Author's Note: This is the edited version of Chapter 1.

Additional Author's Note: An OST will be posted on my main page.

"Buwaro," Kieri murmured, her voice full of pain, "please run." Buwaro tried to protest, tried to move, tried to do something, as the lightning flared and stabilized in the hands of the Angel that had been attacking them. Buwaro knew he had to do something. He knew that he should take the blast. That Snowy should survive, even at his own expense.

Especially at his own expense, really. Heathcliff had made it clear how valuable Buwaro really was – not at all.

But his limbs felt too heavy to move. He felt afraid. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything but watch as the spell sailed forward. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he saw the inevitable path of the bolt of lightning finish as it struck Kieri.

As the green-glowing spell struck her, the Suizahn girl jerked and froze, every muscle, every nerve, frying in agony. In a moment, it stopped, only for her to collapse, unconscious. Sitting still for three seconds in his shock at what had occurred, Buwaro finally began to crawl towards her, scrambling to her side, eyes wide, shaking with grief.

Unaware of how to check for signs of life, he only saw that she wasn't moving. He wasn't even sure if she was breathing. Tears began to form as he feared the worst, and his stomach dropped out from under him, falling into a pit of despair. He felt helpless, weak, worthless as he picked up her lifeless form and hugged it. His eyes clenched shut as the tears flowed like rivers. Everything was just as Heathcliff said – he could do nothing.

He was nothing.

[Soundtrack 01: Awakened Resolve]

It was in that thought, that moment of pure despair, that Buwaro felt something fill him. A heat in his chest, flaring out to his belly and legs, his arms and head, even his tail and wings. What filled him was rage, unlike any anger he'd ever felt in his life, far greater than the couple times he remembered going Berserk. He felt rage fill his entire body, filling him with power, with strength, with a purpose to fight for, a person to fight for.

But more than that, he felt a need to be more than just a failure. And in that moment of grief and anger, Buwaro Elexion made a vow as his eyes snapped open, the sobbing frown twisting into a snarl of blind, unrelenting fury. 'I refuse to be nothing,' he swore upon Kieri's body. 'I won't fail anyone ever again.'

And in that moment, as those words of resolution echoed in his mind, the rage that filled him grew unbearable, and he felt some strange power fill him, flowing from his very core.

Hanei Denevol, last of his clan, furrowed his brow in confusion as he watched the Fire Demon hover over the body of the traitor. This didn't make sense. Demons were cowardly monsters, not capable of compassion or empathy, filled with hatred for Angels. He knew what they did firsthand, he knew everything there was to know about their evil.

Yet, here was a Demon, pretending to care about an Angel he'd corrupted, now that she was dying, if not dead already. He cradled her body as if she were his lover, or his daughter.

Hanei almost felt a moment of sympathy with the monster before he squashed it. He wondered if he himself had looked like that on that horrible day.

But then, the Demon's expression changed to one more fitting – one of rage, of hatred. For a moment, Denevol wondered if it was finally showing its true self, before he realized that something was off about this Demon's wrath.

It was frightening him.

He knew this Demon was weaker than he was, but its fury terrified him. He wasn't sure why, but he could feel the weight of this monster's wrath sink down onto him like a ton and a half of ice-cold water. It was then that he realized that this Demon's anger was somehow being projected outwards in a psychic wave. He could literally feel the rage rolling off this Demon in waves.

This unnatural phenomenon, this empathic projection of hate, awakened within Hanei a primal terror, one that all his training to bring these monsters to their just end had not prepared him for, could never prepare him for. This monster's mere presence was enough to send paralyzing shocks of pure fear into his legs and arms.

The Demon did not speak as he let go of the Angel's body and stood up, his tiny wings swelling into shadowed black things far larger than before, black mist rolling off of them as they extended to the size of a typical Wind Demon's wings – and even though the Demon's body grew, it was barely more than a few inches, certainly not enough to require such huge wings. His eyes glowed for a moment, and yet the pupils were still clearly visible.

"What are you?" Hanei choked out, and the Demon glanced up at his words. Its eyes, now deep crimson of sclera and iris alike, turned to focus on Denevol, and the fear crippling him, weighing him down, doubled, then tripled, then tripled again. Only now, feeling the weakness he felt, did Hanei realize that he'd awoken a sleeping dragon.

That dragon's only response was to lunge at the Seraph, a scream of wordless fury echoing through the entirety of Weyville.

Buwaro didn't know where his power came from, but neither did he care. All he knew was that he could use it to punish the monster that had hurt Kieri. He would make this Angel suffer before he died. Vaguely, he noted that this wasn't something he would normally want to do, that he would even consider.

It was hard to care with Snowy dead. It was this murderer's fault she was gone, and he would make the man pay in blood.

Lunging forward, he was soon upon the killer, and his claws lashed out. Though the Angel dodged to the other side, slipping to Buwaro's side and preparing a spell, Buwaro was quick to backhand him with all his might and weight. The spell fizzled as Denevol stumbled a quarter-step, and looked up in time to see Buwaro's fiery breath fill his face. The screams of pain were music to Buwaro's ears.

The warrior staggered back, barely conjuring a shield of light, which shattered a moment later with a set of claws tearing into a cheek. The murderer didn't have time to recover from the onslaught as Buwaro lashed out with more claws, cleaving through a shoulder, then his chest, a fist breaking his nose, and a pair of fists colliding with the top of his head.

The Angel staggered back, doubled over and blasted wildly with a gust of sharpened Wind magic, pushing Buwaro back. The Angel spent a moment healing himself with magic, but by then Buwaro was punching him in the gut, then the throat, causing him to double over and fall to his knees. Seeing the opening, Buwaro slammed his heel into the small of the Angel's back.

Ignoring the Angel's screams of pain, Buwaro fell onto his knee, slamming it against the Angels' shoulders as his heel released, the claws still in his back. Every last one of his toe-claws ground downwards, tearing up the killer's back. Buwaro's clawed hands pulled up his head by the hair, eliciting a gasp of pain. Leaning to the side of the murderer, Buwaro snarled loudly. His words were audible to the few people watching in horror as he growled, "You hurt her, you – you damn monster. You killed her, and she's never coming back. I'm going to make you suffer worse than you ever have before I tear your worthless – "

A fireball smacked Buwaro in the face. He let go of the Angel's hair, roaring in fury at the jerk responsible for –

He found himself staring at Sammy. She flinched, hiding behind Heathcliff and Miranda as Buwaro felt his rage die nearly to a pile of cinders. Every last one of the Sinclair family stared at him in shock and terror – even Duster looked ready to fight, if he had to. "Don't do it, kid," Heathcliff said, anger and fear in his voice, his face stern.

"He hurt her," Buwaro growled, his anger flaring up again as he swiped his hand in the direction of Kieri's body. "This pain is the least he deserves. For actually killing her, I'm going to make him scream. He's going to suffer before he dies."

Miranda was already hustling to Kieri's side, and knelt by her, putting a hand to the side of her neck, then below her nose. "She's breathing, Buwaro," she sighed in relief, propping her up and pouring a green potion down Kieri's throat. "She'll be fine now." Buwaro blinked, still angered, unable to believe her words.

Then he flinched as Kieri coughed a bit. He stared at the Angel girl he thought was dead as she shifted uncomfortably, then at the man below him. He saw the bruises, the burns, the blood, the cuts. He'd done that. He'd hurt someone, just as that someone had hurt a friend of his.

At that moment, a horrible realization occurred to him. 'Is this how the Great War got so bad?' he thought weakly. Was he any better than the warriors who had killed his parents, or Iratu's, or Sakido's?

[Soundtrack 03: Grieving]

His teeth grit and an expression of pure fury covered his face once more as tears of rage filled his eyes. Finally, he stepped off of the Angel, then began stumbling as he ran from the scene. He heard shouts behind him, but he couldn't make them out, didn't care what they said, with the sudden feeling of pure hatred in his heart.

Hatred reserved for himself alone.

The Fire Demon was out of town soon enough, but he kept running at full speed, despite his aching chest and limbs. He didn't care. He wanted to hurt himself, and if running like this did it, he'd keep going until he couldn't move.

His legs made the decision for him about half a mile from town, and nearly collapsed out from under him. He fell face-first into the dirt several yards from the road, and he panted, still furious with himself, still raging at the Angel that attacked them, still shaking with worry for Kieri.

And in that moment, he remembered Heathcliff's words: "Sometimes, loving someone means letting them go when you know they'd be better off without you."

Now his words made sense, and the boy's rage turned purely to himself. He hated himself, he hated being here on Medius, he hated everything that had happened since he'd gotten up here! All these people thought that he was just a monster, and no one cared that he wasn't!

And then he'd gone and become a monster.

Heathcliff was right. He should leave, now. Forever.

At that moment, a hand rested on his shoulder. He was too exhausted to lash out, so he waited to be hurt, silently hoping they'd make him suffer too. The person knelt by him with a popping of joints. "You alright?" Heathcliff asked.

"I shouldn't be," he managed between gasps for air, not bothering to look up. "You were right. Everyone hates me, and I deserve it. They have plenty of reason to."

Silence reigned for a moment. "Are you serious?" the grumpy man asked quietly, his voice sounding shaken. Calming down, he continued, "If everyone hates you, why did Kieri try to stand up for you?" Buwaro didn't have an answer. "What about Rhea? Sammy took a liking to you. My wife thinks you're adorable."

"For how much longer?" the Fire Demon snapped, whirling his gaze on the grumpy man. "You were right, okay? Is that what you want to hear? That I'm not worthy of the love people give me, like you said?!"

The man winced at the words. "That's not what I said," he said, though his voice had little bite to it.

"Easy, Buwaro," Duster said, hovering in front of Buwaro's horns. The young Demon lifted his head, and Duster rested on Buwaro's nose. "Heathcliff said that stuff to make you more careful, he didn't want you or Kieri hurt."

"I don't care," Buwaro replied. "I just...I hate myself. I hurt him because I thought he'd killed Snowy. And she was okay the whole time. And I..." He shook his head, knocking Duster off, and slammed his forehead into the dirt repeatedly.

Heathcliff caught him by the horns and held him up, keeping him from causing any more harm to himself. Buwaro's rage flared again, and he lashed with his hand to backhand the middle-aged man. The man actually fell back, mostly due to his precarious position, and Buwaro stood up and began to run again, stumbling as he made his way.

By now, Heathcliff had had enough. "Buwaro, stop it!" he bellowed as he stood up, causing Buwaro to whirl in surprise. Though the young Demon was still raging, the old man had the boy's attention, so he continued more calmly, "You're throwing a fit like a child because you lost control. Quit it. You're doing more damage to you, to your reputation, right now than anything you did a moment ago."

"I hurt him!" Buwaro roared. "Even I know you don't hurt people, and I'm an idiot! It's like you think I don't listen! I know I'm an idiot, okay? Is that what you want to hear? What do you want from me?!" Heathcliff glared at Buwaro, before pinching his sinuses as he took a breath. "Well?!" Buwaro shouted.

Finally, the middle-aged merchant replied. "You reacted to that situation appropriately, believe it or not." Buwaro's jaw dropped – his utter disbelief was enough for the man to get in more. "If you hadn't reacted to defend her, to fight off Denevol, he might have killed her, and you, for real. Yes, you went overboard, but considering you honestly thought he'd killed her, and considering he wanted you to die, you had a good reason to react the way you did."

"Last I checked," Buwaro growled, "two wrongs don't make a right."

"No," Heathcliff replied with a serious expression, "you're right about that. But he really was going to hurt you two, or worse. Would you rather you died than attack him like that?"

"Yes!" Buwaro snarled. "I would rather have died than kill him, if Snowy was really still alive!"

"What about Snowy?" he snapped back. "Would you rather she died?! She would have if you hadn't intervened!" Buwaro froze, eyes wide, as he was forced to consider that possibility. "You see?" he continued calmly. "It wasn't so black-and-white a decision. Every action taken, no matter who does it, no matter why or what it is...all actions have consequences. Sometimes they're all good, or all bad, but usually they're both. You avoided a choice that would have ended all bad, and chose the 'good and bad' route."

"I still hurt him," Buwaro muttered, sagging at the shoulders, head drooping.

"Buwaro," Heathcliff replied, "if someone is trying to kill you, it is legal, and it is right, to hurt them if you have to, to get them to stop." The boy's head shot up again, stunned. "You don't try to kill them in that case, but you are still in the right if you hurt them. In some places, that even works if you kill them on accident." Heathcliff slowly advanced on the conflicted young Fire Demon. "I know, it sounds strange to some people. But that's the principle of self-defense, and especially defense of others. If someone is getting hurt, and you can stop it, you have the right, even the duty, do so. That's one point where things are black and white – if you had just run from him, my opinion would have been worse than if you'd gone so far as to kill him."

Buwaro's jaw quivered. His mind was still trying to find reasons to not believe what he was hearing, to not believe what he did was okay. He wanted to be wrong, to be hurt for what he'd done. "But," he managed finally. "I enjoyed it. Like, like I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to die!" he whimpered.

"But you didn't kill him," Heathcliff replied strongly, stopping his stride as he got within arm's length. "You didn't make him suffer, any more than it took to take him down." He placed a hand on Buwaro's shoulder. "You wanted to, but you stopped. You were more concerned with Snowy's life than with his death. That means that despite your less than lily-white desires, deep down, your intentions were right. You reacted to a wrong that had been done to you, and to her. When you realized you were acting in the wrong, you stopped."

Buwaro stared at Heathcliff in disbelief, tears forming once more. The middle-aged man smiled sadly. "You did the right thing. Especially considering what you wanted to do to him. You denied that hatred that he put into you, you didn't give it any power over you." He then sighed. "I know I said some things a few nights ago, and I think they're why you feel so awful." Buwaro nodded quietly, ears drooping even more than his shoulders. "Well, I didn't mean for you to take them that way, and if I'd known this whole mess would have happened, I'd have kept my damned mouth shut. For that, I'm sorry."

Buwaro finally wrapped the man in a tight hug, beginning to sob again. The man grunted at the force, but just hugged him back, sighing as Buwaro let out all his pent-up emotions.

The next morning, Buwaro, Heathcliff, and Rhea walked down to Weyville again, visiting the hospital. The entire hospital, staff and patients all, flinched on seeing Buwaro and his huge wings. For his part, the young Fire Demon kept his gaze down and tried not to think the dark thoughts he had dealt with yesterday.

It was a lot harder than he'd expected it to be.

When they arrived at Kieri's room they learned that, while she was still unconscious, she was already doing much better than yesterday, according to the doctor. She would likely wake up sometime today.

Then, they went to see Denevol in the next room. He was awake, and when he saw them enter he glared at Buwaro. The boy hardly noticed, his eyes downcast as he thought about what he had planned to say. He wasn't sure it was right, anymore, but he was going to try anyway. He walked up to Denevol, his face somewhere between angry and apologetic, which got the Angel to pause. "I'm sorry," Buwaro finally managed, his voice small and weak.

Silence was all that answered him at first, the Angel's expression turning to confusion. "Why?" he asked. "I'm your enemy."

"You weren't until you hurt her," Buwaro snarled, the fire of anger pulsing in his chest again. He squashed it instantly, not allowing himself to be angry with Denevol again. It wouldn't be worth it to hurt him over his temper. Once calmer, he continued, "I don't know what's up with this Great War thing. And whoever named it was dumber than I am.

"It should be the Stupid War, 'cuz it hurt my friend, and I guess it means we're not supposed to even be friends." His brow furrowed as he glared at Denevol, though his anger was only partially directed at the Angel. "I'm going to say this right now. No one. Absolutely no one. Has the right to tell me who I'm allowed to be friends with."

Denevol stared at the boy, long and hard, before grimacing and looking away. The intensity in the boy's eyes seemed far too familiar. "And if someone does?"

"Rhea," Buwaro asked, "what's that phrase you use? Push it?"

"Shove it," Rhea corrected with a smirk.

"That," Buwaro said, rolling his head towards Rhea to gesture. "That's my response."

Denevol took a deep breath, then sighed and closed his eyes, as if pained. "So you intend to befriend an Angel, despite being a Demon. Are you a fool, or do you take me for one?" he asked, his gaze once again falling on the boy.

"Yeah, I'm stupid," Buwaro sighed. "I want to be smarter, though. Rhea told me I can become smarter by reading, but that means I need to learn how to read. I need to learn to fight, too. Use magic. Learn about Medius. A lot of things. I know I'm dumb, I know I'm weak. But I'm willing to fix whatever I can, however I can. I can't change being a Demon. If I could, I would, but I can't."

"That's not what I meant," Denevol replied, surprised.

"Then you mean that I'm lying," Buwaro said, not a question but a challenge. He was silent as he glared at Denevol for a moment. The Angel slowly became more nervous at the boy's intense gaze.

Finally, he grabbed the Angel's arm gently with both sets of claws, and put the attached hand against his own chest. "I'm vulnerable, and I'm not going to defend myself. If you still want to kill me, go ahead," he said, shocking them all. "But before you do, and even if you don't, I want you to swear on pain of death that you will not harm Kieri Suizahn again." Denevol flinched at the name. "If you ever do," he continued with a low growl, his eyes glowing again at the mere thought of her in pain, "I wish the worst of pains and deaths on you and everyone you know. She's one of the few people willing to give me a chance up here, and I will die and even – even kill for her if I have to."

Rhea's eyes had bugged out of her head, and she finally found her voice. "Buwaro!" she scolded. "Don't even joke about letting him kill you!"

"Rhea, please," he said, his voice clipped and filled with a bitter sorrow, "not now. I have to make a point." He continued to glare at Denevol the whole time, and for another minute on top of that. "Well?" he finally asked, his voice taking a surprisingly mocking tone. "Are you more bloodthirsty than the Demon? Are you going to kill someone you don't like, just because you can? Or are you going to take the top road and accept that two wrongs don't make a right? Because I did that years ago," he said, leaning into Denevol's face, "and I did it yesterday.

"I wanted to kill you yesterday because I thought she'd died. When I realized she was fine, I wanted to die because I hurt you more than I needed to. Because I still wanted to hurt you some more. Because I thought I really was a monster like everyone else thought."

He swallowed hard, leaning back and looking down. "I'm still mad at myself. More than I was at you. And I'm still kinda mad at you, too." He glared once more at the Angel, all of his rage focused on the man. "So if you hurt her, I swear on everything I am that I will come back from the dead, somehow, just to take your arms off. And I won't rest again until you die."

A shadow seemed to fade into existence around Buwaro and Denevol, but it was gone before anyone could react. Finally, after a moment of silence, Heathcliff spoke. "High road," he corrected quietly.

"I really don't care," Buwaro sighed in exasperation, dropping Denevol's arm to sink his face into his hands.

Denevol pulled his arm back gently. "You would truly go so far, for an Angel?" he asked.

"Of course not," Buwaro snapped. "Not for just anyone. Not for just any Angel. If someone's getting hurt for no good reason, I want to help, I want to stop it. But I'd only go that far for Snowy. I love her, and I don't ever want to see her suffer like that again. If you have a problem with that, that's your fault, not mine. And if a lot of people have a problem with that, then that just proves my point about the Stupid War."

"My family died because of Demons," Denevol replied angrily. "I am the last of my clan, because of your kind."

"And my family died because of Angels," Buwaro snapped, surprising the Seraph. "What's your point?" He quieted and forcefully calmed himself, his face twisting in concentration.

When his eyes opened, he was quiet of voice. "Mine is that I survived because of an Angel. My brother and sister, all three of us? He adopted us. We survived, we were a family, because of Darius." Both of Denevol's eyebrows shot up at the name, but Buwaro didn't really care. "Heck, I didn't even know about him until recently. I hadn't seen him at all, but he'd left behind a diary I couldn't read. Snowy's been reading it, and translating it for me.

"And you know what?" He took a deep breath. "I don't care who gets mad about it. Angel, Demon, Jakkai, Human, whatever. My name is Buwaro Elexion. I am Darius's son. And I don't know where he is, I don't know if he's even alive. I don't know his family, I don't know if they'd be happy or mad about what he did for me. But I'm going to make him proud of me, and if his family has a problem with that they can go to Hell. Literally. And then they can find him, wherever he is, and they can go apologize to him."

Rhea's ears were drooping as she realized just how much having a family meant to him. Perhaps Sakido's death had hit him harder than she'd thought. She smiled sadly. "Buwaro's just different," Rhea told Denevol. "I hate to interrupt this, but is it possible that Hell, or some part of its society, is the problem? Not the Demons themselves?"

Denevol hesitated, staring at the ceiling. "Then why would they kill my family's children?" he asked. "Why would they massacre our children?"

"According to Darius's diary, Angels do the same," the Jakkai woman replied grimly.

The Angel's eyes widened. "They – what?" he choked. Seeing Rhea's expression of anger and grief, he grimaced and looked to the floor. Finally, he leaned back on the bed and closed his eyes. "I see," he murmured. "Then, I'm going to have to think on this for some time. Perhaps you are right, in that the problem is not Demons themselves." His eyes opened again. "If that is the case, I'm not sure what to do," he admitted sadly.

Rhea frowned. "You can start by not trying to murder everyone for being different," she said, her voice full of disdain.

"I meant what to do to stop the deaths that are occuring," the Seraph muttered. "And now, on both sides."

"She's waking up," a doctor called from Kieri's room.

Buwaro started, but managed to keep himself together for a moment longer. "Thank you," he said, bowing deeply to Denevol, much like Kieri did, before hurrying over to Kieri's room, nearly knocking the doctor aside in his rush. He could see that Kieri was groggy as he walked into her room. She whimpered softly, then opened her eyes. She turned her head to him weakly, before her eyes shot open and she scrambled off the bed, falling with a yelp. Buwaro winced. "Are you okay, Snowy?" he asked, his voice soft and nervous.

A moment of silence passed. Finally, Kieri's head poked up over the bed. "Wh...wha? Buwaro? What happened?" she asked, eyes wide at Buwaro's new form.

Buwaro looked away, grimacing. "Yeah, I'm not sure either," he muttered, trying to hide his now-huge wings in a self-conscious gesture. "I got mad at him for hurting you, and then my wings just...grew."

Kieri blinked, sliding back onto the bed carefully. "I'm sorry too," she replied. "I did not recognize you in the silhouette."

"It's okay," he smiled, sitting in a chair by her bed. He moved a hand out to gently rest on hers. She smiled back, holding his hand.

"You could've waited for us," Rhea joked as she walked in with Heathcliff. "She wasn't going anywhere."

"Neither was Denevol," Buwaro replied, sticking out his tongue.

"D-Denevol?" Kieri managed. Then it clicked. "The Angel that attacked us?"

"Yeah," Heathcliff replied. "We talked to him today. You were out for a day," he clarified.

"W-what happened?" Kieri asked with a stammer.

"Buwaro beat the crap out of him over you," the middle-aged man said. "Didn't know he had it in him, but he cleaned his clock, Seraph or no."

Kieri's jaw dropped as her eyes went wide as dinner plates. She stared at Buwaro, and he could practically see the gears turning in her head. "You are unaware of how you got this power?" she asked, her voice barely a breath above silence.

"N-not really," Buwaro replied, now worried.

Kieri turned pale. "It can't be," she murmured, shocked. "You're...a Duke?"

Everyone was silent for a moment. "A what?" Buwaro asked, swallowing hard.

"No way," Rhea stammered loudly, her tail puffed out in shock. "Buwaro? As in our Buwaro? He's a – " She lowered her voice. "A Duke of Hell?" she finished almost as a whisper. Kieri only nodded.

"It seems likely now that you mention it," Heathcliff nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully. His eyes held concern in them. "The old stories talk about some Dukes growing wings, or re-growing them if they were mangled."

"Um, what are you guys talking about?" Buwaro asked, concern clearly overwhelming him.

"A duke is a sort of leader, a ruler of other people," Heathcliff replied. "A Duke of Hell is a legend from the Great War, of Demons who would gain sudden surges of power that could potentially put them on the level of a Guardian. A Heavenly Baron was the Angel version of that, though somehow they seemed rarer. Anyway, no one knew what caused a Duke to appear, though it was said that a truly tragic moment, for an Angel who stood for the right things, would cause the rise of a Baron."

For a moment, he was silent, staring at Buwaro, calmly reasoning through the details. "You gained that power when you thought Kieri was dead, right?" The boy nodded, and he sighed. "You have two friends to your name. No family. Half your relations had been cut down before your eyes. That sounds pretty tragic to me, even if it was a mistake on your part. So maybe it's simply some kind of emotional trauma that creates a Duke."

"And it's happened before," Rhea muttered. "He lost his sister a while back, too..."

Heathcliff winced, now feeling even worse about what he had told Buwaro a while back. He hadn't thought the boy had been through that much already, with how happy-go-lucky he'd been so far. "Okay, yeah, you were probably a dam waiting to burst. No wonder you cringe so much..." He sighed. "Either way...you're gonna have to learn control over your power. Master what you have, and develop what you can. You can defend Kieri and yourself now, if you need to, but the better trained you are, the better you'll be able to do so."

Buwaro nodded, looking thoughtful. "My power, huh?" he murmured. "...Snowy?" he asked.

"Yes, Buwaro?" she asked, wondering what he was thinking.

"Is there any spell to heal people?"

Kieri smiled sadly. "There is," she replied, "but it's a spell only Angels can use, because of our Light element. I've heard Demons can heal themselves with Dark magic, but..."

"Okay, dang," he sighed, trying to think. "Because I don't want to just hurt people, if I can. I mean, that's what people think of Demons, right?" he added as everyone looked at him oddly. "Step one: Change people's minds about that."

Rhea snorted a laugh. As Buwaro glared at her, she responded, "Sorry Buwaro, but changing people's minds is one of the hardest things to do right. Besides," she added, losing the humor for a somber realization, "some Demons aren't so nice as you. They might take advantage of that."

"So?" Buwaro responded. All eyes were on him. "I'm a Duke of Hell, right? I'm like a ruler, I could tell them to stop."

"It's not that simple," Heathcliff responded, then smiled, "but if no one tries, it doesn't happen anyway, right?"

"Exactly. I guess," Buwaro smiled. Chuckles filled the room, including the young Duke's. He finally had the ability to do something about the hurt everyone had felt. And he would do something about the War.

He just had to find a way.