Phase 1 - Gula

Chapter 4 - Ignition


Time was stalled. Space was distorted.

His perceptions sunk into the depths of the ocean. His vision was warped, as if troubled water obscured his sight and bent the edges of objects. His bones creaked and grated against each other. They were compressed by a palpable killer intent. A suffocating pressure. Every strand of hair on his body stood up, waving slightly with the beat of his heart. His muscles tensed. Cramps crawled under his skin, unseen and unknown creatures digging into his flesh.

He was dwelling in a Mariana Trench of his own making. Deep underwater, where monsters existed and weaklings died.

He couldn't exhale the breath that suffocated him. If Ayame did as much as blink incorrectly, he would perish.

Death would come. Death would come and he would decay where he stood, feeble and so utterly ephemeral.

The bubble of air that had encroached itself in the back of his throat slipped out of his mouth. His lungs constricted, seeking more air and more life to leech on. Death was inevitable. It was there, staring at him through the eyes of an unimpressed woman and a violent man and Ayame-

He pushed his invasive thoughts aside. A bubble of air travelled to his throat and he relaxed his body, allowing it to wander to his lungs. It blessed him in return with a healthy dose of oxygen and clarity. Time ticked at a pace that resembled its original course.

Ayame was, nonetheless, in the twilight of his mind. The world was still a distorted, slow monster that looked quite ready to engulf him, but he could manage to think. And oh, he could see how his thoughts' existence was detrimental to him. Despite possessing a truthful side, he knew such ideas would only feed venom to the primal part of his mind, the one that analyzed the world around him and detected danger. The animal in him was paralyzed by unholy fear.

The menace in front of him was absolute, a part of him crooned. He couldn't understand it. His instinctual mind shuddered at the idea of approaching it.

Ayame breathed in again and the sea monsters that tortured his muscles loosened their grip. He would only be paralyzed if he allowed himself to try processing lethality above human comprehension.

He needed to shut down his inner animal, one excruciating slow breath at the time.

This reminded him of Yuuma. She had been, from start to finish, a mystery that had induced strange reactions out of him. She had been… wild. Dynamic. His exact opposite. The more he fought the memories to focus on the stilled world around him, the more they flickered across his visions. She hadn't simply elicited fear out of him, as he couldn't harbor feelings in the first place. Her very presence, the way her long hair had flown with the breeze, the way her lips spelled death, the way she had smirked at the ant he had been for her… she had created a profound survival instinct. It had overwhelmed him.

It still did.

It froze his perceptions, obstructed his understanding of the known world and made him useless against danger. The discernment of assured death rendered any possible escape from it unthinkable if he allowed his instinct to dictate his judgment.

The brunet felt numb, washed out. But, at least, he was aware of what he was dealing with. If he tried, maybe he could move. Delayed action was better than to meekly await his death on an altar.

It certainly wouldn't be nearly enough, however.

He needed to trample over any doubt in his mind and act resolutely. His animalistic side couldn't conceive victory. His survival instincts couldn't comprehend an enemy so ferocious. He needed to think of a better Ayame, someone who acted and lived to tell the tale. His very best was already not enough to survive this kind of situation. He couldn't afford unnecessary weaknesses.

Cold sweat trickled down his injured cheek. He pointedly stared at the people—creatures—in front of him.

What would a better Ayame do?

He would act. What would be his first act? To spy on his enemies.

One, named Dohnaseek, resembled a middle-aged man. The other appeared to be a woman, apparently younger than her companion was. Human age most probably didn't apply to them either way, so it was futile to judge their mobility or strength by their appearance only. At first glance, they were undistinguishable from normal people. At second glance, one could notice how their very presences seemed to clash. The way they dressed and behaved couldn't be more different. One was a woman, cool and collected, clad in so little clothes she could have forgotten covering herself altogether and it would have given the same result. The other was a discrete man buried in clothing, seething and baring his anger for all to see.

Yet, for all their apparent strangeness, they seemed sharp and focused. No, they were sharp.

One step too close and Ayame would taste their edge.

He fought the urge to shuffle back, away from their oppressing aura. He squinted and soldiered on. He knew too little to skitter away yet.

Dohnaseek emitted a sense of hostility that would give any other person a heart attack. Although his hands stayed at his sides, relaxed, his squared shoulders told a different story. He looked perfectly capable and willing to kill both brothers as soon as they would think of running away. He was only interested in Issei, his eyes trained on the younger teen. But Ayame couldn't help feeling chills running up his spine as his gaze met the shadowy individual's. Danger was there.

In the shivering silence that enveloped his senses, he heard alarms ringing distantly.

Ayame shifted his gaze. The woman was the opposite of her companion. She seemed disinterested, meek. As per planned, she supposedly wouldn't kill Ayame. Thus, her serene presence was stifled by Dohnaseek's murderous intent. That didn't make her less of a threat. She was going to use force if he tried to resist.

Were they Devils…?

…Ayame twitched. No. They couldn't be. Rias had a powerful and violent presence, greatly emotional; volatile to the core. Yuuma Amano, on the other hand, was more sinister and less conspicuous, showing malignance with spikes of intensity instead of letting it out in the open. Therefore, he concluded somberly, it wasn't far-fetched to call the creatures in front of them Fallen Angels. As long as they didn't reveal their true identities, he couldn't come up with anything else.

The teenager trusted his instincts, as much as they failed him to secure an escape yet. They had proven particularly useful to detect supernatural beings.

These people had a specific way of acting. A certain aura around them they couldn't suppress completely unless they did it consciously. Ayame was still inexperienced. But he was beginning to grasp the gist of his inherent sixth sense and the almost tangible nature of his enemies.

But that didn't matter. Not now. Not there.

Ayame and Issei had to escape.

The street where they stood was deserted, meaning no one would see their battle. It was a true shooting range, and the siblings were the targets. Static objectives were easier to kill. Running was out of question. Dohnaseek was visibly eyeballing Issei, fingers twitching ever so slightly. Ayame already anticipated the possibility of him creating a spear of energy just like Yuuma had once done to end their life.

The memory made his breath shudder. Time ticked at its normal pace. Space contorted itself back to its regular form. Now was the time.

Just running back to where they had come from was dangerous. Their open back would be as easy a target as their squared chest. They needed to move unpredictably, at least to find a place where they wouldn't be so exposed. The problem was, where?

After uncomfortably eyeing every nook and cranny of the street, minding the dangerous beings in front of them, Ayame was able to discover a certain path. Right at Issei's left side was an alleyway. It was nothing much, just big enough to be considered usable by the neighborhood. It was dark and damp, squished between two walls.

Issei and Ayame would be able to run alongside, thanks to the older teen's ridiculously thin figure. For once, he was pleased with his build.

They could get inside and make use of the obstacles found on the way. Even if it were only for a handful of seconds, they would be able to put some distance between them and death.

Now, the problem was, how would they buy enough time to run into the alley?

Simply trying to escape would get them killed. Neither Ayame nor Issei had enough power or skill to distract their opponents. Confronting them directly was a death wish. Turning their back to the monsters in front of them or simply looking somewhere else was more than enough for them to attack, in the span of a few seconds. Each second they remained silent was already another second they added to their dangerous courting of death and survival.

Then, Ayame mused, they needed to distract them and make them falter for a short while.

"A-Ayame… we have t-to…" Issei began whispering. Anxiety seeped out of his pores and beat an insane rhythm against his ribcage.

Ayame frowned. His brother's voice was annoying, grating on his eardrums. His primal brain snarled at his brother's emotions, contempt and mild anger mingling into a mess Ayame didn't need.

"Shut up." The younger sibling was bluntly silenced by the older one. "I'm thinking."

Ayame had thoroughly analyzed the situation. They had an escape, now they needed… a distraction.

The two Fallen Angels hadn't acted yet. The woman still appeared bored, passive. She showed no signs of hurry or concern. She was most definitely underestimating him. That meant he would have to be the one to act. Her indifference was his advantage.

He stared at Issei once again. His younger brother was visibly trembling. His posture, knees shuddering and elbows tucked against his shaking ribcage, was particularly easy to break with a strong push. On edge yet completely open to an attack.

Suddenly enough, Ayame formulated a plan. It was an extremely risky bet that had more possibilities of ending with their premature demises rather than a successful getaway from certain death. However, there were some infinitesimal odds of shifting the balance. His instincts were burning red at this point. He was confident he could do something and, perhaps, survive to live another day as his new self. He had gathered all the details, all the information, all his experiences up until now. He finally mapped a mental blueprint of his insane course of action.

It was do or die.

It was time to see which one it would be.

The only thing he needed was a couple of seconds. A couple of seconds and the blessed, shocked stillness of his would-be murderers. Ayame had to buy some seconds. Everything else would come by itself.

"Why do you want to kill him?" Ayame calmly asked, his attention on Dohnaseek. The teenager clenched and unclenched his left hand, anticipating his next action and playing it out in his mind a thousand times over.

Dohnaseek didn't look like he was paying attention. His eyes were still glued to the younger brunet, but he did respond.

"I don't see why I should explain my intentions to a lowly human."

Ayame cursed inwardly, half-expecting that sort of response for his unrequited question. If he had had some kind of ability, such arrogance from his enemies could have played to his advantage. But it wasn't the case. He wasn't special. He was the brother of the special one.

He still needed to get their attention, some way or another. Provoking them wasn't an option since Ayame didn't have much personal knowledge about them. He only had poor assumptions, half-assed prejudices. In the same manner, they didn't look like they would easily be swayed by whatever he could say. He was an unimportant teenager. They didn't care about what he had to say.

If that was the case, he just had to use the right words to break their concentration. The right words, the right tone, the right settings… were constructed as he jutted his jaw in a show of confidence. Oddly, he mimicked his brother's overly stupid yet proud expression in that instant.

"Lowly human?" intoned Ayame. "Being so full of yourself will get you killed one of these days, Fallen Angel. If I were you, I wouldn't speak so carelessly to people you just met…"

This was a terrible bluff in all regards. His speech implied he had some ace up his sleeve that would cause them problems, or that he was aware of their race. Both were false. But the element of surprise was his only advantage. He had to exploit it as much as possible.

For a fleeting moment, Dohnaseek lost focus and set his sights on Ayame instead. The woman did the same, narrowing her gaze on him. His words caught their attention. He managed to distract them.

That was Ayame's cue to move.

"Issei-"

Upon hearing his brother's voice, Issei craned his neck in his older brother's direction.

"W-What…"

Ayame raised his left hand. He thrust it forward and grabbed Issei's face. The younger brunet let out a muffled sound of surprise. He lost his balance, jittering unceremonially to the ground.

Ayame's heart skipped a beat. The killer intent of the opposing duo became unbearably deadly. They were finally going to attack, product of this sudden motion.

But, it was already too late.

Ayame convulsed.

Electricity travelled from the tip of his fingertips, throughout the muscles and nerves of his left arm, right to the inside of his skull. He saw white, white, white fire. It scorched his eyeballs with its intensity, burning a blaze through his senses. Otherworldly flames melted his brain matter. Fire lit up inside his veins, broiling his organs in the process. Body and mind unlinked, nervous system stunned by a powerful shock that halted all of his senses. The excruciating pain became a distant reality, momentarily replaced by something worse.

What was his name? Where was he? How old was he? What time was it? What was time? Who was the person who touched his left hand? Why was his face so twisted, so slow in its agony, as if he were a puppet whose strings had been cut short and that could only fall to its death?

Obvious questions, preposterous questions, appeared and disappeared. His brain was electrocuted to a sort of muted cacophony. Memories and thoughts and motor skills were mingling and shifting and crumbling apart. The boy spasmed and his body shook, badly interpreting an episode of epilepsy. He was and then he wasn't, he was and then he wasn't, he was and then he wasn't. He wasn't, he was nothing, he ceased to be-

"—A-Ah, guh."

And then he breathed again.

Soon enough, his consciousness took control again. He remembered everything. He could move. He could think. Foam and blood mixed inside his mouth. They trickled from his lips, becoming proof of the damage he sustained. Electricity cursed through his veins, once burning, now supporting his will.

An eternity of suffering encompassed in a second.

Ayame visibly wheezed, forcing air into his lungs and oxygen for his brain to work. He caught up with the world once again, the feeling of death still looming.

The teenager wasn't a stranger to this feeling. It was the same feeling he experienced hours ago, when he fought against those criminals. During a few painful moments, through unknown means, he obtained power. In a brief interval his speed and reaction surpassed human boundaries. Limitations were a concept unknown to him now, replaced with a high of vigor.

His body was energized. He felt like he could do anything.

Time slowed down to a crawl. It was so slow he could measure every single second passing by. Each second was marked with a dreadful realization: he was getting weaker, slower. The miracle wouldn't last.

One second. His left arm tensed up, and he tightened his hold on Issei's face.

Two seconds. He put a foot forward, adding even more strength to his next action.

Three seconds. Ayame pushed Issei back, trashing his body many meters away. It was as easy as pitching a baseball. The strength he showed, however, far surpassed than of a normal human. He shoved backaround sseventy kilograms of flesh and bone like nothing.

The younger sibling rolled a few times and came to a halt as he hit a wall with a loud thud.

A neon light cut through the wind. Its sound whistled dangerously close to Ayame's ear, screaming a dangerous tune. It missed Issei's skull by an impossible margin. Ayame's hand, still plastered against his brother's face in that moment of eternity, was cleanly lacerated by the beam of death. Blood spilled on the ground.

Had it cut deeper, the brunet might have lost the upper half of his hand.

His heart skipped a beat at the vision of horror his mind imagined.

The deadly spear soared and crashed against a nearby streetlamp, detonating into a multicolored flash on impact. The metal pole melted down and fell on the middle of the street.

Four seconds. Through his peripheral vision, he glimpsed another light approaching. Ayame looked up, until the back of his skull grazed his spine.

Killer brilliance trailed a caress on his neck. It was made of pure energy, ethereal, but every bit as sharp as refined steel. The skin beneath his chin was slashed open. More red liquid seeped out of his trembling body. Ayame had avoided getting his cranium perforated by a mere millisecond.

He was getting slower, weaker. His sense of taste was returning. The flavor of blood was on his tongue again. His sense of feeling was coming back, numbness receding in his core.

The pain was edging closer and it was immense. Crushing. It had fangs and it had set its eyes on him.

Five seconds. The teenager righted himself with a shaky twist. He took another step forward.

Six seconds. He jumped. His coiled legs left the surface of the earth and he suspended himself in the air for a fleeting moment. His hair curled with the too slow wind that caressed his skin. Then he crashed on the ground and rolled away, muscles and nerves answering to his orders in a way they had never done before.

Spears of light were launched with formidable precision. Some grazed his stomach, his back, and his arms. Yet, none managed to get a clear hit. He would see them and react, moving in a strange dance where barely a muscle moved yet he avoided death. The spears grazed and scratched and flayed Ayame's skin. They would only strike the ground by accident, shattering it in the process. One passed by his cheek and took off the gauze covering it.

Seven seconds. He landed safely and accelerated his pace. His head throbbed painfully at the rhythm of his heart, a sharp pain forming behind his eyes. The many cuts on his skin were burning uncomfortably. His flesh didn't like to be in close contact with air and screamed at him for the rough treatment it was receiving.

Eight seconds. His skin prickled and itched. Ayame felt as if hundreds of needles were simultaneously stabbing his flesh. In reality it was just the fresh wind caressing his hurting self.

Nine seconds. Issei slowly got up, steadying himself and breaking out from his short-lived confusion. Recognition lit his eyes as he saw Ayame approaching. He began mouthing something.

Ten seconds.

Time regained its normal flow. Seconds went back to their normal rapid rhythm. Ayame lost the energy that allowed him to survive multiple attacks. His body felt numb all over. An unbearable ache took over his form, combined with a general loss of movement. His bones were heavy. His diaphragm pressed his lungs as if trying to grind them into a paste.

"Oh?" murmured an awed Dohnaseek from afar as he considered the scene before him. "Superb reflexes, youngster. I was merely gauging your real abilities with those attacks, but it seems you're indeed more than a mere human after all. Still… we have no interest in you. Disappear."

Ayame ignored the praise, or more accurately, it didn't register in his ears. He grabbed Issei by the collar with what little brawn he still had left, dragging him alongside.

"B-Bro…!"

The older brother scowled, still in pain.

"Don't just… stand there. Run."

And effectively, they began running. They sprinted as fast as their human legs enabled them to, knowing their pursuers were already on their tracks by the sound of their footsteps. The siblings swooped inside the alleyway.

Ayame breathed harshly as he tried to keep his head up. He was falling behind. Issei's back became more and more distant. The walls around him seemed to stretch for kilometers in the distance. They also seemed to close in, so close they could engulf the teen and eat him whole.

A pant escaped him. Another burnt its way out of his ribcage. He felt like he couldn't make it to the end. He wouldn't make it to the end. He smelled burnt meat. Considering he was hurting all over, he imagined his insides were on fire.

Jolts of pain ran up his spine and fried his brain little by little. Ayame felt like closing his eyes and taking a nap. The walls would embrace him. They would welcome him and take care of his corpse. However, his instincts wouldn't allow him. His body was already breaking apart, but his mind was far from giving up.

Issei was running ahead. He was not going to lose to his brother today or lose him altogether.

Ayame sped up.

Due to exhaustion, he blinked very slowly anyway. During those brief moments of darkness, he saw himself being skewered by hundreds of spears in a matter of seconds. The thought, imaginary as much as it was all too possible in the near future, woke him up. It gave him all the insight he needed.

They would die. They weren't fast enough.

They were halfway through the alley. They couldn't dodge all attacks while escaping.

As he forced his sight to focus, he saw a silver gleam ahead of them. It was a metallic trash container. The object was firmly nailed to the ground. It couldn't be moved or lifted up.

He didn't have any time to think of his discovery or why it interested him. Another one of those spears was thrown.

Issei would be killed. Ayame was not the objective. Knowing this, with the little time he had, the older brother turned his attention to his sibling.

The brunet pushed himself one more time and tried to run a little faster. Once he was close enough, he smacked Issei across the head

The younger Hyoudou was out of breath, but out of the way.

No respite came as he stared at the deadly weapon that passed over his brother.

Ayame coughed blood. Liquid began flowing from his nose.

Something buzzed in his ears.

Again, he felt intoxicated with power.

"Ah…G-Goddammit…"

His arm went limp. Every single nerve in his body imploded. His body was barely there anymore. His legs became noodles and his brain was a mushy lump of flesh that couldn't think anymore. He couldn't feel anything. That was wrong. He needed pain. He needed pain. He needed pain. Without pain there was nothing, and he didn't want to be nothing.

He breathed faster and faster. The world slowed down, and he moved ahead of it.

Just now it hit him. He needed to take advantange. This thing that hurt him was also invigorating him.

Six seconds. He refocused, and his right arm twitched. Ayame calmed down.

Seven seconds. His eyes only saw the container close to the wall. He speeded up. The pavement cracked under the pressure of his strengthened feet. Ayame heard a distortion, and he knew another spear was coming their way. Faster. He needed to go faster.

Eight seconds. The boy got ahold of the metallic object as soon as he passed by it. His hand dug into his objective. Pale and frail-looking fingers applied force, twisting and deforming the silvery metal beneath them as if crumpling a sheet of paper with an inhuman grip. A horrible screech followed as the container was torn apart from its lower half.

Nine seconds. Ayame stopped on his tracks for a moment. He swung the shapeless chunk of steel on his hand behind him. His mind didn't catch up to his action. His body acted on its own.

Ten seconds.

Ayame stopped another spear with the piece of metal. His improvised shield didn't live up to his expectations, unfrotunately.

He was pushed back by an insurmountable power. His feet dug into the ground. His shoes squeaked and broke, unable to withstand the pressure. His soles met the asphalt and he bled. His right wrist was twisted and shattered by the strength of the attack. Flesh tore up and bones were broken into tiny pieces, making his right hand unusable. He still held onto his piece of trash turned life-savior. His skeleton vibrated.

The container he used as shield acquired a crimson color. It heated up to the point of almost losing shape. His hand felt nothing, all the nerves dead. Yet he knew very well his skin shouldn't have been looking so... burnt. Despite his numbness, he acknowledged the danger it meant to keep holding onto his protection.

Ayame raised the piece of metal and launched it against his pursuers with all the strength he had.

It was flung with powerful speed. Mid-flight, it collided against the woman's arm loudly. She swatted the blunt object away as if it was a mere insect flying her way. The piece of steel embedded itself on the ground, breaking it in the process. The attack was useless.

His broken hand was useless too now.

The blue-eyed boy had no time to admire the futility of his action. He kept running alongside his brother.

Ayame stumbled. His heart skipped beats. Migraines made his skull shudder painfully with every sound he heard and every jolt it suffered from his infernal race to survive. Black and white dots appeared in his vision, melting into a hungry golden that seemed to grow brighter. Blood trickled from his mouth and it wasn't stopping. It wasn't stopping and he couldn't taste the flavor of his own blood any longer. His left arm was dead.

"Cough… Hehehe… hahahahaha…."

Yet, as soon as he felt another wave of overwhelming pain, he couldn't help but laugh.

"Hahaha… hahahahah…"

He laughed and laughed as he lost perception of time. He laughed as the alley seemed to enlarge until its end was nowhere to be seen. He laughed even though his lungs had no oxygen to spare for something so stupid. He laughed as he continued to move forward.

Issei stared at him with a baffled and horrified expression as he heard his laughter, exhaustion adorning his young face. "Y-You dumbass, the hell yer laughin' for…?!"

The older brother didn't answer. He had no coherent response to give either way.

He was still alive. Even after all the punishment his dysfunctional body had received, he was still breathing. Acknowledging his repeated survival brought him exhilaration.

The excitement he felt was not a lie or illusion. His pain was real. He existed. The void devoured any kind of purely human emotion as soon as the brunet objectively understood his situation. He was still unable to feel emotions. But knowing he was actually, really alive... it made him feel pretty damn good.

This battle reminded him he was a human. He needed more, more, more conflict and pain. It was like adding fuel to a disappearing flame.

He was feeling, even if it was too little compared to others.

They kept running, dodging more attacks by a hair's breadth. Eventually, they finally saw the streetlights at the other side, and the exit of the seemingly infinite alleyway.

They stepped out to the street. Ayame stumbled and had to fight the urge to fall unconscious on the ground. Issei looked around desperately, trying to find a way of escaping without being skewered from behind.

"W-Where are we goin' now…?"

The older brother let out a choked giggle. "…What makes you… think…I know...?"

As if fate wanted to mock him, it was then that Ayame noticed a dark field full of trees close by. Out of light's reach, it would be easier to hide there and avoid death till they could find safety.

"Let's go… there…"

Ayame's weak whisper barely reached Issei's ears. As soon as the latter understood what his brother meant, he tried to run alongside. However-

"I don't think so."

-A feminine voice interrupted their thought processes and their escape plan. They stopped in their tracks, almost hypnotized by their predator. A fast shadow appeared from above, gracefully landing on the ground in front of the siblings. The mental and physical tiredness both experienced rendered them unable to process that they were surrounded from both sides until it was too late.

"Let's see you fly, Devil."

The woman blocking their path murmured an unlikely command. Then, she approached them at a monstrous velocity, twisting her body around. She raised one of her long legs. Its moving speed accelerated from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds. It approached like a horizontal guillotine, ready to decapitate anyone who dared stay in its path.

"Gwoh-!"

Chills ran down Ayame's spine as he heard a powerful strike, followed by a horrible creaking.

He watched in slow motion as Issei was struck by the attack on the chest. The teenager was sent flying high in the air. Ayame stared with fatigued disbelief as his little brother was tossed to the far end of the street like a weightless ragdoll, before he inevitably crashed against a building and fell on the ground. He looked like puppet whose strings had been cut. Lifeless. At that distance, Ayame was still able to hear the sound of something breaking apart.

The woman quickly turned around, now facing Ayame. Her expression remained neutral and impervious.

Ayame raised his guard immediately. Attacking was his only option and so that's exactly what he did. He was perfectly aware he had no chance of winning, but this was the perfect opportunity to test the strength of a supernatural being more closely.

The brunet approached. The woman didn't do anything in response. She waited for him to move.

He readied his right hand. Despite having his wrist broken a few moments ago, he could move it again. Ayame couldn't come to terms with the unexplainable phenomenon, having his mind occupied with other matters.

His joints screeched and protested as he twisted the limb around. Even then, he knew he could move it.

As soon as Ayame was within range, he launched a right hook with the intention of breaking the woman's nose.

Something broke, indeed.

Ayame felt his fist open by itself. His fingers had been fractured in the opposite direction of the punch when they came into contact with the woman's smooth face.

That went atrociously. Somehow, he felt even more excited.

"D-Dammit…" he cursed while taking a few steps back, trying to ignore the horrible pain coming from his right hand. "…What are you freaks made of? You're too strong."

Ayame spun around milliseconds after finishing his statement. He threw a spinning kick aimed to the woman's face, yet-

"I am strong indeed. But your pitiful weakness is manifest, human. Don't mistake one with another."

-She easily grabbed his foot mid-attack, just a few centimeters before reaching her face.

She took a subtle step forward, and swept Ayame's other leg from under him. The teenager lost his balance, and now he was at his enemy's mercy. Yet, instead of falling to the ground, he was swung around as if he was a feather. The woman lifted him up. After swinging Ayame around two times with her tremendous strength, she threw him against a nearby wall.

"Gah…!"

Not one second later, the woman approached again. She grabbed the teenager by the throat and slammed him against the obstacle behind once again. Her hand tightened its hold around his skin, depriving him of precious oxygen he desperately needed. He coughed more blood regardless.

When he momentarily opened his eyes, through his peripheral vision, he saw a fluttering dark coat swaying as it abandoned the alleyway. Its owner didn't spare any word or look of acknowledgment, as the message he wanted to convey was implicit.

Dohnaseek was going to kill Issei, and Ayame would forget everything. They couldn't do anything to stop their enemies. How laughable.

"You seem to have some interesting tricks up your sleeve, insignificant mortal." Her praise was ignored, as Ayame was more focused on his lessening intake of air.

"Superhuman strength and speed seem to be your only specialty. I would have concluded you were a magician who favors physical combat or an Executioner from the church…"

The pressure on his neck went up a notch. Ayame gnawed for oxygen, and everything blurred.

"…Yet you're far too inexperienced to be a magic user, and too crude to be an Executioner. I suppose hanging around a Devil taught you a thing or two, but petty tricks aren't enough to survive in a real battlefield."

Ayame spied how her other hand approached his face. Through his trembling eyelashes, he perceived some kind of brilliant purple markings spreading from her fingertips to the rest of her hand as she whispered incomprehensible words.

His hair stood on his nape. He had to move. He had to move. He had to move, or Issei would be a distant memory and his brother, for all the pain and troubles their bond brought him, was still a fool he preferred to see at home than in a coffin. He wanted to claw at his neck, but his body remained unresponsive.

"This night will remain naught but a bad dream to you and you will lead a peaceful life again. You shall remain ignorant like the rest of your species."

The brunet found such reassurance both laughable and distasteful. The last thing he wanted was a peaceful life.

With effort, he raised his numb left hand, and grabbed the woman's wrist before she could reach him. She was much, much stronger. Yet, his left arm didn't share such susceptibility to her overwhelming strength. It fought and wouldn't allow her to come any closer. Almost as if it had a will of its own, yet still sharing Ayame's intention of resisting.

"Ugh…" He exhaled a strained breath, and then stared at the woman dead in the eye. "…Would you… tell me your name…?"

Her face contorted in confusion for a fleeting moment. She kept struggling to get out of his hold, on autopilot. Then, she dedicated him a pitying look.

"What difference would it make, human? You won't remember me either way. Have you lost your mind to start making such unreasonable requests?"

The brunet most probably did lose his mind. And that was the main reason behind asking something as unimportant as the name of his foe.

"…This… has been the most entertaining night I have had in a while," admitted the young man with a creeping smile. "I wanted to properly thank you for giving me so much fun, you see, but I need to know your name for that."

Ayame wasn't much of a gentleman, and he didn't care for such type of formalities. But he recognized to a certain extent the value of things and knew when to properly express gratitude.

The pain that washed over his body and carved itself in his brain proved his existence. It was a gift of upmost quality. One he wanted to show some sliver of appreciation for.

They stared at each other. The woman's hand stopped struggling out of her own volition this time. After silence stilled their voices, their gaze met, one animalistic and the other, placid. She then let out a dry laugh and shook her head disapprovingly. A tut could have escaped her lips at such a moment and it wouldn't have looked out of place. She acted as if she were dealing with an idiot. Perhaps she was. She set sights on him once again and showed a taunting smile.

"What a strange person I happened to stumble upon tonight," she murmured, seemingly humored. "My name is Kalawarner. Don't bother to introduce yourself, as I am not interested in your lesser existence."

He smiled as he heard the blunt reply, satisfied.

"Well then. Thanks for the enjoyable fight, Kalawarner." His response was followed by a short chuckle. "Allow me to return the favor."

Ayame circled his left hand around Kalawarner's wrist. Such gesture didn't elicit any reaction from the beautiful woman, who seemed to shrug it off as if it just was an ant crawling over her hand. Ayame's smile widened a little. Was he so inferior, so tiny in comparison to her she didn't even care about him showing an obvious act of resistance?

It frustrated him. It also filled him with excitement.

A last jolt of energy coursed through his left hand. He applied pressure, and tightened his grip.

Kalawarner looked down, upon their joined hands. Their joined hands, his, a bloody mess, hers, a broken mess. She seemed slightly confused as to what happened, like she didn't even register the pain. She realized moments later by looking at it directly. Just with that reaction, Ayame was sure of something. These truly were monsters he was dealing with. An injury that would have had anyone else rolling on the ground and screaming, this woman simply didn't realize it was there.

Ayame had twisted her hand and fractured it. He let go of it with an excited pant. The now useless piece of meat freely dangled from one side to the other, skin already turning a shade of green-brown.

Kalawarner stared at it impassively. She stared at him as impassively.

He wanted to paint another expression on her calm mask.

"This is my way of showing gratitude..." Another chuckle escaped his lips, a triumphant and sardonic air clinging to it. "…Lowly human this, insignificant mortal that. Please tell me, how does it feel to be hurt by an inferior being such as me?"

She stayed still for a good amount seconds. Then, she laughed, sporting a more vivid expression on her face. Finally, he had her interest.

"Now, don't celebrate just because you got the upper hand when I wasn't focused…"

She slithered close. A sweet whisper abandoned her lips, soft tone of voice contrasting with her blunt words.

"…You filthy madman."

The world became a hazy blur. Ayame felt a cold breeze against his face. He soared through the sky, much like his little brother moments before. He observed the cloudy night sky as he floated like a bird. In that instant, he tried to name the constellations. Draco was watching over his fight, its long tail of stars waving behind it in the northern sky.

The image stayed under his eyelids as he crashed against a tree. A thunderous sound followed, and he couldn't decipher if it was his back or the tree's bark that had exploded. He sagged and rolled on the ground. Twitching a finger felt as impossible as it was necessary.

"Gah…" More reddish liquids spilled from his mouth onto the ground. "It's… Is that all you've got… hahaha…"

The teenager giggled and wheezed at the same time. He placed a hand on his side, trying to prevent his broken ribs from ripping apart his flesh. He couldn't crawl away. Running away to safety was out of the question. Running to his brother's side was also unreachable. Either way, he didn't feel the need to. This was too much fun and he was too entertained to end it prematurely.

The blue-haired creature appeared, she a menacing shadow between the trees. With her unbroken hand, she grabbed the other, and twisted it powerfully.

And then, her broken limb was back in place again.

"It has been some time since I found a human stupid enough to try and battle me upfront. Although…"

Space and sound distorted. A sharp light made its way into existence, held cautiously by the woman who was intent on ending his life. She approached warily.

When she was close enough, she raised her ethereal weapon, and poked Ayame's shoulder with it. The young man hissed in pain when contact was made. The smell of burnt flesh almost overrode everything else. Almost. The pain was worse.

Then, Kalawarner slowly crouched, and pressed a finger on the small injury. It was not meant to hurt him. She simply dragged her fingertip against the open flesh until her nail was coated in blood.

There, so close Ayame could count her eyelashes and he did, so focused he was on here, she tasted the teen's blood. She made a sound of realization upon doing so.

A droplet of his blood fell from her fingertip onto the grass.

"Huh… as I thought," she said as if she had discovered a particularly incriminating secret. "You were foolish enough to resist and stall your defeat. Thanks to that, I was able to discern something. Your blood…"

Kalawarner sniffed the air deeply, much like a hellhound detecting an unusual scent during a hunt. She grimaced then, nose and lips twisting into disgust. As if she had accidentally smelled a stench so horrible it merited a response out of her normally impassive character.

"…Your blood smells unusual. It's dense, mixed with disgusting amounts of unpolluted magical energy. Any normal human would be dead by now. Yet, judging by your state, it seems you still have some life left in you. That's enough proof for me."

She twirled her spear around, scorching the grass with its burning-hot edge. The woman took a finishing stance, seemingly ready to skewer Ayame with a decisive strike and kill him for good.

"You're not human. The amount of anima you're producing is not normal. I will not take any chances and let a dangerous creature run amok. I shall take responsibility if it turns out you were an innocent person… so be still and accept this attack with dignity."

Ayame kept giggling. He slowly rolled on his back, giving his executioner a clear target to hit.

The kill would be instantaneous. That spear would slice clean through his brain, killing him in the span of a second. As such, he had nothing to fear.

If anything, Ayame was mildly disappointed it wouldn't last.

"Farewell, boy."

The weapon retreated a little. It shot out powerfully seconds later, much like a gun. Ayame felt his forehead heat up as the manifestation of magic got closer and closer, and smiled. Then-

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, little Fallen Angel~"

-It completely stopped. The bullet of light and death stopped millimeters away from perforating the young man's skin.

The Fallen Angel who was about to kill him retrieved her spear with a twist of her wrist. Seemingly having lost all interest in him, she twirled around with careful and cautious movements. Ayame took this opportunity to drag himself into a sitting position, despite his pained body. He had to see who had stopped his merciful execution.

Standing a few meters away was a figure the boy knew all too well. Of course, she would be the one to halt the fun.

He squinted, peering into the darkness to make sure the shadows and pain weren't playing detestable tricks on his mind. Oh, that would be the cherry on top of the cake. He wasn't ready to hallucinate of the woman who disgusted, bothered him the most in the planet.

After he effectively recognized who was there, concealed in the shadows of the trees, Ayame rolled his eyes. He shook his head, forgetting his throbbing spine in order to show his disapproval of the world's convenient coincidences. He also did it because he wasn't weak. He wasn't going to appear weak right in front of the most annoying thing in the universe.

She would never let it go. He shuddered at the imagined teasing he would unfortunately have to listen to.

"…Aren't you a sickening sight for sore eyes, Himejima," Ayame grunted sarcastically. "Is it too much to ask of you to disappear? I'm in the middle of something with the lady over here."

Indeed, Akeno Himejima was standing there. Still dressed up with the school uniform, she crossed her arms and calmly walked into a situation that most definitely didn't concern her.

She giggled upon hearing Ayame's commentary.

"Ah, aren't you a sweetheart, Ayame-chan?" The aforementioned boy decided to scowl at the response. "I was passing by, taking a relaxing night walk. I just happened to find my dearest classmate about to be terminated by a big, bad, curvy woman, and I couldn't resist helping~"

"I much prefer to be horribly murdered than to be saved by you."

Akeno laughed once again.

"Allow you to die, and let this wonderful chance slip from my fingers? Nay I say, Ayame-chan. This is the perfect opportunity to get you indebted to me. It's obscenely delightful to think I would be able to order you around. Just imagine the possibilities~"

"Enough idle banter, Devil." Kalawarner interrupted the back and forth of the teenagers, her voice every bit still as commanding. "State your motives to be here before you share this boy's eventual fate."

Akeno stared at Kalawarner. She nodded to herself in understanding with a low hum.

"It is as you say, dear. We should settle this matter quicky, as time is scarce," she concluded. "Would you mind letting that young man live? I will take responsibility for any kind of verbal harassment he may have put you through~"

The blue-haired woman sniffed, clearly not sharing Akeno's forgiving mood.

"And what if I say no?"

Akeno narrowed her eyes. Her perpetual smile did not leave her lips as she tilted her head sideway. The moonlight highlighted half of her pale skin and impossibly exquisite traits as the rest was suddenly shrouded in the gloom. A demented doll, half-darkness, half-light. It was an obscure picture.

"Then I would truly enjoy partaking in this deadly contest. I shall demonstrate you the difference in our might." She pointed an accusatory index finger at the woman. "But I reckon you already knew it would turn out that way despite my response, didn't you?"

Kalawarner did not respond. She simply pointed her spear at Akeno, taking a firm fighting stance, ready to clash with her at a moment's notice.

"Glad to see we're on the same page…" Akeno caressed her cheek with one finger, which descended and traced the curves of her neck. She opened her hand slowly, lightly touching the spot where her carotid beat under her skin before looking at her pristine fingers. Her smile twisted into something darker, something grave. "Hope not ever to see Heaven. I have come to lead you to the other shore; into eternal darkness; into fire and into ice…"

Akeno's melodic voice acquired a theatrical intonation as she whispered the last words. It teased and mocked all in one. Familiar, yet dripping venom.

Kalawarner tensed up. So did Ayame.

The young woman dragged her right foot, tiptoes sliding against the pavement in an arch, till it was delicately positioned behind her left leg. She tilted her head in a mockery of a bow, one hand behind her back. The other was extended towards the person she was confronting.

"Shall we dance, milady?"


- ~DxD~ -

Issei liked red.

It was his undisputed favorite color. Since his younger years, it had been his favorite color, the one he reached for when he had to draw and the one his eyes settled on when he was lazing around. He noticed it in the nook and crannies of his town. He collected autumnal leaves for their shade. He had once tried to garden just for the pleasure of caring for flowers that bloomed a vibrant red. His brother's jibes hadn't killed his enthusiasm. Hee had pressed the flowers and kept them in the few books or magazines that he liked, using them as fragile bookmarks.

If someone took the time to ask him for the reason behind such great love, the teenager would say that it was just a matter of personal taste. Liking that particular color didn't need a profound reason. He just did. Why go all poetic or think about it too deeply when it could be so simple and yet so beautiful?

Flowery language was not his forte. It also sounded a bit too snobby to describe his favoritism of the color. He just liked red.

As if everything he liked had come into a fateful mix, her hair was also red.

The skin of his cheeks wrinkled and rippled as a smile deformed his face. Ah, she was so beautiful. So very beautiful it almost hurt.

The sole thought of her was enough to make him feel glad about life. He didn't know why. She was beautiful, just like any other woman. She elicited the same mirthful reactions from him, as any other beautiful girl would. Yet, she was quite more…

'Gremory-senpai…'

It was funny. Even now, he was still thinking about women. Issei wanted to laugh at his own inconsequent thoughts, typical of a teenager over the clouds. He needed to laugh. He needed to be red, to be fire in the flesh, to act alive.

An exhale escaped his lungs through his nose in a semblance of a laugh. His entire ribcage rattled and creaked. His lungs screamed at the air that was coming and going. They never satiated their need for oxygen. Blood bubbled from his innards to his tongue, a wave of steel and life. Instinctually, he tried to keep it inside.

He only succeeded to choke on his own blood. His efforts made him cry and whimper as more pain came crashing down on him. His flesh was an island, earthquakes tearing his joints apart and blood drowning him in a tsunami of red. Pain washed over his body as he coughed his guts out.

Specks and dots swam in his sight. Red drowned one of his eyes, making him erratically blink and cry at the intruder. Sparks danced and died as he tried to move his head.

Issei… could only see red. It was all he could smell. It was all he could hear.

Red was everywhere, drowning his senses in its disgusting slobber. It shouldn't have been disgusting. Red was supposed to be beautiful, warm, gentle, kind.

The clouds seemed on the verge of crying blood, plump and dark. They were ready to cover the world in the same infamy that covered his aching body.

The bright, bright, bright moon glared a deep crimson light at him through the cloudy sky. It was a stain in his vision, one that didn't disappear, even when he blinked to chase droplets of blood from his eyelashes. It had sullied his eyes, carved a place in his cornea that would never fully heal nor leave.

His bleeding vision fed a nightmarish version of his hometown into his brain. It was sullied. Everything was sullied and tainted. His favorite color, his town, his memories, his body, all was corrupted. Nothing was left untouched.

In that instant, Issei felt something he had never before. Something violent, something powerful. Something that had fangs and claws and screamed at the injustice and pain he was suffering wit frustration and indignation. Something that pulled at his innards and howled for retribution.

Pain receded.

He blinked as if he could adjust his sight and make the dark thoughts disappear. He only managed to squeeze out small tears that distorted the tenebrous landscape even further.

There was so much red… and so little of warmth. There was so little of life, Issei thought in the part of his brain that was yelling angry orders at his body. His mind whispered back that if he wanted life, he needed to grasp it and not stay put on the ground, prone like a lamb ready for the slaughterhouse, dimwit.

...That was something Ayame would say.

His heart began beating faster and faster. Each deranged pulse shook his body from the core. More blood erupted from his throat and trickled down his lips. Breathing had never been more complicated, more painful. Thinking was hard, the angry part of his brain digging its claws and bucking to keep him conscious.

Issei wasn't a stranger to this feeling, however.

.

.

.

"-Will you die for me?"

.

.

.

His breath hitched at the memory. His broken fingers juddered as he dragged his nails across the ground to ball his fists. His teeth chattered. Maybe, out of instinct, he forced his vocal cords to work, to articulate his fears.

"…N-No…" he murmured. "…Not… a-again…"

Every cell in his body screamed in agony. Although there was pain everywhere, a certain part hurt more than any other.

The center of his abdomen burned. There was a pit in his stomach - a void. From it, it felt like blood was leaking out. And Issei knew. He knew that wasn't the case, that there was no hole in his stomach. But he still felt it. It was a scar in his mind. It throbbed, interrupting his attempts to remain conscious.

"What a pitiful scene, creature of darkness."

A tortuous instant passed before he managed to understand the scornful words directed at him. His mind grasped the words, mixing them and rearranging them in a blur. His blood chilled despite his hot body. Something grim ran up and down his spine as forewarning. Every time it reached his nape, a headache came into being, aching.

Issei tried to move his head to look directly at the source of his fear. He stopped trying milliseconds after his neck creaked abnormally. His vacant stare at an empty direction was that of the dead man who failed to acknowledge his death in time. Yet, his strained features and quivering lips still exposed his lingering vitality.

"Your repugnant smell is that of a bona fide Devil." The true Devil, the one that so terribly hurt a defenseless kid without mercy, analyzed. A tinge of deep resentment settled there, on the last word he pronounced as if it were an insult.

"But your flesh is as fragile as a human child. And your soul, a fickle flame barely tainted by ambition."

He was approaching. Issei could feel the earth tremble and quake. Or maybe he was the one trembling and shivering as the avatar of death approached him? Was his executioner miles away, or just mere centimeters? He couldn't tell anymore. It didn't matter. Death cared not for distance. Its only interest was time, and Issei's was quickly running out.

"The power of sin is absent from you, young fiend. Your desires are ephemeral and impermanent. You have feeble determination. Any other exemplary of your kind would have easily survived such a moderate attack. You're already experiencing shock."

A shadow and his fluttery coat, resembling wings, swayed across Issei's line of sight. The dark expression it showcased spoke of disappointment. The teen thought there was some pity hidden there too. Maybe he was just hallucinating.

Maybe he would wake up in his bed soon, and Ayame would mock his nightmares. Issei would laugh too and caress fragile pressed flowers he used as bookmarks. He would be able to enjoy favorite color, his favorite people, and his life-

He choked on the liquid that was supposed to power his body. It tasted like broken hopes.

"The other youngster seemed even more brittle than you, and he still presented some fight. Impressive… for a walking corpse," continued the shady man. Issei's thoughts were everywhere and he failed to decipher the meaning of his words at this point. Issei was going where no one could follow. "It almost stirs my conscience to end a powerless boy in these ignoble conditions…"

The teenager's survival instincts and wishful thinking misinterpreted the man's pointless comment. Issei imagined scenarios where his brother came to rescue him, and both of them returned home. He was missing his mother's warmth, and his father's relaxing attitude. He wanted to see them. He wanted to thank his brother, for everything. For the jabs and the insults, the companionship, the one-sided games, the push that permitted him to live just a little longer.

At least, he wanted to say goodbye to all of them one last time.

"…Almost," the dark figure whispered.

It was such a small word, breathed out so softly. It extinguished Issei's flame all the same.

He was going to die like a street dog. Dirty, bloody, and alone.

Empty space warped and contorted, followed by an audible distortion. Seconds later, power manifested in the man's hand. It transformed, morphing from a sphere of light into a long, burly javelin of considerable proportions. It was weightless, spectral, yet every bit as lethal as its earthly variant, or even more. This weapon was not one meant to kill mere humans, but existences that far surpassed the concept of humanity itself.

Used on Issei, it was not different from murdering a mosquito with a handgun. Nothing of him would remain after being struck, not really. He would just be a big splatter of sticky red on the ground.

"However weak you may be, the less Devils there are walking around, the better."

The spear shone dangerously, the red hue that had overcome Issei's sight granting the weapon a sinister appearance. Time seemed to slow down as the instrument of demise carefully drew practiced patterns in the air with its sharp point.

A breath, a choke, a heartbeat. A sizzle, a blur… a coming death.

Thunder distantly rumbled within the clouding sky. The sounds rolled from above and eardrums quivered. Lightning sparkles followed soon after, incandescent lights dimming the Moon's violent halo for a fleeting moment.

Then…

Red.

The bloody curtain that washed over his vision got darker and darker. Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes turned into hours. Hours turned into days, and so on. All of a sudden Issei was witnessing the end of his life in the span of a millennia. Every single detail of the horrible act was carved into his conscience. Every morbid possibility passed across his imagination in a flash of wicked creativity.

The slight curve of the javelin. The too perfect nails that decorated a too perfect hand that was holding a too perfect weapon. The twisted expression on the man's face as he studied the boy as the boy studied him. The pity. The anger. The fear. The sadness. Everything, etched in his mind, forever.

"—Ah."

Issei didn't want to die.

He couldn't die.

Red was he could see. Red like blood. Red like fire. Red like her hair.

His mind reddened as frustration, helplessness and anger mixed into an explosive combination of feelings. The fuse inside Issei's brain was igniting. All unnecessary sensations were shut down by adrenaline and outrage. A grave voice chuckled in the back of his mind, purring in satisfaction. It disappeared in the backdrop moments later.

The brunet balled his shattered hand into a fist. His fingernails cracked as they pushed against the cold, moistened pavement. Five trails of blood corresponding to his fingers were painted on the ground. He clenched his jaw and felt his teeth crack and shatter.

.

.

.

It was red. His blood was crimson red. It was on his hand, it was leaking from the hole in his body, and it was forming a red lake of death beneath his feet.

Maybe, in an attempt to forget what the gory scene entailed, her image came into his mind instead. It was the image of a gorgeous lady, with hair as red as blood.

If he was going to die, at least he wanted to do so in her arms.

.

.

.

Rias wouldn't save him. Issei lost the summoning fliers when Ayame pushed him to the ground. Searching for help was stupid and would only get him killed all the same.

He racked his mind for an answer. Desperately, he searched in every single memory that he could instantly recall, tried to come up with all kind of futile and ridiculous solutions, all for the sake of living to tell the tale.

It was only when a sharp object pressed against his left leg strongly enough that Issei's consciousness returned to earth. Such mild discomfort was like a sweet caress compared to all the pain assaulting his nervous system. Almost as if a soft hand was tracing patterns on his numb skin from the ether, trying to appease him.

What was that...?

'Ah… right… it was the…'

The red permeating his vision got slightly clearer. His breath hitched, and a rush of oxygen miraculously made its way through the clots of blood in his throat. It was not fear that stopped his thinking, but realization instead.

Rias' gift. The miraculous amulet that was supposed to grant all wishes and make all cravings, however absurd, become reality. It was a Devil's final tool, one that would give any human a short moment of happiness before their death.

An incredible power, a loophole, all contained within a small pendant.

It could only be called a miracle…

…And a death wish.

.

.

.

You see, souls are very valuable. They are the cornerstone for magic itself. Without soul, there's no magic. And for someone to use a magic so mighty without a spirit strong enough to withstand its cost… what do you think will happen, Ise?

.

.

.

His only way out would also become his end.

If Issei didn't die by the hand of his enemy, he would do so by his own will to live.

And…

…Such a thing didn't fucking matter.

Like hell he would give up his only option just because things seemed grim.

And if he wouldn't see another sunrise ever again, then he was satisfied with being the artificer of his own death.

But the boy was not stupid. He was still clinging to life. He just needed to think; even if thinking wasn't the department he excelled at.

His left hand emitted sickening sounds as it unclenched, broken bones trying to mimic the movements they once performed so naturally. The limb snaked across the ground. Time dilated and Issei expected the spear of light to fall down at any moment.

He only had time and energy for one wish. If it would work or how would it work weren't problems he cared about. Issei was only focused on his next words, his final breath, and the dying whisper that would carry his wish in the air.

Could he wish to teleport somewhere else, away from danger…?

No. The amulet was magical, but its only power was to strengthen a person's intrinsic abilities. Issei couldn't use magic in the first place, meaning he couldn't pull it off, and certainly not with extreme luck.

Besides, even if he did, that would mean abandoning Ayame…

And what if he wished for this man, Dohnaseek, to die…?

Neither. In the miraculous case it actually worked, that eliminated the most immediate threat to Issei's life. He was still mortally wounded. He would die of something else.

What could he wish for? It had to be something, something useful that allowed him to survive… something that wasn't so greedy it would burn his soul away…

"—Ah… hah…"

More desperate gasps and breaths that smelled like metal escaped from his bloody lips, as another realization hit him.

Healing. All living creatures had some degree of healing, ranging from closing wounds on the skin to paste broken bones together. The only hindrance was the time it took for those wounds to heal.

It was nothing short of a contrived idea.

Yet, with no time left and the man standing alongside ready to kill him, Issei took the risky decision.

His bloodied and crispy fingers infiltrated the left pocket of his pants. There, buried right at the very end of the confined space and shrouded in darkness, rested his apparent salvation. Dry skin brushed against the sharp edges of a circular form. It didn't take long before Issei's hand encircled the amulet completely.

"…Please… h-heal me…"

A moribund undertone was all he could muster to say. Words so feeble and debilitated they couldn't have been more than a thought someone spoke by accident.

Yet, unknowingly to Issei, that was more than enough.

A loud ring screeched in his left ear. It was a deafening. For a moment, it became infinitely more painful that whatever he had experienced up until now. The pain wasn't like an injury on his flesh. No, it went much deeper than that. Something foreign, something powerful, was invading his body, tearing it up and going to the deepest parts of his very being.

A sizzling sound came from every direction soon after. The crimson shade clouding his vision acquired a vivid tone. Issei was looking through his bloodied vision no longer. What he perceived was fire. It was real fire, crackling and swirling violently. This flame wasn't in the outside world. It was inside Issei, burning and melting him from the inside. The teenager gaped, almost mystified, as he observed how his flesh was liquefied and turned into lava from within.

Naturally, he felt what it was like seconds later.

"Gah… hhaaaAAAAAAAAAA-!"

"Hmm…!"

Startled by this, Dohnaseek's spear faltered and didn't kill the boy immediately.

All of a sudden the little oxygen he had left was used only for screaming. It was the only action he could reasonably do. Simple words wouldn't have done justice, explained in extreme detail what he was feeling. It eclipsed all kinds of pain Issei or any normal human for that matter ever felt.

An invisible force was crushing and twisting him around. It tore his muscles apart, grinded his bones to dust, dissolved his organs. Then, the phenomenon reversed itself with the same intensity. His anatomy became a blob of flesh and bone before slowly taking form once again. Every cell, every drop of blood, was guided by an influx of energy. A mindless power that only obeyed the sole purpose it was summoned for in the first place: to heal Issei's body.

"HAAAAAAAAA… Gah… blurgh…!"

Issei trashed around and howled at the top of his lungs like a man lit on fire. 'Pain' was too sweet of a word at this point. What took over his body, what forced it to repair itself, was something evil that had no face or name. Something unnatural, that went against the very laws of nature. Being someone originally born in an ordinary lifestyle, Issei was instinctually averse to this thing that stirred him from inside.

In the back of his mind, he berated himself. What Issei had accomplished was signing a contract with the Devil - even if that Devil was himself. And contracts with the Devil would obviously have a fine print, a small ambiguity that was open to interpretation.

To heal Issei's body, the amulet would first destroy it - or at least it felt as such.

The moment he regained a sliver of lucidity, the left side of his body didn't hurt anymore. Issei's pain-filled shrieks had ceased. His sight, once a curtain of dark and nightmarish red, was now half-normality and half-nightmare. His healthy eye glanced with dizziness at the mystical spear that would signal his death, dangling above his body.

"Resorting to petty distractions, Devil?" said Donaseek with an annoyed tone of voice. "You'll have to scream louder if you want to deafen me. Although I would prefer if you became silent, forever."

He raised his weapon once again, resolutely. This time, it didn't seem he was stopping.

"Die."

And the spear was brought down.

A gasp journeyed through Issei's drying lips. At that moment pain wasn't his complication. Only a primal survival instinct remained and allowed him to act.

Issei could move. His body could move. He did just that.

The brunet propelled himself with a sudden movement, left hand and foot pushing his body upwards. Either for his fast reaction or his enemy underestimating him, he had a time gap long enough to roll over his right side and barely avoid death.

He didn't need to see it. The fissures going across the ground and beneath his body showed that the spear had missed its objective, shattering the ground close by instead.

"Preposterous…," murmured Dohnaseek under his breath. He sounded pensive as he dislodged his weapon from the ground with ease. "…You shouldn't be able to move, let alone evade an attack of mine in your current state."

'Evade' was an overstatement. At most he was pathetically slithering like a reptile. His right leg was still broken and some ribs were in inconvenient places. The weight of his body pressing down onto his injuries didn't make the process less tortuous either.

The amulet was burning. Issei could barely think rationally, only focused on ensuring his survival and escaping the pain. He tried to unclench his fingers, to let go of the cursed artifact that was healing and killing him. But it didn't abandon his hand. It was stuck, weld to his skin. Almost like a leech sucking out his blood.

"Healing magic, perhaps? It would make sense if you were highly skilled. But you're clearly as versed in the ancient arts as fire is cold."

The man shared his personal appreciation as he walked around the teenager, observing him, belittling him.

The difference in strength and skill was obvious. Dohnaseek was particularly set on getting that point across.

"Maybe you possess regeneration of some kind? It seems unlikely." He walked up towards Issei, immediately discarding another theory. "Strong Devils are particularly resilient. And that isn't the case with you…"

When Dohnaseek was within range, he lifted one foot and kicked Issei up.

"…See? You're small and feeble like a feather."

The teenager was in the air for some seconds. Then, he hit a wall. Issei unwillingly used the obstacle behind him to support himself, landing on his two feet and barely managing to stand up.

"Guh…!"

The kick itself wasn't very hurtful. No, if anything, what really hurt were his bones popping back in place at insufferable intervals. Still, the injuries he received were no more at this point. They disappeared as if they weren't there.

But another problem was showing up. Issei was sleepy, tired.

This wasn't normal tiredness. His body was growing cold. His heart beat at a slower rate.

At some degree, Issei knew he was running out of time and energy.

"Haah… haah… you old fucker…" spat the brunet to his enemy when he regained his breath. "Why are you so damn fixated on killing me…? I haven't done… anything…!"

Dohnaseek remained silent for a bit. He then adjusted his fedora in a way that allowed Issei to look at him in the eye. Darks orbs stared at the teenager with an indescribable look. Issei fought to stay awake and maintain his gaze locked into his opponent's, unwilling to break visual contact. Issei wouldn't give this bastard the satisfaction of knowing he was stronger, or that he intimidated him.

"I do believe you, youngster. You don't possess killing intent or seem that much of a warrior. You may be brave at best, but are still a frail boy." He stopped for a bit, and took a deep breath while closing his eyes. "The stench of innocent blood does not permeate you, either."

Issei's anger took a confused turn. Before he even thought about a response, the middle-aged man beat him to it.

"My hate for your species is a strong motivator, but this is not a personal matter. It's clear by your scent you're an impure Devil, a reincarnated one. And without a master controlling the flow of demonic power within you, the evil piece you hold will start to corrupt your spirit. Sooner or later you will begin feeding on souls to satiate your hunger. Your personality shall be overridden with desire, leaving nothing but a shadow behind."

The brunet couldn't make sense of anything in that explanation. Upon seeing the teenager's confused expression, the older man couldn't help but to chuckle. He continued speaking regardless, now with a pitying tone.

"…What a pathetic, poor boy. Did nobody warn you?" he asked, smiling as if the whole ordeal was funny for some reason. "Servitude to a Devil master takes away more than your pride and freedom of action. It's a coercive need too. Small fry like you should know better than to abandon your master."

Dohnaseek twirled his spear around with finesse and took a more imposing stance. Issei gulped at the display, knowing he was getting serious.

"But that is inconsequent. I don't need to explain much else to someone who will perish."

Communication was a dead end. The brunet should have known better than to try to understand this person. There were no words, no arguments that would convince each other.

Issei wanted to live, and Dohnaseek wouldn't settle with any less than his death.

The only thing left to do was to fight. And Issei could do that much. But his heart yearned for a win, a victory. At this point in time, getting out of this alive seemed more like wishful thinking.

Issei got shot with energy projectiles, thrown around like a ragdoll, and beaten up to the point where he could barely move. What could he do to turn the odds? What did he have, what could he use to his advantage?

The amulet was out of question. It had saved him... but he refused to make another wish. He wouldn't let something like that get inside his body ever again.

How, then?

Distant whispers hummed through the hopeless thoughts. Recent memories cut through his hazy vision. Nostalgia and gloomy reminiscence took him back to the night of his death, and the day after his new life began.

Why was he in this situation? How did everything come to this? Why was he here?

Why did he die in the first place…?

.

.

.

Yeah, right. It was because he had a… a Sacred Gear.

'Sacred Gear'. It almost sounded like a fucking joke. There was nothing sacred or holy about something that led to his death, something he was born with, something he never wanted. Its name implied he was blessed in some way for having it. Given the results, Issei was sure it was a curse rather than a blessing.

.

.

.

Since Sacred Gears produce their own anima, you just need to synchronize your feelings with it and it will respond accordingly by appearing in the real world.

Try closing your eyes, and go on. If you have the potential, powerful emotions will trigger its manifestation.

.

.

.

Fine, then. What was the point of having a 'blessing' if he couldn't use it?

This was not a matter about being able to win or not. Issei had to win.

He followed his master's orders, and closed his eyes.

.

.

.

I realized that my big brother is a very cool and strong person.

.

.

.

He closed his left hand around the amulet. His powerless body found renewed strength in Hope. Hope could give wings. Despair was fueled by Hope. It annihilated the last barriers of his mind, digging its hideous fangs on Issei's last beliefs and convictions.

"Let's put an end to this," said the man, resolved. He walked towards Issei. "Dealing with a weakling shouldn't have taken this long."

.

.

.

I also want to be strong. Not just for me, but for others too.

.

.

.

There it was again. That 'sensation' he felt some days ago, when he tried to connect with his innermost feelings. Not unlike a feeling of completion, a sensation of fulfillment. It was a pleasant tingling, a shiver coming from nowhere and going everywhere. Issei felt it reminiscent to making the pieces of a puzzle click correctly.

There was a part of his person missing, hidden. Issei clawed through the darkness of his consciousness, grasping something that existed and at the same time didn't exist. Only he knew it was there, surrounded by the substantial nothingness of his soul. It belonged to him and him alone. The teenager was ignorant about why it was there, what it was. But he instinctively knew of its existence only when he focused enough.

His judgment became clearer. The more he focused, the more he felt his existence to be 'accomplished'. Soon enough his mind understood the metaphorical presence, the incorporeal blueprint, of this object - his very own Sacred Gear.

Only then this power broke through the ethereal realm and settled itself in the real world.

.

.

.

Anyway, you gotta promise me this-

.

.

.

Then he opened his eyes. And he saw red. Not the false, dreadful red that signalled his demise.

It was genuine red; a vivid crimson light that throbbed and pulsed at the rhythm of his heartbeat. It coated his left arm, enveloped him with heat and power. It brought him a feeling of completion.

This was it.

Will turned into unbreakable steel. It embraced his left arm, cladding it into something rigid, powerful. A red gleam shone from the warm metal. In those few seconds of dangerous stillness, almost like an afterthought, Issei knew. This weapon, this Sacred Gear... it looked like a gauntlet.

His fingers clenched one last time around the amulet. As he did so, he whispered.

"Give me strength…"

It wasn't a wish to the amulet. It was something Issei asked from himself.

Issei asked Issei to not give up, to clench his fist for a while longer, to keep moving forward just a bit more. Just a bit more.

.

.

.

...Don't you die on me, okay Ayame?

.

.

.

"Hmm? What are you… doing…?" Dohnaseek was steadily left speechless as he gazed upon the miracle before him. His expression twisted into something grave once he understood. "Impossible. How could a weakling like you have a…!"

Issei clenched his teeth. His eyes fully snapped open. Bravery fixed his defeated posture into something stronger, prouder. And so he pounced, like a lion without claws or fangs.

Dohnaseek didn't waste any second and reacted to Issei's act of resistance accordingly. He kicked off the ground and lunged at his opponent, leaving a blast of wind behind his feet. His cyan-colored spear shone brighter as it thrust forward to impale the boy who refused to die.

The few meters that separated them became miles. Issei lived through a slow version of this event. His sight shrank and shrank. Both fighters ran—almost skidded—at velocities unperceivable by the naked eye.

"Feeble determination, my ass…!"

The teenager steeled himself as the world blurred.

He clenched his left hand. The amulet that saved him cracked and shattered, unable to withstand the pressure any longer and reaching its limit.

"…I…!"

The crimson embracing his left arm ignited with strength. Its blurring color became an incandescent flame. As he prepared his fist for this one strike, an emerald flash seemed to glitter on top of his hand.

"…I WON'T DIE!"

And then they clashed. Fist against spear; prey against predator; ordinary against supernatural.

The world hit a standstill. The place was so quiet, so halted in it the aftermath of its bloody conflict; it truly appeared to be separated from time and space. Both concepts seemed to lose prevalence and applicability. No insignificant human limitations truly mattered where humanity couldn't set foot in. In the grander scheme of things, the Universe and its stone-clad laws ruled. Yet, within this confined setting of fantasy and monsters, only desire and emotions prevailed.

Maybe it was that inconsistency, that loophole in the natural order of things, which allowed Issei to keep on living.

.

.

.

A shock reverberated through the ground, leaving more fissures across the battlefield. There was a sound, a potent clamor from the collision. Yet, everything was quickly and overwhelmingly silenced soon after. Perhaps it was the irritating quietness that came after that made it seem like there was no sound at all.

It didn't last long.

Drop after drop of water fell from above until it turned into a full-blown rain. The sky was too cloudy and the wind too fresh, so it was to be expected.

The cold downpour became fiercer. The dark street was already reflecting some of the moonlight piercing through the black sky back at its source. The intensity of the raindrops ultimately snuffed out the noise of blood falling onto the ground.

Dohnaseek stumbled backwards while panting unceremoniously. His immutable posture was completely undone. The fedora obscuring his visage fell on the watery ground because of his unstable movements. It seemed he was indeed a middle-aged looking man of flesh and bone, and not some sort of shadowy spirit possessing equally shadowy clothes.

His right arm had been disfigured. It was a twisted mess, pointing at different angles at the same time. The blood and rainwater didn't help to suppress the smoke that arose from it. Even with the dim light one could see the burn marks across his arm. In some twisted way, it was a reassuring sight. Dohnaseek bled just like Issei. He showed weakness like Issei. Even his surprised look turning into one of outright animosity was too reminiscent of a normal human.

He still wasn't, of course. Issei was just grateful that he wasn't fighting against a force of nature or an abstract concept, but an actual being that could be brought down from his pedestal.

Yet, that was the best he could do.

The boy was still, frozen. Opposite from Dohnaseek, Issei remained in the exact same position he had at the moment of the clash. His left fist was thrust forward, every muscle of his body lurching ahead so as to put the greatest amount of strength in his first and final attack.

The image probably inspired some sense of strength and power. Issei himself didn't feel any of those remaining within him.

Blood and torn skin fell off from his exposed knuckles. The crimson that manifested over his arm lost its luster, its might. It cracked apart, and consequently broke down. Piece by piece it dismantled itself and fell onto the ground like scraps of worn down metal, disappearing from the physical world in a dance of red fireflies. The amulet he was still holding shared the same fate as it quickly turned into dust

"…It seems you're a bigger threat than I expected." Dohnaseek's statement began with an irritated tone, but quickly subsided into his usual laidback demeanor. "You pulled trick after trick on me and it finally paid off, brat. You broke my arm."

Issei began trembling. The brunet couldn't maintain his stance any longer. His knees gave up and his shoulders slumped. Now he found himself in the same manner as before, at the mercy of his enemy.

Flexing his arms against the cold pavement was the only thing that kept him from falling completely. He stared at his reflection on the humid ground. It was the image of a spirited boy who just had all his hopes crushed. He wanted nothing more than to punch that damp image away from his sight. He didn't, because he knew it wouldn't erase the despairing expression that twisted his young features into something awry.

He heard a distorted sound. When he looked up, he saw the inevitable. His enemy was holding another spear in his uninjured hand.

"I suppose hiding your Sacred Gear was an interesting strategy to take me off-guard. Yet, it takes more than one strong hit to strike me down."

The man walked up to his victim. This time he wasn't playing around.

"This has been a most amusing night, youngster," he said with almost genuine satisfaction in his voice. "Now, perish."

He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die.

He had to stand up. He didn't want to die. This couldn't be happening. Why him? What crime did he commit other than existing to merit this chain of unfortunate consequences? And why he, with the entire predisposition he had to live, couldn't go through this obstacle?

Even if he cursed his fate, it wouldn't change.

Issei was going to die, and he couldn't do anything about it.

The spear was raised. Its point was aimed at Issei's head.

The raindrops evaporated as soon as they touched the spear of energy.

Dohnaseek kept a completely unfazed look.

Issei kept his head down.

His sight was slowly taken over by darkness.

"…Is this… my limit…?"

A distant rumble. An approaching tempest. The wild crackle of thunder.

Its beginning was enough to distract both Dohnaseek and Issei. Almost by pure instinct they diverted their sights towards the epicenter of the phenomenon before it happened.

A powerful tremor shook the earth violently.

Pure radiance descended from the dark sky and arched downwards the street. The night was illuminated with deadly brilliance as humongous branches of lightning spontaneously materialized. They ultimately converged into one powerful beam of energy that furiously hit the ground. It pulverized the place it struck and sent vibrations throughout the street. Everything in the vicinity of the vicious bolt was destroyed. Pools of water were propelled upwards only to rain down once again.

A heartbeat passed after the lightning descended. Then, after the initial flash diminished in intensity, only smoke remained.

Issei and Dohnaseek observed the scene in front of them, dumbfounded.

Just in the place where the lightning had landed, there was movement. It was complicated to see through the rain and darkness, but they both saw it all the same.

She was barely recognizable from before. Her clothes were charred and her hair was puffy. Black marks, product of extreme searing, coated her once unblemished skin. The beautiful woman that accompanied Dohnaseek moments before now lay there, apparently defeated. All the fortitude and elegance she once sported had evaporated.

"What is the meaning of this, Kalawarner?" Dohnaseek's question was tinted with confusion and dismay. "Don't tell me the other child was the one who did this…"

As if hearing his inquiry, the answer presented itself before his eyes.

Another figure rapidly fell from the skies. It soared and then planted its feet on the ground with grace and delicacy. It still managed to form a crater by the sheer force of the landing.

With a confident smile and arcs of electricity dancing like luminous snakes around her body, Akeno himejima made her flashy appearance onto the main stage.

She was completely soaked by the rain, her wrinkly uniform being proof of it. Yet, the electric energy surrounding her didn't harm her in the slightest. If anything it became brighter, wilder. It almost behaved like it had a will of its own.

"Have you enjoyed your first class flight, Fa-llen-An-gel~?" chimed the young woman as she approached, putting particular emphasis on the last word's pronunciation. The electricity around her coiled and slashed at the water around her. "We apologize for the turbulence and strong winds, but it seems we have been caught up in a rather electrifying storm. Regardless, we strongly urge you to choose Himejima Airlines for your future travels. We are dead set on providing the best, most pleasurable service, at the lowest price~"

She bowed a little, the mocking tone never disappearing.

"The cheapest option right now comes at the cost of your life. No refunds~"

Her blood-chilling speech paralyzed everyone. Eventually, Akeno straightened up her posture and coughed in her hand. She caressed her face with one hand while holding her elbow with the other. Staring at everyone except Issei in an imperious manner, she spoke.

"Kalawarner, was it?" she said to the injured woman. "You tested firsthand my strength. Why don't you talk some sense into your partner over there and negotiate your surrender? I would love to roast some naughty 'birds' tonight, but I have other matters to take care of."

Akeno seemed to relax a bit as she explained herself.

"I can certainly understand your decision to keep fighting against the odds if that's the case. As a Japanese woman, I respect blind bravery in the face of adversity. It's in my blood after all~" her gaze acquired a ruthless edge to it as she said that. "Do understand that if you withdraw, you will leave in one piece. If you don't… well, you will leave in several pieces instead. Get what I'm saying?"

She allowed the message to linger a bit more before delivering one last warning.

"So, Fallen Angels? Do you want to risk your life so you can murder a human and a weak Devil?"

She made no more offers after that. The raven-haired lass expectantly waited for their reply.

The Fallen Angels, as Akeno had labeled them, exchanged a silent message through the loudness of the rain and the murderous intent of the young woman before them.

After a short yet unbearable moment of consideration, Dohnaseek's spear disappeared from his hand instantly. He simply turned around and said no more than necessary.

"Let us depart, Kalawarner. We have no further business here."

Giant shadows—wings—erupted from his back. He didn't even wait for a reply. Dohnaseek was already suspended in the air.

Kalawarner shakily stood up from her place of impact and mimicked the action of her partner. "…I agree," she simply murmured before accompanying the other Fallen. The duo disappeared within the night sky, dark figures blending in with the storm.

Issei himself remained where he was, stupefied.

"H-Himejima-senpai…"

Akeno set her eyes on him. She approached with a cheerful smile and an inviting countenance.

"Let's go now, Ise. Ayame-chan is waiting for us."

Upon hearing that, Issei's lips turned into a quivering smile.

He did not have any way of knowing, since it was raining. But he felt like he was crying. At least Akeno wouldn't notice.

"…Y-Yeah, let's go!"


- ~Author's Note~ -

That's all for now.

This chapter was going to be much, much longer, but I preferred to separate it in two chapters or it was going to be too much to correct. I never thought I would cut a chapter down, since I always try to write the right amount of words. At least I have material for the next update!

So, this time, I decided to respond to specific reviews so I could address some points or just simply salute you all, instead of being general. I will do this once in a while, but not much, because it can get exhausting.

The followings reviewers were present for chapter 3 (and chapter 2, some of them):

"Swoogan": Your hypothesis about Ayame's body is pretty accurate! I congratulate you for nailing it down at the first try!

"Vendre": I update this story whenever I think it's best to do so. I did say so at the prologue. This is to ensure that my chapters will be high in quality!

"ygrekks": I'm glad you enjoyed Ayame's character! I tried to write a character that was certainly dark, but not in the sense of being ruthless or just downright a beast, like others. I wanted something bleak that a meaning to it.

Also, I do understand your irritation with the lack of leisure time for Ayame and Issei to be at peace, but that's the point. The supernatural world is not going to wait for them to get comfortable, and I want to convey that constant danger. As for Ayame and magic, don't worry! He didn't 'discard' it. He just pushed it aside because, even if he has seen it in action and has some clues, he needs something concrete to work with. He's an open-minded (kind of) person, but that doesn't mean he instantly knows what to do with something unknown like magic. He was a somewhat normal human before dying, despite his little problems.

Vritra is a close call, but it's not Ayame's Sacred Gear. You're going down the right alley, though!

"Deadzior": It makes me super happy you like the story and Ayame! I tried to create a character that didn't exactly follow the same tropes as other OCs of this fandom (too many harems, honestly), and it seems it paid off. Don't worry, I'm also kind of tired of Gary Stues and boring power fantasies, so I'm trying to not make the same mistakes. People grow through struggles and challenges, and it's something I really want to show in my story!

"luiseduardob303": Don't worry my dude. Just because this story has the possibility of romance (which is weird, I know), doesn't mean I will change my characters' personalities without a reason. I'm trying to make sense within my own creation, and I assure you I will not stray from the ideas I first showed just to replace them with others. Consistency is key.

"TatsuyaShiva4": Thanks for your input. However, you're missing the point. I want people to like my characters for who they are, and not for what they are. Would it be cooler if Issei had a 'badass' heritage, instead of being a Devil? Probably. Would it be good? No. Just because he has some cool background, or power, or heritage, that doesn't mean he's a good character right off the bat. It just means there are more elements surrounding his character. Elements I can easily replicate without making him a god, or the son of a god, or something similar.

It also works the other way around. Just because Issei doesn't have the spotlight all the time in my story, that doesn't mean he's not good at all. Issei is basically the deuteragonist of the story, and Ayame cannot finish his own character arc without Issei acting as a foil. There's a reason I decided to keep him, and it's not to use him as comical relief only. Issei is a normal guy trying to live a normal life, yet he also has enough mental strength to face dangers that no normal person would be able to. He's valuable as a character and a person, even if he's not 'cool' at the moment.

If you cannot appreciate Issei for who he is, and prefer a 'badass' Issei with the depth of an actual spoon, then I would recommend looking the other way and find another story. This one may not be for you. Nobody is forcing you to read something you don't like, either.

"Lovnag": Thanks for enjoying my story! I didn't exactly base Ayame on Hachiman, but they're really similar now that I think about it! They're both very cynical, they're both very prideful, and they don't really care about themselves, amongst other things. Thanks for mentioning it, good sir! I will look into him more often to get inspiration.

"Wacko12": Be patient! Ayame will slowly discover what he can do. It's just a matter of time: ;)

"Purple Rainmaker": I really understand your dislike for most stories in the DxD fandom, because I feel the same. From time to time I try to search something that may just be different, but it always ends up spiraling down the same clichés and things everyone has seen by now. With that in mind, I try to not fall in the same hole and stray, even if it is just a little, to make my work something truly enjoyable. And I will work towards better chapters to excite you more!

Those are the most recent reviews I wanted to answer to. To all of you who weren't mentioned, I also hoped you enjoyed the story so far! I couldn't have written so much without you guys' support. You're the best.

Now, as always, tell me what you liked about the chapter! And what you didn't! Which character was the most interesting? Did you enjoy the action scenes? Did they get you a bit emotional? Tell me all about it!

I managed to write this chapter in less time than the previous one. It seems the goddess of luck is smiling upon this poor writer. Let's hope I keep getting blessings and not curses.

With all said and done, I will retire and rest for now. See you next time, guys and girls!

(24/2/2020)