Chapter 10
He could no longer hear them calling to him anymore and in the all engulfing silence that followed, there was nothing but darkness.
I Control This Plane.
I Rule This Realm.
Their Voices Will Not Reach You In This Hallowed Place.
He craned his head upwards to stare at her, the source of the voice, and almost didn't manage it, such was the weight of her presence.
Together You Are Strong.
Alone You Are Weak.
What Will You Do Now, Child Of Man, Now That You Are So Very Alone?
His limbs felt like leaden weights. His mind swam futilely against the current. Even breathing became a chore.
Your Bonds Gave You The Strength To Resist.
But Without Them Your Courage Is Meaningless.
Your Will, Inconsequential.
His legs gave out from under him, and his knees thudded into something hard. He presumed it was the ground, but couldn't tell for sure. The darkness permeated everything. He could not see anything in front of him, could not hear anything but the dooming drone of her voice. He was a blind man groping in the dark. A deaf man cursed to hear nothing but the words of his foe. And all the while, the darkness continued to press in, suffocating him, drowning him.
Such Was Your Fate When Man Consumed The Forbidden Fruit Of Knowledge And Fell From His Blissful State of Ignorance.
Such Is The Fate Of All Your Kind.
He hated her then. Hated her with a passion that surprised even him. He not sure he was even capable of such a volatile emotion.
Hate Me.
Despise Me.
But Know That It Is Necessary.
Humanity Demands An End To All Things And I Am That End.
The kindness in her tone made him hate her all the more. He gritted his teeth and tried to grasp at something, anything, but the darkness drifted through his fingers like smoke.
It Is A Pity.
If Only There Were More Like You.
Defiant To The Very Last Breath.
Loyal To One Another.
Willing To Sacrifice All.
Then Perhaps The Fall Could Have Been Averted.
But It Is Too Late.
He felt so very tired. So very weary. His eyelids drooped. He fought against it, knowing that should they fully close, he would never wake again. His senses dulled. He struggled against it, knowing that losing just one would mean the loss of all.
My Passing Will Scour The Surface Of The Earth.
My Presence Will Wilt The Tree Of Life.
My Voice Will Still The Song of Birth.
I Will Leave Nothing In My Wake And Return The World To Its Original State.
Sleep, Child Of Man, Sleep Forevermore, And Know That There Is No Shame In Admitting Defeat To Death.
His last cry of defiance escaped his lips in a soft sigh. It was a pathetic sound and he would have laughed had he had any strength left. The darkness closed in all around him. Sapping his will. Draining his resolve. Demanding his surrender with their bleak presence, and hewas slowly givingin and everythingwasgrowingdimandfadingandtherewasnomorelightand…
A peal of thunder.
A strike of lightning.
The shadows broiled away, breaking from their position encircling him like a flock of startled vultures.
His eyes snapped open.
Arms not his own wrapped around his body, and the determination that had been stolen flooded back into his psyche stronger than before.
He could feel her attention riveting on the new presence, could sense her gazing down in condemnation.
You.
Fragment Of My Will.
Piece That Was Once Me.
Why Now Do You Choose To Betray Me?
Explain This Base Treachery.
Thanatos's reply was a full-throated howl, long and hateful. The only answer she would ever receive.
So Be It.
Die With Him.
Her sigh was genuinely regretful.
He smiled. Smiled because of the irony. Smiled because he could feel them rising from the Sea of Souls. Smiled because their presence forcefully broke into his mind and set themselves loose.
Power coalesced. Taking form. Becoming corporeal. And suddenly he was no longer alone.
"Why do you kneel, Nephilim?" the voice was brass and metallic and tinged with the echo of unyielding steel, "Why do you abase yourself before this false idol?" Metatron, a floating beacon of light in the suffocating darkness, "Where is he who forged me from his righteousness, his virtue, his unshakeable resolve?"
"WHY DO YOU BOW, NEPHILIM?" the voice was gravel and rock and mixed with the hiss of crashing lava, "WHY DO YOU BEG AND SCRAPE BEFORE THIS WRETCHED CREATURE?" Belial, the cracks in its body flaring with orange fire, the only parts of him that could be seen in the smothering darkness, "WHERE IS HE WHO MADE ME FROM HIS RAGE, HIS ANGER, HIS UNBREAKABLE WILL?"
He tried to stand, but it was still too much, too heavy, and faltered. Nyx's beating aura lifted from him and focused on the new arrivals with something akin to curiosity.
You Who Are Born From His Mind Have Come To Aid Him.
A Noble Sentiment, But Ultimately, Futile.
Flickers Of Thought Are Of No More Use Here.
In the blackness that clouded his vision a fiery crack materialized. A grin. Belial's grin.
"FLICKERS OF THOUGHT ARE WE? COME AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE AND I WILL SHOW YOU JUST HOW REAL I CAN BE."
Metatron hovered in front of him, slightly to his side, its plated arms crossed over its chest.
"A thought is just a word, and words cannot describe what we are. Only existence matters, and in this place carved out by your presence, we exist. That is proof enough. We exist to serve. We exist to protect. We exist to wage this one final battle against the End that would consume us all."
Her amusement was a physical thing. Hooded and heavy. Pulsating like heartbeats.
You Cannot Win.
You Cannot Escape Death.
But Let Us Set Aside All Logic And Say That You Can.
Who Will Witness This Fight?
Who Will See This Battle?
Who Will Know Of Your Struggle?
"He will know," plated fingers gestured to his kneeling form, "We will know," they formed a fist and crashed against its ornate breastplate, "This world will know," Metatron nodded to her, helmed face held high.
And You will be Made to Know.
"LOOK AT HER," Belial sneered, its voice a ruinous rasp, "SO CONFIDENT IN HER VICTORY. SO ASSURED THAT SHE WILL WIN."
The Archdemon roared, and the darkness that surrounded it hissed and recoiled as though afraid.
WE WILL TEAR OFF HER HEAD AND SHIT DOWN HER NECK!
Metatron tilted its silver visage to regard its fiery counterpart. The angel of light and valor looked at the demon of fire and shadow. Its gaze was almost recriminating.
"She has no head."
Belial's response was a maddened, throaty cackle.
"AS IF THAT HAS EVER STOPPED ME."
Brave Words But Pointless.
Bravado Will Not Save You.
Man's Fate Is Tied To The Cards.
His Destiny Sealed By The Arcana He Has So Chosen.
Man Clings To A-
"YES, YES, YES," Belial's bestial snarl interrupted her, "CARDS AND ARCANA AND DOOM. WE HAVE HEARD IT ALL BEFORE WHEN WE CRUSHED YOUR AVATAR ON THE SPIRES OF TARTARUS. GET ON WITH IT ALREADY!"
"For a being about to be defeated," Metatron stated with firm finality, "she talks too much."
The Archdemon's mocking laughter rang in his ears.
"FOR HEAVEN AND HELL TO AGREE ON SOMETHING LIKE THIS. NOW THAT IS UNPRECEDENTED."
A flicker of annoyance came from her.
If That Is Your Wish, I Will Not Hold Back.
Prepare Yourself, For This Is The End.
He could almost hear the sad smile in her voice.
Goodbye, Human.
Farewell, Nephilim.
The aura of Death was a palpable thing and it came in a wave. Indomitable. Irresistible. Irreversible. Instinctively he knew that should it touch him that there would be nothing left.
To his left, Metatron raised an armored palm. To his right, Belial lifted both of its clawed hands.
A warrior sage shielding a kingdom of law and order. A monstrous brute protecting the fruit of a corrupted world.
The wave slowed, but did not stop.
"Call for us," Metatron intoned, "All of us. Let us stand with you, Nephilim, and show her the Light that shines in humanity's hearts."
The surge of power was there. He let it blanket him, cover him, and then set it free.
Figures emerged. From the Sea of Souls they stepped forth. Bonfires in the dark. Radiant suns in the lingering blackness. Wings of blinding luminescence arching over their backs. Their plated forms shone with warmth and light, and the darkness fled from their presence, receding back to their master's clutches.
Arms of silver, of gold, of burnished bronze raised in perfect coordination.
Death's aura reeled but did not waver.
"CALL FOR US," Belial laughed, "ALL OF US. LET US HUNT WITH YOU, NEPHILIM, AND SHOW HER THE DARKNESS THAT CLINGS TO HUMANITY'S SOULS."
The rush of power came. He let it suffuse him, saturate him, and then let it loose.
Monsters emerged. From the Sea of Souls they crawled forth. Beings of malevolence. Distorted and warped. Their bodies were ugly and misshapen, taking the forms of mutated beasts, shapes of twisted creatures, images of mankind's worst nightmares. Hellfire gleamed in their eyes. The darkness tried to run, flee back to their mistress's embrace and were sucked in by demonic malice until they became their darkness.
Taloned forearms, clawed limbs, and chitinous appendages lifted as one.
Death's presence flinched but continued to press on.
Not enough. Not nearly enough. He continued to call, continued to summon, and they continued to answer.
On great reptilian wings they swept into existence, vast slabs of scaled hide and bulging muscle. From their unhinged jaws blasted pillars of fire, cones of chilling ice, streaks of lightning, beams of coruscating energy that smote and smashed and lit the darkness around him in bright flashes of color.
The wave became a wall, and took the brunt of the force with a shudder.
More was needed. To halt the will of Death all must be sacrificed. The Sea of Souls became a chaotic storm of swirling tides and churning waves. He drew from that chaos, called on that power, and all around him the shadows writhed as they were vanquished.
An army. A legion. Every Persona he had ever held. Every manifestation that had once been his.
Heroes of old, the mail on their chests gleaming with proud light, plumed helms and jeweled circlets astride their noble heads. Mythical beasts and savage monsters. They prowled before the legs of striding gods, and darted between the hulking frames of immense colossals. Legends that grew in power with every retold deed walked the earth, weapons that would break the world clutched in their armored fists.
Spears were lifted. Blades unsheathed. Holy swords and demon swords, clasped in gauntleted hands. The crescent shaped edges of killing axes. A hammer, its smooth surface rippling with garlands of electricity. A lance, its shaft half-sheathed by twisting, corkscrewed vines of blackened metal. Polearms rose, a myriad of shapes as different as the wielders that used them.
Together they presented a bristling mass of defiance that stabbed out into the void.
Her power, her presence did not seem nearly so indomitable now.
The last two were twisted mirrors of each other. One was an angelic being of light and nobility. Six pairs of feathery wings extended from its back like outstretched limbs. The other was an immense figure of rage and loathing. Six pairs of tattered wings sprouted from its back like the spindly pinions of a bat.
Side by side, they raised their arms together in unison and beckoned.
The wall shattered. The darkness was blown away, lifted by sorcerous wind. He saw her then, the true form of Nyx, craters dotting her crumbling body, the lidless, open eye, dripping with red blood.
"At long last, our great foe is revealed," Metatron breathed.
"THE ROTTING CORPSE OF A GOD, TAKEN THE FORM OF THE MOON," Belial sneered.
He made to stand. Thanatos released him with a soft snarl. His legs carried him up and he swayed drunkenly for a second. A hand planted itself on the Persona's skulled head for support. Thanatos made a sound half between a worried bark and a pleased grunt.
The lidless eye focused on that particular interaction, the enlarged iris glowing bright red as it beheld them.
You Cannot Enslave Death.
"SAYS THE ONE WHO WOULD SUBJUGATE US ALL TO HER MORBID WHIMS," Belial mocked, its jaws hanging open in a twisted parody of a leer, "NOW SHE LIES THIS CLOSE TO DEFEAT AND ALL SHE CAN DO IS DELAY HER IMMENINT DOOM."
"Humanity's potential is a luminous spark in the everlasting dark," Metatron floated down to land by his side, "There will be a time when mankind will transcend above such simple things as Death, and when that time is upon us, you will no longer be needed."
Her gaze flickered back towards the two, then up towards the vast array of shapes that hovered above him, and finally came to a rest on the innumerable host that stood in varied ranks behind him.
You Cannot Kill Death.
Belial spat on the floor. The globule of lava burned a hole straight through the ground.
"WE DO NOT NEED TO KILL YOU TO END YOU. AND WE WILL END YOU. YOU WHO JUDGE THE LIVES OF OTHERS NOW STAND TO BE JUDGED IN TURN."
"Death has always dictated the purpose of life, but even that cycle must eventually end," Metatron's gleaming face turned slowly to regard him, "For what is Death but a small part of the Universe?"
He took a step forward. Belial's glare followed him. Rage and anger and unrelenting hatred.
"BEHOLD, NYX, THE INSTRUMENT OF YOUR DESTRUCTION."
The Archdemon laughed, long and harsh and grating.
FOR THIS IS THE DEFIANCE OF HUMANITY. THIS IS THE WILL OF MANKIND.
He lifted an arm. Metatron's gaze trailed after him. Hope and compassion and unflinching courage.
"Learn, Nyx, the reason for our Salvation."
The Archangel spread its arms wide, and bowed its silver face.
For This is the Strength of the Nephilim. This is the Power of a Human.
Four fingers clutched into a fist. The last remained and he pointed it to the vast presence in front of him.
And then he was falling, falling, falling away, the world spinning out of order, the ground rushing up to meet him, and suddenly none of it mattered anymore.
Darkness surged to embrace him… He welcomed it with open arms…
…
…
…
His eyes flickered open. A haze of unfamiliarity surrounded him. The white plaster of the walls was alien at first, but as his mind became fully cognizant, recognition slowly trickled in.
A dream. A memory. The two intermingled and became indistinguishable.
He felt the cushions of the sofa he was lying on for reassurance and gazed halfheartedly at the empty living room of his apartment. The repaired table and the chairs that came with it. The small television set on a modest cabinet, its dim screen taunting him with its murkiness. And beyond, the kitchen, a few dirty plates piled in the sink.
A haunting reminder of what he had died to protect. A lingering memorial to what had once been.
He leaned his head back into the pillows he had taken from his room and stared up. The bleached ceiling greeted him, its blankness almost a sign.
The first rays of the sun beamed their way through the curtained windows, inching their way through the room, and slowly he began counting the minutes left before daylight.
There was a sense of normalcy when he returned for school. A sense of routineness as he stepped under the archway that led to Kuoh Academy, and into the school grounds. The bustle and chatter of fellow students surrounded him, and he drew comfort from them. It instilled within him a sense of sameness, a sense of similarity, even if the people were not the same.
That feeling of sameness persisted through the classes he had taken before and the lectures that were familiar to his ears. It lasted through break periods when the hallways were filled with moving bodies and remained through lunch up to the point he wrapped his hands around the handle to the door that led to the Occult Research Club where it abruptly dissipated.
He opened the door with a muted click.
They were gathered around the table when he entered, and turned when he emerged. The smiles were there, but it did not quite match the questions in their gazes. Akeno made room for him at the table and Issei scooted to the side to give him more. When he finally sat, they all looked at him, expectant, and he knew instinctively that there would be no shirking from the explanation now.
So he told them.
Told them of Dark Hour and the strangeness that permeated everything during its occurrence. Told them of the great towering spire that was Tartarus and the Shadows that exited within. Told them of the people of SEES, and the courage that beat within their hearts and the determination that lay in their souls. And then he told them of Nyx, the Bringer of the End, and the prophesied Fall. He left out the part about his sacrifice and the events that led up to it, though. They did not need to know about that.
"That is quite the tale," murmured Akeno when he finished.
The rest of them nodded in agreement, all except for Issei who had a confused look about him.
"But why would people want to die?" the question was naïve and almost childish, but it drove the point home, "Why would they be actively reaching out for Nyx?"
"It is human nature seek an end for all things," he replied, "and Death is the ultimate end."
"That is a dark way of viewing things," Akeno said with a sharp gaze in his direction.
"It is, yet it is also the truth."
Uncomfortable silence reigned. It was a testament to just how used they had grown to him and he to them that the moment passed quickly without incident.
"But she was defeated?" it was Asia who broke the silence. The former priestess seemed to be the most affected by his account, "Nyx? She was sealed away?"
"She was," he said, "though at great cost to us."
That seemed to reassure her, for she sent him a compassionate look in response.
"Your family and friends must be very proud of you, Arisato-san."
His lips twitched.
Yes, he rather supposed they were.
"What I'm wondering," Kiba said slowly, "is why we didn't know about Personas or Nyx earlier. If they are that important," the sword-user emphasized the word, "we should have had at least some knowledge about them."
They did not know because Personas besides his did not exist in this world. He could not tell them that, of course.
"A few weeks ago I did not know that you were all devils," he pointed out.
"Arisato-san is right," Issei nodded and further reinforced the diversion, "I did not know Buchou was a devil either when we first saw each other in school. I thought she was just another girl."
Rias smiled at her Pawn, and he was reminded somewhat of an older sister being amused at her younger brother's antics.
"Still, it is strange that we didn't know anything about them," Kiba continued to press the issue, "And if these Personas are really manifestations of thought, wouldn't it make sense for them to be the current reflections of whatever they choose to mirror? The current Belial, for instance?" a flicker of a grin spread over the handsome boy's face, "Not that I'm complaining of course. The primordial version was very impressive. It was almost cathartic in the way it handled Riser."
Issei's eyes glazed over and an almost contented sigh escaped from his mouth.
"Watching Grilled Chicken being beaten over and over again. That is something I could do all day," the devil suddenly looked very guilty, "That doesn't make me a bad person, does it?"
It was a rhetorical question and one that needn't be answered. Nevertheless, Asia still smiled and Kiba rolled his eyes good-naturedly. The rest waited for his reply.
"Personas are manifestations of humanity's innermost thoughts," he finally said, "They take the shape of whatever their users are thinking of when they are invoked," he gazed pointedly at them, "And when humans think of devils, they do not think of people like you."
"People like us?" Akeno questioned.
"He means that humans don't necessarily think of us when they imagine what devils look like," Koneko, always the astute one, provided.
He inclined his head in agreement.
"When I first met all of you, I was not sure what to make of your claim."
"That we were devils?" at his slight nod, Rias frowned, "Is that why you refused my peerage request?"
It was part of the reason. He gave her a neutral look.
"Serving under you was not such a bad thing," she blushed, "Serving under Belial would be a very bad thing."
"I can see how it would be," Kiba said faintly.
"Indeed," Akeno agreed.
He told himself the shudder that passed down the girl's back was fear and not something else entirely.
"But if Personas take the forms of what humanity perceive things to be," Rias said hesitantly, "then they are different from the real beings, aren't they?"
"They are different," he confirmed, "But there are enough similarities between them that they might as well be the same."
A pregnant pause followed. Issei finally raised an uncertain hand.
"I think I'm beginning to get confused."
From the looks of the others in the room, he was not the only one. He did not blame them. In truth, there was some things about Personas that even he didn't know.
"If this all true," Koneko said quietly, "it is an immense power to have."
"What frightens me," Kiba ran a hand through his hair, "is that there are more people like you out there."
It was not an unwarranted fear, but it was a baseless one.
"Even if there were," he replied, "they would not be able to do what I can do."
"Oh my, Arisato-kun," Akeno smirked, but not in a bad way, "that's a very bold assertion to make."
And yet not an incorrect one.
"The Wild Card," Asia, her gentle features scrunched up in thought, said suddenly, "It's the Wild Card you mentioned, isn't it? That's what makes you different."
He smiled thinly. She was just as observant as Koneko if given the time to concentrate.
"Persona-users can only call upon one manifestation in their lifetimes. Those manifestations may evolve into a new form if their users are under great duress or they undergo a resolution within their hearts. But the new Personas are only an evolved form of the original. They are not entirely different," he frowned slightly at the length of his explanation. Verbose was far from the right word to describe him, "People with the Wild Card can hold multiple Personas, and they are all entirely different."
"How many can you hold?" Akeno asked.
He shrugged in her direction.
"Many."
Rias smiled at his response.
"You have a habit of answering in very short or very vague ways, Arisato-san. Sometimes both."
"Yes," was his carefully crafted reply.
They shook their heads at that and he could feel the wave of amusement spreading around the room.
"It would be cool if you could lend others your Personas since you have that many," Issei seemed pleased at the idea, "Kind of like boosting, but with Personas. It would help a lot in future Rating Games."
"That is an interesting theory," Koneko approved.
"It would not work," he said simply, and the boy's face fell at the abrupt dismissal, "Personas are manifestations that belong to you and only you. Implanting a foreign Persona into your mind would be like thinking of someone else's thoughts. It would be dangerous to do so."
Rias picked up on the implication before anyone else did.
"You mean it's been done before?"
A trace of bitterness wormed into his mind as he thought of Strega.
"Artificial Persona users exist."
That seemed to pique Kiba's interest.
"Artificial?" the sword-user narrowed his eyes.
He nodded.
"Experiments were performed on human test subjects to determine if they could hold artificially created Personas. Most of the subjects died. Those that survived required constant supplies of Suppressants to function, drugs that shortened their lives but were necessary to keep their implanted Personas from breaking free and killing them."
He could tell that particular revelation was not well-received by his audience.
"So technically you could be considered a true wielder of Personas," there was an edge in Kiba's voice now, a challenge held in his tone that did not quite manage to leak out, "and those people with artificial Personas, since they were given them, they could be considered as false wielders?"
It was a curious designation and he was not sure why the boy had made it. Nevertheless, it was technically true.
"Yes."
"And you just let those people die? You didn't think it would be a good idea to stop the project?"
He was bemused by the sudden venom, but did not let it show on his face.
"Yuuto," there was a hint of warning in Rias's voice.
Kiba ignored it, and continued to stare at him. He met the devil's glare calmly.
"By the time we knew of the project, it had already been abandoned. The people responsible were dead or missing. The ones who came after them were genuinely repentant and helped us fight the Shadows," he inclined his head in the sword-user's direction, "And the artificial users that survived. They were not exactly good people."
"Not good people," repeated Kiba, clearly not believing him.
"They used their power to murder innocent people. They tried to stop us when we investigated Tartarus because they feared us taking away that power. Their leader attempted to kill us and when that failed, created a cult dedicated to Nyx that hastened the Fall, and nearly doomed us all."
The boy looked away. He did not.
"I get it," the sword-user murmured.
He did not miss the worried expression on Rias's face as she gazed at her Knight.
"But those Personas… they wouldn't harm you, would they?" the concern in Asia's words was almost endearing. By her side, Issei radiated the same concern. It took a conscious effort from him not to smile at them both.
"As long as a Persona is manifested by the one who invoked them, there is very little chance of it harming its user."
"So there is a difference then," Koneko appeared thoughtful, "between an artificial one and a real one."
"Yes. Artificial Personas cannot undergo a transformation. They were planted into their users, not manifested naturally. Thus, they cannot evolve," he nodded to them, "We call the evolved forms, Ultimate Personas."
They took his explanation at face value. It was Kiba who made something more out of it, the sword-user's earlier animosity having almost entirely faded. The boy stared at him in curiosity.
"What is your Ultimate Persona?"
The first bell rang then, signifying that students would have five minutes to get to their classes before they were considered late.
It could not have come at a better time.
They scrambled up from where they had been sitting and made for the door. Kiba nodded towards him and Issei threw a cheery wave before they both headed off to their respective homerooms. Asia gave him a soft smile before following after Issei. Koneko and Akeno both stood up to leave, the former nodding to him as Kiba had did, the latter winking suggestively towards him before vanishing out the door. And then it was just the two of them left. Him and her.
He turned, reached into his pocket, and produced the reason he had visited them in the first place.
"This is yours."
Rias regarded it, the piece held between his fingers, with something very close to disappointment.
"In all honesty, I was hoping you'd keep it."
He shrugged, and deposited the Rook into her waiting palm.
"We agreed that it would only be temporary."
She smiled at him.
"So we did," she hesitated, staring down at the piece that now sat in her hand before looking up at him once more, "My brother said you offered me your pieces. Is that true?"
He nodded.
"It is. They are yours if you want them."
She shook her head at that. The blush that had been creeping up her cheeks since the conversation began became noticeably redder.
"You really don't understand the significance of that act, do you?"
He did not. He was about to ask when she spoke again.
"No, I can't accept this. Not now, at least. Besides, I think you would find a better way to use those pieces than I ever could," her eyes glowed with warmth, "But I thank you for the thought," she pushed towards him, "And I thank you for other things as well."
The scent of her skin was as alluring as the warmth of her body, and he felt himself drawn into that closeness, that familiarity. The way her hair drifted back as she closed the distance. Her delicate fingers, reaching out and caressing the side of his face as she leaned in. The softness that was her lips, pressing together in an unmistakable gesture.
Beautiful. The very definition of the word.
His hand pressed firmly against her stomach prevented her from completing the act. She stepped back, not understanding, and judging from the look on her face, more than a little hurt.
"If you do that," he said softly, "you will leave me with some very difficult memories."
Realization dawned in her eyes, as did regret.
"I am sorry, Arisato-san," she murmured.
The air between them became thick with tension.
He sighed. He had not meant to make things awkward. He relaxed, his posture welcoming, and she took that sign to close in again. This time, she did not try to kiss him, and instead pressed her forehead against his shoulder.
"Thank you," she whispered and drew back.
He nodded, stiffly but not coldly, and followed the others out the door.
When he arrived home to his apartment at night, it was to find half his dishes and cups broken in the sink. Pieces of shattered porcelain lay strewn around the kitchen counter like an unfinished jigsaw puzzle. He frowned at the scene and then at the person responsible, who was doing her best to avoid his eyes.
"Shut up," Raynare said when he gave her a questioning look.
He shrugged and began delicately picking up the larger pieces and depositing them in the nearby garbage can. Her gaze followed him.
"I decided to do the dishes today," that was not what she really wanted to say, and he knew it as well as she did. Nevertheless, he still glanced down at the jagged shard that had once been a bowl in his hand.
"Good job," he said and dropped the offending fragment along with the others into the bin.
She flushed.
"It's not as if I'm good at these type of things," she defended herself, "Our kind are not exactly known for doing mundane things such as chores. I might have gotten frustrated and gotten a little clumsy at the end. So what?" the Fallen Angel crossed her arms together and pouted, "You would have not done any better if you were in my place."
He nudged his shoulder towards the sink and the mess it contained.
"There is clumsy and there is this."
Raynare looked away and huffed.
"You could at least be grateful," she muttered under her breath.
He supposed he could.
"Thank you."
She blinked at him.
"Was that sarcasm or was that sincere? I can never tell when it's you."
It was neither.
"I am grateful for the thought," she seemed surprised by that but also strangely pleased, "But I wonder why you would do something like this."
"I just thought it would be nice of me to clean the dishes to thank you for letting me stay here," the woman replied smoothly.
Nice and Raynare did not mix. He knew it was a lie before the words finished leaving her mouth.
"You've had ample time since I offered you a place," he pointed out, "Why now?"
"If you are thinking this is some coincidence, you are mistaken," she said earnestly, "I've had time to think over some of the things you've said to me and have come to the conclusion that you were right. I'm a changed person. And I thought I would start by doing something nice for you."
"People do not change that quickly."
"How would you know?" she challenged.
The tone was right but the way her eyes flickered towards the distant cabinet gave everything away. A cabinet that held an elaborately decorated case perched on one its shelves. Suddenly everything made sense.
"You want one of my pieces."
She kept up the charade for a moment longer then sagged into her chair when it became apparent he had seen through it.
"Is reading minds now among the Nephilim's powers?" the familiar bitterness had returned.
No, but being observant was. It had helped him when forging Social Links and establishing bonds in his old world. It still aided him now, and he considered it one of his greatest strengths.
"Why?"
"Because I would no longer be in fear of being terminated by one of the other factions," the earnestness was back, though it was of a different kind, "If I am given one of your pieces, they will hesitate before trying to go after me. The devils will respect someone who has summoned Belial and that respect will translate to those among his peerage as well. The angels will fear you and shy away from provoking the one who they think has an Archdemon inside him. All that means I can actually leave your apartment without being challenged."
He raised an eyebrow.
"The angels will fear me?"
She understood what he meant and shook her head.
"The mark Metatron gave them is a sigil of penitence. It is also a mark of silence. They won't exactly be out there shouting to the world what happened to them. The angels do not yet know what you can do."
He had not thought about that. Both what she had just recently said and her earlier request.
"What do you want for it?" his reverie was broken by the desperation in her tone.
He turned to regard her.
"There is nothing you can offer me."
She stood up.
"There is always something I can offer you," she whispered.
Her fingers were on her chest before he could stop her, the slender digits undoing the buttons of her shirt. What lay beneath was revealed, pink attractive flesh and the beginning of two, succulent mounds. She leaned in closer, so that he could get a better look. In response, he made sure his gaze never left her face.
"There is nothing you can offer me," he repeated.
Raynare's reply to that was to press closer. Another button came undone, revealing more flesh, and he took an inadvertent step back.
"You helped her," the words were purred out, "Why can't you help me?"
"When she asked for help," he countered "it was not in this way."
"This way is the more attractive way."
She was not wrong. She was also very beautiful, but it was a different kind of beauty. A harsh kind. An unforgiving kind. Nevertheless, he still resisted.
"People tend not to be attractive when they are desperate."
Her eyes flared in anger. She stopped, and the hands that had been busy undressing herself turned into fists by her side.
"You. You are no better than them. So damn perfect. So damn righteous. How dare they sit on their golden thrones and judge us? How dare you?" her shoulders shook with emotion, "They think they're so damn flawless while their kingdom crumbles around them! I Fell because I loved one I couldn't! And for that reason I was cast down from the place I knew since my birth, everything I've done for them whitewashed away, my deeds and achievements forgotten like they were nothing! And for what? Because I broke a single rule!? I'm not the only one! More and more angels Fall every day and they can't do shit to stop them because they're so infatuated with those damn rules! Rules that were made by a god that has long since died! And they still pretend he's alive, telling the world to worship him as if it still fucking matters!"
She jabbed a finger in his direction, the fury on her face accentuating her already perfect features.
"You want to know why I didn't kill Asia when we first met? Because she is exactly like me! A Holy Maiden, loved and praised by everyone when she healed them, then left to rot when she was of no more use! And what crime did she commit that made her fall!? She healed a devil when she didn't know he was one! And just for that she was abandoned by everyone around her and thrown out of the Church like some used toy! Do you know what it's like when your whole purpose for existence is suddenly taken from you!? She knew! We found her leaning against a statue of the Cross in the middle of the square, her head on her knees and sobbing because no one would come near her because she was excommunicated! And what did the Heavens do about this? Did they send an angel down to tell her it would be alright? No! Did they tell the Church to correct their mistake? No! They sat up in the clouds and watched because of stupid, outdated rules!"
She panted, her breaths coming in short and vicious gasps. With difficulty she managed to curb the worst of her anger and stared at him in defiance.
"Fuck those rules and fuck the god that made them."
He smiled at her.
He moved past her trembling frame, feeling her glare on his back all the way. That glare turned to surprise as he stopped in front of the cabinet, lifted the case, and brought it back to the table. It was set down gently this time, and he opened it and took a single piece out then placed it on the edge closest to her.
"A Pawn should be enough?"
Raynare nodded, somewhat haltingly.
"What do you want for it?" her fingers were at her chest again.
"Nothing. It is yours."
She blinked at him, then cracked a rueful smile.
"I should have more outbursts in the future."
He shrugged.
"I would have given this to you, regardless of your outburst."
The Fallen Angel stared at him, momentarily speechless.
"You do realize I will be useless to you in Rating Games?" she finally managed to say, "I cannot conjure light spears anymore. I can't even fly. I'm no more stronger than a human now. If you wish to call upon my help, you will most likely be disappointed."
He understood and indicated that he understood.
"And you're just going to give this to me? Without wanting something back in return?"
"You wanted something," he replied, "It is within my power to give. What else needs to be said?"
She peered at him, then looked away.
"You make it very hard for me to hate you."
He smiled at that and nodded to the piece in front of her.
"You will need to be a devil, though, for this to work."
"I know that," she snapped, then stopped and spoke again in a gentler voice, "I know that."
He could sense her hesitation.
"You do not wish to be one?"
"No one wishes to change who they are," she murmured, "but I do not have a choice in the matter. If that means I can have just a semblance of freedom, it will be worth it."
"You are wrong," Raynare turned to stare at him, "There is always a choice."
"You make it sound so easy," she scoffed, though it was far more diluted than the resentment he was used to, "As if it was a good choice to begin with."
"It is no worse than the choice you left her," he said quietly.
She flinched.
"I'm surprised you would even offer me a choice after what I did to her," again, the bitterness had returned.
He shrugged.
"Taking away your choice will not bring hers back."
She had nothing to say to that. He turned, and went back into the kitchen and resumed picking up the pieces she had broken. There were only a few left and when he finished it was to see that she had not moved from her spot. Her gaze was riveted to the piece on the table, as if seeing it in a new light.
She started when he made to move past her.
"Wait."
He turned.
"There is someone you need to be aware of," the Fallen Angel refused to meet his eyes, "His name is Freed Sellzen, and if you don't like people like me, then you will most certainly not like someone like him."
He frowned.
"He is that sort of person then?"
"There were times when I had to save her from the worst of his moods," she said darkly.
He nodded in understanding, then tilted his head towards the Pawn he had set in front of her.
"And that?"
She hesitated.
"I would like to sleep on it," she finally looked up and he noted a sincerity in her expression that could not be faked, "if you don't mind."
He accepted her decision and took one last glance at the piece on the table before heading towards the sofa that was his impromptu bed. He was not surprised to see it there again in the morning, exactly where he had left it, untouched and unmoved.
A few days had gone by when he noticed that something odd was going on in the school, specifically the influx of new students. A couple had appeared the morning after the Rating Game was finished, but that number swiftly became a couple dozen by the end of the week. What was odder still was that they seemed to have only eyes for him, and were either apathetic or downright hostile to their classmates when the customary greetings were supposed to be exchanged. He had asked Rias about that particular peculiarity.
"That is because they are devils," she had replied with a smile, "and they are here because of you."
That had been a rather surprising revelation as well as an unwanted one, and he had taken to doing what was natural for him when problems like these arose, namely avoiding them. When they tried to approach him, he would walk the other way, and when they thought they had him cornered, he would disappear into one of the academy's lesser visited hallways. It was the same method he had used against Rias when she had first taken an interest in him, albeit with the sole exception that they did not have Issei around to find him, which meant his attempts at avoidance so far had been a resounding success.
In the back of his head though, he knew he was only delaying the inevitable. One day he would have to face the issue as he had done with Rias and he was prepared for that. What he was not prepared for was just how soon it would be and the manner it was presented to him.
The letters poured out of his locker in a tide. He nearly dropped his backpack in sheer surprise. It was only his reflexes that saved him, juggling both his pack while managing to prevent the worst of the avalanche of paper from overwhelming him.
Around him, people stared, and a few girls started giggling. Not a good way to start a morning.
He gathered the few letters that had floated to the ground into the stack in his arms and made a swift retreat. His steps took him directly to the Occult Club's homeroom and flung the door open. Unsurprisingly, most of club was already gathered, assembled around the table, though with two unexpected additions. Tsubaki and Sona, for some reason or the other, were sitting with them, both holding steaming cups of tea.
Rias smiled when he entered, and her smile only seemed to grow when she saw what he was struggling to carry. It was in her direction he stomped, stopping only when he reached the table's edge to deposit the contents in his arms. They cascaded down in a continuous stream and piled high in an unceremonious heap on the wooden surface.
Sona raised her cup delicately when an errant letter threatened to land in her drink.
The amused silence was broken predictably by Akeno.
"Ara, ara, Arisato-kun, I never knew you were this popular," the beautiful girl teased, "But are you sure you want to share these confession letters with us? You will be breaking many a maiden's innocent heart."
"They are not what you think they are," he bit out.
Kiba took that as his cue to take one of the letters from the pile and open it. A rather bemused look appeared on the sword-user's face.
"A request to be in his peerage," the boy took another from the pile and ripped it open, "Another request to be in his peerage," his eyebrows were raised in amusement as he waved a third letter, "I wonder what this one will be about?"
Akeno snatched the offending material from his hands and opened it herself.
"A peerage request and should that be refused, a request for a Rating Game," the girl read, then smirked, "How would that even work?"
"If he refuses the peerage request they will demand a Rating Game to challenge the decision," Sona replied brusquely, "That is the gist of it, at least."
"Ah, I'm jealous Arisato-san," Issei said seriously, "You're already on your way to becoming a Harem King and I've only started on my journey. But don't worry! I will catch up to you and we'll become rival Harem Kings together!"
The conviction in the boy's eyes would have been vaguely amusing had it also not been faintly disturbing. He turned to Sona, who seemed to sense his incoming question, and steepled her fingers under her chin.
"Why is this happening?"
In response to the Sona's nod, Tsubaki produced a tablet and slid it his way.
"It has been the number one watched video on the Devil Network for the past few days," the vice president said sternly, as though somehow that was his fault, "and has been discussed numerous times on what passes for human forums in our world."
He looked down and as he suspected, a familiar scene appeared before his eyes. Belial, chasing Riser and what was left of his peerage down. Belial, the flame whip in its hand lashing out at the girl that was his Bishop. Belial, its cruel visage laughing as it finally pinned down its quarry.
"You have become quite the celebrity within our society," Sona noted.
The screen refocused and he saw himself, figure slouched, hands in his pockets as flames licked all around him. It was a suitably dramatic picture. Especially with the menacing hulk of fire and shadow in the background.
"It does have a certain flair to it, doesn't it?" Akeno had moved from her place by Rias's side to peer over his shoulder, "Maybe if you get famous enough, they'll start asking you for interviews."
He ignored her teasing and turned to look at the people around him. Rias's Queen took that time to remove the tablet from his possession.
"Should they not be afraid of me?" he asked "I summoned an Archdemon."
"Many are," Sona answered, "But if there is one thing that will make a devil throw all caution to the wind, it is power. And summoning an Archdemon requires a great deal of power."
He had a sinking feeling in his gut that he knew what the girl meant.
That feeling was confirmed when the student council president tilted her head in the direction of the pile.
"There will be more of those in the future."
"A lot more," Akeno grinned and showed him where the number of viewers for that particular video was displayed. A number far too high for his liking.
He frowned.
"How do I get them to stop?"
"You can't," his frown grew at Sona's response, "It is within a devil's nature to seek out power. Lesser devils constantly look for a high-level devil to attach themselves to and high-level devils constantly search for followers who have the power to help them in Rating Games. It is how the peerage system works. You cannot stop both types of devils from asking to join your peerage or for you to join theirs," she paused, "But you can ignore them."
That was a good thing. Her lips curled slightly upwards at his expression.
"You cannot, however, ignore the Rating Game requests."
There was always a drawback to a good thing, he supposed.
"Will they force me to compete?"
"No one will force you," Sona replied, "but if you continue to refuse Rating Game requests your status as a high-level devil will suffer. Other devils will think you are too weak to participate, or worse, too cowardly, and your reputation will be tarnished."
That was not too bad as drawbacks tended to go.
"I am not worried about my reputation," he stated.
"You might not, but other devils will, and therein lays the issue," the girl pressed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, "If your status is sufficiently tainted, other high-ranking devils might deem you unfit to be their equals. That means some of them might go after what is yours, your power to summon Personas included."
He blinked at the implication.
"There are devils who would be willing to do that?"
Sona nodded grimly and by her side he could sense the deep disapproval that was emanating from Rias.
"There are always fringe elements of society who would do anything for power, whether that society be human or devil."
That was something he could agree with.
"I am sorry, Arisato-san," Rias spoke when Sona finished, "If only my peerage and I were stronger, we would not have needed your help, and you would not have been dragged into all of this."
"It was my choice to help you," he turned to look at her and was not surprised to see her blush in response, "You should not feel sorry for a choice that was mine."
"That's Arisato-san for you," Issei beamed, "Always willing to help others in need."
For some reason, praise from the boy no longer bothered him as it used to. He shrugged the feeling off and turned to Sona once again.
"What do you suggest I do?"
The student president smiled faintly.
"I see two options before you. One is to participate in the Rating Games. Win enough of them, and your challengers will dwindle. Win them in a manner that was as brutal as your last, and your challengers will decrease all the same."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You are suggesting I flaunt my ability."
She nodded.
"Devils respect power, and being shown power before their eyes will leave a lasting impression other methods will not."
"I think you're just jealous that you did not get to see the Archdemon up close," Akeno smiled as she peered over the tablet. Tsubaki frowned at that, but her superior did not seem at all affected.
"Yes," Sona replied without a hint of shame, "I was busy with personal matters and could not attend the match in person. It has become one of my greatest regrets."
He pondered what she had said. On one hand, showing off was not within his character. On the other, the dangers Sona had described were less than desirable. He would have to hear the rest before making an informed decision.
"What is the other option?"
"Join a peerage," she replied briskly, "That way you do not have to worry about Rating Game requests, only the ones your master chooses to partake," the girl paused, staring at him meaningfully, "There is still room in mine."
His lips twitched. Of course.
"No."
"Ara, ara, to be shot down so quickly," Akeno's gaze flickered to Rias who looked visibly relieved and smiled, "You will have to forgive Arisato-kun. He tends to shoot down a lot of people and leave them wanting for more."
"It was worth a try," Sona shrugged and then inclined her head towards him, "Not recruiting you as hard as I should have is another of my greatest regrets."
He supposed he could take that as a compliment. Which still left him in a quandary when it came to choices.
"If I choose to participate in a Rating Game," he finally said, "will I need to become a devil or can I remain a human?"
"Rating Games are between two high-level devils and their peerages," Sona frowned, "Though with the title you've been given as a human, that rule would hardly matter in this case," she gazed at him in interest, "You are very fixated on the idea of wanting to remain a human, aren't you?"
He smiled. If only they knew.
"It is no more different than you wishing to remain a devil," he pointed out.
"That is true," she admitted with a nod.
Silence settled. It was broken once more by Akeno who suddenly let out an undignified snort.
"Did you know," the beautiful girl smirked as she glanced down at the tablet still in her hands, "that they are mistaking your ability for a Sacred Gear and coming up with names for it?"
He did not know and would like it to remain that way for the foreseeable future.
"That is not surprising," Sona stated, "They do not know of the power to summon Personas just yet, so the next logical step would be thinking it a Sacred Gear."
"Do I even want to know what those names are?" Kiba mused out loud.
"The Thousand Summons," Akeno began to rattle off, "The Archdemon's Will. Fire of Belial," she narrowed her eyes and then abruptly broke into a fit of giggling, "The Indisputable Evidence of Love Between Rias Gremory and Minato Arisato."
He shuddered.
"That is… interesting," Kiba said for a lack of better words to describe it.
"But who would call it something like that?" Issei asked, genuinely perplexed.
He knew who. A brother who doted a little too much on his sister. A brother who had given him his tacit approval. A brother who, it seemed, also had way too much time on his hands. Judging from the look on Rias's face, she knew as well.
"I'll kill him," she promised.
He nodded. In normal cases, such an action would be considered extreme, but this was an extenuating circumstance, and he would not judge.
The boy found him sitting on the steps of a rarely used stairway near the school's atrium. His eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch as the figure approached, and Kiba smiled in response.
"Issei said you would be here."
He was not surprised by this and set down the sandwich that he had half-finished to the side. The sword-user regarded his humble lunch with amusement before turning his full attention towards him.
"Hiding from your suitors, I see?"
He frowned. When he said it like that, it made it all the more pronounced. The devil noticed his expression and chuckled.
"When I first started receiving unwanted attention, I tried to avoid them as well. That didn't work out too well, so I started just accepting their attention and gradually I grew used to it all."
That made him much smoother with his fangirls than Akihiko had ever been with his.
"Rias wanted me to warn you," the boy spoke again, his tone becoming more serious, "that there has been an unforeseen occurrence of events."
He nodded in understanding and waited for him to continue.
"The Excaliburs were stolen," Kiba's face darkened imperceptibly, "By whom we do not know. Not now, at least. All we know is that they might be moving through our territory. As a high-level devil residing in our area, you have a right to know."
"Excaliburs?" the sword was familiar to him, but he was aware of only one and the implication he had received was that there were many.
"Holy swords," the devil's tone had turned distasteful, even if his face had not, "made from the broken fragments of the original Excalibur. They are supposed to be kept in the safe confines of the Church, but apparently safe has a very different definition when it comes to the clergy," the bitterness that throbbed from his words could almost be felt, "You should keep your head down. Both the Church and the angels want those swords back at any cost, and they will cut down any devils in their way to get it."
"I am human," he pointed out.
Something dark flashed in the boy's eyes.
"If they cared about humans, then there would be a lot less problems in the world."
He pondered for a minute about what he would say next and if he should say it at all. By then, his intended audience was already leaving, having delivered his message. He sighed.
"Do you know what I felt towards him in the end?"
Kiba turned, surprise etched onto his handsome features.
"Pity. He shot my friend," the boy winced, "Put him into a coma that he might never wake from. Put all our lives in danger multiple times. And in the end, when he lay defeated on top of that tower, all I felt towards him was pity."
The sword-user frowned, and his jaws set in stubborn defiance.
"He let his hatred and loathing for the world that wronged him turn him into a shell of his former self. There was nothing inside of him. No soul. No heart. He tried to force his insecurities on others and that was what destroyed him," memories flooded into his mind, "In the end, he was a very pathetic person."
"Is this supposed to be a lesson?" Kiba asked, and the undercurrent of anger in his tone threatened to leak out, "You have no idea what I went through."
"Which is why it is only advice, and not a lesson," he replied.
The devil looked at him as though he had said something utterly alien, snorted, then laughed. It was an unpleasant sound. The Knight collapsed against the nearby wall and slid down, landing in a seated position near the bottom of the steps.
"We were all orphans," at first the words were almost whispered, and he had to lean in to hear them, "We had no homes to call our own so when the Church offered us a warm place to eat and sleep we thought it was too good to be true. At the time, we did not know just how barbed that offer was."
He watched as the anger that had been allowed to broil at the surface was finally set free.
"It was a gradual thing, at first. They had no reason to hurry, after all," Kiba's normally welcoming face was lined with disgust, "They took us one by one and told us that we were being adopted. Of course we were happy for them and those that had been chosen promised they would send us letters once they were settled in their new happy homes," the sarcasm was so keen that it might as well have been a blade. The sword-user turned to look at him, "We did not receive any letters for a very long time."
He did not express his sympathy for he knew that words alone were not enough.
"That was what led us to realize something was wrong. After we asked for the umpteenth time for any signs of our friends, the Church finally gave in. They gave us the letters. Letters that they forged. Letters that were too complicated to be written by any of us," Kiba smiled. It was not the good kind of smile, "In retrospect, it was an easily preventable mistake for them to commit. Most of us were children, but we were not stupid. They underestimated us, but that isn't a surprise. They never did consider us to be people, or even human. We were just guinea pigs for them to test and experiment on."
The smile turned into a grimace.
"They must have found out we knew something was wrong, or perhaps whoever was in charge of the project deemed it had run its course. We were in bed when they first released the gas, and half of us didn't even get a chance to run," the boy clenched his fingers into a fist. It was the only outward sign of emotion that betrayed the calmness in his voice, "Those were the painless deaths. The easy deaths. They were lucky in that regard. It must have been almost soothing to fall asleep and never wake."
Kiba nudged his head towards the atrium's corridors and his gaze followed the motion.
"It was in a hallway just like this. Maybe thinner. You can't tell because the gas was too thick to see. It chokes you as it goes down your throat, makes your eyes water and your nose sting and it burns all the way down your lungs. It poisons you, but you don't realize it because you're too disoriented to know what was going on. You just become aware of more people dropping around you, more of them falling down and never getting back up again, and you can't see where they fell because the gas was too damn thick."
The devil closed his eyes and a pained smile once more crossed his face.
"That's not the worst part, though. The worst part is knowing that all those people, all of my friends died for nothing. I learned later that the entire project was so that the Church could create wielders of the Excaliburs," Kiba nodded to him, "Artificial ones. Well it failed. Didn't produce a single thing. It would be easier if they did. If they even managed to create a single artificial wielder, it would be easier for me to accept their deaths. At least then, it would have meant something. Their sacrifices would have had a purpose, even if it was as small as creating holy sword users for an institution full of them. But instead, they failed, and now I'm haunted with the knowledge that the people I know and loved died for absolutely nothing."
The sword-user leaned further back and stared up at the ceiling.
"Issei said that I shouldn't hold onto my hatred, that it would not be good for me in the long run. He also said that should I find the people who were responsible for what happened to my friends and I, he would help me kick their ass."
The boy seemed bemused by the thought. He smiled. That sounded like something Issei would say. Kiba turned to him.
"Is that what you're going to say to me as well? That I should not hold onto my hatred?"
He met the devil's curious stare.
"No."
Surprise flickered in Kiba's eyes.
"You should hate the people who have hurt you. Hate them for what they have done to you and your friends. That is normal. But don't let that hatred turn into hatred for everything else," he nodded to him, "You are a better person than that."
The sword-user looked at him for a while, then shook his head. He noticed that for once, there was no undertone of anger or hostility in his gaze.
"Sometimes you sound too wise for your age," the boy smiled, "But that might be because you hold an ancient dragon and an equally ancient Archdemon in your head."
"It is a possibility," he said neutrally.
Kiba blanched. He frowned, concerned that he had said something wrong.
"That was supposed to be a joke," the devil said weakly, "They're not really in your head telling you to do things, are they?"
He was affronted. The very idea. They suggested. There was a difference.
"They are not."
The sword-user looked incredibly relieved.
"That is good," the boy cracked another smile, "You really don't do jokes, do you?"
He understood them, but did not make them. It was not his way.
"No."
"That is one thing about you I didn't think I would ever get used to or ever respect," he could see how much that confession cost him, "You are always so stoic, so calm. At first, I thought it was because you were hiding something. Now I see it's just who you are as a person."
He shrugged.
"I was even worse than this before."
Kiba looked at him, surprised.
"You were?"
"I was very apathetic to things when I first arrived. It took a group of extraordinary people to turn me into the person I am today."
"Those people," the sword-user said slowly, "They were SEES weren't they?" at his nod, the boy frowned, "And you can't just go and visit them?"
He chuckled inwardly.
"They are very far away from me at this moment."
"So they're overseas then," Kiba said reasonably.
"Something like that."
"Well, at least there are other forms of communication available for you to keep in touch."
He thought of the Personas that had once been theirs, coming to him one by one, kneeling to him in that deserted road, and then melding willingly into his conscience.
"Yes," he turned to smile at him, "I suppose you are right."
Author's Note: And so the Sword Arc begins! At least the calm before the storm… and what a storm that awaits us! Hopefully this chapter was able to provide some insight on a multitude of things as well as give some characters some depth.
First off, some of you might not like where the pairing is headed off to, or at least suggested to head off to, and I just want to say that is one hundred percent fine. We all have different tastes when it comes to our stories, and if this is the thing that breaks it for you, that's perfectly fine. To be honest, at this point in time I'm not even sure if there is even going to be a pairing. Minato might just have too much of an attachment to Mitsuru and the rest of SEES to even have a new relationship, or he might move on. In the end, I want to show a Protagonist that is very much still affected by his experiences with Nyx and everything that led up to it. While I wouldn't go so far as to say that he's traumatized by the experience or even haunted by it, he's still to some extents, influenced by it. Hopefully as you go through the chapters you can pick out some little things that suggest he's not quite right, from the way he acts to the way he speaks.
I do want to say though that if there is a pairing between Minato and a DxD character, Issei will still get his harem. Some of that is already starting, in fact. Asia is in love with him, and I believe I made mention that Ravel is still infatuated with him
On a tangential note, one of the things I want to avoid is having Minato supplanting Issei's role entirely. I admit this is actually rather challenging since most of this story for now and in the foreseeable future will still be from Minato's P.O.V. However, hopefully you've already picked up the snippets in the Rating Game chapter where Issei gets his own moments of badassness (not even sure that is a word), because quite frankly, that's what he is. A badass in his own right. Minato and Issei are two very different kind of heroes. One is the silent type and kind of holds back until the very end. The other is the in your face kind who won't hesitate to beat you into the ground if you threaten his family or friends. It will be very interesting to see how these two very different personalities deal with one another in the future, though something tells me the two will bro it up before long. And all this isn't for Issei alone. Kiba will get his time to shine (probably in the next chapter), as will Akeno, Asia, Rias, Koneko, and all the rest, along with their respective power ups they earned in their canon journey. Who knows? Maybe Minato can even help with that. The potential of the Wild Card is limitless, after all.
I think this will wrap up this chapter's Author's Notes and again, I ask my readers to please review! It helps a lot when I'm going through them and thinking up of new ideas or just needing some good old reassurance to continue on. Thanks!