Shurpuff says: Note that this is a long chapter, despite being a part two. It is itself split over two chapters. Enjoy!

Previously: Enter the angel who desires wisdom of the Sex, a Peerage of Devils, and a flock of Fallen Angels. One night, a Peerage is lost, angels are unFallen, and the angel of death cracks the egg that is the world (and then makes an omelette of it).

It is already midnight, but dawn is still far off.

Part 1

()()()

Issei flew, mindful of the next part of his task. It was utterly banal work, but he had to do it because it was his sword that had killed all those humans.

Angels had no notion of responsibility (that he was aware of) but he nonetheless felt obligated to clean up his mess. It just seemed like something the Lord would command him to do.

Still, it sucked that he was using up precious vacation hours cleaning up all the death and devastation. The last time he'd had to do this, the continents weren't in their current positions, and giants had roamed alongside puny cavemen.

"Oof." His head slammed into something. He blinked, his wings ruffled. "What in the-?" Nothing obstructed him. The sky was clear.

He flew forward. Bump. His head throbbed from the pain. He retreated, then flew faster. Bonk. It hurt more now. He flew back a few miles, then rocketed forward, Issei mach-2.

Bang!

"Looks like a barrier," the dragon observed, while a dazed Issei worked to right his descent.

"Oh, is what this is?" said Issei, touching his throbbing head gingerly. He tested his hand on the invisible stuff that impeded his progress, like an unseen wall. "I wonder what's going on?"

()()()

They could not believe their luck. Most were even relaxing; the Fallen angel commanding them had seemed to imply that this angel was dangerous, a fact negated now by their personally seeing it flounder above the expertly placed containment field like a bird in a cage.

The stray devils making the Triangle Formation that kept the field up all signaled the okay, and so word of the angel's capture was sent to the higher-ups: devil grunt to Fallen lieutenant up to Fallen general, up to Lord Kokabiel himself, who was encamped a hundred miles from the location.

While the subordinate devils rejoiced in an easy hunt, the most August Lord Kokabiel, Black of Heart, and Warmaster of the Fallen Host, was seized with doubt.

Surely the fools of Heaven were planning something behind this maneuver. He would not put it past that Michael to engineer a ruse in letting the obvious pawn be so easily captured, while his forces waited, unseen, a deadly trap ready to spring.

()()()

"Michael, milord Michael!" the angel cried, banging on the door. "We need assistance!"

"Leave it alone," said another angel. "Michael is no doubt busy checking Heaven's systems for any abnormality." The angel motioned for the other to follow. "That is what we shall tell Gabriel."

Inside the secret room at the foot of the Throne, Michael put away the vibrating rod, its grayish wings slowly turning back to golden white. It sighed with great relief.

()()()

In light of the situation as well as the sore memory of losing so many battles to that worthy warrior of Heaven, Lord Kokabiel commanded the Devils abide, to wait for further action from Heaven (or Hell).

()()()

"Rias-sama, it's a call from Sona Sitri."

Rias Gremory stirred. She all but snatched the phone from Yuuto's hand.

"Sona, we have a situation—"

"As do we at the moment, Rias." came the crisp reply. "Please don't interrupt. This is very important for you to know."

Rias stiffened in her seat, sensing Sona's urgent tone. "...Did something happen?"

Sona sighed. "Those upheavals we were talking about? We just made a brand new mountain from it."

()()()

The hall leading to the council room was filled with Devils. Sona could feel the taut atmosphere hiding behind false cheer and practiced arrogance. It was an even greater testament to their burgeoning apprehension that most did not wear their masks or altered forms.

Devils who did not clad themselves in their magicked pretension were either hard at work, or had something truly troubling on their minds. The latter case was more likely, given the nature of their gathering at the Hall of the Great Satans.

Less than an hour ago she'd been summoned here by her sister, who had also urged her to hide her Peerage in the Sitri manse. Serafall had not given a reason, but the way she'd said it made Sona agree without hesitation. When Serafall Leviathan spoke without an aura of cheer and sparkles, you listened.

Sona did not join in the gossiping and speculating, not that most of the Devils assembled would listen to her without her donning some formidable costume. She did not have to wait long in silence, as the great doors leading to the Council room opened with reverberating creaks.

A hiss of displeasure spread through the crowds. The first ones who'd come out were Devils from the Old Satan Faction, who'd time and again spoken against the Rating Games. Though it was the present fashion not to lash out at other Devils outside of Rating Games, the appearance of the hated faction caused a lot of the gathered Devils to brace as if for battle.

Thankfully, the tension was dispelled by the easy appearance of the Four Great Satans, who were not chasing at the Old Satans' heels with whips of flame. Her sister was clad in a splendid cerise ball gown, Sirzechs in sombre black having a fierce conversation with lord Beelzebub who wore a teal coat. Lord Asmodeus brought up the rear, yawning.

The Devils near the door soon converged upon the four, asking questions. It neatly masked the exit of one other Devil whom Sona didn't recognize. Then her view of him was swallowed up by the crowd.

Her smiling sister pushed past the inquisitive crowd, deftly fending off questions with a smile. She grabbed Sona's elbow and led her to an exiting magic circle, which they used to leave the Hall.

Her sister exhaled a long, drawn-out sigh once they were inside the Sitri estates. "All this heavy politicking is soooo dumb, Sona-chan~~"

"What were the Old Satans doing there?" asked Sona.

"They were invited by that guy who came up behind us. He's the son of Lucifer or something. Pretty arrogant guy, but he's got the power to go with the balls."

"The son of...? Do you mean he was Rizevim Lucifer? Why is he here now? Why ever did he invite the Old Satans?" The Devil was a fixture in the histories; who'd disappeared in the aftermath of the Great War. Many speculated that he, like the Old Satan Faction, disliked the Rating System.

"Because apparently your friend the Gremory's crisis isn't just something that affects her. Apparently, Hell and all us Devils are in jeopardy as well," said Serafall, and this time there was no sparkle in her eyes when she rolled them. "I don't know why that means a reconciliation with those anti-Rating diehards though. I'd have personally loved to eviscerate them to bits."

"Wait, what kind of crisis are you talking about? I only understand that what happened to Rias was only a freak happenstance."

"Her brother said that too, and that was the story the four of us agreed upon, but then that Rizevim just had to put a new spin on things. Give it an hour, and his version of the story will have spread throughout all of Hell." Serafall tapped her chin, her gaze focusing on something far. "Sona-chan, are you well-read in the lore of our origins? Of the start of Hell?"

Sona tilted her head. "A little. I did some reading a long while back." And she read a bit from when she did Rias' recent request.

Serafall winked. "And?"

Sona crossed her arms. "We emerged from the nameless Abyss below, forming innumerable legions to challenge the Light of Heaven."

Serafall made a sound like a beeping siren. She tapped a finger on Sona's nose, causing the latter to flinch. "Bebeep. Wrong-o, Sona-chan. You'll have to read up more on your histories."

"It'd help if you could just tell me, sister," Sona said, annoyed.

"Sister's going to be busy from now on, Sona-chan," said Serafall. She raised her arms up to stretch. "Of course, Sirzechs and all of us will do our best to hold it off, but if we can't," her sister's voice went to a whisper. "I'm afraid we'll be having another War."

Sona gasped. "Impossible!"

"It's all wrapped up in complicated politics. Even Sirzechs was perplexed," said Serafall. "But I'll be doing my best bestest to make sure it doesn't happen, Sona-chan. It's just so scary otherwise. For you, for me, and for everyone on Hell. Well, except for those Old Satan fogeys."

"I ask again, sister," pressed Sona, her thoughts in a whirlpool. "What is the matter? What happened to Rias?"

After a long, drawn-out silence, as sister stared at sister, Serafall Leviathan answered, smiling without true warmth, "Rias Gremory hasn't changed, Sona-chan. She's just been made to wear a different costume. She should be glad; she's become the biggest actress in this whole farce." The smile broke. "After you read up on your histories, don't forget to laugh at the joke."

()()()

Twenty minutes later, when she picked up the phone to call Rias, she didn't laugh. She wasn't that kind of devil.

()()()

"I'm done tracing the source," said one angel, paging through the scroll with lightning speed.

"And?" asked Gabriel, its blue eyes glittering with promises of retribution. Now that it was free from further obligations, the angel thought it the ripe time to pursue the mystery of Heaven's current state, with all the Ascendants who'd been booted up here.

"There's a pretty powerful angel behind each and everyone of these Ascendants," said another angel.

"How can that be?" wondered Gabriel. "I'm sure we haven't been assigning people for mass recruitment. If the whole System hadn't been rebooted, Heaven would've collapsed from the strain of all these new arrivals." And Michael would've thrown a fit.

On second thought, Michael should definitely be worrying in his tiny little brain. It wasn't hard for the Others—the Fallen and the Devils—to figure out that Heaven bristled with activity as it had during the War, and there was no doubt in Gabriel's mind that those fellows would only connect the facts then come to the worst possible conclusion.

"We've successfully triangulated the angel's position," announced yet another angel down the line. "Identification process initiated."

Gabriel would take great pleasure in asphyxiating the offending angel blue.

"We have a problem! Angel location is littered with foreign entities!"

"Qualify that!" Gabriel said after a short, stunned pause.

"Forty-six, forty-seven, fifty stray Devils!"

"Identified a Fallen signal! There's twenty of them!"

"They sensed our observation," said an angel, who shook its head. "They're jamming our view of the field."

"Send word to Michael," said Gabriel, pointing to the duo it had made summon the other Seraph. "Don't come back otherwise." The duo flew off.

Damned if it wasn't feeling like the Great War all over again. But Gabriel had absolutely no intention of playing little general again. It quite enjoyed the state of semi-retirement over the past centuries and was determined to see it continue forever.

So that was yet another reason to strangle the ever-loving holiness out of whoever angel thought it smart to rile up all of Creation.

()()()

"Mastema," said Shemhazai with a lot of authority in his voice. He pointed to the screen. "It has to be. I can fully say with confidence that that angel was rarely seen during the Great War, which meant that the Lord God had some reason for it to stay back from the conflict."

"I do not recall a Mastema," said Baraqiel, uncertain.

"How can you be so sure?" Azazel asked, ever the skeptic. He wore a small smile. "And Baraqiel, I think we covered that fact already. Every angel and most of the Fallen's got shitty memory retention. We've yet to learn how the Devils managed to circumvent that flaw."

Baraqiel frowned. Shemhazai cleared his throat. "I am sure, Azazel, because I can recall much of Mastema's actions. He was most involved with the Hebrew lot; he was their 'Satan'. He bedeviled Job before ever the Devils even knew about the poor fellow. And as a side-job, he raised normal humans to Heaven as newborn angels. Not a more apt ringer for that angel than him."

"And you think him capable of allowing a Devil to transcend the Schism?" asked Azazel, chuckling. "Not even the Lord had that authority, or He would have rescinded Lucifer's defiance."

Shemhazai scowled. "That, is a separate issue, as you well know." Azazel waved his hand dismissively, as if loath to discuss his last statement. The matter of the Lord was a sensitive subject for the two, and they had spent many a time arguing about the finer points of what the humans called "theology".

"So this Mastema," said Baraqiel, filling the silence, "What do you think his purpose is?"

"I'm sure we can ask him ourselves," said Azazel, shrugging. "Come in, Mastema." Shemhazai spluttered, eyes bulging in surprise; while Baraqiel turned, alert, light spears already trained on the door to the conference room, which swung open.

In came what looked to be a Devil, though his garb was angelic-looking. A black hood prevented the Fallen from discerning his face. He was shorter than the Fallen in the room, though Baraqiel, seasoned warrior, felt like he faced a formidable foe. At Shemhazai's gesture, he relaxed, dispelling the light spear.

Azazel rose from his seat, effecting a small bow to the newcomer. "Gentlemen, may I present Mastema, who has just been accused by our good friend Shemhazai here of being the entity with whom we are much interested."

"The accusation is not unfounded," the newcomer said smoothly. "I did do my part before, at the Lord God's behest, though I'm sure you did not invite me here to reminisce on anecdotes, Azazel."

"No indeed," said Azazel, his smile cold. "Nor did I indicate that our meeting should be thus delayed. Thirty minutes, eh? Did you think I invited you for a spot of tea? To fly about the world, pointing at the humans?"

"You may have one of my apologies, Azazel," said Mastema. "Along with it, accept this explanation. I was hindered by one of your former comrades' spawn. That son of Lucifer's been making moves down in Hell, and I was summoned first to confer with him."

Baraqiel's feathers twitched. Already Masterma's Devil wings were fading away, becoming the feathered black of a Fallen. Was it an illusion?

"Indeed," said Azazel, sitting back down, though they could all see his mood was anything but accommodating. "And would you deign to give the same information to us?"

"Remarkable," said Shemhazai. He raised an eyebrow at Azazel. "Is he a double agent?" Baraqiel echoed that same question in his mind.

"No, milords," said Mastema. "I am but a humble diplomat, ever neutral, and empowered to bring tidings as well as news."

"What he means to say is," said Azazel, "That he's the only one from Heaven who can freely move from there to Hell. And from there, to us. This one's an angel of many shapes, his motives unfathomable, even to me."

"You honor me with compliments," said Mastema, bowing deep. "But did milord not request intelligence?"

"No, we have all we need now," said Azazel. Both the other Fallen whirled, disbelieving. They hadn't had any intelligence at all!

Mastema paused. "Very well. Then what else do you need from me?"

"You seem pretty knowledgeable," said Azazel. He pointed at the angel on the screen. "Give us a clue about him. Actually, just tell us his name if you know it."

Mastema looked at the screen, and it seemed to them that it was carefully formulating the right answer, despite the face hidden in the shadows of the hood.

"... The truth is in the wings," said Mastema.

The other Fallen remained confused, while Azazel "ah"-ed, as if finally understanding the answer to a riddle. Azazel's bad mood vanished in the next moment, and he was suddenly full of cheer. He even made a booming laugh.

"Is that so, huh?" Azazel said, while chortling. "Now, it's gotten quite interesting. Quite interesting indeed! But have you been to Heaven, then, Mastema? Is something... different up there?"

"That will probably have to wait until the next meeting," said Mastema. "I am going there next."

"Ah well," said Azazel, shaking his head ruefully. "It's not like we have anything to fear now. Well, Kokabiel should be pissing his pants, if he knew." Again he chuckled.

"What did you find out, Azazel?" asked Shemhazai as soon as Mastema had departed. "If that is not Mastema, then who is it? Well, go on, there's a good fellow, no sense in keeping us in suspense."

"Allow me to modify the image reception," said Azazel, pressing some buttons at the back of the screen. "The trick is to focus on that one's wings."