AN: Did you know it's a tradition of mine to include our notorious Vampire in the fourth chapter of every Act of the Synthesis series (the name of the series the Predators originate from, for those who aren't in the know)? Well, we can't have that now that he's dead, can we? But tradition must follow! Sadly, there is no Vampire in this story. There never will be. He's dead. Period.
...Doesn't mean I still can't follow tradition though. Ah, loopholes.
Moonlit Emperor, for those of you who keep pestering me about it, will be updated after I have posted chapter 5 of this story. After that I'll decide (via The Coin, may praises be upon it) whether to update Broken Rules or Heart of Glass. And then return to this story.
Last... For those of the Traveler's Roost, I'll get to your questions eventually. I promise. Though I'm sure by the time I do get around to it will you guys have more questions for me.
Last, LAST (for sure this time), I'm asking everyone. Simply to be fair. But who do you want Issei to develop with next? I'm not talking about a quick shag like... whatever it was Amelia did. I'm talking about a heart-to-heart mini-arc.
And, no, Sona doesn't apply. I've already something planned for her.
Now then, ON WITH THE SHOW!
Archibald Lolifor was, arguably, the most powerful creature to walk this planet. That included, of course, after evaluating his seven— correction, six other peers. A few years ago and he wouldn't have had need to debate with himself over the truth of this matter. Without a doubt the most powerful beings to roam this planet had been the Earth Mother (who was the planet itself) and her antithesis, the Heavenly Father. As the eons went those two evolved, making the other more powerful after every strife. Compared to them Archibald was merely a toddler, even in his grand age of a few hundred-thousand years.
He was the Incarnation of Humanity. He was humanity even before the two-legged mammals had begun to mutate from protozoa. Back then, the Earth Mother was young and untamed and so raw it was a wonder how he and the other lesser Incarnations managed to survive her cruel and barbaric rein. Many of his brothers and sisters were extinct, unable to withstand the planet's impossible (yet fair) culmination process.
Oh yes, there were other Incarnations out there other than he. There was at least one per species as well as a force of nature. Just the other day he had some tea with the Incarnation of Equinox, a lithe woman who had fallen from her pedestal and lived the twilight of her life as, hilariously and somewhat depressingly, as the myth revered to his people as… Santa Clause.
As the Incarnation to Humanity, Archibald had the authority to rule over everything pertaining to the little accident (let's be blunt and not lie as to what they really are) that mutated into homo-sapiens. He wasn't so much their god (and he sneered at those who confused him as such) but more so their ruling lord. He directed their growth such as an architect should design the layout of a building and let the manual labor work things out based on his two-dimensional design, while reaping all of the benefits… and some penalties on those occasions he messed up.
He was as human as any other. He wasn't perfect.
Anything a human could do was something he could grasp and perfect in an instant. As soon as the crude idea of tying a sharp rock to the end of a tree branch was formed was he able to understand the fundamentals of weaponry and how to make things vastly more efficient. Within a short span of time was the art of smithing introduced.
What was truly frightening was his rate of growth. It took only a few millennia for him to ascend to an equal rank as the Earth Mother and the Heavenly Father. Sure, there had been human Predators in the ancient world but now was humanity as a collective whole able to stand up against the two of the most primeval forces the world had always known. It hadn't happened at the discovery of nuclear power, no. It had happened as early as the Industrial Revolution when Man had created produced that polluted the air and had become ignorant of the nonsensical superstition of religion.
Now, the Earth Mother did not like that very much. She had always been the apex creature, having been able to overcome her great adversary a few centuries afore, and sought to challenge Archibald. Well, "challenge" was the wrong word but she knew nothing better having always been so wild and primitive in everything she's done. Unchanging, as well. Eons since her birth from molten rock had made her more potent in her ways but never adapting or gaining an immunity to the bacteria growing within her flesh.
He got under her skin. The result was the current Queen Regent to the vampires (to all vampires hence the blood of the earth coursed through her veins), his favorite daughter. But that's another story and he was becoming distracted reminiscing on the past.
To get back on track, Archibald was aware of the day the Earth Mother fell to a human who hadn't been born on this planet. He came from elsewhere. But because that young man made this world his home was Archibald able to peer inside the madness of his mind and understand the level of threat he was to the Earth Mother. She was frightened of this creature (it bothered Archibald to admit this thing was among the human kind) and her fear brought about her downfall.
Thus, did both authorities of the Earth Mother and the ones she usurped from the Heavenly Father transfer over to the young man. Ironically, the system that was the World and its Ruler acknowledged this man as… the Vampire Predator.
Years passed, as they always did. Conflicts came and went, as they always did. Archibald was sitting in his luxurious office chair playing solitaire on his phone while his mind was split on a billion other problems— quite literally. He already knew he would lose this game because the damn deck was shuffled poorly and the stupid Jack of Spades wouldn't be found until he pulled a Five of Hearts to transfer— he played anyways just to pass time.
He had been fully aware the World was tugging at him, pressuring him into perform his duties as First Predator. But he didn't budge from his seat. He was more of a commanding officer than a soldier. And he performed his task to the bare minimum (he knew the problem wouldn't be solved even if he threw in all of his attention) and manipulated events enough for the Dragon Slayer and the Divine Beast to be present in Japan. And he may have suggested a thing or two to his personal chef, the Vampire, to take some time off and say hello to his mother and spend some quality time with his dear friend, that Rolan fellow.
One thing led to another and now one of Archibald's attention senses was paying mild interest to the tussle between the Vampire and the Dragoon Predators. The math was in his head. All the calculations pointed out that the Vampire would be victorious. There was a miniscule of a chance the Dragoon would triumph, even with the assistance of the Vorpal Archibald had given him (personally handed by Ludwig, little known by the Dragon Slayer himself). It was experience that had the Vampire with the biggest numbers. The Vampire had survived autrocities the Dragoon had nothing to defend himself against.
But… Archibald had already made preparations anyways for the outcome. The appropriate courtesies were gathered and already on their way. All that was needed to do was finish this game and make a flight to California in order to deliver the news.
And there it was— what he had been waiting for.
The unexpected always happened, which, ironically, was what he had expected all along. A predictably unpredictable irregularity had been performed by Predator Philips— one of the few humans Archibald had no control over— and thus delivered the critical wound that tipped all the scales over for the Dragoon's favor. It was a nice finish; a few parting words delivered by the Dragoon that would have been remarkably interesting had anyone else been there to record them for publication.
He already knew of all the repercussions of their little brawl. All the calamity they had caused left humanity shaken up— nothing more than one returning home and finding out someone had broken in, which the host would recover from in due time but shall never forget. Humanity was always easy to scare… but that's what made them the apex creatures that had surpassed both the Earth Mother and Heavenly Father.
He paused in his planning on the flight— taking commercial in order to converse with the passengers rather than business or private liners. He had been in the midst of coordinating recovery in what would in the next few days deemed as 'the Red Storm' when something even more unexpected had happened to him.
It was as though the keys to some grand mansion he hadn't been aware of by an uncle he didn't know existed had been handed over to him by decree of the relative's will upon his passing. It baffled him— enough for him to stop everything he had been doing to examine what had been handed over to him through means of an invisible transfer route.
Both authorities of the Earth Mother and the Heavenly Father had fallen upon his lap.
Now, as the Incarnation of Humanity, Archibald had no idea what to do with such a deed. He likened it to a lawyer from the Bronx suddenly in possession of a sheep plantation from a successful lawsuit. What did he know about how to run the planet? Archibald was the representation of humanity and all their concepts. He had no clue how to guide the forces of nature or the invisible energies of divinity. Was this handed to him because in the hierarchy he was the next in line?
Still… it was quite the prize. He pocketed it for later review.
Where was he…? Ah yes. He was in front of the door of a small, modest, and yet astonishingly welcoming home of a retired couple housed in a quiet mountain town. He knocked, checked himself over and the gift basket though knew everything had always been immaculate, and waited patiently.
When the adorably sweet aged woman opened the door, it almost broke his heart to be the bearer of such news.
"Hello my dear," he greeted with a soft, somber smile. "You remember me, yes? We met at the Christmas party for your youngest son. I am afraid… I am going to be the bearer of some terrible news…"
And thus began Phase 7 of prevention of the Evensong. The World may yell at him as much as it wanted to get onto the field of battle but this was where Archibald shed blood. This was there he performed feats of legend in the name of protecting the World and its Ruler.
It briefly saddened him of the amount of people who will die. By the hands of Rolan in his crusade to remove Heaven— the humans, in this case; Archibald couldn't care less about those Angels— as well as those who had little to nothing to do with the Evensong and the enemies of the World.
But people always die. His moment of grief passed.
Perhaps, when the worst of the storm had gone through, he may do something for the Dragoon for being at the center of all this.
*Scene*
In the most ancient part of the world, there is a well. A rather crude and archaic well that has no business being there. There hadn't been civilization in this land since the dawn of man, let alone any civilization for a few hundred miles in any direction. Nor had it ever been properly designed to be a well. Even the most primitive of cavemen in the ancient world knew how to dig a hole deep enough until they hit something.
The purpose of this hole had been something more than what the occasional adventurer who got lost interpreted it as. There had been a grand battle that took place in these lands. To the humans who had once built the first tribe, who had been gathered by their gods from the stars, a 'battle' was the incorrect word. It failed to describe the impossible feats they bore witness to.
What gathering of people had been here had been wiped clean from existence, never to be remembered as the world went on. They had been purged by an all-cleansing tide while the agents of Heaven slew their gods. Their gods, the first of the Fallen who rebelled against Heaven, had been punished severely with the worst of their kind— unable to die as they were just as grand and raw as those newborn Angels— had been locked away.
The purpose of this hole had been their prison.
Time passed and a pagan stumbled upon this land. An adventurer with eyes who could peer into the cosmos, could manipulate the forces of nature with his fingertips, and could command the shadows to do his bidding. He was an Acolyte to the Daydream and he had been on an adventure to seek the truth of the planet he had been born into. Upon aimless wandering did he arrive at this land, breaking through the seals of Heaven that warded off any wanderer such as himself, and had slain any of the guardians who appeared before him to cease any advancing.
It was he who broke the final seal and awoke the Grigori leaders.
But when the Fallen Strength of God offered him a reward, the man only asked to make this hole his home. A most strange request, indeed, but was obliged.
The man, revered as the Warden of the Well in this day and age, had dedicated his existence to using this fortress as a vault to the greatest and worst secrets of the world. Time and again he would wander around the planet once something had gained his attention and bring it back here, safeguarding it from the wrongful hands. Many factions, be they the mundane governments to the arcane orders, delivered the things they could not control to the Well.
Such as the damned they had no means of killing.
Finding the Well wasn't difficult. Everyone who knew the existence of this hole knew where to find it. Getting in was also laughably easy— it was a single drop into seemingly perpetual darkness that no torch could penetrate, not even captured sunlight— as there were no protections preventing anyone (or anything) from entering.
Getting out wasn't even a concept that existed in the Well. Not because there was a protection system preventing the inmates from escaping. It was because of the things lurking within the Well that typically killed any strangler who was stupid enough to jump in. That, and the Warden who was the only one capable of navigating without trouble.
But, usually, such things only applied to things that followed the rules.
If anyone were to ask, Josh would try to recall what this 'rules' thing was as if they were a one-night stand with some café waitress some few weeks ago. And then he would reply with 'Oh yeah, that… particular thing. I think I remember that.'
There was a unique… mystery that applied within the walls of the Well. The simple truth that nothing worked. Bring in guns and they won't fire. Hound magic and the energies will collapse. Strike a match and it will never ignite. It was how and why the mighty Fallen could not escape their rather spacious prison. For though they wielded the world-breaking miracles of Heaven, they were rendered helpless. All the Laws of the World ceased to function in this realm.
The remedy for this was for Josh to impose his own rules into the Well.
The beasts came at him, bearing fangs and claws that could render phantasmal flesh into mush. He waved a hand and they flew aside. The shadows that devoured all forces of life came viciously at him, starved and driven mad by the stench of him. They were ripped apart with another gesture.
Josh wore a mask over his face. One unlike any other, though it could easily be confused with something found in the mundane world. To the observer, it appeared to be an iron mask not unfound in the primitive gladiator matches of Ancient Rome. The theatrical sort that was used to frightened the crowds as well as the untrained slaves rather than for any actual protection. But it was not made of any material found on the planet despite its deceiving similarity to iron.
It was crafted out of Josh's imagination. Pure, untainted, energy pried out of his mind and exposed to the real world… or whatever world that the Well was comprised of.
With another gesture, he flung open a door that could never be seen even by his Acolyte eyes. He also didn't believe it was truly there but he felt the tug as his affinity tugged against something that felt like a door. He continued to walk through the ocean of darkness with all things invisible to him including himself. The glow of his mask at the edge of his vision was the only thing he could perceive and only due to its dreamy materialization.
He was quickly getting tired— the cost of imposing his concepts onto the outside for such a long period of time. But he had a goal in mind and, according to the dreams he had a few nights ago, he was nearing his destination. It was a good thing the Warden was out— or somewhere deeper in the Well— because Josh wouldn't want to deal with that guy in his home turf.
He knocked his knuckles against a wall of sorts, like how he had done in his dream. He couldn't tell if it was a solid wall, a door, or a cage of some sort. "Hey, bro, you there?"
There hadn't been a response. But he knew he had the attention of his eldest brother.
"Ma got some bad news awhile back," Josh continued without waiting for the response. "Tubs is dead. His boss came and told her he got mugged… or some shit like that. Did some searching myself and found out he had gotten whacked by one of his friends."
Now here was where the dream had ended. It was up to Josh to lead events in the way he wanted. The dream had only told him where to find the eldest brother of their little clan.
"…And?" questioned a voice from the dark.
Excitement and fear shivered through Josh. For one, he had gotten his attention by using the 'family' card. Every one of the brothers looked out for the other. Even someone as isolated as this one. But now that he had gotten his attention, it was critical for Josh to not appear to be wasting his time.
There was a reason why their eldest brother was in the Well and not the youngest deemed as the Vampire.
"You know," Josh rubbed his face, his fingers slipping through the dreamy material of the mask like mist, "thought about getting the family back together. Half of us are already comforting Ma— she's pretty hysterical about all of it. But some of us others are thinking about, you know."
"Revenge," drawled the eldest brother, tiredly, with impatience.
"Nah, bro," Josh waved it off. "Tubs was old enough to take care of himself. What happened to him was his own doing. I was just thinking about hosting a family reunion, having a few drinks, sharing our favorite stories about Ma's Tubsie-Wubsie, and playing a few games. That whole bit."
It bothered him how quiet his brother was. He wasn't sure whether he had lost his attention or if he had doomed himself.
"What would you need me to bring?" the eldest ask, as one would inquire whether to stop at the grocer and pick up a few necessities.
"Just yourself," Josh breathed out a sigh of relief. "I've already scouted the area and all that. Got Gabe working on the assortments. Just gotta see which of the others are going to show up."
He nearly jumped when he felt something pat against his shoulder. He hadn't been able to detect anything with his powers creating a field. It was a giant's hand that could have wrapped around his whole head— one just as big as the fat lard they were doing all this for.
A face appeared, inches away from his. An obsidian face carved from the same deceptive dream material as Josh's mask. It had appeared out of the black fog wrapped around the Well.
The eldest brother had slipped through his prison so to meet the face of his second-youngest.
"I'll see you then, Joshua."
The hand was lifted and the eldest slipped back into his cell.
"I'm counting on it, Manny," Josh rapped his knuckles against the invisible door before departing, tracing his steps in an almost drunken attempt to navigate back to the entrance.
It wasn't until he was back at the surface of the African wasteland did he realize he never gave Manuel the time and date of their gathering. But, then again, he was a brother. He'd show up to the event at some point.
*Scene*
"The trick to avoiding these people…" Josh began to explain to his brother, Gabe, "is to not focus on them at all. Don't even pretend they don't exist. Don't even focus on those around them. See that red-head there in the window? Yeah, that one. Focus on her."
Gabe gave a bored and tired sigh, which resulted in Josh slapping him across the face, which resulted in Gabe bringing his fist around, which resulted in… a few rounds of 'brotherly love'.
"What a stupid loophole," Gabe mumbled below his breath. "Can't we just, I don't know, walk up to them and get it over with? I've got things to do."
"Hey," Josh snarled but didn't beat his brother again. "Show some respect. We're doing this for Tubs."
"But isn't there a better way?" whined Gabe, his voice echoing through his powers as an Acolyte. It had no effect on Josh who was on a higher tier in power as well as having grown a tolerance to his brother's constant whining. "I loved ****** as much as anyone else. But I've got things to do and can't waste my time playing spy."
A group of migrating birds flying overhead suddenly dropped dead. They crashed down on the roof of the building they had been lurking. One landed on Josh's shoulder— he brushed it aside in a dismissive gesture as if this had happened a hundred-thousand time before. And it had. It happened whenever anyone outside their circle invoked the name of their youngest brother.
The look Josh gave Gabe made the young man sigh with resignation. "Fine, fine. I'll keep watch. Anything else I'm supposed to know?"
Josh leaned against the railing and pointed outwards. "She's not there but don't even think about one of them. That's the trick. You can talk about anyone else, write down what they do, but the instant your attention is on any of the Predators will they know you're looking at them. Don't fuck this up, Gabriel."
"Yeah, yeah," Gabe groaned as he flipped open a notepad Josh had given him. "I'll keep watch over them. Basic stuff. Their habits, who they talk to, what they eat and shop at, their schedule, all that boring stuff. Be out as soon as I realize they're going to meet one of them."
"No, keep watch over the red one," Josh pointed out. "Even if one of them show up. Just make sure not to focus on one of them."
"You mean I have to stay on her ass the entire time?" he whined again. "I don't know, man. That sounds like a lot of work."
"It'll be worth it in the end. Manny's coming so everything needs to meet his expectations."
It was amusing watching the color from Gabe's face drain.
"Fucking Manny's coming…" Gabe muttered in a soft ghostly whisper. "Fuck. Alright, fine. I'll do it. What're you doing then?"
"Stirring the pot?" Josh shrugged with a half-suggestion half-answer. "I'll be back in a week, alright? Manny and I are going to get some more supplies. You know how he is, always wanting to bring shit so to have an excuse to blame us if things aren't up to par. But, really, I think he's just bored out of his mind."
"Manny can escape whenever he wants," Gabe countered.
"Gets boring when you have the means to do almost anything," Josh replied, half towards Gabe and the other half saying such about himself. "No one keeps him locked down there and yet he always goes back there. I mean, I always go back to cooking even when I have the power to forge my own goddamn empire. You'll understand if you ever become a Candidate."
"Say that when you become a Predator," snapped Gabe while he jotted down his first line of notes.
Ah, Gabe. An Acolyte of the Sound affinity and just one shy step away from unlocking the conceptual level of his abilities. Josh believed he didn't take that final step on purpose. After all, Gabe used his affinity to understand people, to manipulate them and to get them to do just about anything he wanted. Gabe understood how everyone thought. It was why Josh gave him this job.
"Fuck that," Josh pushed himself off the railing. "No one wants to be a Predator. Not even the Predators. And those stupid enough to desire it don't know what sort of fucked-up life it is. Nah, I like being the bachelor not anchored to the World. I'll see you in a week, Gabe, and tell you what you need to do next."
Gabe gave a bored nod, his eyes never looking away from Rias Gremory and her click from the top of the skyscraper, all the way across the city, and through the window of Kuoh Academy some fifty miles away. Through the forest of trees that blocked the academy, at that. The amazement of Acolytes and their perfect vision could even spot the slight wrinkle of her uniform and read the lips of the words she shared with her peerage.
*Scene*
"Papa! Look what Cali-chan drew today!"
"Uh huh," Yuuto nodded as he brushed past the sword apparition.
Excalibur puffed her cheeks and scowled, having been ignored. Her father (though he was more of a mother if you wanted to be technical) was always like this as soon as they were alone. He only pretended to care for her for the sake of appearances. He smiled, treated her to things (if only to distract her), and let her need for attention grab a hold of him. But behind closed doors when it was just the two of them in his apartment, he didn't so much as glance at her.
He no longer smiled. The mask was put down in a neat little mental box while he performed his chores around the place. He cooked, he cleaned, he did his homework, but he pretended like she didn't exist.
Excalibur fumed but was never distraught. Her heart ached but it didn't throb. If anything, his lack of interest pushed her to try harder.
"Look!" she brought the picture up when he passed through the hallway again. "It's everyone in the club! I even included Ise-kun!"
That had gotten his attention, she noticed. His eyes had glimpsed at the crayon portrait for a brief instant. Only an instant. His eyes flickered away with disinterest as he carried on with his chores.
She decided to pin the paper to the fridge. He would have to see it when he started to cook tonight.
When it was supper time (he didn't call for her but set a plate for her anyways), she was sour to find out her drawing had been removed, crumbled, and thrown in the trash.
…At least he didn't shred it this time.
Supper, as it usually was, was eaten in silence. Or, to better clarify, without response. She chatted away about the things she had picked up observing through his life. Things including those poor maidens who will never have her Papa's love, the inaccuracies of his history lectures, and the conversations she shared on a daily basis with onee-samas Akeno, Koneko, Asia, and Rias. The best she ever got was a brief gruff.
He waited for her to finish her meal before cleaning the table and the dishes. A sad worry knotted her stomach— how long would it be before he stopped serving her meals in general? She knew he didn't have the heart to fully ignore her but sooner or later he will come to understand that she didn't need these sort of organic life necessities. She was, at her core, a sword.
How long would it be until he got annoyed with her and locked her away, forever?
To avoid such a time— isolation wasn't the fear but the heartbreak was— she tried to find that one chink in his armor. There must be some sort of soft spot he had.
"Papa, I've prepared the bath," she announced.
"Go on ahead," he said while his head was bowed, focused on his homework. "I've still got a few things to work on before I call it a night."
A predictable response. She could work with this, still.
She gasped, feigning horror. "Surely Papa doesn't mean to drink the water that Cali-chan has soaked her body in?! Has Papa fallen for the dark side?!"
His pen stopped scribbling with his lips twitching. In the next instant he was back to work.
It was the best response she was going to get from him this evening. Maybe tonight she'll sneak into his bed (again) and cuddle with him after he fell asleep. But knowing anything further would antagonize him, Excalibur gathered her things and went into the bathroom.
Yuuto massaged his temple as he felt the headache coming along. It grated on him how he felt a strain on his mind whenever there was a certain amount of distance between he and Excalibur. He didn't understand how it worked but he knew well enough to understand he and Excalibur were, frustratingly and infuriatingly, one. She was his Sacred Gear with an artificial intelligence and will of her own. She was his Sword Birth.
He could not live without her. She was the only thing keeping her alive and it sent torrents of pain through his body whenever they were separate at great distances. If she was more than twenty-five meters he would be on the floor gasping in pain.
The wound inflicted by the Vampire had never healed. It had only been hastily patched over, preventing his soul from bleeding out.
He was seething in outrage when he first felt the invisible cord between them. It told him everything he needed to know. He should have been nothing more than a husk of his former self— he had simply lost too much of his life energy to have a chance in recovering. But it was Excalibur who had gradually transferred some of her own perpetually generating energies into his being. She was the thing that had nurtured him back to good enough health.
Excalibur. His jaw clenched whenever he was reminded the thing he had sworn vengeance against was the thing that was keeping him alive.
He also couldn't help himself. A part of him wanted to treat the little girl nicely. But he could not see the thing as a little girl. Whenever he looked at that face, he did not see the younger female version of himself as though she really were his… daughter. All he saw were his friends from the orphanage.
…And all the naught they had died brutally for.
The sound of her voice was like nails to a chalkboard. This was Excalibur. This was the reason he had become a Devil and sought revenge. He had sworn to destroy the Fragments if they ever presented themselves to him. And here it was, all seven of them gathered into a neat pile and given into a very fragile state of being.
His Devil strength could have him breaking her neck in a heartbeat.
But he never found the courage nor the heart to do it. There would be no satisfaction, he knew. There was no point in seeking revenge for his friends. Too many things had presented itself for him to understand where his anger should be directed against.
In the end, he couldn't tell whether he should hate Excalibur for being the purpose of his tragic childhood… or the Predators for formulating the entirety of the Holy Sword Project.
Yuuto stopped working, leaned against the back of his chair, and looked up at the top shelf that held his mediocre movie collection. At the left side sat the plush doll in likeness to Excalibur. And on the right sat the plush doll in likeness to himself… without the hundred needles. Yuuto wasn't ignorant to not notice the pathetic attempt of voodoo. Though he pretended his friend wasn't genuinely trying to kill him.
He did not blame Issei for anything. Issei was as much a victim as Yuuto was. He had his parents torn away and was forced to face the object of his nightmares twice. The Predators has as much to do against Issei as Yuuto had gone through.
But here Yuuto was, unsure of himself. Regardless of who he hated the most, he hadn't an idea of how to direct that anger. He couldn't simply just swear vengeance against the Predators. They were monsters. It was also highly unlikely they would be around should Yuuto dedicate the agonizingly long life of a Devil to train for such a day.
He didn't know what to do. The reason for becoming a Devil had been to patiently await the day he could get back at the Church for what they had done. But even that was being robbed of him with Predator Rolan attacking every faction of the Church and Heaven. So, Yuuto found himself in this stasis of limbo. He woke up, he went to school, he performed his duties as a Devil, and then he returned home to rinse and repeat the cycle.
…Along with his newest roommate.
His thoughts came to a screeching halt as the balcony window shattered open as well as a large chunk of the wall. The force of the burst knocked him off his feet. But he was spry; he bounced as soon as he hit the floor and jumped up into a crouching position. His senses were screaming at him at the impending danger. His body recognized the poisonous miasma belonging to the forces of light.
"Hello, Holy Sword vessel."
His eyes widened as he recognized the voice.
Kokabiel strolled in, his wings flexing to wave away the dust he had created in his initial attack. He was dressed in a new black suit, pressed and primed as if ready to attend a grand party for the rich and famous. But everything about him was… wrong. Half his face was frozen with a dense layer of ice, leaving the right eye wide in a scowl of rage and lips parted in a silent scream. And yet, in contrast, the entirety of his left side was calm, soothing, charming and suave.
He extended a hand, reaching out to Yuuto. Only, it was no hand. It was a claw made entirely out of ice. A thick layer of frost coated the cuff of his jacket.
"I'd tell you to try and not struggle," Kokabiel cackled with a sneer. "But then this wouldn't be as fun."
There was a second concussion at his back. It had come from the bathroom.
Excalibur had forgone any subtlety in the name of urgency and had blasted the door open with some sort of holy shockwave. Her dress was in the midst of materializing around her while she was still drenched from the bathwater. She did not hesitate. As soon as she was out of the door with clear sight of the invader from the hallway, twin orbs of light glowed at her palms.
"MOVE!" she bellowed with the voice that did not belong to an innocent little girl, but to a commander who had faced the grit of a hundred battlefields. Those who disobeyed wouldn't meet her wrath but rather the cruel misfortune of what transpired to the losers of the battlefield.
Yuuto didn't hesitate. He dove just as two beams of holy energy surged passed him. He could feel his skin flare with pain as the heat barely missed him.
Kokabiel had heard the warning as well. His sneer shifted to one of primal pleasure as he extended a hand to meet with her attack.
The beams struck at his open palm. Sprays of light scattered everywhere like streams of water splashing over a hard surface. They tore apart their surroundings but did nothing more than rip the sleeve of Kokabiel's jacket.
The smile grew. Kokabiel flexed his hand and gripped the united beams as if they were solid.
They froze with ice traversing up the beam and quickly reaching Excalibur.
She dropped her attack and moved to another offensive strike. Her body flickered with the speeds that surpassed anything Yuuto could produce as a Knight. She was a singular blur of light as she shot from the hallway straight for Kokabiel.
"Gack!"
Her fingers had protruded tiny flames of light, almost liken to claws. She had intended to attack him up close but Kokabiel had been able to keep track of her movements. In one instant he had been dealing with her prior attack and in the next his hand had shot up and gripped tightly around her neck. It was as if the frame from a cinema had skipped scenes all of a sudden.
She struggled. Or tried to. Disoriented for only an instant, she quickly recovered and extended her hand to blast another orb of light in his close proximity.
Except he wouldn't have any of that. With a flick of his wrist was there a grotesque sound of bones cracking.
The entirety of her being went limp.
Kokabiel let her drop with a dismissive toss. Before her body hit the floor did she dissolve into golden dust until they faded away into the nothingness.
No, Yuuto knew. He could feel their connection. He could call upon her again if he so chose, just like how he could create a sword with some demonic energy. The form she had in the real world was merely broken. If he willed it, he could make her appear once again.
But he didn't.
"What do you want?" he demanded. "You know my master will know about this. You set off the wards around my place. And Ise-kun will break you in half."
It was his only defense at this point. He simply couldn't stomach the idea of making Excalibur appear again. Even if it meant saving his own life.
Kokabiel's smile grew delighted. "That's exactly what I'm hoping for."
And the world went dark as the Fallen Angel's arm became a blur and Yuuto felt something hard smash into the side of his head.
*Scene*
"They're not coming for you," Excalibur said. "Kokabiel did something to those protections. The alarm didn't go off. It's been half a day already and it's a Sunday. Your friends are always on your own on these days which means Rias-oneesama won't check on you until school—"
"SHUT UP!" he bellowed. "SHUT UP! I don't want to hear anything you have to say."
The world around them shifted into a consort of colors. There was no ground and yet they shifted between sitting and standing. Sometimes they were in a field of grass, of flowers, or weeds. Sometimes they were on the sandy shores of a beach, at the edge of a cliff to a canyon, or the icy tundra of a mountain valley. Sometimes they were on the cobbled streets of Victorian England, the dirt roads belonging to Ancient Rome, or the asphalt pavements of the modern era. Sometimes they were indoors with lavish furnishings of every era within a building of every architecture.
The world was constantly shifting. Here was where Yuuto dreamed. Having been rendered unconscious and dragged to parts unknown by Kokabiel. The blow should have only knocked him out for a few hours. But it was Excalibur, he knew, who kept him under for longer.
Because she was trying to talk to him.
Here, in his mind, he could not keep his emotions hidden from her.
"I hate you," a voice that was his but not his echoed. His lips hadn't moved but the voice had originated from him. "I despise you. I wish you had never been born, created, whatever in the nine hells you are!"
"I know," she said in a low whisper. These words had been said and repeated hundreds of times. The repetition was starting to make her crack. She had been strong at the beginning, determined to convince him otherwise. She thought she could persuade him into seeing her for who she was and not what the world had made her out to be.
But his hatred was too deep. It was no longer guided by reason or purpose. It had melded itself into his being and became a part of who he was. It was a deep scar she could not remove.
It hurt her.
"Papa," she tried once again.
"Don't call me that, you disgusting thing, I refuse to acknowledge you as a part of me."
Her voice hitched, faltering slightly. She breathed in and willed herself to carry on. "I am a sword. There is not much I can do on my own. I can protect you. I can get you out of here. But only if—"
"I will never touch you," he hissed. "Do you think I can just forget everything you've done? Do you think I can forgive you for everything? That I'm to accept you? No, I will never accept you. If it wasn't for you my friends would still be alive!"
Yet more things she had heard from him before. She knew this before. She was a part of him and could read his heart. She had seen his memories and knew fully well of the events that transpired. "I accept that. You are right. Things would have been different had I been destroyed beyond repair at Camlain."
"Then leave me alone," he snarled, turning his back and walking away. "I want nothing to do with you. If I could live without you, I surely would."
It was not his words that hurt her the most. Those she could forgive him for, even if they had been like thorns wrapped around her heart. It was his anger talking, something he had no control over as it was what kept him alive for so long in this cold world.
It was him turning his back on her that made her flinch, made her eyes widen, made her voice release a small shriek, and made her hands clutch over her chest.
"DO YOU THINK I ENJOY THIS?!" she screamed.
He stopped walking. But he did not turn around.
"Do you think I enjoy being the reason people have killed another over?! I was made to be your salvation! I am an instrument of peace! The Fae made me to build a utopia for humanity! But all Arthur did was use me for conquest! He wanted me to help him overthrow Rome and crown himself as emperor! I refused and he threw me away!"
The memories played in the background. The image of a golden-haired young man, no older than a child, had spat at the greatest blade and picked up Rhongomynyad in the name of greed.
"When Rhon wasn't good enough he picked me up again," she was frazzled. She clutched her arms around her waist as though ready to be sick. "But not to save his kingdom. He did it to cut down his own Knights after they turned their back on him. So I broke. I couldn't be used like that. Not like that.
"I'm sorry your friends are dead," she sobbed, phantasmal tears of gold flowing out from her eyes. "I'm sorry they weren't the first. Do you know how many people have killed each other because of me? Do you know how much it hurts me? The point of my existence was to protect. I wasn't created to cut open people, I was created to protect humanity against things they couldn't protect themselves. And my existence has killed more people than it has saved! Do you understand what that's like?!"
She had lost her composure. She had lost her base of argument. Everything she said at this point was just noise to him. He wasn't listening.
"I don't pity you," the voice of his heart spoke.
"I don't want your pity," she snapped back. "I want your acceptance! I mean it every time I say I love you. I don't care if that love is never returned. I don't care if you never wield me. Father… please, just look at me. Just once."
He didn't move. All she heard from him was jumbled noise. Not confusion. He simply didn't have an opinion to her words.
"Why do you hate me so much?" Her spirit broken, all the charisma she had as the centuries-old weapon crumbled apart. She fell to her knees and began to sob like the little girl she projected herself as. "Papa… I didn't kill your friends. It wasn't me. Why won't you look at me?"
"Because hating you is all I have left," he relented.
She sniffed, her teary eyes looked up at his back.
Her silence had been her reply. It had triggered his mind to speak from his heart. "I have nothing else to live for. I gave my life up to Buchou and became a Devil because I swore vengeance against you. I swore to kill those responsible for their deaths. But all of those were robbed from me. The Church is in ruins, the Predators are beyond my reach, and you… I need you to carry on. You're the only thing I can touch and I'm not sure destroying you is worth it.
"…I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
A part of her was frustrated. A part of her wanted to stomp her feet and demand him to grow the fuck up. A part of her wanted to turn her hands into blades and stab him.
But, the core of her, the part that made her a blade of peace and not a weapon, had her understanding him. She sympathized.
It was what made her get up, cross the distance in an instant, and slip her hand into his. He flinched at her touch, pried his hand away, and crossed his arms. She moved closer and wrapped her arms around him as best she could. Her small arms couldn't fully cover his waist. He tried to move away without touching her, but all it did was get her grip to tighten.
"I need to tell you something," she whispered. She shuttered. This… This was something she didn't want to share with him. This was an abomination. A poison. Something that will spiral him into a monster should he learn. But it would be needed. He was beyond all other means of saving.
One way to remove a scar was to tear it open and brand it.
"Your friends are with me," she said.
She sensed his confusion. And then his hatred arise when this dream world projected the images of the ones who perished in the Church facility. Their features were too detailed, more detailed than a memory should permit. It was because what she said was truth. It was her who was projecting their being onto this world.
"King Oberon IV," she said with venom, "ordered the execution of the Holy Sword Project. He may have shut it down but he never disposed of the results. His friend, who wore the director's face, gathered the bodies of your friends and…"
She paused.
"…What?" his voice echoed with rage.
Was she really doing this? This won't make him love her. All this would do is make him hate something more than how he already hates her. And what she was about to tell him would make him hate her even more than he already did now, even when she had no control over it. She would forever be a reminder of the horror she was about to admit.
There was no turning back. She had already said too much.
"Their holy essence was implanted into me," she said. "It had been extracted out of them before their deaths. But… that's not all."
Another pause. She released her grip on him and took a few steps back. She needed to look directly at him for this. She nearly shuttered in fright when those eyes were gazing down at her. For the first time he was looking at her. But not for the reasons she had always craved.
"Their blood," she admitted. "When my Fragments were brought together and smelted with your Sword Birth, he made sure to have my vessel chilled in a bucket of their blood. The Vampire had preserved it for that single purpose."
It had maximized the alignment of their holy essence. Her body was as much theirs as it was Yuuto's. Her flesh was soaked with their blood and channeled their divine attributes. The blood of potential Saints and Paladins made her into what she was right now.
The effect of her words had been immediate. The world stopped shifting. All progress around them had ceased. Yuuto's rage had reached the point where his face had warped into chilling calmness.
"My… friends…?" he asked, his lips moving this time.
"Yuuto…" she whispered his name, hoping to reach out to him in her final attempt. She simply lacked the energy to try again should this fail. "I'm sorry. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. No one was supposed to die. I accept to be responsible for everything. It would have been better if I didn't exist. Then… no one would fight over me. You wouldn't hate me so much.
"Maybe in another world you would have loved the Cali-chan that perished on Camlain."
He didn't move. At least not at first. His eyes bored into hers with an icy fury that made the world around them blacken. He brought his hand up, shaking as the emotions swept through his entire being. The voice of his heart could no longer share its intentions. All things had gone silent.
She shut her eyes, ready and resigned to accept the blow he would send her.
But it didn't come. What he did made her gasp and eyes widen in pure and utter shock.
…Because, for the first time, his hand had patted the top of her head.
*Scene*
"Finally awake, Yuuto Kiba?" Kokabiel's voice echoed through the darkness. He addressed Yuuto as he would to an old friend.
There was no gradual lull out of slumber. As soon as his eyes opened was he fully awake and aware of his surroundings. His Devil vision allowed him to see through the shadows. It was easy to find he had been bound in a chair (half the back was broken) with a few chains restraining him. It had somewhat irked him to find the place Kokabiel had taken him to was, yet again, deep in the cellar of the ruinous cathedral.
It was difficult seeing Kokabiel. Yuuto would have never guessed where to find him until he saw the cold mist seeping out of his nostrils in the corner. The Fallen was sitting on a pile of rubble with his arms and legs crossed, his back leaned against the pile, and his entire posture oozing with confidence. His black wings flickered every so often with anticipation. His red eyes bore into Yuuto, drinking him in now that he was fully conscious.
Kokabiel looked bored. And now he had something to entertain him with.
"Didn't you learn the first time around?" Yuuto sat up straight and tried to unwind his body. He felt stiff while spending (assuming Excalibur had been right) half a day unconscious and who knows how long he spent that amount strapped to this chair. "You have no power here. The Grigori have abandoned you. Did you forget Leviathan-sama was surveying the territory?"
The Fallen leered, "Hoh? That Serafall brat? I was laying waste to the greatest of her ancestors before she could crawl."
"Yeah, Ise-kun told me you said something similar… before he kicked your face in," it was almost uncharacteristic for him to be this cocky, especially against an opponent he knew was more experienced and skilled than he. Not to mention the difference in raw power was steep.
Kokabiel wasn't amused by the comment nor the attitude. His half-smile had turned into a thin line. Power dripped out of his being and soaked the air. It made the dim rays of the sun seeping through brighten and the darkness shrivel deeper into the cold abyss.
"The ice is new," Yuuto commented with some weariness. He drew in his feet to the best of his abilities when the layer of frost slid across the floor. He could feel it like molten lava and decided it would be best to avoid contact.
The Fallen blinked and gazed down at his right hand. His frozen claws flexed open and close in repeated sequence. He didn't seem to be accustomed to the limb just yet. "Ah this. Your Dragoon had claimed my arm when last we met. I was imprisoned by that lowly Saint and delivered to the pits of Cocytus. An instant passed, an eon passed; it doesn't matter. Time grows astray when it is frozen solid.
"If anything, I owe your Dragoon a level of gratitude," his toothy sneer returned with a vengeance. His frozen limb crushed the air, sending a shockwave of cold that made Yuuto flinch. "My time in prison has taught me much. Not only do I possess my authority of light but now I control in my grasp the frozen secrets of Cocytus."
"…And you're going to use it to fight Ise." Yuuto confirmed.
"No, child," Kokabiel shook his head as he cackled. He looked down on Yuuto's assumption as though it were mere childish speculation. "I will use it to destroy your Dragoon."
"I see…"
Yuuto decided to stand up. The mystic chains the Fallen used to restrain Devils were shrugged off. The links keeping him bound were severed in half. When he stood, he rolled his shoulders and massaged his wrists while making sure to keep his eyes locked on Kokabiel.
The Fallen showed no surprise. It was likely he had known Yuuto had broken them as soon as he awakened. Only intrigue formed. Intrigue without interest. He was amused with Yuuto's defiance and had welcomed the sporting chance. Yet, he expected nothing much would come out of it.
Yuuto stretched his arm to be a few inches away from his body. His hand flexed around the open air as if ready to grab a hold of something that wasn't there. He looked away from Kokabiel, blinking and straining as if hearing something in the distance. For a moment he had forgotten about Kokabiel entirely. But then, something within him stirred and his attention had returned to the Fallen.
"That's really something scary…" he said aloud. Not to Kokabiel. Nor even to himself. They were simple truths for anyone to hear. "So this is what it's like… That thing at the edge over there. I understand Ise-kun a little better now."
The smile on Kokabiel's face washed away as he realized what Yuuto was rambling about.
A blast of golden light consumed the area when Yuuto brought his arm around matching the speed and precision of a disciplined swordsman combined with the strength and savagery powered by the limb of a beast. His eyes went as cold and sharp as steel with his face shifting into a mask of a bloodthirsty prowler. A hunter; he was one who wandered the wild, who defied and conquered over the untamed, who waited patiently for the precise and utmost efficient time to strike and deliver the killing blow.
A barrier enveloped him, protecting him from the concussion of the blast as well as the shrapnel that drastically changed the territory of his hunting grounds. Not a speck of dust reached him as the golden blade of victory shielded him in its embracing light. Though a dense fog had littered the area, his eyes were still locked on the position the Fallen Angel had slipped into.
He heard the sound of dripping. Excalibur had tasted the Fallen's blood— her edge rejected the touch and the blood slid off of her metal without resistance.
"What a dirty trick, whelp," snarled Kokabiel. His wings flexed, extending to their full length and dispersing the smokescreen. There was a gash across his chest surrounded by the char of cindered flesh. His face was in a grimace of outrage. "Do not think it will happen twice!"
"Kokabiel," Yuuto adjusted his grip on Excalibur. Not that he needed to. It had materialized at the perfect angle for his strike and at the perfect balance for handling. "You and I both know how this will end. You know I can't let you live— not that I doubt Ise-kun and all. But you're a threat to Buchou and all my other friends. So will you surrender now and let me end this quickly, or do you want to drag this out into something futile?"
"You…" Kokabiel gritted his teeth. He threw his arms up into the air, materializing a spear of light with spirals of tundra coiling around the tip. "You will not rob me of my greatest feat! I will destroy one of the Ultimate Killers with my dying breath!"
Yuuto almost laughed. Almost. He put up the smile belonging to the Prince of Kuoh anyways, simply for the irony of this situation. "See, if you could, Ise-kun would have come running straight here. You're no threat. Not really. You can't even get his attention."
"SILENCE!" bellowed the Fallen as he launched his attack down at Yuuto.
The blonde Devil's eyes shifted as his senses flared. He already knew what level of destruction something with this much output would bring. Even if he were to use his speed— heightened by the properties of Excalibur as well— he wouldn't be able to escape the blast radius. That, and a good sum of the city at the edge of the mountainside would be consumed in Cocytus' permafrost.
Instead, he chose to face this attack. It had nothing to do with saving lives or even saving his own skin. It was the nagging sensation tugging at his mind that compelled him to perform his utmost effort into hunting Kokabiel.
Something in his head was singing. It was a hymn of death. A song of the hunt. And dare he say he enjoyed the way it made him feel.
"Balance… Breaker!"
[Sword Birth: Betrayer Hilt of Absolute Victory!]
What became of Excalibur was nothing fantastic or flashy compared to its original golden brilliance. Upon opposing the World and activating his Sacred Gear for what he desired it to be, the golden blade vanished. Only the hilt remained.
And yet, Yuuto brought his arm back and swung forward without hesitation. No other blade took up its place. Nothing magical protruded out of the hilt.
The oncoming projectile was split in half straight down the middle. It lost all momentum in its thrust and the energies that bound it into a spell of destruction came undone. It unraveled until it became harmless motes of light.
Blood splurged as a deep gash ran down Yuuto's arm. He examined it. He had followed his instincts to the best of his abilities and let his body flow in the method he was supposed to swing. But something wasn't aligned still. And the result had his own weapon harming him.
These sensations were still raw to him. They were his and yet not his. They were the things molded into him by his teacher and the things he gained through experience. And they were being forced to cooperate with this new and yet strangely intimate whispering that both soothed and urged his most primal of cravings. They worked well together— he would never have been able to deliver that first blow without their unity— but they were not perfect.
It was like growing a new arm and learning how to use it. Just because he had two others didn't mean this third was going to be as good as the others.
[No, that's not right,] Excalibur whispered within the jewel-encrusted hilted. [Here. Let me show you. Follow my lead.]
"Damnable heathen…" hissed Kokabiel in a low growl. "To achieve Balance Breaker with the Sword of Promised Victory? With an instrument of God?! No, of course. Such is the nature of those who achieve Balance Breaker."
Kokabiel's response to this was to replicate his previous attack. The only difference was the power output had been doubled as well as the quantity. Two spears of frozen light at twice their original size blotted out the sky. The distance between the Fallen and the Devil was over thirty meters and yet Yuuto could feel his muscles coil from the sudden temperature drop.
Yuuto spread his own wings, but a meager pair of leathery wings belonging to the lowest ranking of Devil-kind. He had no pedigree and his demonic energy was mediocre at best. As was to be expected from a human reincarnated as a Devil.
He opened his freehand. Another gold and jewel-pommeled hilt appeared in his grip.
In the next instant, he vanished. The air around him popped with the speed he traversed upon kick-off.
The process repeated itself from before. The two javelins were split in half to where they dispersed into nothingness. Two more sections of Yuuto's flesh parted with blood escaping, albeit to a slightly lesser extent as he let Excalibur guide him.
But now he appeared before Kokabiel. He was close enough to feel the chill naturally radiating off of his skin. He didn't believe he was any faster, as he had been able to follow his own speeds in a natural flow of grace— but perhaps that was the interference working with him. Regardless, the Fallen was taken by surprise based on the way his single working eye widened in shock.
"You know," Yuuto jested without putting the heart into his smile. His eyes were still cold and malicious. "This is almost not fun. This isn't a battle of skill. You're obviously the better fighter. It's just that I have a means of killing you. It's rather unfair."
Kokabiel let loose a snarl of annoyance as he swung his arms and drew his stance back to gather distance. A blade of frozen light pierced through the open air and sent a slash of artic frost to petrify and shatter everything in its path.
"You missed."
Twin streams of blood streaked the air. One vastly larger than the other as it was Kokabiel who had taken the worst of the damage. Another gash had cut across Yuuto's face, running from the tip of his ear all the way down to the middle of his chin and parting his lips. He was unfazed by the pain as his eyes were sealed upon the Fallen.
Kokabiel roared and brought his arm around in retaliation. Another stream of permafrost sliced through the open air by another radiant blade. And yet again did he strike at nothing.
The next blow came at his side. Had he not been aware of his surroundings would Yuuto have delivered the final strike. But Kokabiel twisted his body, took the brunt of the invisible blade and felt his flesh separate in two halves, and went for the riposte.
Yuuto had slipped out of his reach before the Fallen could bring the crescendo of his swing at its full might.
Blood splashed everywhere as Yuuto invaded the Fallen's defenses. But he was getting nowhere. Kokabiel was vastly more skilled in combat than the Devil and was more than able to keep himself alive. The instincts honed by the millenniums as a veteran of the Great War had him capable to stand against the greatest of forces the Biblical Factions could throw at another. Yuuto should have lost the instant he tried to take down the former Cadre.
Normally, he would have. And yet there was something guiding him to prevent his death. Not only that, but this unseen force was also telling him where the best place and when to strike Kokabiel would have the most effect.
The Fallen was, without a doubt, faster, stronger, more cunning, and more powerful than whatever Yuuto could hope to be in the next hundred years. There was no getting around the numbers of their statistics. However, even the mightiest of the Fallen could fall. Everything could. Everything, at some point of time, succumbs to the inevitable and unstoppable universal force.
Death. There was no avoiding Death.
Death was guiding Yuuto. And it was Yuuto who was Death.
He knew when the Fallen would strike, how, to what degree, and knew when to avoid or counteract. His body moved on his own, obeying his will before his mind could fully cope with the information process pertaining on the battlegrounds. He was constantly moving, constantly reacting in a predetermined sequence he had little awareness of and even less control over.
It didn't bother him. This man had presented himself as a threat to his King and her peerage. He, her sworn Knight, could not allow such a danger continue to exist.
"You cheeky brat!" spat Kokabiel with wads of phlegm and blood. He was panting and his wings were having difficulty keeping him uplifted. "You… You will not rob me of my prize. The Dragoon… his head… I will mount it as a trophy after I've soiled that bitch of—"
The next strike came with a rush of raw carnal rage. The swordsman in him had vanished as the mind of the prowler overcame all sense. There was no finesse in his next strike, only the unrelenting and primitive brute force of a monster digging its fangs into soft hide. This one cost him the largest gash across his chest, having lost absolute control over technique and compatibility with Excalibur. But it had done the most damage.
Kokabiel lifted his sword to defend. The blade of Absolute Victory split it in half… as well as dislodging his arm and cleaving through the lower half of his torso. His face twisted in a gurgling gasp of bellowing pain and shock.
Finally, he dropped to the floor. His frozen hand clutched at his side and the wound was sealed shut in a dense layer of ice. His insides were to the point of slipping out hadn't he taken emergency actions.
When he tried to stand, the hollowed innards of a hilt reared itself close to his face.
Yuuto looked down at the Fallen. Blood continued to drip from his self-inflicted wounds. He could feel Excalibur doing something to prolong his demise. And he could feel the thing lurking in the back of his mind telling him he will die if he waited too long and lost anymore blood. He ignored it, aware it was his survival instincts amped up to eleven.
His silver eyes peered down, penetrating through the vessel that made Kokabiel's flesh.
He offered his Princely Smile, "So this is what Ise-kun has to deal with all the time. No wonder he's so… troubled. I think I'll give him a back-rub when next I see him. But before that, I always wanted to try that one thing he always does…"
Kokabiel didn't move. His eyes had widened as something shifted within the Devil. His smile had never changed. His image never altered. His demonic energy never fluxed. And yet something had replaced the dignified schoolboy revered as Kiba Yuuto.
He spoke with a voice of power enforced through the authorities of the World.
"Do you know who we are?"
No, it was not a thing that had replaced Yuuto. He had become this thing instead. He had become Death.
"We are Eighth Predator, the Siege Perilous."
Whatever Kokabiel had to say— or to not say as he was rendered a gaping fish in sheer horror— had been cut off. Literally.
With a flick of his wrist, but a simple twitch in a lax direction, and Kokabiel's entire being was split in half from the tip of his crown all the way down to his groin. He did not bleed out with his guts spilling out. The things that tied Kokabiel together and registered him as an existence to this World came undone. Excalibur hadn't cut his flesh. It had split his soul in half.
All traces of Kokabiel vanished.
*Scene*
"…And that's the gist of it," Yuuto finished his report at the right time. He had just finished the last of his tea his dearly beloved Queen, Akeno, had spotted for him. Tonight's brew had been exceptionally delightful.
He lied, of course. He had told the Occult Research Club the abridged version of the story. He only told them about Kokabiel kicking his front door open, taking him away, his little argument with Excalibur, and then performing Balance Breaker to defeat his Fallen kidnapper.
…It only slightly bothered him how they had been unaware of his situation. Honestly.
"Thank you Asia, I feel so much better," Yuuto waved at former nun… or the newly inducted nun… Saint… whatever Asia was attempting to be these days. She had finished healing the last of his wounds just before the story was finished.
"I'm just so glad you're okay," the Bishop nearly sobbed with worry.
"So…" Koneko eyed him with her perceptively sharp gaze… and hopefully finding nothing. "Yuuto-sempai is strong?"
He smiled and lifted his arm as if to flex the muscle. "Yup. I was able to beat Kokabiel with the help of Excalibur. It's all about compatibility, it seems. When we worked together we were able to overpower him. But… I really think he was a lot weaker since his imprisonment."
She accepted his words with nod, though her eyes never left his zone.
"You know I'm going to have to cross this over with Leviathan-sama," Rias was the only one fuming over this. The culprit had been dealt with and yet she fretted over him. His heart swayed at the compassion his King had for him. "Just earlier today she and Ise were sitting at the same table as Michael-sama and Gabriel-sama. You'd think those Angels would have mentioned something about that."
"Huh? What about Angels?" Yuuto would have sat forward if he didn't have Excalibur resting on his thigh. "But, Buchou, what happened to your date?"
Her answer was to cross her arms and grumble below her breath like the King she was.
His smile dipped just a smidgeon. A part of him ached knowing his master's day, something she had been looking forward to for so long, had been interrupted.
"But Balance Breaker, Kiba-kun?" Akeno tapped her chin with her finger. "To be crippled in using your Sacred Gear and then suddenly using the same impossible feat Ise-kun? My, that must have been a strenuous battle."
"…Yes, it was," Yuuto admitted as he brushed a few stray strands of hair out of Excalibur's face. She slept soundly unperturbed.
"That's right," Rias spoke thoughtfully. "While a Sacred Gear reacts according to the will and emotions of their user, there are some cases where the bearer had undergone some sort of grand burden. That they reject the philosophy of God's System and implant their own rules into it."
"…Huh," Yuuto said with a nod. "That's quite the specific description, Buchou. Did you hear about this from Sirzechs-sama?"
Her cheeks flared as she pouted. "N-No. Onii-sama had nothing to do with this. I had done my own research as soon as I learned Ise was the bearer of the Boosted Gear. Regardless, Yuuto, this is wonderful news! This will definitely help us with Ise's Rating Game!"
His smile was frozen on his face. It threatened to fall off if he didn't have years practicing to perfect this deceptive persona. Always, always, always it went back to Issei. That's all that consumed his master's life since he broke her engagement to Raizer Phenex.
"Riiiiiaaaaaaaaas!" came the voice of his current ire from down the hall.
His insides cringed. He wished he had more tea to use it as an excuse to hide the grimace that threatened to appear.
The doors flung open and Issei threw himself at the feet of the King, sobbing and staining her stockings while he rubbed his cheek against her leg. He was absolutely hysterical.
Just as Rias had called everyone to a club meeting this late in the evening, she had delivered the same message to Issei. He hadn't responded but she was sure he would arrive anyways.
"I-Ise!" Rias was unaware on how to proceed with things. "W-What's wrong?"
…And just like that, Yuuto's five-minutes of fame were up. The spotlight turned off on him as it was Issei's turn to have the limelight.
"A-A-A-A-A-Amy…" he sniffed, barely able to form words. "She… S-She did unspeakable things to meeeeeeeeeeeeee~" Another heavy sob here for a few minutes.
And then…
"I CAN NEVER BE A BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIDE!"
It was the totally incorrect thing to say. But this was Issei. He was hysterical over some new misadventure Saint Serene had performed behind closed doors. Yuuto wanted to comfort Issei, he really did and assure everyone he had been right about Serene all along. But the more dominate part of him, the jealous side of him that demanded retribution for stealing the attention of his King, decided to sit back and let events play out.
Incidentally, Excalibur had awoken. She had one eye open as she watched the daily drama unfold.
"Ise, that's not very nice," Asia fiddled with her fingers. "Madam Serene would never do something so… ecchi."
"You weren't there…" Issei sobbed further, muttering the words like a mantra. "You weren't there. Oh gods. She didn't miss a spot. Places I didn't even know I had had been defiled. And… why? WHY WERE THERE TENTICLES?!"
He continued to clutch tightly against Rias' leg in a desperate attempt to seek comfort.
"Ise-sempai," Koneko's eyes narrowed. "You're the worst."
"I AM A VICTIM IN ALL THIS!"
"Don't worry, Ise-kun," Akeno had to bite her lip to hold back the cackle. "Your onee-sama will wash away all of that filth from that old hag."
He sniffed, looking up at her with puppy-dog eyes. "R-Really, Akeno-oneesama?"
"Oh for the love of…" Rias rolled her eyes as she pressed her fingers against her brows in an upcoming headache. "Ise, why are you so distraught over this? I had assumed you were doing things with her already."
"Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh?!" he looked up at her as if she had kicked him, this poor, abused pup… who could decimate a city in a single instant. "Wha— Why— I-I wouldn't do that to you, Rias…"
"So wait, Madam Serene really did… things with Ise?" Asia cocked her head to the side in bewilderment. And then, like a lightbulb going off over her head, she brightened up with her beautific smile. "Does that mean I can call… Sister Serene… Serene-oneesama? I would very much like that! I… I can be a family with Ise and Serene…"
She squealed with delight.
…There were sparks going off of Issei's head. Was that supposed to be some comic gag about his brain being fried? Wasn't that supposed to only happen in cartoons? Or was this one of those dragon-things like the nosebleeds?
Yuuto chalked up the sparks as a dragon-thing and moved on.
"But… she did… things…" he continued to whimper.
"That doesn't seem to have ever stopped you before," Rias retorted with a tired sigh. "Ise, I've seen your porn collection. I've seen some of the… unmentionables that has claimed your interest. I'm pretty sure whatever Serene did to you can't be any worse than what can only be performed in two-dimensional panels."
A visible pulse shivered through her being from the tips of her toes all the way up her spine and to the crown of her head. It was something she didn't want to learn about her boyfriend's… curiosities.
"But… you and Asia are… my girlfriends…" Issei said next.
"And we will always be," Rias leaned over and pressed her brow against his, cupping his face against hers. She pecked his brow before ruffling his hair and sitting back upright. "What's with you all of a sudden? I had thought you wanted a harem. Wasn't that the reason why you dove head-first into the duties of a Devil?"
"I SHALL BECOME THE HAREM KING!" he suddenly roared, enflamed by a passion that had been sleeping within his core.
"Well, so long as you pay attention to me—"
"And me!" Asia made sure to share her input.
"And me~" Akeno slipped in.
Yuuto half-expected Koneko to jump in as well. But the tiny Rook only shrunk her knees to her chest with her face reddening in… shame? Embarrassment? Longing? Frustration? Or just all of the above. As much of a 'charmer' as he was for the ladies, Yuuto could not comprehend the concept that was women.
"Not you," Rias shooed away Akeno with a wave of her hand. "So long as you pay attention to… your girlfriends, I'm content with sharing you with others. But we're going to have a problem if you ever forget about me. Got it?"
"I will never forget!" Issei protested.
"Good," Rias nodded with a sweet smile. "I suppose that means I'll have to share my time with Serene now…"
"No, uh, actually Rias I don't think Amy likes me like—"
Issei had tried to explain his relationship status to the King. And Rias was willing to listen as he had her attention and was listening with intent. But the World doesn't work like that.
"WAIT! KONEKO-CHAN, I CAN EXPLAIN!"
"I said NO MORE!"
Yuuto watched as Issei took the flying coffee table to the face. He could have dodged. He could have caught the wooden furniture. But he didn't do that. He just… let it happen.
The table struck him. Now, this was no wooden table found in any warehouse store. This was a custom made ebony cinderwood found in the Dragon Canyon of the Familiar Forest. It had the durability to withstand the tremendous feats of Dragons, having grown and forced to adapt through selection in such a hazardous territory. It had also been enchanted through arcane Devilry as this table was used in rituals the Occult Research Club occasionally conducted.
…Thrown by a totally pissed Koneko and it was more like a wrecking ball. Made entirely out of diamond.
There was the sound of something crunching, and it hadn't originated from the wood. But the sound was quickly muffled out by the obnoxiously loud shattering of glass. Koneko had thrown the table hard enough to push Issei back far enough for him to be ejected out of the second-story window.
"Koneko!" Rias scolded her youngest Piece. "That's the fifth window this year we've had to replace."
…Yes, because the window was so much more important than investigating the bone-breaking noise coming from Issei.
Yuuto just kept his smile up as he asked for more tea, to which Akeno happily obliged him.
His gamble had paid off. No one suspected anything, not even Issei.
Yuuto had been able to read Issei inside and out, able to evaluate the level of threat he could be (which nearly made him break out into a sweat), as well as everyone else in the room. No one noticed. No one saw the difference in Yuuto as the Predator's mindset had already claimed him. And Issei hadn't treated him any different than how he usually did.
As it turns out, while he had access to the perks of a Predator whenever he wanted, he could not announce himself as such nor would— it seemed— another Predator be able to detect his presence unless he and Excalibur were together. Not like this, how they sat close together. But together.
Yuuto was not the Eighth. Excalibur was not the Eighth. They together was Eighth, the Siege Perilous.
*Scene*
"Go fish," said one Reaper.
"Fuck," another Reaper cursed.
"Got any threes?" Gabe asked to the hot piece of ass of a Reaper on his right.
The girl who continued to give him the stink-eye shook her head and pointed to the deck.
"Damn," Gabe cursed and drew from the deck. "Oh, hey. I got what I—"
"SHOO! SHOO!" Josh appeared out of nowhere, kicking one Reaper across the jaw and sending another flying through the air with his abilities. Power coursed through his veins in a sum that electrified the air. Power that should not be challenged foolishly. "Get the fuck out of here you damn buzzards!"
The Reapers scattered like crows, slipping away into mists of black or fading into apparitions. They claimed their belongings in a hurry.
In the next instant, the crowd of seven had dispersed. All that remained was Gabe and his younger brother.
"Dude, the fuck?" Gabe tossed his hand aside. At least those Reapers had forgotten about the booze. Some terrible shit, but booze was booze. He grabbed it and took a swig. "I was winning."
"It's always threes," Josh ranted, kicking the bucket one Reaper had used as a stool and then stomping on an ancient lantern used for lighting on this dark rooftop. "I don't get the joke! What's the point? Who started it? Why is it everywhere with this guy?! What does it even mean?! No one understands the fucking joke!"
"Bro," Gabe wobbled, a little buzzed from the constant drinking they shared for a few hours. "The fuck, man? What are you going on about?"
"The fuck were you doing?" Josh turned suddenly and snarled at his brother. He bared his teeth as their faces were close enough to feel another's breath. "I gave you a job and here you are smoking hash, getting hammered, and being cock-blocked with damn buzzards."
"I did my job," Gabe stepped back and reached for his back pocket. He pulled out a black notebook. "Look. These Grims were totally doing what we've been doing for weeks. I found them, we shared a few notes, and one thing led to another. They got shit on everyone in that little clan—"
"Did you or did you not see what happened to Kokabiel?" Josh demanded while he snatched the notebook out of his hands.
"Yeah, I saw," Gabe immediately became sober. "Fuck, man. I wasn't expecting that. We fucked up seriously, bro. I thought that would cripple them and make things a little easier but we really shot ourselves in the knads this time."
"No, this was all expected," Josh flipped through the book with his thumb. All one-hundred and fifty pages of meticulously jotted notes were read in an instant. His ironclad eyes shimmered for an instant until the eye technique wore off. "Saw it in a dream. Better to have it happen now rather than later, like, at the party later. Least now we know what we're dealing with."
"…What are you— What are you doing?!"
Josh had dropped the book on top of the lantern he had crushed. It became soaked with the oil leaking. He pulled out a lighter from his pocket, flicked it alive, and tossed it into the pile. Oil and book burned beyond recovery.
"Do you know how hard I worked on that?!" Gabe nearly jumped for the notebook.
"There's three of them now," Josh explained. "Even reading about them will alert them. So I had to destroy it since you made information before I brought in Kokabiel. Look, Gabriel, I appreciate all the hard work you put into this. Real nice touch chatting with the buzzards and getting their info. But, hey, you remember everything you wrote down, yeah? That's all we need."
"This is still so stupid," Gabe whined. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"
"Yeah, so…" Josh reached for the lighter. It sailed out of the flames and into his hand. The heat didn't bother him as he pulled out a cigarette and used the lighter to ignite it. "We need a DJ and some bouncers. I'll get the bouncers. You get the jockey."
Gabe waved his hands about, "The hell is that supposed to mean? Enough with the party lingo. Just say it to me straight already."
Josh chewed on the butt of his smoke. "Gabriel, if I didn't promise Ma I'd have strangled you by now. Yeah, alright, there's this babe who's fucking nuts. Church girl. An old friend of Ma. I need you to talk to her and do your little dance to convince her to get her ass over here."
Gabe groaned, "Joshua… ain't no Church girls left. They're history."
"No, this one is still kicking it. She's an Inquisitor. The Inquisitor."
"Wait. That scary ass bitch who visits Ma at least every Saint's Day?"
"Yup, that one," Josh flicked his cigarette aside and began to stroll to the edge of the roof. "Saint Mother-Fucking Vice. Piece of advice, make sure to mention my name or she'll gut you. You know how Inquisitors are when meeting us pagans."
Josh snickered to himself before he stepped off the edge and vanished into the night.
0-0-0
Predators… Part 2…
The two qualities needed in order for a denizen of the World to be acknowledged as a Predator follow as such: First, they must have the capability to kill anything existing within the World. This includes those deemed 'immortal' and 'deathless', everlasting, conceptual creatures, Incarnations of the Planet, and their fellow Predators. A Predator must have a means to be able to kill every individual target should the need arise.
Second, the Predator must have the means to survive against any conflict that exists within the World. This includes the death-rendering Reapers, soul-sucking thralls, conceptual forces that defy the Laws of the World, incurable and/or unavoidable disease, and, of course, their fellow Predators. No matter the dire situation, a Predator must be able to withstand anything thrown at them.
A Predator is the apex creature of the planet. They are the prime of their neighbors.
When the World was first crafted, it was the Earth Mother who had been First Predator and who held such a title the longest. Following her came Second, the Heavenly Father; Third, the Gentle Giant; Fourth, the Storm King; and Fifth, a forgotten beast who ruled over the skies. Predators were always supposed to be the forces the planet itself created to fend for itself.
But as the World aged, new things sprouted from its roots. New monsters were born, humanity came into being, eldritch gods descended from the cosmic rift, mysteries manifested that warped reality, and diseases mutated from the corpses of the fallen. As the World grew, with its inhabitants ever adapting, new methods of killing and surviving had sprouted.
It is not unheard of for one Predator to lose their status. As new methods of the hunt are devised can new things be discovered in which the Predator should not have the means to slay or to protect their selves against. Or both. These Predators become obsolete and fall back in line to the common masses, albeit still recognized as leading forces on the food-chain.
There are also unique cases in which multiple subjects have been recognized as a singular Predator. Most of which include a symbiotic relationship with a greater host— both of which require the other in order to be deemed as an Ultimate Killer.
Such events included the Nine-Heads Hydra, the ever stretching rodent infestation known as the Black Plague, or the Nine Lords of the Sun of Egypt. Within the human civilization it has been recognized the Roman Republic and the Order of the Round Table were once Predators.
But these such occurrences only apply when, per se, one subject has all the necessities of one requirement while another subject carries the other. One to be the ultimate sword and the other the ultimate shield.
It should also be mentioned several had been recognized as Predators under this effect. And, usually, they are the shortest-lived of their kind.
