might have been more appropriate to say that the demons had separated from the rest of the group. The mage preferred to save time in their hurry, utilizing his gates to speed up the journey. The two demons had chosen to walk by their own power. Whether or not the human and half-demon chose to make use of the portals as well, Akoni would be moving his way. It was simply the most efficient manner at their disposal, after all. As such, he had gotten to the destination prior to Lily and Fenn, though unfortunately the orb now inside Fenn's body was a key, so he could progress no further. With a grumble that could only come from age and irritation, the old man sat down and waited for the others to arrive.

Once finally his peers had shown up, Akoni was pleased to see the nephilim, Wrath, had also been able to make his way there, and with a second orb, no less! Considering how the armies of demons had been slaughtered to a quiet ease, it had seemed the day was a very progressive one. That was until Heaven's forces arrived, demanding they be provided the artifacts. The first to react were Lily and Fenn, ever in sync with one another. Then Wrath expressed a certain curiosity for the artifacts. Ever the dutiful wizard, Akoni felt the need to enlighten those around him. All of those around him.

"Given proper time, I'm sure I could discover every aspect of these orbs," he began, "But for now what we can say for certain is that they produce powerful and dense magical energy, which interferes with other magic in too close a proximity, as well as serving as the keys to the next Seal. Which means..." The old man narrowed his eyes at the divine being before them, so large, so mighty that he could tear the sky asunder. "They are under the jurisdiction of the Charred Council, not the Heavens. In this matter, we outrank even the most holy. Begone, Lord Kushiel, so that we may continue our work for the Balance."

Henry followed Akoni through the portals, it was an easy way to get to where he was going and he was feeling kinda lazy. He had every right to after killing so many Demons, he did a lot of work. Sure Akoni did the heavy lifting, firing off a magical laser of bullshit to kill the big guy. He helped keep the little ones off his back while he did that. Every role counts. So they got to the seal and shit started to go off the rails. Henry watched everything with relative indifference, some big wig angels were descending from on high to order everyone around. Other people who worked for the Charred Council showed up and said no. Simple answer, one he could get behind. "How about you go fuck yourself with the ten foot pole you have up your ass." Henry then proceeded to flip the Angel off with a grin on his face. Ironically Wrath was probably the calmest person in the room right now, asking why the orbs were so important in the first place.

Akoni took it upon himself to enlighten the Nephilim, explaining that the ball of magical fuck you power was a key to the seal they stood near. He then echoed what everyone else had said, but he was much more reasonable about it. Kinda boring really, was hoping the old guy would get so angry he popped a blood vessel. Henry leaned on his sniper rifle, his face just screaming arrogance and condescension as he smiled toothily at Kushiel. He was really hoping he would try something, shooting an Angel in the face sounded kinda fun right now.

Zarrath's hand tightened around the hilt of his katana, but before the Archangel could do something that would have Uriel laying into both of them, Wrath stepped forwards and turned to face his compatriots in service of the Council. "Now that I know what these things are, can we all stop a moment and think. We're all here for the same thing and rather than all of us not going on a rant on who's boss is better, we could keep working together and not try murdering each other." He takes a deep breath and then continues, holding his orb towards the Angel commander Kushiel. "Besides, I don't stand as a representative of the Council this day, but of Heaven. We have every bit as much right to be here as you do, and I won't see you chase the Army of Light off because of some imagined higher purpose."

And it was done, his stance on the Council, while not clearly stated, had been hinted at. It was up to his compatriots to decide what they made of it.

A room packed full of powerful presences, including a fair few unfamiliar to Souta and several all the more potentially problematic for their familiarity, bid him keep his tongue. He did not, of course, put blind trust in the angels, but what were Lily and Fenn going to do? Though the agents' consensus had been but a short time ago, he already felt unsure as to what they intended. It would appear, based on the demons' obstinate refusal to part with their orb, that there was no plan to enter the Jungle Tabernacle and secure the seal. How then, one might ask, could the seal be placed under the Charred Council's protection? The smith had no idea, but he did know that his voice mattered not at all among this lot. Anything he might say could easily strengthen the tension filling the air, which was already fit to burst.

No small part of this escalation rested on the shoulders of the one other human-looking being present aside from him and Akoni: a white-haired guy who in the span of moments had managed to establish himself as a prick of preternatural proportions. As any Japanese man with a shred of propriety might be, Souta was affronted by his utter rudeness on a personal level. He felt as though this man shamed his race before the angels; though all parties present might not agree, common courtesy demanded at least a little respect and self-composure.

Any second now this powderkeg could erupt into bloody conflict, which -it occurred to Souta- might be what Henry and his demon allies wanted. Wrath, at least, was trying to mitigate the situation, but Souta felt sure that angelic pride and demonic rebelliousness could not coexist for long. Wearing a nervous expression, Souta flicked his eyes between all the major players present. We can't start fighting now. We have a real problem on our hands, and Sevrin could appear any moment. If a brawl starts, it'll play right into that bastard's hands.

Kushiel flinched almost as if he stopped himself from touching something disgusting, but quickly regained his composure. He took a breath, then turned his back to the group, walking towards the seal,

"I see... So things in this world truly are dire, if this is all the Council could find to do their bidding...", he began. "I was really looking forward to this, perhaps I could find it in myself to not be abhored by demons, but I see now I was foolish to think such a thing. Demons must be disposed of, it appears that has not changed. And you humans, if you wish to cooperate, salvation under His rule will not be out of your reach", he offered. One hand swung back, calling forth the long thing red spear known as the Longinus, and the other was outstretched towards the humans of the group.

"So then, you humans have one last chance. I know not the will of the Council, and we have always been allies, but it seems either you act on your own, or the council's wishes no longer align with His". It seems the demons were out of the question for a second chance, conflict with them is inevitable, but the humans of the group still had an option.

Will they side with the demons of the Council? Heaven? Or perhaps they could step out of the ring and avoid the fight themselves...? Many eyes more than those that were visible in the room were watching. Each breath could be heart, each racing heartbeat could be felt like the drums of war before the coming battle. Kushiel had a distinctly faint aura around him, as white and holy as it was... It was terrible, an oppressive presence, the presence of ultimate order. He was dead set on forcing them to relinquish the orb. Whatever the will of Heaven was now, the status quo did not feel like their purpose.

Fenn’s lips pulled back, displaying his teeth at the change in the little lord’s disposition. He had recognized the bird from their previous assault on an angel stronghold, though at that time the angel had only managed to deliver a warning threat before he was led away by a certain witch that had been following him and the imp.

Whether this change in attitude had been borne of recognition or from pride, the disdain Fenn felt in the words would have been enough for him to jump at the angel’s throat in different circumstances. It was because circumstances were as they were that his irritation at the little lord’s threat was overshadowed by his amazement of the angel’s short-sightedness, and his disappointment for the Nephilim half-breed for throwing his lot with them.

“Your master is a damned fool,” the hound growled, addressing the angel champion flanking the smaller one. “You should stab his head on a pike, before he visits that fate on the lot of you.”

“Watch your tongue, mutt,” he answered. “You are not being spoken to.”

The hound snorted rudely, returning his attention to the little lord. “You were not present for the sundering of the first seal, where in their zealousness to prevent its destruction, two groups sharing the same goals confronted each other in a meaningless battle and furnished the enemy with the tools they required for its destruction. And now, because we refuse to repeat the latter mistake, you wish to pursue the former?” Even through the hound’s lupine features, his disgust at the smaller angel was palpable. His eyes turned to regard Lily and he commented, loud enough for all to hear. “It would seem we must trade one mistake for another, Imp. Mayhaps we would be better served by leaving and allowing these fools to do as they please. Perhaps then they shall have none to blame but themselves for their failings.”

“Now, now, Fenn. Let us not be hasty,” Lily chimed in with a chilly smile. She stepped into his periphery, eyeing him shortly before turning her attention to the angel, smile vanishing. “I do not appreciate you threatening those I care for, Kushiel. Not now. Not ever, especially not when there are far bigger fish out there than you or I.” Her brows furrowed and she took half a step forward, just enough to put herself in between her companions and Kushiel. ”Sevrin is out there. He destroyed the first Seal, stole the Yamato, and he is on his way here.

“The snake has been here. We had best hope he has not left.”

Lily ignored Fenn save a brief glance, letting him know that she knew. “If you are still incapable of thinking past your own ego and insist on attacking us, then I will gladly kill every single one of you to keep your war from engulfing this realm.”

She raised her hand and the air started to shift and shimmer as if heating up. A crack split the silence following her words, a long, black spear, cracked with crimson lines from butt to the dark-metal blade materialized in her hand. She slammed the weapon into the ground hard enough to crack the stone underneath. “Our job is to stop him from destroying the seal, and I will do anything to stop that from happening. So I give you this, Kushiel. Leave your petty animosity by the wayside and help us find Sevrin. Or don’t, let him destroy the seal, and come one step closer to see everything we’ve all worked for come undone.”

Kushiel kept his cold yet calm gaze upon Fenn and Lily, the two most stalwart people in this room who defied his orders. Kushiel after listening, twirled his weapon and rested it at his side,

"Hmph, I had thought your actions were of greed or resentment for heaven... I too work tirelessly for my own master even if the other archangels may not see my usual free agency as such", he began to turn away from them, just a little, stepping a bit further away.

"I know not who this Sevrin you speak of is, but be it demon or human, I doubt he can stand against the might of two of Heaven's generals... However", his movement was quick, rapid. He aimed right for Fenn. Fenn only had the time to react and raise his claws to clash, the force pushing him back as Kushiel held the lock.

"My am I lucky... I felt the power of the key between the few of you in general, but to think I found the source from the first strike", as they slowed down, he turned to face any immediate retribution he would face, only to dart high into the air and then lower back to his former position, resetting their positioning for this fight. All around them the dozen angels that were present began to close in, awaiting orders, though with Heaven occupying this forest, it was probably only a matter of time until more reinforcements would come should the fight get to that point. The one Champion that they had saved early was preparing to fight alongside his generals too.

"Annihilate them. The wolf is mine", he pointed his spear at Souta's group, and with that the angels swooped in, with Kushiel following behind.

Zarrath raised his blade, ready to charge, but appearing from the shadows above the hall was Blair, seemingly from a void above, the demon known as Madamma Enepsigos was briefly visible from beyond that portal like there was another realm back there, before disappearing,

"Very well Blair, do have fun out there"

The clashes between Zarrath and Blair moved them far out of the area, Blair taking advantage of her element of surprise.

Now it was down to the dozen angels under the command of Kushiel with Wrath by his side, against Akoni, Souta, Henry, Fenn, and Lily. The strength of Kushiel was enough to handle two of them without much difficulty, while Wrath should try and stick to a single target.

---

The sound of clicking heels could be heard, distinct, entrancing the area in what felt like frozen time. Each click threatened to break shatter the ice but from that alone it never came. A woman draped in white tight clothing was at the front of the road, walking down like a fashion show aisle, and certainly the way she walked made it seem like that. Her long hair flowing beautifully with each step, the troubles of having long hair, such laws did not seem to apply to her as her hair seemed to move exactly as she needed it to.

It all seemed to happen slowly, the angels guarding the road began to charge, and seemingly all she did was spin and twirl, like a woman happily swinging around her shopping bags as angels took shot after shot, unusually flashy muzzle flares emanating from her like clockwork matching with each fallen angel, one by one each of them falling from the sky to a crumpled mess on the sidewalk, feathers flying as she danced along. As soon as she had ended the runway, the area for the time being devoid of angels, she began to

"My my, these aren't from the Heirarchy, I suppose a fresh face isn't so bad, but did they have to be so terribly dull? Cereza... Just where did you go? Well, suspicious angels, I guess Rodin's tip might be worth something after all", and with that, she continued in.

Jeanne has arrived.

An audible growl made its way from Lily's throat, entirely at odds with her gentle and warm appearance. Those gentle, green eyes became awash with both incredulity and fury, as every pretence at civility vanished like dew before the morning sun. The insolence. The arrogance. Mighty protectors, they claimed to be. Defenders of the weak. What a load of shit. Here she was, a demon, creatures thought to be universally evil and chaotic, caring for nothing but destruction, and was actually trying to defend the earth!

But no, all the angel wanted was to be right. Cared for nothing but what he thought himself. He had already decided that they were enemies the second they refused to blindly obey him. If it was a fight he wanted, it was a fight he would get.

"If you wish to jeopardize everything, then so be it," she said in a low voice, calm despite the wrath flaring in her core, "Fenn, kill the angels and make sure they don't open that door. Do not hold back." She then turned towards Souta, her expression softening into something apologetic. "I'm sorry, I tried."

Turning back to the angels, she gripped her spear tight enough for her knuckles to turn white. The anger within she turned into power that flooded her body; causing her right eye and the scar that would normally be there, to glow with a deep, orange light. And as it receded, gone were the gentle eyes replaced by the fiery iris and slitted pupil of a dragon.

Once more she assumed the form of a half-dragon, spreading her wings wide and brandishing her claws. The angel had been given a chance. She had offered them the chance of cooperation, something that few other demons would have done. She was trying to save this world, and this was how they responded? By stepping all over it and once more acting like the righteous ones. As always.

Fire churned in her gut, eager to escape. She could taste the smoke.

She would enjoy teaching these arrogant children a lesson.

Put out though he was by the authoritarian's generalization, Souta couldn't bring himself to disagree with Kushiel. Confusing yet stimulating moments with Lily aside, he'd been confronted by the thought of 'why' more than a few times during these long days—why the highest authorities of three realms chose a couple of demons, an old man, and himself to be their representatives. Here in this company, more so than even in the midst of battle with hell's forces, he felt as though he didn't belong. Any further rumination, however, was swept away by the flourish of Kushiel's spear that brought the weapon's point facing his way. What. With the power to sooth the eon-old grudge between demon and angels out of his hands, he'd allowed himself to become distracted by his disgruntlement, and hadn't paid quite enough attention to determine if Kushiel's most recent couple of sentences had been more spiteful rhetoric or actual death threats. Now he aimed that spear at him? Why? Even if he wants to kill me because I'm on the same side as Fenn and Lily, he can't actually attack me? I've got...diplomatic immunity! On instinct, he held his hands up in placation, his face a visage of unmasked fear and confusion.

Then and there, Kushiel declared that the Council no longer held an alliance with Heaven. Souta's mind clicked instantly, and he knew that because of that, violence could erupt at any moment. The tension clogging the air would become murderous intent, and what was supposed to be a conference of cooperation would become a bloodbath, and -the smith was convinced- play right into Sevrin's hands. For a moment, however, Souta's indignation outweighed his fear. Who the hell was Kushiel to declare an ageless pact moot, to mark the Charred Council as his enemy? From where he stood, the situation looked a lot more like the angel letting his hatred of demons and massive ego get the better of himself. “Hold on! Sir,” he shouted, “Put aside your anger for one second and think about what you're doing!” He glared at Wrath. “What are you doing, fool? The Council's picture is biggest there is!”

By then, it was too late. Terse words had been exchanged by the bigger fish, and after a moment where it looked like peace might be an option, Kushiel zoomed to eviscerate Fenn. His initial charge met the beast's claws, but the damage was done. Primed muscles sprang into action, and the angels surged forward to attack. Souta's fury, too, boiled over, and in Japanese he gave a vehement swear as he thrashed his arms. “Idiot angels!” He glanced to the side as Lily offered her apologies, and shrugged. “It's fine.” Power wracked her body, transforming the beautiful demoness into a blazing creature of slaughter, and after a second of observation Souta decided to join her.

Water flooded from his sleeves, hardening into clawed gauntlets of shining silver. When Souta cracked his fists together, sparks flew. The sigil on the back of his neck flared up with a searing light, and together the flames and droplets danced across his body. “When the metal's being uppity,” he growled, his voice distorting as strength flowed through him, “I beat it into shape!” The steam surrounding him burst off, leaving a juggernaut in vicious stone armor. In his left hand the brilliant azure core of the shotgun Deluge gave off heatwaves, and the smith's right held tight to the ghostly warhammer Escre.

One second later, the first angel fell upon him. His energy blade sliced through the air, but its lustrous yellow edge did not so much as chip the smith's armor. “Can't cut through armor, fool!” With the sound of a thunderclap Deluge discharged its first shot, which sailed past the attacking angel to embed itself in the hauberk of another. Before it even exploded, the first warrior had reeled back for a thrust that failed just as badly to penetrate the defenses of his foe. “Metal or rock,” Souta shouted through clenched teeth as he swung, his hammer crumpling the angel's shield in a single strike, “Muda da!” Before his adversary could dash away, Souta stomped down on his foot with his armored heel. “Crushing works better. Watch!” The angel barely got a chance. Unable to squirm away and taken aback by what should have been an easy opponent, he took the full force of Souta's hammer to the dome, which decreased his height by a fair margin.

For the moment that he was free, Souta directed the barrel of his firearm toward Wrath. “Hey! You can get outta here today without betraying anybody. But if sticking a knife in your buddies' backs sounds okay, come on and try me!”

Angels more eager than the nephilim for a piece of Souta reached him the next instant, and his fight raged on.

Fenn’s low, disdainful laughter echoed in the clearing. “You chose the harshest path. Let us see if you have the strength to make it the right one,” he pronounced, before throwing himself at the angels’ commander. The tremor of his first blow crushing the ground where the angel had stood moments before heralded the true beginning of their battle.

Akoni wished he could say he was surprised by this turn of events, but in all honesty it hadn’t been the least bit surprising at all. Demons usually sought to destroy, but angels usually sought to rule, feeling their judgment to be righteous regardless as to the thoughts of others. As tension rose in the air, so did his own conflict. He wouldn’t have cared about killing angels, after all he’d killed about as many of them as he had demons in his time. It just had to be this angel, and the nephilim Wrath seemed to be taking their side. Such a pity. Akoni had actually liked Wrath.

The mage readied himself for battle with the angels, and possibly Wrath himself. Blue aura flickered around his eyes and hands, concentrating into hardened battle magics. Zuriel and the angelic soldiers attacked without missing a beat, the archangel headed straight for Fenn while the small fries went after the others. Souta managed to hold his own quite well, Akoni noted. Well enough for a man mostly devoted to his art, and not live combat. An angel swooped straight for the old man, but he was having none of it. A gate opened directly in front of his attacker, and the angel emerged sixty feet away in the opposite direction. It took a moment for him to reorient himself, but in that time Akoni would be able to do what he wanted.

“Wrath. When we all met, before being branded by the Council, you saved my life in those caves. If you dare attack any of us, then it’ll be me. Take responsibility for the life that you held in your hands!” The mystic aura flared up as it became infected with blacks and greens overtaking the blue. He uttered two words incomprehensible, and hundreds of tiny portals opened surrounding his body. Reptilian green scales emerged from the countless portals, affixing to Akoni’s skin. His Squamous Armor would make him more durable if he needed to take a few hits.

Wrath was still trying to figure out what exactly was going on when all Hell, and he mentally slapped himself for the unintended pun, broke loose. Drawing Rage Bringer, he adopted a more defensive stance as the angels attacked, Zarrath being intercepted by a demon who must have been waiting and forced to engage her.

He kept an eye on each of the remaining opponents, letting them go after others while he tried to think of a way to defuse this before there were too many dead Army of Light. Think there’s a way to stop this, before Sevrin shows his slimy face, but how… Kushiel was well known for his pride and, where demons were concerned, ruthlessness, but he was also considered a traitor by many in the Army of Light, the AT-Field he’d been given a clear mark. Still… Before he could think any further in, Akoni’s voice cut through his thoughts, calling the Nephilim to action, though if he was honest, Wrath couldn’t think of a time he wanted to fight less.

”I won’t take my blade to you unless you attack me first, Akoni. But neither can I stand with the Council as I once was able. You didn’t see the Undersky, a place that ignored the laws of the Charred Council, that had, without help, kept them and their agents out. They aren’t what they seem.” He turned to look at the battle between Kushiel and Fenn and frowned slightly. ”But neither can this continue. Bah, had Uriel only given me some form of command!” The Nephilim knew he needed to get between the two, but didn’t know how without ending up worse for wear.

“Save your self-pity for another day, Wrath!” Lily barked from across the room, throwing an unfortunate angel into one of his allies. She gave Wrath a glance. “Either you honor the deal you made, or I will consider you an enemy.” The previously thrown angel attempted a flanking maneuver with the one he had hit, both advancing form either side. Lily impaled one with her spear before he even came within his own reach, and the other found itself facing her bullwhip-like tail, sending him sprawling backwards. She yanked the spear free and made a wide swipe with it, slashing its throat. “So choose, now.”

“To hell with absolutes, Lily! Where has that gotten us except the mercy of those who would see the will of none but themselves done?” Some part of him realized what he’d said and mentally apologized for it, but the greater majority of his awareness was on the situation at hand. “We’re owed answers, damnit! Like why the Horsemen weren’t sent to the Undersky when that was clearly somewhere the Seals had no power!” An Angel was flung in Wrath’s direction and he caught him before setting him on the ground. ”This is a lost cause and the wrong one. Gather our forces and set them to finding the snake who destroyed the second seal.”

There was the briefest hesitation on the angel’s face before he remembered the fate of his friends and he nodded, flying away speedily. Wrath then did something incredibly rash, which wasn’t uncommon to him, his voice booming out across the arena. “Stop, Kushiel! This battle serves no purpose other than to serve your inflated ego!”

The angel jumped over Fenn’s swipes, his wings flaring and leaving him out of reach. Nonetheless, his attention was no longer on the hound below him. “‘Inflated ego’? Perhaps that is you, remember even with your special status as an agent, you serve heaven. I saw something in you I could relate, a free spirit, after all I hold a similar status. We serve the will of god, and this, is His will”, Kushiel’s voice in all his condescending manner, was calm and collected, it was chilling, his polite demeanor with the dark look in his eyes, did not befit the traditional notion of what an angel should be. It was a terrifying charisma, backed with the strength he wielded.

“I will forgive your outburst, but the moment you side with them, you will no longer be considered an ally to the Army of Light. Fight with me, or stay out of it”, was the demand out of generosity? Or arrogance that he was enough? It was unclear, for he did hold the power to contest them, even alone to some extent. Regardless, Kushiel’s attention was quickly diverted by a glint of metal. He clicked his tongue in irritation, diving under the whip of chains towards his chosen foe.

Still Wrath tried to sway him. “I side with the Balance, Kushiel, as Heaven always has! Attacking the agents of the Council is far from the wisest decision you’ve ever made, and my status as an ally to the Army of Light has never been your decision. That rests with Uriel and the Hellguard, as I am formally assigned to them, as is Zarrath.” He kept his eyes unmoving. “Sevrin is here, Kushiel. The man...creature perhaps, who destroyed the second seal. And you would waste time and energy on THIS?”

Akoni meanwhile had spent his time evading numerous angels that had brought their attacks toward what was perceived as the weakest enemy. After all, he was still just an old man, by all appearances. Yet he did not kill any of them, preferring to dodge, evade, and trick them away with his use of the Gatewalk. He would have to conserve his strength for the battle with Sevrin. Thankfully Wrath had enough sense not to attack, for which the old mage was thankful. A house divided, and all that.

“You’re a fool if you believe that this is God’s will, Kushiel! And even more foolish if you believe you can stand up to whatever has taken residence within Sevrin’s body. It is not anything that I believe any of us could defeat alone. It is not anything that I believe the Horsemen could defeat alone! I could not even pierce the veil enough to get a name with my magics!” An angel got lucky and managed to land a cut on Akoni’s arm with a sword. The scale-like armor blocked most of the attack, shaving scales off like a razor taken to hair. The old man morphed his Lammasu gauntlet into a hammer fist, then slid it up along the angel’s blade to strike his foe in the face. Bloodied, the angel fell back through a gate Akoni manifested, and exited further still from the skirmish.

“I stand with humanity’s survival above all else! Demons, angels, the Council, and anything else in these cosmos, I trust none of them to respect humans autonomy! Kushiel, either be our ally against a common foe, or be another divine monster crushed beneath the heels of the ultimate survivors!”

Kushiel’s cherubic expression twitched, his lips twisting into a smirk for the smallest of moments, before his focus was brought back to task by the large arm streaking his way. He dodged under it, the rush of wind following the blow whipping at his hair. His lance streaked upwards, seeking the beast’s exposed sides, but the monster shifted almost imperceptibly and the spearhead skittered along the hardened scales, failing to find purchase. The angel’s brows knitted together. He had not thought possible that a lumbering mutt would offer him trouble, but the beast’s hide was harder than he had anticipated. Out of the numerous blows he had landed since the short time the fight had begun, most had been turned away in a similar fashion, leaving only a few, thin trickles of blood as proof that his spear had so much as nicked the beast.

As he processed this, the hound reversed its swing, tree-trunk arm sweeping back from the angel’s right. He jumped over it wish a flap of his wings, but before he could retaliate, the demon’s other arm swept upwards with the momentum, claws outstretched. Kushiel twisted in the air, using his wings to spin himself back, but as he did, the tip of one of his feathered appendages touched the sweeping claw. Red stained the feathers at the wing’s end, and the limb was swept back with the force, throwing his spin into an uncontrolled tumble.

Kushiel rolled back into the fall, coming to his feet just in time to catch the hellhound looming over him, arms stretched upwards.

Kushiel raised his hands just as the hammer blow rocked down. A barrier of energy sparkled between them, and Kushiel was brought to his knees, the earth cracking below him. He looked up past the dog’s fists to the its amber orbs with undisguised hatred. “You damned mutt.”

The dog’s expression seemed almost crazed, his irises wide and lined with red, fury in his eyes. The change to his disposition had come as soon as he had launched himself at the angel, as though slipping into a mask, so perhaps it should not have come as a shock that it still found it in itself to speak. “Enough talk, little lord. I am your enemy. The rest do not matter.”

Gritting his teeth, Kushiel spun to the side, using his AT-field to finally parry the two hammers. Fenn sunk down at the absence of resistance, and Kushiel jumped upwards with his motion. He spun in the air, the zenith of his jump leaving him hanging for a weightless moment above the beast’s back. If his spear could not pierce his body normally, he would have to find the monster’s weak points.

He could spy the hellhound’s muzzle turning, one eye staring back at the angel poised behind him, but it did not matter. The beast was too large and lumbering to avoid him. With a pained flap of his wings, the spearman streaked downwards, aiming at the base of the demon’s skull. He felt the give of softer flesh against steel.

Kushiel widened his eyes as he kept moving. Somehow, the dog had shifted at the last moment. His fall continued, earthbound, but he caught a glint of metal below, a hoop held in the large demon’s hand. Almost as if he had predicted the angel’s trajectory, the spear fell inside the ring of metal.

Fenn twisted his body, pulling Kushiel by the length of his spear, and swung his arm backwards. The force of the movement freed the lance from its sudden prison, sending it and its owner flying towards the edge of the clearing. Kushiel’s flight was halted when he crashed against a tree, the trunk cracking and falling under the impact.

The hound fell back to all fours, showing his teeth at the treeline. Blood flowed profusely from the side of his neck, the usual smoke that accompanied his wounds never appearing. But for all that, and for all his objections to the battle itself, the hound’s expression was that of one extremely pleased by the proceedings, at least to any who knew how to read it.

Beside Fenn landed the large form of Lily, black spear in hand. She bore a few scrapes and cuts, but nothing major, as opposed to the several dead angels behind her. She had her eyes trained on where Kushiel had fallen, body tense and ready to act. From within her chest and up to her throat, an orange light started to shine, like a flashlight viewed through one’s hand.

“Give him no quarter,” she murmured, half to herself, half to the Hellhound beside her. She leaned forward and unleashed a narrow cone of hellish fire, directly at where Kushiel landed, engulfing him and the immediate area around him.

“Enough you damnable fools!” Wrath coalesced a portion of his own energy into his blade before slamming the tip of the blade into the ground. After a moment of rumbling that shook any but Wrath that were standing on the ground, a line between the two demons and the fallen Angel Lord fell open, the Earth Render technique unique to the Nephilim creating a sizable gorge, all things considered, before slamming shut. No one was harmed, but it had the desired effect, and it was gaining the attention of those around him.

“I’ll say it again. Sevrin is HERE. What we’re doing now? It’s giving him a free pass into the fourth seal if we all wear each other out trying to kill each other.” Pausing, Wrath took a deep calming breath, the battle lust inside him dying down some with it. Being Nephilim, he lived for each battle, every exchange of blade on blade, fist to flesh and blood for blood, but he had to know when to choose his battles, and now wasn’t the time. “This is sad, the Nephilim, bred and born for battle, trying to talk down beings far more capable of talking this shit out. Use your fucking heads.”

It was already too late to put a stop to Lily’s flames, but hopefully he’d convinced them to stop attacking further. A sense of unease had seized him, but he doubted it came from the battle that had just occurred around him.

The battle royale raged within the chambers of the great mausoleum that held the sealed door, and unknown to any of the combatants, angels guarding the way and demons that were unfortunate to run across the path of a certain someone were cut down. A flash of blue and a white blur from the east and west respectively approached the chambers, and yet even to these two who homed in on their goals, could not help but feel something or someone was watching them.

Kushiel had not yet reach anywhere near the end of his reserves of power, but at the rate this fight was going, it was going to be very close, but the words and their resolve were beginning to create cracks in his mask of self-righteousness and belief.

"You fear this Sevrin too much, cooperate, and we have nothing to fear of him. Heaven will have it's hold on this realm,
and thus he will not be able to touch us...", was this fight unwarranted? Perhaps, but he had faith in His plan. "At all costs" he was told, and so the fight was warranted by those orders, yet... As a free agent, a unique angel given some measure of his own will, did not feel the fight was warranted on a personal level, but in the end he was still an angel, and the will of god was also his will.

"Moreover his name rings no bells, not a demon or renown, nor a rogue angel, a no-name, I have doubts he is even a threat to begin with", though as he said this, his alertness perked up. He swiftly turned to strike a pair of demonic jaws with his spear, but just a pair of jaws, attached to a chain. In an uncanny motion it locked itself in place, "snapping" at the space it occupied as a figure flew quickly at him. He thrust the spear in an attempt to impale the attacker, but as soon as his attack found it's mark, the attack was revealed as a ruse, disappearing like smoke as a familiar feral roar resounded.

Fenn's chest had a blade sticking out of it, the sheen, shape, it was a katana, and it's elegant presence meant it could only be one thing, the Yamato. Lily turned to see it was Sevrin, as soon as he pulled it out, Lily had already begun to act, her honed instincts as a demon lashing out in a fiery blaze, obscuring her from vision. Sevrin had no sooner turned the blade onto Lily, slicing away her demonic flames, only to find that she had taken to the air, already pelting blasts of fire from above.

Sevrin immediately took to a spring, his path followed by destruction and from the smoke, chasing tendrils from another dimension. As soon as he made a leg ahead, holding the sheathed Yamato in stance, he turned to face Lily and Akoni's eldricht onslaught. Time seemed to stand still in that moment, right before impact, the tendrils, the flames, they were for lack of better word, cut apart. Lily and Akoni watched as their onslaught was negated by the incredible power of the Yamato, and pretty soon Lily would find herself on the defense as a pair of demonic jaws attached to a chain flew at her just outside of her vision, managing to ward the initial snap, Sevrin would launch himself at her with full intent striking her out of the air. Akoni created a portal in an attempt to force him to jump through it and into someplace else, but he simply brandished the Yamato and slashed at the portal, destroying it. A curious sight, especially for one well-versed in spatial magicks.

Though his target was Lily, he found himself at blows with Kushiel instead, who had intercepted him directly midair. A pair of greaves manifested themselves around Sevrin's legs, before he would do a spinning kick mid-air, striking Kushiel, riding this momentum he made his way to Lily, but the delay from Kushiel combined with his options being burned away by these interruptions allowed Lily a chance to respond in full.

Sevrin found himself blasted out of the air as soon as his kick made contact. It was a hard strike to be sure, but Lily in this form did not rely on force, but the power of her magical attacks instead, and so it was simple to maintain power without momentum. Sevrin would be blown back towards the ground. Though he was a demon possessing a human, his body was still just that, a human. Injuries came to him as quickly as any other human, and the demonic energy he held is spent when repairing it, in short, this was enough to keep him from moving effectively for about a minute. Akoni though was not one to let slip any chance, and as soon as Sevrin landed, a tendril was formed beneath him and slammed him up against the wall, keeping him there as everyone took their positions.

"Now now... Hehaha, come on old man, maybe... Not so rough. You seemed to have taken to my 'present' right? That book I found. Give your little grandson some slack", he even in this state he was mocking others, but on his face there was visible frustration.

"Hmph. As I thought, your fears were for naught. He is after all still a human, though I sense a demon, the body is still a human's", Kushiel sounded full of himself by these lines, but he instead seems a little glad about this outcome. Like some convenient ending had just popped in.

"Tch, I was hoping you'd all just open up the door, but I guess that's a little too much to ask huh...?",

"Silence... I know not the life you occupy, but to rid this world of a menace, one human life does not seem so high a cost. Farewell nameless demon... Your arrogance and your cunning will be your downfall", Kushiel wasted little time, raising the Longinus, and hurling it towards Sevrin. Everyone present expected to hear the sound of a spear piercing stone and flesh yet... Nothing. For a moment, everyone felt like they had lost every sense, smell, taste, feeling, sight and sound, all of it disappeared for just a moment, leaving only one sense in that moment. Dread.

A shroud, or rather, a field, he felt everything of him disappear, but he was still there, yet his senses were not. As his vision also seemed to fade in this presence, he saw Akoni's portal and appendages from that book disappear too. No... This wasn't a shroud, this was just collateral. Something incredibly powerful was appearing before him and whatever it was, stopped the Longinus with ease. Emerging from a portal made of stars and darkness, came a figure that seemed rather alien. The armor and wings suggested it was an Angel of the Heirarchy, yet the uncanny and beautiful darkness the rest of it's form and powers commanded, were not... What came forth, Wrath, as one of them recognized what it was. A Nephilim. But how...? Was it related to the one in the Skyworld? Her voice echoed with a strange and soft gargle, yet one could tell that were it not for that, the voice would be incredibly sweet,

"I suppose I should introduce myself... I am Void. Me and my kin have declared this interesting creature behind me as 'worth their time'", she began. Sevrin's face was just one of pure disgust. The frustration for him mounted, knowing how powerful he truly was, yet most of him was trapped in the demon world... His plan in his head began to change.

"Now then...", as she finished these words she appeared between Lily, Kushiel, and Fenn, and in an instant a black void of stars like a window to the far reaches of space enveloped them briefly like an explosion, yet there was no force, and Kushiel just dropped, it was uncanny. Their bodies were numb, their powers were negated, whatever transformation they had was removed. In not long their powers would return, but such a unique power.

Should anyone try anything, this Nephilim calling herself Void, she had the ability to fire waves of darkness and stars, capable of erasing whatever it runs into, and having the same effect as it did to the three here.

"Creature, I will give you your wish, for your wish coincides with me and my kin's", she made a motion with her hand, causing a rift to appear below Fenn, sinking him in as he appeared in front of Sevrin, bound. As a demon, he can sense the exact point of concentration of power, and taking the Yamato, he plunged it into the thick hide of the wolf. It took some effort, since he also had to cut open the opening too, it was like tending to a furnace, heat and embers gushed out from Fenrir's wound, there was no blood, just solid and liquid fire where one would expect flesh and blood, but pretty soon the orb was pried out of Fenn. Sevrin stepped over to pick it up, though it would be dropped inches off the ground at first due to the heat, but it seemed to cool itself rather quickly as he was able to pick it up a few moments later.

"'Your kin', such arrogance... But I'll count my fortunes, see you losers later", he said, referring to the Nephilim, and then to the ragtag group, before kicking Fenn in the ribs then heading down to the seal, unable to be stopped.

"I certainly am late to the party aren't I? All the drinks are gone and there's no food in sight, moreover I didn't even get an invitation, I'd say this is a fine insult", a volley of bullets rang out as Void found herself negating them with her abilities, removing all of their force with a wave of her hand. But as soon as she did that a demonic beast conjured by thousands of threads of hair slammed into her. Void's hovering self easily held the impact and minimized damage.

"A Witch of the Umbra... How unexpected. But this is no party, I'm afraid you may have the wrong place",

"Oh no I definitely have the right place", the witch in white that appeared, her name was Jeanne.

"Now then, do you happen to know of another "Witch of Umbra"? We were supposed to meet up and go shopping for the New Year", Void averted her gaze for a moment as if in thought...

"Another of your kind? I am afraid it does not for me, but my kin have shared to me such an encounter", Jeanne clicked her tongue at the result of her interrogation.

"Well then I suppose you'll have to introduce me to them", and very quickly the two were locked in combat. It was an unapproachable mess, huge hair-weaved demons and void-based magic, it was like watching a legendary battle unfold.

Everyone's gaze moved to the door as it heaved open.

Sevrin had successfully placed the orbs, and opened it, at first he began casually strolling in, but pretty soon he was on a sprint. The yell of a young man resounded after him as everyone watched a white-coated figure fly in, with an arm glowing blue, and a huge blade on his back. Akoni and Henry would recognize this man as Nero and so would others.

"That's my sword get back here!", was the last thing they heard as he and Sevrin disappeared into the vault below.

Shit.

Everything had gone to hell. Not only had Sevrin arrived, but he had stolen the orbs as well. That one angel still believed himself to be superior to everyone, and just about everyone here was useless.

And somehow, things were bound to get even worse. Lily's attacks had almost all been negated, cut apart by that damnable sword. Without more time she couldn't mount an attack, that would get past Sevrin's defence. She grit her teeth and took to the air, intent on buying as much time as she could. She had the advantage of flight, and however high Sevrin could jump, he was no match for someone to whom gravity was optional. Fire and plasma coalesced in her hands. Twin orbs of fiery destruction growing stronger all too slowly for Lily's liking, yet it was all that she could do at the moment. Sevrin might have been immobilized by Kushiel and Akoni, but she did not trust the imbecile to deliver the finishing blow. He would screw it up, she knew it. And Akoni... He was powerful for a human, but she did not think him quite capable enough to finish off the likes of Sevrin, even if it was only an avatar of the true horror still trapped, behind the veil separating Hell and Earth.

Precious few seconds passed, and Lily started to feel confident that she had enough to blast Sevrin into oblivion. She reared back, as if to throw the orbs, but paused. Space opened in front of Sevrin, and a being that gave even Lily pause stepped up. She - it - blocked the Longinus. That, more than anything, was what made Lily banish her flames. The look Sevrin gave this new Void-individual was one Lily found herself in agreement with. Disgust and anger, and begrudging respect for being obviously powerful.

Could she dare risk attacking this new individual? They had blocked the Longinus of all weapons, grasping it by the blade. She grit her teeth, and tentatively tried to form an attack, only for Void to disappear, then re-appear a distance below her. She reacted immediately, shooting into the air just as a blast of darkness surged out from around Void. The very fringes of the explosion managed to reach Lily, covering her lower legs and leaving them human and bare, only patches of the fiery plasma that was her Sol body covering them.

Never before had she felt something like that. Felt something try to strip her power from her. More than anything, the gal of that ignited the anger within her. She was a Shapeshifter. She had created the art of changing forms at will; to separate what she was into multiple parts, using and enhancing each at any time she desired. She was a Master of her own body, and no one had the right to control what body she decided to inhabit. So she fought through it, not asking, but forcing er body to change back. The fire that made up her elemental body spread and struggled, covering her lower legs in pulsing patches.

It was only moments later that she reformed her body in its entirety, glaring balefully down at the newcomer. Had she been able to, she would have turned her to ash from the inside out, but knowing that she had a power like this... If she could use it at her leisure, the chances of Lily defeating her were slim.

So she turned her attention to Sevrin instead, who had now opened the vault's door and was already hurrying down the corridor. And within moments, a white-clad figure following him, screaming about how a sword was his. "Sparda's son?" Lily whispered to herself incredulously. The whelp's impossibly bad timing made her want to burn him, but she was forced to recognise that he was an ally of inconvenience at this point. At the very least he wanted the Yamato back, which made him an enemy of Sevrin.

She didn't even care to acknowledge the woman that appeared, content to leave her be since she appeared an opponent of Void. "Fenn!" She shouted, already speeding towards the open vault. "Heal, then follow me!"

Around her, fire seemed to coalesce in empty air, falling behind for a second only to trail behind her. Each second that passed saw more and more of these fiery orbs coming into existence, each one adding to the hoard of flaming spheres that followed in Lily's wake. Singular blasts of fire, or a Supernova, had done very little to Sevrin. He had been able to cut them apart with the sword. She wouldn't be able to defeat him by sending just one attack at him at a time, regardless of how powerful it was. But hundreds of smaller attacks, falling upon him like a tidal wave.

She didn't care how powerful the Yamato was. He could not defend against such a barrage.

"Here it is...", before him was an altar of sorts, though it's design heralded Christianity, none of the surrounding symbolism suggested it. Yes, this was an artifact that predated traditional notions of religion. Sevrin drew the Yamato, throwing the sheath aside as he raised the blade, swinging once, causing a crack to occur, and as soon as it did, he felt power course through him... Yes, this power, this was some of his power that was sealed in the demon world... His theory may be correct, these seals were tied to his own seal somehow... Though there was a question of who broke the first one, it didn't matter to him at present, what mattered was getting his power back.

As soon as he went to swing a second time to try and seal the deal, he felt the blade violently wrested from him by a blue aetherial arm. It was Nero,

="Alright, now that I have my sword back, time to dish out your punishment", as confident as he sounded, it didn't seem to phase Sevrin, there was a difference in his aura since entering... His eyes now glowed and his presence alone seemed to command a great deal of power.

"That's if you can boy, come on, let's see you deal with me now".

TRACK: Nightmare Fiction

Sevrin clicked his fingers, causing his Devil Trigger to activate, but being near the broken altar like this as supernatural energies seeped out, he was basically being continually supplied with power. Nero charged in with his Red Queen first, a flaming slash cascaded along the ground and into the air as Sevrin followed, a flurry of silver flashes as he controlled the force with multiple strikes before kicking him mid-air. While travelling backwards in the air Nero pelted his arm forward, an aetherial arm reaching out for Sevrin, but his own jaw chain came flying out. The two grapples flung past each other heading for the user, but neither would find their mark as both their free hands wielded another weapon, warding it off as they landed back onto the ground.

Nero being the more aggressive type immediately went right back into charging with the Red Queen in one hand and the Yamato in the other. As soon as he reached Sevrin, he seemed to disappear into countless crows before he seemed to appear to his side. Nero's dual-wielding allowed him to easily catch it, but he found himself needing to catch several more of what he now realizes are after-images, before he would break free from this pressure with a swirling vortex of blue flashes and flame. At the slightest disturbance he whipped out the Blue Rose and fired, and it was a good guess of his instinct, the shot found itself striking Sevrin in the chest.

Turning to see his damage done, he watched as the bullet just drooped out of the hole it made in him, flesh being replaced by a purple-black phantasm, before it returned to being flesh.

"What... Are you?", this wasn't normal possession... The body of one possessed wouldn't heal like that of a demon's, but as the power began to well up in Sevrin...

"Heheheha, you like it? I'm getting some of my power back. All those years of torment... Yes I can see it... But this is still not enough, moreover, it seems this body is nearing the end of it's usefulness", he stated, raising his hand. The skin was continually flaying and healing like earlier... The raw power he had obtained seemed to be far more than a human body can handle.

"But I don't need it anymore, with this much power, I'll be able to maintain a form on this realm for quite some time", he boasted. In moments the body of Sevrin fell forward, heaping onto the ground.

"Alive or dead, doesn't matter to me", what stood in front of Nero was a phantasmal being, slowly the black and purple swirled and achieved a form, it looked a lot like Sevrin, but the long hooded seemingly formless coat...

"Ah, yeah this form does look like him doesn't it? But I'd long forgotten what I look like so I used what was convenient, but like this... I don't need that damn sword anymore to break these accursed seals!", he exclaimed. Before Nero could strike to stop him, a spectral wave shot up from Sevrin kicking his feet up, completely enveloping the seal, the black wave clearing after some moments, giving way to showing the seal just begin crumbling. The new being that emerged began to run off,

"I don't think calling me 'Sevrin' would be right from now on, after all the one there is 'Sevrin', for now I suppose... Call me Vega, but soon you will learn my true name", and with that, he was gone, his new and more corporeal form letting him move more quickly as he rapidly deformed and reformed as he sped past any obstacle, disappearing as the seal's destruction signalled imminent collapse.

Nero quickly retrieved the formerly possessed Sevrin and began to evacuate, the whole area began to shake, and everyone present knew what that meant.

Wrath, during the entire exchange, stood dumbfounded, Rage Bringer resting it's tip against the stone he stood on. Before him stood another member of his race, another Nephilim, a being forged of the bones of Angel and Demon. How, when...WHO?! Over and over again, he tried to figure out who would have had not only access to the bones, but knowledge of the process needed to create a Nephilim. Not only that, but there were supposedly three others, three other Nephilim, beings not only like himself, but, as he watched the powers of those caught in Void's attack vanish, incredibly powerful, more powerful than he was from what he had seen.

As the Umbran Witch appeared and engaged Void, Wrath slowly recovered as he realized that Sevrin was getting away and that Lily and Fenn would need aid to engage him. As he stirred himself, he pulled his greatsword free of it's stone resting place and put it on his back before going into a dead sprint to try and catch up with the pair of Demons before they ended up in over their heads. As it were, he was entirely unaware that Nero was already down there and was therefore unaware that it would be a four on one.

Except that, halfway down, a familiar rumbling echoed from the bottom of the path, which drew a groan from the Nephilim before he yelled after the pair. "He's already destroyed the Seal! Clear out!" Turning on his heel, he began to high tail it back the way he'd come. When he broke through the doorway, Zarrath was waiting with a squad of angels, a pair of new nicks on his armor from his duel with that demon, and Kushiel and his spear retrieved. Stopping to look at those who hadn't gone down the tunnel as well, he sighed.

"I'm sorry, but I think there's something we're not being told. Make of that what you will." And with that, the Nephilim and Angels were in full retreat, heading to a nearby evacuation point to avoid whatever fate was about to befall the island and it's jungle.

Frustrations had to be let out. Some people fought, others wrote down their issues, and some people channelled them into art of various kinds. Lily was neither of these.

In some ways, she resembled a great deal of human women in this regard, in that she went shopping. Although, to call it shopping might be a misnomer, as what she did was usually either plain steal, or manipulate the cashiers into letting her leave without paying. This time, however, was different, for she had actually paid for all of the items currently contained within the three, large bags dangling from her arms. One she had filled to the brim with new clothes, seeing as how a couple of sets had been ruined lately, thanks in part to her shapeshifting — she really needed to find a way to let her clothes meld with her form when she became half dragon, like she did when she let her magic take over her body — but she also because she had had second thoughts about a few of the attires she had... acquired the last time she had gone shopping, and had subsequently torched them. A pink cocktail dress, really? She grimaced at the mere thought.

The other two bags were occupied by less fashionable items, with one of them doomed to smell like the living dead if not refrigerated. Its contents were courtesy of a few German butchers, and should hopefully serve as a snack for Fenn. Possibly two. Sausages, hams, beefs, lamb chops, et cetera. She couldn't help but wonder what he'd think of the curry wurst. It was something of a delicacy, or at the very least good enough to warrant its international fame. She liked it, at the very least.

The third, and final, bag was filled with an assortment of jewellery and random nicknacks, sans a peculiar, cylindrical package, and was only about filled halfway, and was the smallest of the three bags at that. She had had the modesty to only buy the things she knew she would use at some point in the nearest future. That being the next hundred or so years.

As it was nearing night time, Lily decided that it was time to take a rest before returning back to the Citadel, and the rest of her temporary allies. She found a tiny square that was, for the most part, abandoned, save the occasional drunk or cocky teen passing through, and sat down on one of the nearby benches. She discarded her hat — it was akin to a very wide-brimmed fedora — and let her hair tumble down her back; thick, wavy and the colour of cornflowers. The day had been exhausting, not the least of which was because of the fighting in that obnoxious forest. Actually, it was mostly that. The arrogance and hypocrisy of the angels, their blind loyalty and ignorance. They had failed to heed her warnings, failed to see that there was more to gain in working together, and so had been the cause of yet another seal being destroyed. Not even the famed Son of Sparda had been of much help. Heirs of the mightiest Demon to have ever existed; so strong that even she dared not try to compare herself to the monolith that was Sparda. Sometimes the apple did not fall far from the tree. In this case, it had tumbled down the hill, it seemed. Had he at least been successful at stalling him, she could have vaporized him then and there. At least the fragment of his power that had slithered its way into the mortal realm.

She sighed, feeling some more of her frustrations and tiredness from the day escape her. Shopping always felt nice. Simply the act of being able to acquire new things; the novelty of it was what enticed her so. After so many years, she wondered if perhaps it was only natural to desire novelty. Strange though it may seem, and much to her surprise, she never quite seemed to catch up. There was always something new. It made her smile. Humans, she thought.

She rested a hand over her breast, feeling the slow beat of her own heart, and the cold, glassy surface of the necklace she always wore. She held it up for herself to see, quirking an eyebrow as her green eyes were reflected in its metallic surface. Green really did go well with this hair colour.

Black on red on black. An obsidian sphere, ruby sphere, and an obsidian oval. A gift from times long since past, and the beginning of a tradition. It resembled an eye few humans had ever seen, fewer demons and angels still. She remembered the day fondly; so long ago, and yet still so vivid. Who would have thought that—

A faint rustle from above, like that of flapping clothes against the wind. Lily reacted without thinking, acting on instinct far moreso than any cognitive thought. She was on her feet—paws—before the sound even came within metres of her; her body already that of a half-feline and a long, straight blade held in her grasp.

A distinctly human shape wreathed in cloth fell down where she had been, its silvery blade piercing the bench where she had been seated moments before. It moved in a blur, tearing the blade out of the bench and charging against Lily once more, forcing her to parry. Moving faster than any human should be able to, the attacker struck again, moving fluidly, and expertly moved past Lily's defense and struck at her heart, only for the attack to bounce off of a hastily made Projected around her torso.

Enraged, moreso that someone dared risk harming her medallion than herself, Lily went on the offence. Her opponent was an expert, but she was stil the faster one. She met her blow for blow, fighting back the cowled figure, forcing them on the defensive as she hailed down attacks with swords, axes, polearms and spears. And yet, somehow, her opponent did not back down, flee, or even get hurt. Every slash was parried; every lunge flicked aside.

Finally, she had had enough, morphing her sword into her black-read spear, point at her opponent. From beneath the cowl she could see a smile, and then they charged. She held them on point, and lunged.

A flicker of silver, and the spear was knocked aside. Lily didn't even have time to process what had just happened before she felt cold metal against her neck. Cold and slightly damp, as if mist clung to it. She looked down at the cowled figured, glanced at the mirror-polished blade, then at the hand holding it; delicate, feminine, and around the wrist... A bracelet, with a ruby, a sapphire, and a piece of obsidian attached to it.

Realisation dawned upon her just as her would-be assailant pulled back the hood, smiling up at her with violet eyes. "Bonjour mère."

It happened so rarely that it was a novelty to feel it again: Surprise, and delight. "Fayette, Little Fairy," she said, returning to her human appearance. She pulled the other woman into a hug, feeling another pair of arms wrap themselves around her. She only let go several long moments later, holding her at arm's length. "Decades," she said, smiling wider than she had thought herself able to today, "it's been decades, and not a word. But, what does it matter. You're here." She sighed, but ended up chuckling halfway through. "Attacking me, really? I could have seriously hurt you," Lily said, worry in her voice and on her face.

The woman, Cassandra, grinned wider. "Judging by your frantic swinging with your sword, I don't think she," she said, speaking with a light, French accent. She let her gaze fall, and gently ran her fingers along the medallion around Lily's neck, smiling fondly at it. "But, you have improved."

"Have I now?" Lily asked wryly, only to be met by that unbelievably sincere smile again.

"Oui."

Lily chuckled in spite of herself and let go of Cassandra, moving over to where the contents of her bags lay scattered across the ground. It came as no surprise to see Cassandra kneel down beside her, and help with putting everything back where they belonged. She held up a couple of golden earrings, squinting at them thoughtfully, then glancing at the other woman. Maybe... Yes. I think that would work. She held up the two golden hoops in front of Cassandra, and met her uncertain stare with a nod. "For you," she said.

Cassandra went through a series of facial expression at that statement; from surprise, to delight, to suspicion, then to a quiet joy. "Thank you," she said and accepted them, making quick work of the tags. She had them in her ears a few moments later and was inspecting herself in a mirror she conjured herself. "How much did they cost?" She asked, turning to Lily.

"About two hundred euro," she admitted while carefully putting the cylindrical package back in its bag. "Why?"

Cassandra turned to face her fully, trying to meet her eyes. "And did you pay for it?"

Lily nodded, smirking as she met Cassandra's gaze. "I did."

"Your own money?" She pressed.

Lily was about to say that, yes, they were her own money, when Cassandra did nothing more than raise an eyebrow. She pressed her lips into a thin line and looked away, an embarrassed blush painting her cheeks.

"Mother!"

"He bragged about how much money he had," she said in her own defence. "I hadn't intended to steal anything until I heard this braggart talking about how rich he was, and showing off his wallet to his date. So I thought I'd just... Teach him a lesson in humility. So I helped... him?"

Cassandra sighed, hanging her head. "Qu'est-ce que je vais faire avec toi."

Lily huffed, and glared at Cassandra. "Don't use that tone of voice on me, little Lady." She paused, then mellowed out a bit. "Regardless, I didn't take from someone who needed the money badly. If his car and clothes were anything to go by, emptying his wallet didn't really hurt him much."

Cassandra looked up, squinting at her, then allowed herself a small chuckle. "You never change, mother," she said and put the last dress back in the bag. She rose and handed it to Lily. "Please, never change."

She took the bag, and hefted the two others. "I have no intentions of doing so, Little Fairy," she said, and meant it. "But what have you been doing lately?"

Cassandra shrugged and donned Lily's discarded hat. She nodded approvingly. "Très peu. I was in Russia a couple months ago, travelled here through Ukraine, went through Poland and spent a few weeks in Czech, then came here a week or so ago." She turned in place, looking at the various buildings and rooftops, stopping only once she faced the setting sun, her eyes locked on the red-and-purple clouds. "And you?" She asked.

Lily hesitated, unsure of how much she could say. Cassandra was her daughter, one of the few people she trusted completely, but this was dangerous knowledge... And yet, she was a grown woman, however many centuries and millennia separated them. By human standards, Cassandra was among the oldest in history. She could make her own decisions. "I have been involved with the Charred Council. They are the faction that enforced the ceasefire between Heaven and Hell some two millennia ago. Someone is out to break the Seals and force another cataclysmic war; one that will inevitably result on Humanity's extinction of not stopped." With every word she felt her hackles rise; felt the churning core of fire in her gut start to flare with anger. Her fists clenched almost of their own accords. "I can't let that happen," she whispered, forcing herself to remain calm.

Cassandra, on the other hand, did not seemed so torn up about it. She was studying Lily, her face almost impossible neutral. Casual, even. Someone who knew her less might have thought she didn't care, but Lily knew better. She was just good at hiding what she thought. Always had been. Once Lily had finished her small tirade, she crossed her arms and looked her mother square in the face. "I'm coming with you," she said, then held up a hand to forestall the rebuttal Lily had already opened her mouth to say. "No ifs, no buts. I am older than most humans will ever be, and I am a part of this world as much as anybody else. Even moreso than you, mother, because I am half human; a fact that I am proud of. And that's not even mentioning that even you," she swept an arm out at Lily, "who taught me everything I know, cannot beat me with a sword, and you have literally twenty times the experience I do. So no, I will not let you keep me out of this. If my family — if Humanity — is in danger, than I am not going to sit idly by."

She didn't know what to say. She didn't even rightly know what to feel. Anger? Sadness? Concern? No... Neither of those. The one that was most prevalent was one she was oh so familiar with. It was Pride. Not in herself, but in her daughter. And it was said pride that swept aside her anger, and brightened her entire expression. "If that is what you wish, Cassandra," she said and put a hand on her daughter's head, ruffling her hair. "Now, if you really wanna join, you probably should meet the rest. There are actually two other Humans fighting beside us." She turned to the side, calling into empty air for one of the Watcher's to appear.

A few seconds passed by before the inhuman, six-eyed creature that was one of the Watchers faded into view before them. It regarded Lily with something akin to disdain, and annoyance that it was forced to answer her call. Something she returned with a smirk.

"We need to return," she told it, and reached out to grasp Cassandra's hand. "This is Cassandra, she will be joining us in the fight to defend the Seals. You have no objections, I hope?"

"None. I'm not the one who's bringing a fashionista — with horrible fashion sense, I might add — to a war." If it had a mouth Lily knew it would be grinning. "But it's not me who's dying. But fair warning, the Citadel might make your fancy shoes dirty!"

Neither Lily nor Cassandra replied, simply staring it down until it, finally, it seemed to grow tired of trying and snapped its fingers, bringing them to the realm of the Charred Council.

---

They appeared before the gates that lead to the Citadel, and while Lily was used to it, Cassandra was not. She gaped wide-eyed and open-mouthed at it, muttering a quiet "Wow." She wordlessly followed Lily into the fortress, heading for their room.

"How big is this place?" Cassandra asked, still looking up at the ceiling far above them, and around at every door and hallway they passed.

"No idea," Lily admitted, turning down one such hallway. "Big enough to allow an elephant to walk around without much trouble. As for the entire fortress, I can only guess. Far larger than any human castle I've ever seen." She stopped in front of a large double door, placing one hand against it but didn't open it. She turned to Cassandra. "This is my room, which I'm sharing it with someone else. I'm sure you remember how to get here—" Cassandra nodded "—so you're free to go explore. For the most part, just ignore the Watchers, they are like foul-mouthed imps. Anyone else here will most likely be friendly, maybe a bit confused as to your presence, but explain it to them and everything should be fine." She pushed open the door a bit, allowing Cassandra to see just enough to spot the large, queen-sized bed in one end of the room. "Now, I'll get my things here sorted out, and come find you later. Come find me if you need anything."

Cassandra nodded, and managed to dart in and give Lily a peck on the cheek before she darted off, a faint "À bientôt, mother!" In her wake.

A sudden cold spread from the hound’s chest. Fenn’s eyes angled downwards, towards the steel tip poking out of his chest.

Ah, he distantly thought, the snake makes its move.

The steel slipped out of the wound, leaving behind a strange void, and the demon staggered. He had known their foe would be lying in wait, hoping to gain an advantage over them. Why had he not seen this coming? Perhaps he had been too confident in his hide’s toughness.

The fight continued to rage around him, its focus now shifted towards the new appearance, but Fenn suddenly found it difficult to follow the action. His eyes unfocused, and cold continued to spread from his center. A metallic flavor filled his mouth.

Willing fire into his limbs through the languor that filled him, the hound turned, ready to pounce on the vulnerable snake.

Before he could do so, darkness swept over him. Whatever strength he had summoned left him, and the demon’s large body collapsed under its weight.

Fenn forced himself to look up at the new enemy, this one vaguely female in shape. A strange but familiar scent filled his nostrils before the dark swallowed him again. He felt a feeling of weightlessness, followed by pressure against his limbs.

He resurfaced before the snake.

Fenn tried to summon strength into his arms, willing them to grasp the small human and crush him, but the darkness holding him did not relent, presenting his underbelly to the enemy.

The pair traded words, but they were drowned by the blood rushing through his ears. The snake turned towards him, brandishing the cursed sword.

A low growl seeped through the demon’s chest, muscles trembling as he struggled to regain control over them. The snarling grew in volume as the blade sunk into his stomach, and then suddenly tapered off into a hacking cough. A scalding, tar-like fluid bubbled from the hound’s maw.

The man dug into the wound, cutting deeper and wider until the orb Fenn had swallowed fell to the ground.

The blade retreated. Fenn felt himself grow limp in his restraints. What felt like an eternity later, the restraints fell away, letting him fall over the large lake of blood that had formed under him.

Darkness encroached on his vision. The snake was gone, likely off to destroy the seal now that he had the means to go through the gate, which meant he had failed in his mission.

In that space at the edge of consciousness, every blink of his bleary eyes took an inordinate amount of time. The view before him changed without him noticing, a pair of feet standing at the edge of his blood. The Imp spoke. When he blinked again, she was gone.

He wondered if this cold he felt was death coming for him. Pierced by the cursed blade of a demon swordsman from behind, then gutted like an animal in plain view of both friend and foe.

An ignoble end. Perhaps one all too fitting for a dog of war well past its prime, and so he would not begrudge it.

“...”

He wondered why, if this was death, he was suddenly so aware of the pain in each an every of his wounds.

Of course he realized, his mind regaining some clarity, as the poison recedes, the body repairs itself. This flame is too damn stubborn. Can you not leave me to rest?

With the orb gone and the deadening magic of the interloper fading from his body, he found his strength and faculties returning to him. Smoke began to bubble from his wounds, stemming the flow of blood. Fire sputtered to life over his fur, and the dog began to lift itself on unsteady limbs. He felt a lurching, sickening sensation at the pit of his stomach and brought a paw to the wound on his underbelly, trying to keep his entrails from falling through.

That would not do.

The fire on his fur flared outwards, growing in brilliance and spreading over his fur until the vast form of the hellhound could barely be made out under the conflagration. After a moment, the flame began to move towards the two beings still locked in a confrontation.

The Umbra Witch and the interloper had begun their battle, rushing to and fro in bursts of gunfire and nebulous energy. The witch’s contracted demons surged into the fight from large portals formed from her hair, weaving in and out of existence as they tangled against the strange being’s blackened magic.

Both seemed too engrossed in their duel to take note of the flame’s inexorable approach, small as it was compared to the unfolding chaos.

Two large fireballs, long contrails like comets trailing behind them, separated from the pyre and raced towards the combatants.

The witch, standing with her back directly towards the projectiles, sensed the heat behind her and weaved away with a fae grace, leaving the interloper to face the fire.

The only hint that the fire had been registered as a threat was the nebulous energy that swept out in a wave, extinguishing the flames in an instant. Of course, it did nothing to halt the tightly-packed coils of chains hidden within. The creature started and crossed her arms in defense before a deep darkness engulfed her. The chains fell into the void, meeting no resistance.

The click of metal on metal came from besides the flame. The fire shifted slightly as Fenn turned to regard the witch pointing a small firearm at him.

“I do not take kindly to interruptions, love.”

Fenn’s voice came in the hoary whisper of a ravaged throat.

“Move.”

His chains trembled a warning before the two metal coils were violently expelled from the inky blackness that had covered the interloper. The witch stepped back as the chains swerved back and were swallowed by the hound’s pyre, just as the enemy stepped out of her barrier, unharmed.

The witch turned to aim at her original enemy, but the mysterious being’s focus was no longer on her.

“Beast of hellfire, your actions are unwise. Engaging me in combat will not change the outcome of today's events. I suggest retreating.”

“Aye,” he agreed, haltingly. “You speak the truth... alas, the seal does not matter to me. And… you brought me great pain. I wish to taste your blood, now.” Fenn let out a soft grunt disguising a pained cough. “Do you need this one alive, witch?”

“Why yes, if at all possible,” she answered conversationally.

“How… disappointing.”

The enemy did not seem interested in the exchange before her. Instead, she spoke calmly. “It appears I am outnumbered now. However, the difficulty has not increased. I will allow you to exercise your futile actions.”

Nebulous magic swelled at the words.

This time, it was Fenn’s pained cough that hid hoarse laughter.

---

Fenn’s eyes opened, then quickly closed at the light that assaulted them. The feeling of stone floors underneath him along with the roiling sound of magma gave him a clue as to his current whereabouts.

The large demon shifted and stretched his long arms forward, feeling the muscles quiver under the tension. New aches accompanied this awakening, mostly centered on his belly, chest, and along the side of his neck.

Finally opening his eyes, the demon chanced a look down.

Puckering, grayish scar tissue had formed over the wounds dealt by the demonic blade. The latest marks on his hide, the veritable tapestry of old injuries that laid bare the violent history of its owner. He knew that for how excruciating the experience had been, for how exceptional the make of the blade that had dealt such damage was, it would not take long for the scars to become indistinguishable from some of the larger wounds he still bore proof of.

Fenn brought a claw to his chest. Saw the thin trail of smoke that arose as the flesh parted under the sharp point when he applied the softest of pressures.

“I see the family’s pet is feeling better!”

The announcement was accompanied by a shrill laugh as the watcher that continued to shadow him poked its head from the wall besides him.

Fenn wasted no time pulling his fist away from his chest and hammering it against the source of the offending sound.

Dust fell from the ceiling at the blow, but a moment later, the specter flowed out through his arm, regarding him with that mouthless sneer he had come to associate from the creature. “Yes, indeed, this is more like you, mutt.”

Fenn scowled at the watcher, then shook his head.

He took a glance at the room he was in. Bare, stone walls, and a pool of lava flowing into the room from an opening at the wall. He searched his memory for when he had made his way into the room, but came up blank. The hound grunted, pushing away the feeling of disorientation that suddenly pressed down on him.

If he tried to dredge up the last memory he had... it was battling that interloper. We fought for some time, to little effect, and then... the ground had begun to shake. The enemy had taken the chance to make themselves scarce then.

“Was I... carried here?” He asked slowly. The thought brought shame to him. The only one who would be capable of such a feat would be the Imp. Her burdens should have been his to carry, not the reverse.

“Cracked your head against something?” The specter let out another of its obnoxious cackles. “Of course not! You managed to make it all the way here all on your own! You even responded when spoken to, but the minute the portal back opened you slipped away all by your lonesome to this room while the others went to report. Why, I might have been the only one with an inkling of what poor shape you were on!”

“Aye?” Fenn responded by reflex. He had no memory of any of this.

“Of course! You did not try to smash me when I came by to rub your failure on your noses. What greater hint could there be?”

He grunted. “And the Imp? Where is she?”

“Your master, you mean? Gone to Earth once again. It would seem the loss of one more seal has not made the place go to hell yet.” It giggled. “Who knows how long it will take for that to happen? Not long if it’s up to you fools, I would imagine.”

A hum thrummed in the hound’s chest as it narrowed its eyes. “Does the Council tolerate such venom, or encourages it?”

“Bah!” The watcher made a dismissive gesture. “The Council could care less about what I think as long as I do what I’m told. You should keep that in mind, mutt. This latest failure puts you on thin ice.” The creature giggled at that, as though enjoying a private joke.

“I am not beholden to the Council, pest.”

“Hah! But! Your master is,” it crooned. “Take care you do not lead the two of you to an early grave.”

Aye. And, pray tell, what shall your Council do without us? Will it finally count on their vaunted Horsemen? Fenn withheld those remarks.

There had been a time when he had thought the four Nephilim, the supposed last of their race, had been held back from the current conflict because the nature of their appearance on Earth would imply the beginning of the true end-war. Now, however he was not certain that was enough to explain their absence. The mission before their last one had not taken place on Earth, after all, and the last mission had seen the appearance of an interloper with a very particular scent and an agenda of its own.

He was beginning to consider taking the matter to the Council itself. Would I even survive bringing such matters into question?

“You became quiet.” The watcher’s observation roused the demon from its introspection. “Did I perhaps touch a sore spot?”

Fenn huffed through his snout, relieved the creature had not thought more of his pause. “Leave, specter. I am finished entertaining you.”

“I do not take orders from you, mutt. You are but a servant’s pet.”

The hound gave the watcher a half-lidded stare.

Moments later, fire erupted from the entrance to the room. The watcher’s shriek followed on its heels.

“Ahrg! That’s too bright, you stupid dog!” It screamed as it floated out of the room, spindly fingers covering its eyes.

---

The place had been empty, for the most part. Whoever had designed it was definitely no connoisseur of architecture, Cassandra thought, thinking that, compared to this, a Spartan room was positively luxurious. The most extravagant thing she had found was a smithy, at that point unused, but with signs of recent use.

Since she had parted with her mother, about an hour had passed, and so far it had been less interesting than she had expected. This was a new realm. Not just a different country, but a veritable dimension of its own, connected to Earth through whatever magical or cosmological means! And yet, the monotony took some of the wind out of her sails. Charred bricks an equal mix of black and sulphurous red just got boring after a while. One would expect an ancient citadel like this, to carry some secrets within its walls.

She sighed and took off her—or rather, her mother’s—hat, fanning herself with it. This place was unimaginably hot, she had to admit, and were it not because of her light clothing she had no doubt she would be suffering a heatstroke. And she was a half-demon of all things, naturally far more resistant to heat than other humans thanks to her maternal heritage.

She would have congratulated herself on that fact, had it not been for the sudden flash of light and the indignant screech of… something, coming from down a hallway just ahead of her. Suddenly intrigued, she took off after it, passing by one of the same beings that had brought her to this realm. It ignored her, but judging by its facial expression—or what she could see of it—this being was what had been indignant.

She suppressed a chuckle and continued down the hallway until she came to an enormous doorway, one that could, as her mother had put it, fit an elephant. She peered into the room hesitantly, keeping the rest of her body out of sight.

At the sight of what was within, her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Sacrébleu!” She exclaimed and stepped into full view of the beast within. It truly was the size of an elephant, but a beast of fire and scale and black fur. Chains wrapped around the lower part of its front legs, covering only a miniscule amount of the numerous scars that covered its body.

Her mind raced with information new and old, comparing old stories to the sight before her. Those slitted, amber eyes resting upon her, gleaming with intelligence, and the overall canine appearance of this creature told her much of what she needed. “You’re a hellhound,” she said, walking into the room and halving the distance between them. She wasn’t sure who this creature was, and if he was aggressive or not. Her money was on the former, and though she was confident in her ability to defend herself, the Hellhound was enormous.

“How did you get so big?” She asked.

---

Petty as it was, Fenn had to admit to a certain satisfaction at finally eliciting such a response from the small watcher. Mayhaps theaps the shadowy creature would think twice before bothering him again.

The hound rose from his haunches, moving his massive frame towards the archway. As tempting as it was to simply lay there in an unused room where others would need to find him to interrupt his rest, there were things he wished to discuss, and thoughts he wished to put in order.

Which made the appearance of the wide-eyed, humanoid female barring his way out a touch irritating. Had it not been for the fact that he did not recognize this one, either by face or scent, he may well have chosen to barrel over her. As it was, there was something decidedly familiar about her.

Fenn paused, regarding the small half-blood with guarded interest. When the woman began a careless approach, Fenn raised his lip, exposing teeth in a silent warning. She stopped right outside of his reach.

“How did you get so big?” she asked with childlike wonder.

The old dog could not help but feel discomfort at the eagerness of her approach. He lowered his head to bring it level to her. “I fed well as a pup.” His nose twitched, sampling the fresh fragrance wafting from her. It carried with it the impression of forests, grasslands and wide plains, and part of it immediately brought the Imp to mind. However, even with all her time spent amongst humans, he would never confuse that one for a halfling.

“Have we met, Pixie?” he asked gruffly, seeking to put the strange feeling of familiarity to rest.

The girl walked into the room proper, slowly circling him while keeping a respectful distance. She didn’t appear afraid, merely showing respectful caution in the presence of Fenn. “We haven’t,” she said, her brows furrowing, “but I think I maybe have heard stories about you. But you never answered my first question.” She stopped, at this point near his hind legs, and looked back at him with a faint smile, waiting.

Stories of me? Told by whom? There are only so many kinds of attention such tales can bring. “Which question?”

“Whether you’re a hellhound or not,” she said.

Fenn’s tail swayed, betraying his impatience. “That should be evident,” he drawled. The path out of the room was vacant now and the hound was not in the mood to play with the stranger. He sauntered forward at a lazy pace, not bothering to turn his back away from the short woman.

“What’s your name?” She asked, the pitter-patter of her feet follow in his wake, and soon reaching up beside him.

He glanced to his side, saw the expectant look of the woman trying to match his stride. “Fenn,” he stated, knowing she already had the answer and was merely looking for confirmation.

“I’m Cassandra,” she replied, happily, “nice to meet you… So, where are we going? I only just got here.”

“I have yet to decide.” The hound paused suddenly and regarded the woman with an intense stare. “You are not fit for this environment, yet you have not been granted protection to the elements. You have not stood before the Council. Why are you here, Pixie?”

Her face lit up into a brief smile, as if what he had said amused her, or she was privy to a joke he was not, but it faded soon after as she addressed his query. “‘Their protection’?” She asked, scrunching up her face in seeming bewilderment for a moment or two, before it lit up in comprehension. “Oh! You mean the Charred Council. Well… I haven’t really met them, and the Thing that took me here didn’t mention it.” She shrugged, meeting Fenn’s gaze unperturbed. “And I’m here because I want to help. Susanne told me that the Charred Council had hired her to help protect the Seals that prevented some war between Heaven and Hell. I have the ability, so why not use them to protect my family?”

“I do not know that name,” the dog stated, eyelids drooping slightly. “It seems I am to believe that you were brought here and then left to roam by your lonesome, unmindful of what problems might arise from a stranger traipsing through these halls unaccompanied. Have I understood correctly?”

“She means me, Fenn,” a voice said from around the corner. A short woman of asian descent, carrying a large bag and a long, cylindrical package stepped into view. “Susanne was my previous name.” She walked closer, sizing up Fenn and Cassandra, a smile on her lips.

“Imp,” he greeted. Aye, I had an inkling. Then... “You must take better care of your spawn. Another may well have treated this one as an intruder.”

“You know as well as I do that intruders here are impossible. But let me introduce you to my daughter. This is Cassandra Fayette Bellerose. And Cassandra, this is Fenn. I think I once told you of one of my oldest rivals.” She then turned to face the Hellhound. “I also have a present for you, Big ol’ pup,” Lily said, and threw the large bag towards Fenn.

The hound may well have complained that intruders were always impossible until they were not, but catching the proffered object in his mouth made that a difficult task. A pleasant aroma wafted from an opening. The hound let the present fall to the ground in front of him before tearing the bag open with a push of a paw and his sount.

“I do not ask for gifts, Imp.” Fenn regarded the offered meats with a critical eye. “In fact, I have to ask myself if you have not begun to believe some of the other’s misconceptions that I am in fact an exotic pet of yours.”

“Who’d ever want a pet like you?” She asked with a chuckle. “But the point of a gift is that it’s not asked for. Consider it a token of goodwill, and some actual proper food. Angels aren’t very tasty, last I checked.”

The hound grunted before he lowered his head and dug into the offering.

Cassandra gasped beside Fenn, her expression one of disgust. “You ate angels?!”

“Tried. Once,” the Imp replied casually. “I bit him in the throat, to be precise. Tasted like oil.”

“Charcoal,” Fenn corrected through a glob of fat.

“Everything tastes like charcoal if you burn it enough, Fenn.”

The Pixie let out relieved sigh. “Still, though… Ew.”

Lily chuckled, then walked over to give her cub a pat on the head, as if she were a pet. “I’ll be heading off again, trying to find Souta. And Fenn?” She stopped in front of his snout, staring him straight in the eye, and spoke in a steely tone, “Make sure she doesn’t get hurt.” A wave later, and she was gone, off to wherever.

Fenn’s ear twitched at the frost in her words. When she left, he glanced up from his meal to gaze consideringly at his new charge. His tongue slipped out of his mouth, sliding over some dribbling blood.

“Your mother should have kept you out of this if she feels so strongly about your safety,” he said bluntly.

Cassandra shrugged. “I didn’t give her a choice. Plus, she cannot beat me in a swordfight—Hasn’t been able to since I was thirty.” She glanced up at Fenn, a thoughtful look in her eyes. “I think she might have meant it as a… request, for you to keep me safe, or something to that effect?”

“What she has done is made you my responsibility, and if you are at all like your mother, it shall be a tiresome affair.” The demon huffed. “So be it. Do not stray too far, at least until you have met the others who have pledged themselves to the Council.”

“I’ll be sure not to,” she replied cheerily. “By the way… Can I pet you?”

“No.”

“Can I ride you?”

“You have me mistaken for a horse.”

Cassandra shook her head, her smile too bright for the place they were in. “Horses aren’t the only thing you can ride,” she said simply. “There’s this game where people ride giant wolves, too.”

“Then tame yourself a wolf, Pixie,” he grunted, returning his attention to what remained of his meal. The meat disappeared at a frightening rate, torn into large chunks and often swallowed whole into the dog’s large gullet.

“If I could, I would,” she said pouting. “Pour le meilleur ou pour le pire, I suppose.” She glanced about at their surroundings, and squinted off down one of the adjacent hallways, then quickly glanced down at Fenn. “So… You don’t mind if I go exploring? Mother didn’t tell me to stay with you, after all.” She paused. “Don’t worry about what she said to you. I don’t think I’ll be in any danger here. Unless, of course, I piss up the wrong tree.” She turned to Fenn, grinning. She then winked at him and took off at a run down one of the corridors, leaving the hellhound behind.

Fenn’s ears twitched at the sound of retreating footsteps, glancing over the direction the whelp had ran off to. Letting out a slow sigh, he swallowed the food still in his mouth and sedately followed after the Pixie’s trail, leaving the remains of his gift to be cleaned up by another.

If breaking into Regalia Arms was this easy, Souta concluded, he ought to have his dear dad get the occult wing busy with anti-teleportation measures.

A wave of nostalgia had hit the moment he stepped through the watcher's shadowy threshold and clapped the heel of he shoe upon the immaculate floor. Same old sound. A strange thing to remember, but something even the horrors of recent days couldn't make him forget. In this building, the smith remembered, all one had to do to see himself was take a quick look downward and peer into his reflection in the polished metal below. Sterling—just like the company's reputation, and the quality of its products. They were, after all, the reason why he was here.

“So, this is where some of the Earth's greatest humans work.” Not far away, Souta's escort ran her wispy, pitch-black talons across the intricately-wrought, gleaming chrome surface of a piece of equipment. Having appeared inside a laboratory in the research wing, a whole host of ingenious devices lay scattered around, along with various scraps of material being tested or deconstructed. Here, Souta knew, the components of the company's famous weapons were tested for quality, and various items taken from the field came under intense examination for the sake of understanding and perhaps incorporating them. For humans, the trinity of realities was a brave new world, and every chance encounter brought never-before-seen elements to their attention that all bore scrutiny. Souta likened it to the movies where humans reverse-engineered the technology of aliens, and for humanity's sake he hoped that Regalia was making similar progress.

He watched, frowning, as the watcher fiddled with a microscope, peering through it one eye after another at the empty slide that lay beneath. “There's nothing there to see. All samples are packed away at the end of each day. Professional standards.”

”Aww.” Bending over backward like a serpent, the specter oozed over a table of tools, knocking things over until she reached the edge, whereupon she slid up against the window to the hallway. Face pressed against the glass, she stared out at the well-lit corridor. ”It's soooo....clean! Organized! But also fancy. Not ostentatious like the stuff in Paradiso, but still making a statement. Like, 'look how efficient we humans are! We'll beat the demons with out protocols and growth rates! No angel will penetrate this bureaucracy!” Souta sighed. He did not trust the watcher, even if she seemed a good deal less purely malicious than the average specimen, as demonstrated by the day she brought him and Kyle to the Council. What choice did he have, though? As she tittered with laughter, Souta walked past and through the door to her left. It snapped shut on its own, forcing the watcher to give as close to a pouty look as her inhuman features could manage before phasing through the glass.

The smith glanced one way and then the other, searching for an indicator that would lead to his goal. “That would be the weapons, actually. Now, if you warped us right, my room is on this floor...” His questing finger turned to the right. “That way.” Sliding his hands into his pockets, he set off at a brisk pace. As familiar as this building was to him, he knew that he should not be here. Those who didn't think that he was dead could very well assume him to be a traitor, so keeping a low profile was quintessential.

Unfortunately, his companion did not share the sentiment. She floated lazily behind him, keeping up with his power-walk even while pausing to gawk at every interesting office and elaborate display piece along the way. ”Woow!” she remarked, her ethereal voice sporting a tone somewhere between intrigued and patronizing. “If the public space is this neat, I can hardly wait to see the shinies!” Her eyes narrowed as they fell upon Souta, who'd stopped to punch a number into a door's keypad. ”You aren't forgetting, are you? Whatever treasure catches my eye. Eyes. That's why we're here, not so you can rummage around. You ought to be grateful I agreed to this little trip in the first place!” She rested her head in a claw as a flat beep sounded from the keypad, causing Souta to grunt in frustration and try again. ”'Course, it would've been tough to say no. Nobody takes the time to think about us watchers want. So offerin' me a fun little shoppin' trip for a new shiny, even if you had your own angle? It's soooo sweet! Y'know, people are gonna talk. A moment of silence passed, and her eyes narrowed. ”Hey, hammerhead, you're not ignoring me, are you?”

A lighter tone sounded out, and Souta found that the door handle yielded beneath his inquiring press. He swung the door open, but before proceeding inside, turned to face the watcher. In as sincere a tone as he could muster, he said, ”Of course not. I am beyond grateful that you accepted my offer. Though I am surprised to hear that nobody has been paying you attention.” He spread his hands apart. ”You are not at all like the others. Even though fate has given you a terrible lot, you do not let it turn you bitter and miserable. You are someone who still knows how to enjoy yourself. That makes you special—makes you strong. So it is only reasonable that you should be rewarded. Your masters might not appreciate that, but I know what it is like to work a thankless job, surrounded by idiots. So I hope you like this trip.” After punctuating his speech with a little bow, he entered the room.

Behind him, the watcher clapped both hands over her face, eyes fading away. From the muffled tittering sound, Souta could tell that she was working hard to suppress laughter. Pretending not to notice, he approached his personal forge, and laid his hands on the top of the workstation. Though dust coated it from lack of use, he could still see the nicks where he'd scratched them, and the brown spatters of long-dried blood he never bothered to clean. ”Ahhh....watashino furui juujin.” After a longing pat, he took a few steps back and started maneuvering various pieces of equipment and containers of material next to the forge. He finished after just a half-minute of labor, and turned to face the watcher, who still seemed to be shaking. Souta frowned. ”What's the matter?”

”That was the cheesiest damn thing I ever heard in my whole existence. Where do you get off being such a breathtaking dork when you've failed to prevent two seals being destroyed and the world's on the road to ruin?”

Though he burned inwardly, Souta shrugged. He took a moment to think about the response he wanted to make.
”Comes with being an engineer, I suppose. As for the world: the British have a saying. 'Stiff upper lip'. Even when bombs fell on London many years ago, week after week, they did not fall to fear. Sucks that the other realms are too busy fighting to see the big picture, but it doesn't matter. Americans have a saying too, I think: 'keep on trucking.' So I will just take things as they come.” A sweeping motion with his hand covered the cluster of technology he'd amassed. ”If you don't mind, warp this stuff to my room in the Citadel. Then we can hit the Armory and find you your shiny, eh, Magpie?”

The watcher gave a wave of her hand as well, and beneath Souta's collection a darkness welled up into which the equipment sank. A moment later the portal closed, and the room lay depressingly empty. The watcher's piercing cyan eyes contained what Souta assumed to be amusement, yet try as he might he couldn't glean anything like contempt. “Magpie, huh? Save your fancy schmancies, Hammerhead. I'm just here for the loot. Soooo...” Making finger guns, she twirled them around to point toward the doorway. ”Let's boogie.”



The moment the gleaming door slid open, the watcher's eyes grew wide enough to become spotlights. A moment of quiet passed as Souta watched her, his hands in his pockets, until the specter whispered, ”You weren't kidding.”

Before the two lay Regalia's Armory. Clients, principally from Gilgamesh but also monster hunters, independent crusaders, military companies, and arms fanatics the world over, inevitably ended up here to take in the same view. Table after table of armaments of every shape and size extended before them, and nary an inch of wallspace existed that wasn't home to a weapons rack. Every type, color, and design imaginable was on display, from explosive meteor hammers to jet-powered spears to triple-barreled shotguns to revolving rocket launchers. Souta snickered to see his ghostly chaperon so taken aback. ”Nothing like this in the Citadel, eh? Most of these have no soul in them, so they are not quite at the level of famous Devil Arms, but each one is a masterpiece. And any one is yours.”

Too amazed at the eye-popping variety to even nod, the watcher zoomed through the room. Her claws closed around one thing after the other, and though it was doubtful she had ever would ever have to fight at all, she gave each one -even the ranged weapons- an eager swing before setting it back down. While his chaperon hooted and hollered as she whizzed around, Souta made a beeline for one spot in particular. His target's size made it easy to spot even before he homed in on it, and before long he stood in front of a special, deluxe display. ”Mountain Buster,” he breathed, and with ginger fingers he took hold of the weapon's handle to pry it off the wall. Its weight forced him to strain, but even still he could not stop appreciating it. Though not too overwhelming in the artistic sense, Souta knew that this weapon would serve him well. He'd wanted it as long as it had existed, but only now -with the world on the verge of ending at all- did he feel at liberty to seize it for his own. It was, simply put, an enormous pickaxe with a large pile bunker instead of a head. Unlike the watcher, he did not feel the need to test it; the short video of its demonstration on the hidden Regalia sight was ingrained in his memory.

By the time he returned to the entrance, the watcher was ready to join him. ”Find something nice, Magpie?” he joked as he examined her choice, which bade him raise his eyebrows.

”Yeah! This is one sickass piece of work! And stop calling me Magpie, you worm.” Tittering, the watcher strummed her find's strings. The discordant noise made Souta want to grind his teeth, but he managed to give a wry grin instead.

”The Acoustic Katar,” he said. ”I thought we instituted a rule against pun names. It is more like a sitar anyway; katars are push-daggers, and if one were to use that as a weapon, it would work more like a trident with the blades on the bottom like that.” He crossed his arms. ”What should I call you, then? Panoptos is the only watcher who told us his name.”

The watcher gave the sitar another strum before lowering it. Her eyes appeared dull. ”Uh. Well...”

”You know what it means, right? It's a type of black bird that collects treasure. Thought it was fitting.”

She looked annoyed. ”Of course I know what it means, stupid! Well, nevermind. That's fine, I guess. Better than nothing.”

Souta gave a light sigh. What a weird watcher. He turned and strode out the exit only to run straight into something large, hard, and invisible.

He stumbled backward, falling directly on the Mountain Buster. Magpie tittered, but fell silent as the air in front of them shimmered, and a tall, dark shape took form. When Souta looked up, he recognized the familiar silhouette of his big sister, clad in the dark augmentations that earned her the call sign Phantom.

“Dammit.”

Nestled amid silky raven-black hair and the sheer black of her cybernetic suit, Otsune's pale face stood out as ghostly beyond measure. ”Little brother,” she greeted, her voice soft. ”We are intrigued by how you managed to get in, but please rest assured that you tripped over a half-dozen silent alarms.” Her eyes flitted between him, Magpie, and their new weapons. ”And who is this?” Silent as death, Otsune circled around Souta and reached out a giant mechanical hand toward the watcher. Silent for once, the specter shifted out of reach. ”I never knew you had a way with the ladies, little brother. Everyone in the security office was touched.” An angry expression overtook the smith, even as he reddened.

The watcher, meanwhile, was fuming. Clutching her precious sitar with one hand, she pointed an accusatory talon. ”You were watching us!? That's my job, worm! Who the hell are you?! I'll wipe that smirk off your miserable face!”

A vague chuckle escaped Otsune as she returned to her full height. ”Breaking and entering, stealing, threatening an elite operative of Gilgamesh and the heiress to Regalia Arms, not to mention coming back from the dead...this will make for quite the story. Her hands opened wide and reached to snap Souta up.

Not at all compliant, Souta made an undignified retreat as he yelped, ”Kuso! Magpie, bail, bail!” In an instant the watcher threw herself around the smith, still holding on to her sitar, and the two begin to fade away into a dark portal. Otsune's fingers closed around nothing, but she looked more amused than angry. As he receded into blackness, Souta scratched his head. ”Talk later, sis. Very sorry about everything!” The next moment, he was gone, though for a brief instant before she followed him Magpie took the chance to give Otsune the finger.



“Dumbass Hammerhead! I thought you promised you knew how to avoid detection?

”Hey, we got out, did we not? I got my tools, you got your treasure, we all won!”

When the watcher ran her talons along the side of her head, a black mist spilled off. She swirled around in a huff, knocking over various bits and bobs in Souta's chamber. ”Easy for you to say, stupid.” she snarled. ”If the Council somehow gets wind that I took you on an unauthorized trip to earth, they'll banish me for breaching security. What good are my trinkets then?” The watcher seemed to deflate, sprawling out along the top of Souta's furnace. When her ethereal voice came again, it was a miserable whisper. ”Unlike you Agents, I'm expendable. Just another faceless slave.”

Rolling his eyes at what he was about to do, Souta shook his head. ”You are wrong. I am also expendable. Why else would they bring in a mere human, hmm?” Magpie did not move. ”Besides,” the smith continued, hesitating just a second. ”You are not expendable to me. I owe you for helping me out. If you get in trouble, I will speak on your behalf.”

An audible smack rang out as Magpie clapped her hand to her forehead. When Souta listened closely, he could hear her tittering. ”You're making a gigantic fool out of yourself, Hammerhead.” she muttered after a few moments. ”And me, too. This is ridiculous. A watcher, servant of the greatest authority in existence, taking emotional support from a stupid human.”

”I prefer 'stupid dork.'”

”Shut up.” The specter rolled over onto nothing, hanging in the air. ”Uh...thanks for the sitar, I guess. And for saying you'll vouch for me. If I get in trouble, you damn well better.” She floated toward the door, leaving behind a dark trail for the briefest of moments. Before phasing through, she glanced back at the smith, who was still standing with arms crossed. ”Now that you have your stuff, if you happen to make any shiny new weapons, let me know or something. Just so I'm not bored out of my mind. Got it?”

Smiling, Souta nodded. The watcher gave him a final glare before disappearing, and afterward the smith went and sat on his bed. That was bizarre. She always struck me as weirdly not-malevolent compared to the other watchers, but wow. If she were human, this whole episode would have actually been pretty adorable. He frowned deeply. That's...a freaky thought. Well, whatever the deal is, I have my full setup now. I can focus on making weapons to prepare for the next mission. Since I have more to do, I can take my mind off the whole business with Sevrin, Void, the seals, and so forth. At the moment, however, Souta felt too distracted for work, so for a while he lay down and mulled things over.

The forge was empty. So were the hallways, and pretty much every other place Lily had looked.

One wouldn't think it difficult for a demon nearly three millennia old to find a single human, but as it turned out such a thing was difficult. She had only the clicking of her own shoes for company as she walked around the Citadel. He hadn't even been in his room when she checked, making the whole situation even more mysterious. Was he avoiding her? No, that was unlikely, unless her more... beastly sides had scared him, but then again he was also a fighter, and likely among the most powerful humans to exist. It was a difficult thought to accept, that he had somehow been frightened by her, when he himself made use of weapons on the level of some lesser demons' powers. She felt a frown come onto her face. If that were truly the case, then she had misjudged him. Arkoni, the frailest of them all, was clearly no more frightened of her and Fenn than a tiger would be of a lion. A healthy respect for a powerful creature, most likely, but frightened? She doubted it.

She exhaled, expelling the thoughts with the same breath. She hadn't been mistaken, she knew it. If a baker from France had not been frightened enough by her to run away, then neither would someone who fought and killed both demons and angels. It was a thought that brought a small smile on her face, and added a small skip to her steps.

She ought to check some of the places she'd been again. If she could travel to and from Earth for whatever errands she wanted to run, then so could he. If he had been out, then it was likely that he would be in his chambers. It was in the other end of the Citadel from where she was, so it gave her plenty of time to consider both her looks and presentation. The dress she wore was one she knew to be a cheongsam. It fell to her ankles and had a cut in the right side from the thigh down, allowing her to walk unhampered. She realised it was of chinese origin, and not japanese, but she preferred the aesthetic of this one over the kimono. She had also chosen are far more slender figure this time, having noted that Souta's attention was not quite where she wanted it to be, if a conversation was to successful. She had no intentions of seducing the man. This time, she just wanted to talk, and hand over a gift she thought he might appreciate.

Minutes later she was back at the door which she knew lead to Souta's room. Not one to hesitate when there were things she wanted, Lily raised her hand and knocked.

The minutes trudged by as Souta, half-asleep, ran the gamut of topics to think about. Designs and techniques, the old stand-bys, flashed by with prominence and frequency, but considerations about his current situation, as well as the menagerie of dangerous beings he'd come to know more closely than he ever would have dreamed, were never far from his mind. After an indiscernible amount of time, a sharp, abrupt noise stirred the smith from his ponderings. Someone had knocked on his door.

Jolted awake by the sound and ensuing realization, Souta swung his legs over the edge of his cot and stood, shaking his head to clear away the drowsiness. He tried to piece together who might be visiting him before he reached the door; Magpie, had she any reason for a quick return, would not have shown such manners, and nobody else struck him as likely to pop by for a visit. Nobody save one.

He pulled open the door, and found himself greeted by a face of immaculate beauty. He did not recognize it, but the unfamiliarity and perfection combined to convince him that his guess had been correct. “Lily,” he assumed, straightening up just a touch and blinking away the last of his nap-haze. One of the first things he'd noticed, of course, were today's chosen race and dress. He didn't know what to think of her donning Japanese features; as gorgeous as she was, it felt a bit offputting, not to mention any intention behind that choice. If she meant her clothes as a compliment, well...the cheongsam did suit her, but even a slouch like Souta knew that particular garb was not from his homeland. “Konnichiwa. What brings you here?”

Lily shifted the package in her hands as Souta opened the door, and she felt the corner of her lips twitch upwards. She looked up just as he looked down, eyes meeting for all of a moment. She noted a few of the emotions that passed over his features, one particular that was akin to disappointment or being judging. She chose to ignore it for the moment.

“Konnichiwa, Souta,” she replied with only a faint accent. She hadn’t used Japanese in a while. “I’m impressed you’ve learned to recognise me. I assume it was my pendant?” She asked, putting a finger on the item in question, currently resting on the outside of her dress.

Souta shook his head. “Well, it was just a guess, but the Citadel does not really take guests, and so far there have been a few, uh, commonalities between every form you have chosen.”

“One of which is my necklace,” she told him, gently running a finger along the edges of the stone in it. She looked up again, sporting a knowing grin. “But I think I know what you’re referring to.” She took a small, half step closer and shifted the package once more. “Do you mind if I came in? I wanted to talk a bit, if that’s alright with you.”

Stepping out of the way, the smith opened wide the door. “Please do.” Of course, his habitation could not be said to be prepared for guests, but Souta had kept it organized, at least. Lily walked in and gave the room a thorough look around, raising a casual eyebrow as she noticed a few new things in the room that weren’t there last she came, including a brutal-looking mechanized pickaxe that lay with nonchalance against the wall, as well as a high-tech personal forge. Souta’s, she presumed.

She frowned slightly at the near spartan furnishing of the room, and was thankful that her back was to the smith so that he didn’t see such an unsightly expression on her face. When she turned around, she looked up at him with her head cocked to one side, biting one of her lips gently. She hadn’t missed his earlier looks, especially not the subtle way his expression changed when he looked at both her dress, and face. She had known humans long enough to notice when things put them off, and this was one such time where she suspected she had made an error. A verdict she very, very rarely made and accepted.

“I get the sense that you find my chosen appearance this time somewhat… displeasing. If you have a preference, I could change into that if you so desired. And I mean anything.” She smiled to herself, allowing a small amount of pride to creep into her voice. “Few things are outside of my capabilities.”

For a moment Souta looked taken aback. “Ah, no. Do not wor...I mean, there is nothing wrong, really. I was just a bit...surprised to see that you became, uh, Japanese. Still not used to shapeshifting, I guess.” He thought he detected some other undercurrent in his guest’s offer. “And there is no preference. You are perfectly fine just like this.”

She searched his face for a while, the silence thick as she sought for any lie or half-truth. She thought she saw something in his eyes, but couldn’t find any immediate deceit. So she decided to trust him. “If you say so,” she said, and stepped close enough to be just on the edge of his personal space. She held out the cylindrical package she had with her. “I brought a gift. I figured, maybe, you’d appreciate it?”

Souta returned a suitably appreciative smile, though a twinge of awkwardness could be felt by both. Gingerly he reached out and took the package, noting its length and shape, before giving a polite inclination of his head. “Of course! Thank you.” He turned it over, so that the top lay in his right hand. “Shall I...open it?”

“I had hoped you would.”

Moving a touch quicker than normal, Souta undid the packaging. In a matter of seconds he unveiled the gift’s contents, and the instant he lay eyes on them he was captivated. Though simple in design, the katana he withdrew possessed an exceptional beauty and quality, particularly given what he guessed to be an extremely advanced age. “Masamune,” he read, the characters given in a delicate inscription in the steel itself. With eyebrows raised he glanced back Lily’s way. “Not one of the works of the Masamune, Japan’s greatest smith?”

The glee Lily felt at his astonishment was difficult to suppress, some of it glinting in her eyes. “I called him ‘Sensei’ once,” she said, and nodded towards the sword. “I helped make that, though no more than a simple student at the time.” She stepped over to the bed, sitting with with one leg crossed over the other. “It is yours now, if you will have it.”

Wide-eyed, Souta took a deep breath, though his awe did not stem from the object in his hands alone. “Whoa. I am...well, breathtaken. Every Japanese metalworker dreams of even coming close to Masamune’s mastery. To hold one of his swords in my hands...it is a tremendous honor.” Quite overcome, he bowed his head again, seemingly forgetting his usual casual manner. “I will treasure it until the day I die. Thank you, Lily.”

She bowed her head in kind, though being seated somewhat lessened the effect. She extended her hands towards the remainders of the package. “I’m glad that my gift is appreciated, though there is more to it still. I have not used them in ages, but my old tools are there as well. I thought they may prove more useful to you, than they are to me. Although, if that is of any indication,” she glanced meaningfully towards the forge, an assembly of technology more advanced than anything she’d seen in the way of smithing, “I may somewhat doubt that. An inspiration, perhaps?” She chuckled, feeling a small bit of relief wash through her system. Part of her had, indeed, wondered what the reception would have been, but it had been all positive, which she appreciated. She breathed out and straightened herself, patting the bed beside her and invited him to sit down with her.

Now rather close to beaming, Souta gave a little wave of his hand in a sort of well-what-can-you-do gesture. “We respect the old ways, but there is good reason why we do not use them nowadays. Still, I would be very interested to try them out. Inspiration, yeah.” His manner grew just a touch more wary when Lily beckoned him over, though perhaps more in the vein of being afraid of making a mistake than being afraid of her. After carefully setting down the katana and the tool kit on his desk, Souta approached and seated himself beside her. With no idea on earth what to say next, he left it to her to carry on from there.

Lily, contrary to what Souta may have thought, did not suddenly pounce him or even so much as touch him. Rather, she simply turned towards him, intent on asking a single, though important, question.

“I feel like I should be candid with you,” she said slowly, folding her fingers in her lap, “and I expect it might come as a bit of a surprise, but I do like you Souta. The sword and tools weren’t just to win your favour, but my attempts to prove that I can be… thoughtful.” A wry smile made it to her lips. “Admittedly, being nearly three millennia old, it is not always easy, but I do make an effort where I feel like it counts. So, what I really wanted to ask was… What do you think of me? I ask because I, honestly, don’t want to scare you away.”

The time came for Souta to bite his lip. Lily could practically see the gears turning; it was clear that he didn’t have a response ready. In fact, he could very likely be deciding just how he felt in this moment. A few moments passed before he began to reply, though his words came slow. “I...I am guessing you are not looking for compliments, so I will be candid too. It is...hard to not be, uh...well, it is even hard to say, especially for a tough guy like I am, but it is very hard to not be...intimidated.”

He paused for just a second, and swallowed. “I mean...everything about you is amazing, not just your looks. Your fighting, your past, your attitude, who you are...it is like a blazing sun, but here I am, just a candle. I know you do not want to make me afraid, but...feelings of inadequacy, helplessness, unknown...they are pretty scary. I...I do not know exactly. Maybe this sounds like nonsense to you. That might be because you really are on that different, higher level. It is nice being with you, of course, but there is always this pressure I feel, surrounding me. I...I am sorry, but if I am someone who cannot live up to the expectations of his own family and friends, how am I…?” He held up a hand by his head, running his fingers through his hair. “O-of course, none of this is your fault. It is similar with Fenn, the Council. I am surrounded by beings who are so much greater. It is...a heavy pressure.“ Not able to meet Lily’s eyes for a few moments now, he continued to stare at his forge.

Lily had heard it all before. Maybe not often, but it was a spiel she was familiar with. And she found one thing that often seemed to work. She reached out and gently took hold of his chin and forced him to look at her, and then placed a gentle kiss on his lips. When she pulled back, there was a softness to her eyes that only the likes of Cassandra had ever seen. “And yet, here you are,” she said and put her hands back in her lap. “Don’t misunderstand, Souta. We are indeed powerful, but so are you. It is all relative. There are demons that still scares the living daylights out of me, and whom I would never want to cross, and likewise there are demons who are so much weaker than I that I don’t have to care about them.” She smiled and poked him pointedly in the chest with a nail. ”You are the exact same way. Compared to other humans, you are a force to be reckoned with. To some I am weak, to others I am strong. And so it is with you.” She smiled and gestured to the room around them, and the Citadel at large. “And it’s not all strength. If you hadn’t the courage and drive to face things far stronger than yourself, and emerge victorious, then you wouldn’t be here… Sometimes, it’s just a matter of being a little brave.” She paused, the smile staying on her lips for a few moments before she chuckled awkwardly. “But please don’t tell Fenn about me being afraid of some. He’d never let me live it down.”

A short quiet persisted between the two. Souta had made no resistance, accepting with obvious gratitude Lily’s reassurance and gesture of affection, yet the subtlest hint of misgiving remained. Still, the distraught look that had haunted him during his confession had ebbed away, leaving him with a slight smile. “...Your secret is safe with me,” he told her.

“And last time you looked stunned when I kissed you,” she said, smirking. “You’re improving… How shall I take that difference in reaction, I wonder?” Some might say that she, at this moment, looked like the cat who caught a mouse. Others, that she was a mischievous demon who caught a human.

Though he seemed to guess that Lily wasn’t completely serious, Souta furrowed his brow. “Er...it was a lot more surprising the first time. So...take it as normal?”

Lily dipped her head in acknowledgement briefly. “I shall do so, then,” she said. “But I wonder, where will it go from here?” She looked him in the eyes meaningfully, the corner of her lips twitching upwards. “I have made my feelings quite clear, I think. It’s up to you to do what you will.”

Once again, Souta swallowed. “Okay. Thank you. I will keep that in mind.”

Satisfied, at least somewhat, with the answer, Lily stood up and turned towards the door. “I will be looking forward to it, then. Oh, and by the way,” she looked back at him over her shoulder, “if you ever feel lonely, give me a call.” She winked at him, and was gone, the door closing behind her.