Life. 5 Zenith Tempest, Dulio Gesualdo.

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Dulio's eyes shot open, followed by a sharp gasp and attempt to look around. His sight was blurry. All he could hear was a buzzing sound. He couldn't hear the commands that were being shouted nor the cries of fear. He couldn't hear the bullets and beams piercing the air. He couldn't hear hell.

He could really only hear his heart thrumming.

This was a nightmare, it better be.

Struggling, he tried to pick himself up, but a firm hand on his shoulder pushed him back against the pillar. He then felt a warm light washing over him, healing the injuries his brain was still unaware of, "… down!"

Dulio winced and covered his ears, it's as if someone were shouting to him straight to his ear - somebody with a damaged microphone, who was articulating sounds they've never used before. He tried to see behind the darkness and blurriness of his eyes, only seeing two unrecognized figures crouching in front of him.

"… ear me?" Something shoved his hands away from his ears, and lightly slapped his cheek to keep him conscious. There's a pause, "…lio?"

This voice sounded female and soft-spoken than the previous one. The sensation he had on his brain being molested was gentler, now.

"Dulio. Can you hear me?" The female repeated. It became clearer: the syllables now formed distinctive tones, relaxing and calm, even if they were under attack, "do you understand me now?"

"Griselda?" Dulio said with a hoarse throat, blinking away the black dots covering his vision, "What's… happening?"

Despite the tight spot they were in, the woman felt a relieved smile spread across her face, "Stay still. Diethelm is treating your wounds."

"It'll take a while," Diethelm informed them, his hands releasing a golden radiance that covered on Dulio's wounds, "but I'll do my best to heal you, Dulio."

Dulio inspected his body and his heart missed a beat. Half his flesh was scorched and covered in dry blood. For a second he thought he was a corpse. The moment he peeked down, the adrenaline left and his brain fully reacted as the pain throbbed in his wounds, deep and warm, but not in a nice way. He wanted to scream but refrained from doing so. Diethelm's Sacred Gear was doing a world of good to his blackened body, but the healing process seemed a bit slow for his taste.

He tried to recall what had led to this, how was it he was here and in this state. Then it clicked, "Who… who attacked us…?"

Griselda checked behind her shoulder, where the fight was raging on, "We have no clue," she ducked to narrowly dodge a stray bullet, "… the attack must be led by terrorists, that's for sure…"

"Terrorists who have on their possession an army of Independent Avatar Sacred Gears," Diethelm added, not taking his eyes off his patient, "Behind us is literally hell! Where did they even come from?!"

"Focus, Diethelm!" Griselda hushed him, "Ask questions later. Until then, concentrate on healing Dulio!"

"R-right!"

Dulio trailed his gaze at his surroundings, spotting several exorcists being nursed by the nuns and priests while hiding from the battlefield, they were victims who were caught by the purple flames as well. Judging by their expressions, they were already traumatized. Unfortunately, none of the nuns and priests had a Sacred Gear that patched up injuries as effective as Diethelm did, forcing them to do it in the traditional way.

Few of them were roughly around the age of Xenovia and Irina. Children who were raised in church facilities and were unsuccessful to be adopted, choosing the life to fight enemies of the light for various reasons.

Because they felt they were endlessly indebted with the Church.

They lost the reason to live, therefore, they'd signed up for exorcist service as a means of having a reason to feel alive.

And lastly, they wanted to be like him. Of all three, this one was the one he despised the most.

What kind of big brother would encourage his siblings to participate in life and death situations? The children in those institutions… most of them died before becoming adults. The children with no talent were killed while trying to obtain power and be like him. Dulio saw all this through his own eyes.

Dulio couldn't lay down here when young lives were close knocking at death's door. While everyone was already risking their lives on the battlefield and he was in the background, hiding.

He was the Strongest Exorcist, after all, a title he'd inherited from Eminence Strada. If people were to see him in this fatal state, it could crush the morale of many exorcists, especially those that had chosen him as a role model.

They needed their big brother, more than ever.

"… Even if I have to sacrifice myself, I will protect all of this," Dulio ignored the desperate cries of his wounds and rose unsteadily to his feet. He pushed Griselda's hands away before she could reach him, "H-heal the children and take them somewhere safe! I'll join the fight."

"You're crazy," Griselda hissed and tried to push him down, only for the blond to whack her hand away once again, "Dulio, listen to me!"

"They… they need me!"

"You're in no conditions to fight!" Griselda snapped, "just look at you!"

"What do you expect me to do?" Dulio matched her tone of voice, "Hide and watch?"

"Too many cooks spoil the broth!" Griselda glowered, " at least wait until Diethelm pulls you back to your prime… It's a miracle you made it out alive, Dulio!"

Dulio grounded his teeth, "… You don't understand… I can't just —!"

"You're not our only capable fighter, Dulio!" Griselda chided him like a parent that's disappointed in their child's behavior, "the Cardinals and David Serro are here as well. Let them take care of this."

"Indeed. There's nothing to worry about anymore, young Gesualdo," the three jumped after the inspiring voice of Vasco slowly neared, "the sector is clear... for now."

That would explain the lack of noise; no longer could they hear the bullets bouncing off the walls nor the screams coming outside the vandalized Church. The former was a relief, but the latter gathered concerned reactions.

Dulio's gaze darted upon the entrance that was blown away by the purple flames minutes ago, now replaced by a curtain of what appeared to be a black miasma. It surprised him how it didn't get past the hallway yet.

"I blocked it with a holy seal," Griselda responded as if she had read his mind, "… we thought at first it was smoke or just mist made by vampires… we have learned it was something way worse..."

Dulio paled. He tried to dash where death was ensured, but a powerful hand on his shoulder had immobilized him, "I acknowledge your optimism and bravery, young Gesualdo," spite of the praise, Vasco's voice was tarnished by a solemn tone, "… but sometimes, we must swallow the harsh truth and move on. I wish I could've done something to save them…"

The scene forced Dulio to bite his lower lip and look away. The floor was covered in puddles of blood and corpses of artificial animals, perhaps the independent-avatars Sacred Gears that Diethelm had mentioned a minute ago. Priests and nuns rushed after the latest, injured exorcists and escorted them somewhere safe.

Those who didn't make it were still taken out for a proper burial.

What a disgrace.

He could've done more, way more.

Way, way more!

"This isn't your fault, Dulio," he heard Diethelm struggling to dismiss his guilt, "No one blames you for this. No one."

Vasco gave Dulio a single, comforting pat on his back to before giving him the space he'd silently required, "What happened to young Quarta and young Shidou?"

"Away from this," Griselda replied, "I ordered them to guard the Pope and Eminence Legrenzi until everything is safe."

"It'll take a while, unfortunately," Vasco had nothing but bad news, "… while the attack took a few of our people, this only appears to be the first wave of their destruction."

"We should call for backup then!" Diethelm interjected.

"We can't," Griselda said while failing to, once again, construct a holy circle, "They crippled any method of communication to the outside world… obviously, these terrorists are the ones behind this."

Diethelm frowned, "Why not aim after our weapons while they're at it?" he gestured at his Sacred Gear, Holy Resuscitation, as an example, "this appears to be anything more than a minor handicap!"

"Don't give them any ideas, young Waldseemüller!" Vasco quipped before explaining, "On a serious note. The whole Vatican is locked in a dome of magic that makes us unable to request help from Heaven or any nearby settlement. They are easier and quicker to make, simple as that. It would have taken them a lot of time to disable our equipment."

"… For those outside the Vatican City it's just a normal day," Griselda glanced through a cracked mirror, "they're unaware of what's truly happening."

Ewald slowly removed his Excalibur Replica from one of the many animal-like machines. His mind trying to decipher everything he was slapped with, from the reason behind the terrorist attack to the major heads who'd proposed to target the Vatican. Devils, Fallen Angels or even humans who were against their teachings.

They were just recovering from the outbreak that had lapsed four years ago and the invasion of the cadre Kokabiel and now this? The survivors behind him were already murmuring to themselves if this was the divine punishment that the bible warned about.

Ewald won't deny it, it seemed like it.

Whatever it is, they had to figure a way out of this without inhaling a single cloud of miasma encircling the Church. Indeed, those who didn't succeed in finding shelter were suffocated by the lethal gas. The whole Vatican City was gassed. They were the last survivors. He prayed he was wrong and somehow the minority locked themselves in a building.

The lack of air wasn't an issue, they had Dulio to supplement the place with sufficient oxygen they needed with his Longinus, Zenith Tempest.

In fact, the Strongest Exorcist could be their only key.

He'd heard from the fellow Cardinal that the Vatican was locked in a barrier that impeded them from calling for any backup and escaping. They could shatter it with ease, a single strike from Eminence Strada's fist or even Dulio's Longinus could release them.

But there was a gaping hole on his plan, "The gas would break out and spread across Rome and perhaps engulf Italy itself," he clicked his tongue and put his mind to work, "we have to wipe it off first before making any reckless move."

Lint bent down on her knees and poked one of the machines with her gun, "… What are those?"

"… Utsusemi," David breathed out after recognizing the Avatar Sacred Gears and the girl jumped back to her feet, "… what are they doing here?!"

Lint's breath hitched a little, "… L-like the ones you and big brother Freed fought in Kuoh back then?! Those Utsu-whatever they are called?!"

"If these things are here then that means…" David didn't reply back, his glare freezing over the engulfed entrance, "… he's here as well."

"Who?" Ewald urged David to continue, "Who is it, David?!"

Right on cue, the holy seal made by Griselda cracked and shattered like a window.

The gas slowly leaked inside the hall, alarming the survivors.

"Dulio!" the Strongest Exorcist barely heard the shout of Eminence Cristaldi behind the commotion of priests and nuns, "Blow it away with your Sacred Gear!"

"On it…!" The blond struggled and brought his arms up as a powerful breeze escaped from his torn sleeves, managing to push back the toxic air away from them.

A wince was proved of his weakened state as he dropped his arms. Diethelm hurriedly resumed where he left off, "Stop," he insisted weakly while steading his feet, "go… go heal my brothers and sisters..."

Diethelm wanted to gnaw his nails at this point. Aside from overextending his usage of his Sacred Gear, the tension was seeping his energy away. They knew that luck had run out for them, it was a matter of time before the figures behind the raid finished what they had started.

"If I don't prioritize you first, everyone will be doomed," Diethelm finally got a grip to respond, "… we need you."

They needed Dulio in shape and quickly. But those purple flames left him in a poor condition. Currently, the Strongest Exorcist was breathing heavily and, if it wasn't by Diethelm's Sacred Gear, could pass out at any time.

Dulio was still in opposition, but begrudgingly dropped his head and the quarrel. It pained Diethelm to be the one slapping the blond with reality, that was Griselda's work, but it seemed the responsibility clung over his shoulders at this point. Plus, Dulio needed a wake-up call for him to contribute.

A laugh erupted from the now cleansed corridor. A moment later, the figures behind the invasion stepped inside, followed by an army of Utsusemi with a few crawling from the ceiling and the walls.

The situation went south once they spotted the people they'd brought. They had taken hostages. Could this mean that a few made it out alive?

Everyone wore a gas mask, even the captives, except for two of them. One of them had equipped a helmet that hid their identity while the tallest of the group had his face exposed, his lungs unaffected by the contaminated air he had just inhaled minutes ago.

The violent aura his body exuded was frightening to the point that Eminence Strada's donned an impassive, unexpressive mask. Even Dulio had chocked a bit. Perhaps the strongest opponent he had encountered until now.

The exorcists raised their guns and took aim.

The Utsusemi opened their jaws to reveal their cannon muzzles, ready to spread murder.

A pregnant silence wrapped over the hallway, neither of the two parties dared to move a single muscle or take the initiative.

"… Burga, be a dear and take care of the entrance," his voice was deep because of the mask, not tearing his sight from their enemies, "No one enters, and no one leaves."

As the entrance was once again blocked by Walburga's magic and the air was verified to be breathable, they began reaching for their masks.

"Sorry, we came at a bad time?" the man tore his gas mask off his face and pocketed it, "I hope not. I'd love to tango with the warriors of the church for a bit."

David growled and unsheathed Galatine, "Satanael!"

The name alone brought negative reactions from the good side.

"I see they brought the Maou descendants into this as well," Griselda observed, her gaze lingering over Creuserey, "… is the Old Satan Faction recruiting different races aside from pure devils now? It must have been difficult to get off that high horse of yours."

Creuserey's upper lip curled in disdain, "Thousands of years and humans are still as flippant as ever," he looked down on her, "when are you going to understand to respect those at the top of the food chain?"

"My respect is only for the Lord," Griselda told him, "not to a pure devil, even less a terrorist."

Before Creuserey could come up with a bicker of his own, his head began to throb. He massaged it and spared a side-glance over Mastema who, surprisingly, wasn't affected by it, "… T-this fast?! the church is already wearing me down…! Let's get this done already, Fallen Angel!"

Meanwhile, the traitor of Grigori was dumbfounded, to think anyone would figure out his identity in the blink of an eye was the last thing he expected. He didn't even have the honor to show-off his black wings yet!

Then again, knowing Azazel and how much he'd loved to open bridges and warn other pantheons about potential threats, Satanael had to expect this outcome.

The Governor-General had contacts of everywhere. Everywhere.

He roamed his curious eyes over the exorcist who'd exposed him and snickered, "Mah, mah… it's you. You're the Galatine User I'd mopped the floor with Danny-boy's peerage four years ago. What a small world we live, ah?"

David said nothing, sticking to glare daggers at the brunet.

"Where's your brat, Freddy or whatever his name is…?" Satanael regardless kept the conversation rolling, unfazed by the animosity between them, "Wait… don't tell me you fucking lost him!"

"Y-you have him!" Lint accused him as she aimed at his head, "You kidnapped Freed! W-where is he?!"

Satanael laid the holy-demonic sword on his shoulder, it pulsed an ephemeral blue, "Freed, Freed, Freed… did I kidnap him or not…?" he rubbed his chin in a mocking manner and shrugged afterward, "Nope, sorry. You got the wrong guy, sweet thing."

"… You're lying."

"Cross my heart and hope to die then! Don't worry, I'll give you a call if I find him!" the unconvincing accent of the brunet managed to further irk the girl, "Although, I know where Siegfried is. Danhauser Belial got him."

Dulio might have imagined it, but he thought he saw the Devil with the helmet on clenching his fists very slightly at those words. Even so, he held his tongue.

"H-he is alive?!" she lowered her gun slightly and turned to her teacher, saddened and relieved at the same time, "Y-you told me he died…"

Ewald also fixed his glare over David, "Indeed you did."

Satanael grinned at the speechless David, "Telling lies~?" he teased and focused on the perplexed Lint, "Sweet thing, do you have the slightest clue about the purpose of your birth and those of your 'big brothers'?"

"T-teacher…" David's heart jumped a bit, "W-what is he talking about?"

David was ready to come up with an explanation, but stopped halfway, unable to meet those red eyes of hers, "I…"

"Mah, mah. Let's drop it here, I'm not here for an extra dose of drama," Satanael stated before winking at Ewald, "See something you like?"

"… Arondight," Ewald revealed after recognizing the sword, "… that weapon doesn't belong to the likes of you, Fallen Angel."

Arondight gave a demonic and holy aura. How?

If it wasn't by the savage grin the Fallen Angel sported and his different hair and eye color, Dulio would have guessed this was the Archangel Michael in different garments, "… finders keepers, heard of that?" he retorted, "… but hey, I'm willing to cut you a deal and save us the bloodshed."

"Aw, no fight?" Walburga whined, "boooriiiinggg~!"

"…" CC stayed quiet, but he inwardly agreed with the witch. What a waste of his time.

Diethelm blinked, "A deal?"

"You damn crow…" Creuserey growled behind his teeth, "Stop playing and hurry up!"

"Caught your interest?" Satanael ignored Creuserey's slur, "I'll be blunt. I never ever wanted to attack a Church connected to Heaven."

Griselda scowled, "Then why attack us in the first place?"

"Following orders," Satanael cryptically replied, "Back on track, I'm after two things that you guys got in here. Give it here and no one gets harmed. Easy, right?"

Ewald narrowed his eyes, "… even after gassing innocent people and taking detainees… you think we are prone to negotiate with a murderer?"

"Wasn't the Church behind poisoning the 'failed experiments' of the Holy Sword Project?"

"Do not involve the whole Church by the actions of a single man, a sinner," Ewald's face remained professional, but his words could cut steel, "Galilei is already paying the price in the Frozen Hell Cocytus, you can join him and ask him personally if you want."

"Nah, I'm good. I'll take your word for it," Satanael waved him off, "Look, you don't need to be a genius to know we got this fight in the bag already. It'll be smart if you put your weapons down and play along."

"He's right," Creuserey was baffled how easily Mastema could speak, wasn't he getting a headache from being inside the Church as well?! "… if it's true Satanael is after something, just give it. There's no need for more blood."

"Finally, someone with a working brain," Satanael exclaimed, "Just swallow your pride and move on."

"You are confusing pride with dignity," the Violence of Heaven shoot back, "The Church won't commit to your atrocious acts of chaos and destruction."

Satanael stared with half-lidded eyes, that disgusting voice already getting under his skin, "Mah, mah. Is my sight screwing up with me or is that the Vasco Strada? The Übermensch who had managed to frighten the actual Maous back in his youth? What an unpleasant surprise! It's been a while, Übermensch!"

Rather than going on the offensive, Vasco's body opted for a defensive stance. Übermensch. A nickname he thought he'd shoveled into the grave with his old hands long ago. A title he'd wished he would never hear, not even in the afterlife.

This Fallen Angel either had done his homework by scavenging intel about him from multiple sources or he had been stalking him since he was young.

Either answer frightened Vasco, especially when he had moved on of his past.

"Apex of Humanity…" Dulio heard the strongest amongst their enemies repeat, his mixed eyes firm over Eminence Strada.

The smirk that had spread across his face tightened a knot of unease in Dulio's stomach.

Vasco never lowered his sword as he tried to refresh his memory, "I hope you can forgive this old man, Fallen Angel, for he has the memory of a goldfish now," he hesitated, "but have we met before? I don't recall seeing someone such as yourself."

"Of course not. If we had met face to face, I'd be sleeping with the fishes," Satanael casually poked the tip of Arondight. His vulnerable stance was perfect for a clean attack, but they had hostages and thus held back, "… I was there when you made Kokabiel your chewing toy back in World War ll. And from there, I decided to stalk you until the war sewed off. Tsk, tsk, tsk…! I didn't like what I had seen so far!"

Vasco's aged heart skipped a beat. He was right all along, Satanael knew of him, "… who are you?"

"It's a bit too late for introductions now. Besides, you know my name already, so what gives?" Satanael warded off his stare from his sword to the old man, a viperous smirk on his face, "Hey, humor me here… how much have you changed since those days?"

Vasco smiled with no humor behind, "A lot. These years weren't too kind to me, you see. My white hair is already falling off."

"Stop playing the dumbass. We both know I wasn't poking fun to your looks. You know very well what I'd meant to say."

"… Something tells me you don't like me."

"What makes you think that?" Satanael snorted a half-hearted laugh, "You became a member of the College of Cardinals as a Cardinal Priest with the higher-ups not batting an eye at your war crimes! Give me a fucking break. We both know you don't deserve it."

"Watch your mouth. You are addressing the current Apex of Humanity," Ewald reminded him, "Tread lightly."

"You may know him as today's Apex of Humanity, but I and his victims knew him as The Übermensch back in the days," Satanael then spat out, "Since all the good fellas will say nothing, I shall say it to you!... Vasco Strada, you sicken me. All the crimes you've committed in the past just proves how low and hypocritical humanity is. A monster like you deserves no sympathy."

"How dare you insult Eminence Strada!?"

"Eminence Strada represents the virtues and accomplishments of humanity!"

"He's the most extraordinary person the human race has ever produced!"

One after other insults were launched like harpoons to Satanael who was immune to each of them. His silver eyes preying over the gigantic figure of Vasco Strada, waiting, begging for his crop to bear fruits.

The way his siblings were defending Vasco's name brought a smile to Dulio's face that slightly fell off once he'd witnessed Eminence Strada's expression. An emotion he never thought he would ever notice on the wrinkled face of Eminence Strada.

"… You use some killing words," Vasco felt his grip over Durandal Replica weakening, almost releasing the sword, "to humiliate me in front of the young people I look up to. You… you are a terrible Fallen Angel."

"Don't let him get inside your head, Vasco!" Ewald warned him, but the damage was sowed already, "He's playing you!"

Satanael cocked his head back to laugh, satisfied by the expected results. He just needed to create tension between them and done, "But am I lying, Übermensch?!"

"… no, you are not."

David turned to the old man, aghast, "Vasco…"

"At least you have the dignity to admit it!" After pondering about it, Satanael decided to throw him a bone, "At least you're decent, and here I thought you were just an—!"

"But if you think opening old wounds would get this old geezer sentimental then… then forget it," Vasco paused before continuing, "I…I am here to put an end to your schemes, not to weep about my past."

Everyone bought it. His voice was firm and he'd never stuttered, confidence that alleviated all the exorcists. Yet, the small pause Vasco had taken before speaking, questioned his sincerity.

Humans were sentimental creatures — Satanael thought. A few just excelled in keeping their minds clear during dire times.

An impressive feat that ruined his plan. The subtle hints he had 'accidentally' dropped about the Übermensch were ignored by them. No one seemed to hold a single thought of distrust or grudge over Vasco. He had seen a few in the background tilting their heads in confusion, but other than that, nothing.

Being the actual Apex of Humanity certainly came with its benefits, one of them being charismatic.

Satanael glowered, unaware that he was clutching his sword tightly, "Übermensch, be honest. Where do you think you deserve to go? Sodom or Canaan?"

Vasco took a moment before answering, "Hah… you got me on the fence there. I don't know. And that's why I refuse to die by your hands. I need the Lord to judge me, to know whether I deserve to walk through the gates of Heaven or Hell. That is enough. Whichever answer is fine."

Satanael felt his eyebrow twitch for a bit, it was too late now, "…Guess today you gonna get your hands a bit dirty, CC."

"I hereby swear. The joy of the exorcists is my will, their victory is my glory, and the place that I can call home is here the Church..." Vasco brought a fist to his chest, "Blessed be the Lord for guiding me to the Vatican, my prophet, my light, my... shining beacon."

"He's not so different from the previous Apexes of Humanity," CC smiled in amusement, "It's not some sort of special power, but he has the ability to easily pick himself and anyone up even if the odds are against him. And that is one fearsome ability… that's why he's a potential candidate."

"Warriors of the Vatican!" Vasco's voice carried far and wide across the hallway, "We are the sons of the Lord who birthed this land! It is ours by right and by birth!"

He was glorious at that moment, and Dulio would have followed him to the very end of the world if he asked him to.

He raised his weapon high and the dim light of the Church shone from its polished blade, "We shall fight to our last dying breath! Our Lord commands it!"

A cheer began in the Vatican ranks and was swiftly carried to the other regiments in their small army, they took strength from his words.

A heartwarming moment, but futile to make Satanael change sides, "Last chance, deal or not?"

"What a stubborn Fallen Angel," Ewald half-sneered, "quit wasting your breath now. You won't change our minds."

"Whoa, stubborn? Big words coming from you, Cardinal Deacon."

Griselda saw Dulio taking a few steps forward and quickly interjected, "Dulio you—!"

"I'm sorry, but I'll stop you there," he offered her a faint smile, "This is the Vatican. Peace must be maintained. And my cute siblings are scared as well. So that's why I have to fight with everything I got. To my last breath like Eminence Strada had said."

Even if Dulio spoke with a joking tone, the serious look in his eyes told Griselda he wasn't going to sit this one out.

"… If you die, I'll kill you."

Despite the tight spot, Dulio managed to laugh nervously at her empty(?) threat.

"I'm still not done but time is against us," Diethelm lips pressed into a thin line, "Just watch yourself, Dulio."

Nothing else to add, Diethelm hurried after the wounded.

"Huh, poster boy getting into the fray? Time to prove yourself, Mastema!" Satanael shoved forward the aforementioned character, "Make sure to keep him alive. I'mma stick him in my window and cool my house once we're done wiping the floor."

Dulio watched as Mastema unwillingly invoked a spear. He had his gaze and weapon down, then in a long second, he brought it up and pointed at him.

The blond saw it. Hesitation. Perhaps his first mission? Nervous to displease his superiors or afraid of dying?

It didn't matter which was the answer. Mastema had made his final decision. And Dulio would return the threat in kind.

The Strongest Exorcist felt lightning dancing on his arms. He knew it was best to fire right away, but there was so much riding on this. They had hostages. They were exploiting their weaknesses already.

The terrorists pushed them in a tight spot. They had to put their priorities first. Rescue the civilians.

Shoving those thoughts aside, he glared at Mastema. He knew that even if his opponent wore a helmet, he was glaring behind his visor as well.

He couldn't tell, but the sun was close to its zenith by now, but a shiver worked its way down his spine. His mouth was suddenly dry. He could feel tingling in his fingertips.

Was it fear? Perhaps.

Or, maybe, just maybe, it was a premonition of what was to come.

He prayed to the Lord that they would make it out alive.

"Shame we had to handle this on the hard way," Satanael released a genuine sigh, "… I wasn't looking forward to killing each one of you. I'm just here to fetch something."

"My brothers and sisters in arms here may be righteous, but not any of you," coldness came from Ewald's reply, "… Today, each one of you will face His divine punishment, sinners."

"I thought Pops would always forgive our sins."

"The Lord forgives everything," Vasco agreed, a dangerous aura twisting around his body, "But I'm just a simple old man… so I don't have to. Amen."

"… I may despise your existence, but I can't make fun of that abnormal strength of yours," Satanael commented, a hint of respect behind his sharp words, "… you're frightening Übermensch. Lucky me, I've found your other half. Get in there, CC!"

CC advanced forward and brought up a clenched fist, "Fight me, Apex of Humanity," the man with heterochromia challenged, his dominant voice shacked everyone's will, "Fight me. I may be able to find the end that the Evil Dragons must head to after fighting you."

"Evil Dragons?" Griselda perked up uncertainly, "… could it be…?"

"I am the Crescent Circle Dragon Crom Cruach," many of the Exorcists panicked by the boast, "and I challenge Apex of Humanity Vasco Strada to a battle!"

"Mah, mah, CC… what's next? Gonna grab the hem of your dress and do a curtsy?" the Fallen Angel was joking around, his light-hearted tone made it obvious, "… What's the point of giving them your name? You just sold your identity for nothing."

Crom Cruach paid him no mind.

Meanwhile, Vasco furrowed his eyebrows. The dragon was staring at him intently and didn't move an inch, almost confusing him to a statue. Was that a dragon tradition that he wasn't aware of? Stating your title and name to your opponent before trading blows?

Was he waiting for his response?

"Seriously, you dragons and your warrior-like traditions don't make any sense to me. Whatever, just keep him occupied with a dance or something," Satanael opened his arms wide, "Whatddya think, Übermensch? I've made the right choice to call him over, ah? You and CC are a perfect match made in Heaven!"

"If it will keep the others safe…" Vasco took a deep breath and made sure he stood tall, making him look imposing, "I, Apex of Humanity Vasco Strada, accept the challenge from Crescent Circle Dragon Crom Cruach!"

After exchanging glares with the Evil Dragon, he spotted the honest smile across Crom Cruach's features. He gave a good first impression.

Creuserey grunted, "Finally. The sooner we kill them all, the sooner we can leave these forsaken wastes."

"I'm afraid you won't leave this place," David said, readying Galatine, "… Your allies will have to find a suitable replacement. Unless they did as we spoke."

Creuserey cackled darkly, "Our strengths differ by a wide margin and yet you smack talk. I could kill you right now. But it would be far crueler to prove you that I am right."

"Oh, this is getting exciting~!" Walburga's eyes shined with a strange light as she chanted, "… The anointed one was fixed to the sacred cross. By the high priest of the purple fire, the sacrifice is on fire."

Behind her, a cross made of fire appeared and started to morph. Landing on the floor was a giant gladiator kindled by purple flames. It wore a helmet as well the armor befitting of a gladiator. In its grasp was a holy cross made of the same flames. Its figure was splendid, four meters tall was the Avatar of Incinerate Anthem.

The giant gave a war cry and waited for further instructions.

Walburga giggled innocently, "Ooohlalala, there is nothing more entertaining than burning believers with the flames of their Lord~!"

Dulio felt a shiver across his spine, his mind recalling the reason behind his wounds.

"Incinerate Anthem," Ewald recognized the Longinus, he wasn't happy by the discovery, "… one of the Arma Christi fell in the hands of terrorists? Sacrilege."

"Ooh? And whatcha gonna do about it? Arrest me?"

"No," Griselda replied, "We're going to take it back."

Satanael grinned, "You can try! Onwards!"

The Utsusemi came slowly, their pace deliberate. On every third step, the machines hammered their tails on the floor. The noise was profoundly unnerving, a slow drumbeat that sapped the will of the Exorcists who were soon to feel the tips of those shark-like teeth.

Dulio gulped, his heart hammered in his chest. He looked to Vasco for strength, to take courage from his indomitable presence. His jaw was set, his eyes hard. This was a soul who knew no fear, who rejected doubt and stood firm in the face of destiny. A war veteran.

Sensing a gaze, Dulio glanced down to meet the frightened red eyes of Lint and many other exorcists close to her age. He bit his cheek. Of course, because he was the Strongest Exorcist and as young as them, they'd preferred him as a role model than Eminence Strada.

Overall, if he hesitated, they would as well. If he was scared, they'd be as well.

He recovered the courage to smile at her, "Snack?"

An opened bag of chips laid in the palm of his hand.

Her incredulous eyes darted from the half-empty bag to his carefree expression and finally shook her head. She couldn't eat. They couldn't eat. Not now.

"Are those chips? I'll take one if you don't mind," Vasco said, taking one and biting it in half. Dulio ate one as well, and the pair of them chewed thoughtfully.

The Utsusemis mouths glowed, ready to fire.

"Good chips."

"Spicy as well." Dulio replied, "I always buy one for long missions."

"You got a fine culinary taste, young Gesualdo."

"Thanks."

Lint looked back and forth between them, unable to reconcile the mundane nature of their words as an army of chaos marched upon them. And yet, she felt soothed by it.

She giggled, and her giggles turned into laughter. And that laughter swiftly spread.

The two Cardinals were laughing, and soon, without knowing why, their entire army was laughing. The fear that had threatened to undo them all now fled. Fresh resolve filled their hearts, and feet steady on the ground.

"Fire!" Satanael gave the Utsusemi their signal.

And the fight began.

Before the machines could even react, Dulio released a burst of wind that stumbled everyone except for Crom Cruach and Vasco. He saw the gladiator raise its cross and slam it down over the hostages. He countered by encasing the captives in a huge bubble whose layer slowly turned into an armor of ice. The cross bounced off from the frozen bubble, further angering the giant and swing its weapon furiously.

A torrent of water impacted with the burning body of the titan, not only pushing it away from the orb of ice but making the gladiator smaller and accidentally invoking a thin fog onto the battlefield.

Luckily, it didn't seem to affect their sight.

He sharply turned over the charging Utsusemi and drew elements from his Longinus to his palms, he launched them toward the machine. In an instant, the metallic swarm was entombed in ice, battered by rocks, and ripped apart by vines and lightning, all at the command of the Strongest Exorcist.

"Don't call it a day yet!" Satanael snapped his fingers, "there are plenty more where that came from!"

And to prove his point, Satanael covered the floor with teleportation seals and Utsusemi came out rushing from magic circles to the exorcists.

Using the wind attribute of his Sacred Gear, he floated into the air for a better view of the upcoming battlefield. Apparently, the enemy could still, use teleportation magic regardless of barrier or not, they had hired a good magician on their side.

Dulio looked back at the Utsusemi, who now came at them in a run. Bullets flashed from the lines of gunslingers ranged before them, and scored many kills, Lint was one of the shooters. Strong hides and armor spared some Utsusemi, but the range was so close that many fell with holes pierced clean through their bodies.

Another salvo plunged the Utsusemi, swiftly followed by another.

Many were down. Their line was ragged and disorganized.

Their infantry swelled forward in a unison, light swords summoned as they charged. A few were carried by the horde of exorcists behind them, a few managing to drag their blade from its sheath as they ran. All of them screamed to keep their fear under wraps.

They met in the middle and struck one another like thunderbolt. Swords swung and shivered, blades smeared with the impact. Driven by sheer will, the momentum of their charge sliced deep into their troops, splitting them and tearing their formation completely.

Many tried to stay close to Ewald, David, and Griselda knowing that where they fought, Utsusemi would fall. Dulio saw Ewald clewing machines by the dozen with his two holy swords, but could no longer see David. He soon lost sight of Eminence Cristaldi and Griselda in the heave and sway of surging exorcists and machines.

It was chaos down there.

Some were butchering meat, while others where precise on their strikes. You could see the difference in battle experience from their attacks alone.

Dulio tasted a strange texture to the air, like biting on burnt wood. He looked up in time to see the spinning globe of Incinerate Anthem burn with searing light. Walburga attending them.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust!" Walburga swept her hand down and the flaming sphere arced through the air towards them.

Instead of crashing on the exorcists, they were extinguished midway by a gust of air.

Blown off like a candle.

The supreme display of talent brought a choir of cheers from his allies.

"Are you fucking serious?!" Walburga fumed and threw more of her holy flames, easily getting countered by a wave of the blond's hand, "… Is this the power of the second-strongest Longinus?!"

"Don't just stay there, Mastema! Do something!" Creuserey roared after firing a torrent of demonic energy at David, the latter dodging with ease, "Make yourself useful for once!"

Dulio's eyes widened when Mastema blurred out of sight and teleported right in front of him, thrusting his spear forward. The tip stabbed towards his heart, but the blade redirected from his chest to slice across his arm. He remembered the pain, but little else. He hissed and jumped backward, only for Mastema to give chase.

Dulio tried to freeze his legs to halt his movements, but Mastema shattered the ice by hammering it with the haft of his spear and pressed on the assault. Their fight started and he was already in trouble. Normally his missions were done in the snap of a finger, he froze their target and called it a day. Dulio was just lucky enough to face off against someone strong enough to overpower his ice with strength alone.

He did notice his spear was surrounded by something. A faint, greyish aura that was easy to miss if you didn't pay any attention to the weapon.

It was enchanted.

What surprised him more was the fact Mastema was relying on close-quarters rather than using his demonic powers and Clan Trait. Devils preferred to stick on their old traditions than expanding their skills and equipment. Plus if they could avoid getting their noble garments stained in blood that's a big deal for them.

Either Mastema was unfortunate to be born without demonic powers or he was cocky enough to believe he could dominate the Strongest Exorcist with physical strength alone.

… Which Mastema technically was doing right now. Diethelm wasn't done on treating his wounds and Dulio excelled more in range attacks rather than hand-to-hand combat. He could only dodge his attacks and evoke a wall of ice between them, blocking any of them could severely damage his limbs and break a bone…

He could invoke hurricanes. He could invoke thunderstorms. But discharging the Balance Break of his Longinus right now was a double-edged sword. He could accidentally strike one of his teammates and even destroy the Church, letting the miasma suffocate them, killing them all.

Or worse, he could accidentally shatter the barrier and the miasma would roam the streets, consuming all life from the Vatican City to Italy… or even Europe as a whole. It would share the same casualties as the Black Plague… no, it would surpass it.

That's why he preferred going solo in missions. He could freely unleash a tempest over his enemies without worrying about hurting civilians or allies.

He needed someone who could distract Mastema while he aided from afar.

And his guardian angel heard his plea as Eminence Cristaldi pushed Mastema from Dulio's skin with his three holy swords. The blade made contact with Mastema's flesh more than once, the smoke coming from his small wounds were anything to judge by.

Experience bests youth.

Even after being poisoned by light, the faceless Devil was still giving a challenge, shocking him. A small cut from a holy sword was devastating for a Devil. He was even in the Vatican! A place surrounded by Holy Relics! Perhaps the adrenaline flooding on his system was keeping him conscious and tolerant to pain.

For a second Dulio had thought the tables had turned until Mastema was shoved aside by the Fallen Angel.

"Bullying newbies, huh?!" Satanael swung Arondight down and was met by the steel of Replica Excalibur, "why don't you pick on someone your own size!"

"D-Dulio!" Dulio heard the Cardinal Deacon as he traded blows with the Cadre, "Go outside and deal with the miasma!"

"How?!" the blond almost shouted back, but an idea popped in his mind and he nodded, "Leave it to me!"

But before he could retreat, the flaming gladiator charged straight at him for a second round. Roaring and swinging \ its huge cross, Dulio dodged the straightforward attacks and froze its legs, halting its movements, albeit momentarily.

Lighting cackled from the tip of his fingers and blasted at the giant, tossing him over the end of the room. The blond couldn't just catch a break, especially when a magic seal appeared beneath him and Dulio jumped out of the way as a fiery tornado appeared from the crest, piercing the roof.

Piercing the roof.

"The roof!" Dulio acted quickly and patched the fresh hole with ice before the miasma could crawl inside.

"Don't waste your time on it!" He glanced to his side just in time to see Griselda and Lint joining him, "Leave Incinerate Anthem to us!"

"Can you defeat it?" He asked, concerned.

"No," she admitted but never faltered, "but we can take him off your shoulders."

Lint nodded as she added a round magazine to her pistol, "We'll keep it distracted!"

As Dulio opened his mouth to speak, Incinerate Anthem announced its presence with a roar. It was up. It didn't have eyes nor emotions, but he could picture the humiliation and anger flashing in its orbs after being tossed around like a beach ball.

Lint rolled her pistol and fired over its body. The bullets left holes over its body, but they slowly were regenerated through flame.

It didn't inflict any damage, but it did well enough to annoy it and charge at them like a bull seeing red.

This was his chance. With the creativity of his Longinus, Dulio managed to blow a bubble through a circle formed by his hand and cover his head with it.

"I'll make it quick!" taking a deep breath inside the bubble, he blitzed out of the Church.

Unfortunately, his escape didn't go unnoticed, "Mastema! Stop the Strongest Exorcist!" Creuserey roared out after dodging a swing of Galatine.

Mastema's reaction was tensed but nodded and left the battlefield with a flap of his wings.

Ewald pushed onward, but the Fallen Angel easily forced the Cardinal Deacon on a knee with his superior strength. The cadre pulled back and quickly swung his sword once more with Ewald using the blade in his mouth to parry the attack.

"Now that's a strong jaw!" Satanael had a shit-eating grin and pressed closer to his face, "Satan-Class perhaps?"

Ewald's teeth sunk deeper over the handle of his third sword and felt the ground beneath him crack. He headbutted the cocky cadre and lunged to exploit his open posture. But before the tip of his sword could pierce flesh, Satanael invoked his ten wings and managed to barely intercept the attack.

Ewald was amazed, while in his grip was the copy-cat of a powerful holy sword, its edge was capable of even cutting buildings in half in the right hands. To think that the pitch-black feathers of the Fallen Angel could resist metal was impressive.

Backing off, Ewald saw as Satanael snapped his fingers and a katana materialized in his palm. His skin tingled by its radiance. Its holy energy was surreal, it rivaled Durandal and True Excalibur.

He broke from his stupor after catching a brief glimpse of an ethereal snake coiling around the blade and vanishing from sight. He thought it was a hallucination designed by Satanael's Arondight, but he even heard the hissing throughout the display.

He couldn't ignore it, it felt so real.

"You like it?!" Satanael gave a few playful jabs to the air while dismissing his wings, "You know what's cooler?! It can take the hat off an exorcist from miles away, watch!"

Pointing at Ewald's direction, the snake from seconds ago reemerged and lunged after the Cardinal Deacon.

Ewald barely stopped the snake from sinking its teeth in his face, using one of his swords as a scapegoat. The ethereal reptile hissed and shook the blade like a chewing toy. He tried to cut the snake in half, but his attack only passed through it. Like it wasn't even there.

The snake managed to dispose of one of Ewald's swords and went for his neck, but the Cardinal easily ran past it to clash with the Cadre with his remaining swords.

"Whoa, whoa! Easy there!" Satanael snarked, "What's the hurry? I'm not going—!"

He was interrupted once a shockwave hurled everyone into the air, the force strong enough to shake the ground.

In the middle, Vasco and Crom Cruach were wrestling. Their hands intertwined as they pushed one another for control. Unfortunately, despite being taller and muscular than the Evil Dragon, Crom Cruach began pushing the strongest human with ease.

Vasco tried to keep his spot by planting his feet firmly on the ground, but he just took the floor with him. He somehow broke free and landed a flurry of punches on Crom Cruach. The Evil Dragon took the attacks straight on, his eyes overshadowed by the bangs of his long hair as the blows tried to break his body.

Vasco wasn't discouraged by his progress and increased the speed of his attacks that his arms became blurred. If the beads of sweat forming at Vasco's temple was any indication, his stamina was getting depleted for each strike.

Compared to his youth, that was a huge flaw.

After a few seconds, Vasco's attacks slowed until he stopped. As he took long breaths, he took a moment to appreciate his achievement.

Crom Cruach rolled his shoulders and grunted. In an instant, he cocked his fist and hammered it on the chest of the old-timer, everyone who'd paid close attention could hear something cracking. Ewald cringed. He knew very well that even if the dragon wasn't using his full strength, Ewald would be doomed if he were the target.

This could be the first time since Vasco fought an opponent whose power surpassed the charts of balance.

But it would take more than that to wear the old man down.

Through a miracle, the Apex of Humanity prevailed on keeping his posture and not get thrown into the end of the room by the force of the hit. He just took a few steps back and bent forward to puke blood. He placed his huge hand over his ribcage, wincing, "H-how many broken ribs…?"

"Eminence Strada!" Diethelm cried out from the background, ready to jump at his request, "I can heal your—!"

"Just some bumps and bruises, Diethelm!" Vasco replied after a cough, "nothing to worry yourself about."

"You are strong, Apex of Humanity," Crom Cruach bid him a praise while rolling the muscles of his wrist, "But I am beyond strength."

"H-hah, mind you! This old dog still knows a few tricks!" Vasco flashed a bloodstained grin in his direction. Ewald hadn't thought Vasco could bleed at all. "We old-timers must teach these kids a thing or two! Hahahaha!"

Crom Cruach didn't reply, but a faint smirk was all he gave before rushing after the human.

Tearing his stare off the titans, Ewald's eyes widened in horror after noticing the poisonous mist slowly leaking inside from the church.

Their collision almost destroyed the whole cathedral, leaving the walls covered in cracks.

A lot of them.

The Strongest Exorcist better hurry up — Ewald thought.

"So, you're the one who gives the orders around here, ah?" Ewald saw Satanael already up, casually dusting his attire, "The one who wears the pants when the Church is in a crisis stage. A bit tough, don't ya think?"

Ewald refused to humor him.

"Nothing to share? Alright then," Satanael whistled to the stray magician, not tearing his eyes off the Cardinal, "Burga, remember why we're here. Go and find it."

The Stray Magician rolled her eyes but reluctantly obeyed. She shaped a magic circle underneath her feet and disappeared from the battlefield.

Once Walburga was out of sight, Satanael grinned mischievously, "You look radiant today, by the way. Care to dance?"

"… Only if I take the lead," Ewald bent his legs before throwing himself to the Fallen Angel.

.


.

Dulio didn't know what to expect once he'd reached the exit of the Church. A grain of optimism was looking forward to a normal day in the streets of the Vatican.

Right.

He couldn't see the ground from the skies. He couldn't even see the barrier that had the Vatican locked. The familiar sight of the Vatican was made hazy by the poisonous mist and for a moment Dulio raised a hand to his face to check for the bubble. It was still there.

Without the bubble, he would be plastered on the ground like a sprayed mosquito.

After soaring to the middle of the Vatican City, the blond blew multiple bubbles from his hands and slowly inflated them to a large size. And like a black hole, the bubbles began absorbing the miasma and wash the whole streets. The formerly empty bubbles floated around the place as aerostatic balloons in a festival.

He saved the city-state.

A shame he couldn't say the same thing for the citizens.

The insides of his chest cavity trembled after seeing the multiples bodies scattered all over the place. Few of them were two feet away from finding shelter. He was too late.

Just as the scene had begun to settle in Dulio's mind, he heard the sound of a door cracking open from beneath.

"Look, everyone! It's the Strongest Exorcist! He saved us!" declared the wide-eyed survivor.

Then cheers of gratitude erupted from the survivors, they were endless.

No matter the situation, Dulio couldn't help but chuckle at the gleeful cries of the survivors and waved back, relief washing over his body. Few of them at least managed to survive the gas and, while those were relieving news, he wished all of them could make it.

Now that he took care of the miasma then he had to handle the barrier that surrounded the Vatican City. An easy task.

The question was, what's the next move? Defeat the terrorist, of course, however…

"… will I be able to use Balance Breaker?" Dulio's happy expression fell into a frown, he continued waving, "With so many people around?"

At must, the Vatican must be deserted before he could trigger his Balance Breaker to not cause any accident.

But an evacuation must take a lot of time, and the terrorist may be on them by then.

The cheers abruptly stopped once they'd spotted something near. "B-behind you!" a survivor shouted.

Dulio whirled around and his face dropped serious once he got a good look of his opponent, "Go back inside!" he ordered as he stood vigilant, "You'll be safe there."

As he heard a door getting closed in the distance, Dulio never removed his gaze off the Devil who donned a helmet. His name was Mastema from what he'd recalled.

Both of them were midair. Dulio using the air attribute of Zenith Tempest while Mastema used his pair of wings.

A fight was to break between them soon. Unfortunately, the adrenaline that had pumped him up back within the Church was slowly fading away, the unhealed wounds were starting to ache. Luckily, the Devil was on the same state as him, the small cuts that Mastema had across his body started to burn. Mastema could drop unconscious after being poisoned by the light or Dulio through the intense pain made by the holy flames.

"… I'm sorry, I cannot allow you to go any further with your evil schemes," Dulio offered a smile, but his body released a powerful pressure, like an eye of a powerful storm, "This is the Vatican. Where my brothers and sisters do not want any more painful memories, this is the place where they can be safe, so…"

The air grew heavy and the humidity pressed down, almost suffocating. Black clouds sprawled above them and in the silence came to a low crackle of thunder, rolling across rooftops to the pattering of tiny raindrops. The blond hair of Dulio swayed in the strengthening gust.

"…that's why you will not disturb them."

The Devil didn't react nor appeared to be intimated unless his helmet masked his expression perfectly. In his hand was the same spear that had accomplished shattering the ice of his Longinus like nothing. Dulio swore to hear him cursing behind the howling wind, barely audible.

For a moment, everything stopped. Even the wind held its breath.

And then, a streak of hot silver splits the sky, and the downpour begins.

Mastema dodged all the bolts and explosions, this was followed by attacks of lightning bursting on the streets. The thunders slammed into street poles, the roofs and left a small hole on the streets, but none of them reached out after Mastema.

Rare occasions did Dulio expanded the uses of Zenith Tempest, most of the time he would freeze off his opponents and be done with it. Today was an exception. His speed was impressive for a high-class devil. He had to make sure Mastema couldn't shift closer and rely on his ranged attacks.

He was curious who hid behind that helmet.

He stopped his mind from wandering and brought it back to the task at hand. He put faith in his instincts and avoided a bullet of greyish energy. It almost brushed with his cheek.

So he does have demonic powers!

He spared a look behind his shoulder to see the projectile colliding with one of his dark clouds. To his shock, said cloud disappeared like dust blown away.

He faced his opponent once more and was met up by Mastema and his army of dozen of magic circles ready to let loose.

Count one, count two, count three, then, came explosions of thunder in great waves of discordant and demented sounds that clashed with the mass-produced missiles of Mastema. When his lightning bolts confronted Mastema's demonic powers head-on, both spells dissolved in midair.

But to his surprise, none of them were even trying to strike any part of his body. Whenever he fired, it shot past him. As if he was missing purposely.

That's when he understood all of them were after his clouds.

He peeked behind his shoulder for a second time and followed the course of Mastema's demonic energy with his gaze, one by one, his clouds were vanishing once they were touched by Mastema's nullification powers.

Pulling himself together, he glared at the Devil who tumbled on a knee. The light was beginning to take its toll on his body.

To his surprise and suspicion, Mastema sheathed his spear and covered himself in light-blue energy, the cuts across his skin naturally patching up.

That's when Dulio realized Mastema was healing his own wounds and possibly curing the light that was poisoning him.

How? He didn't know.

But he had to stop him.

The dark clouds above cackled with lightning and fired simultaneously over the weakened Devil.

His attacks reached the target, but the latter didn't even try to dodge, just letting the bolts to crash over his body, his screams of pain drowned by the cry of thunder.

Smoke came from the figure of Mastema, but it wasn't enough to put him down. He carefully stood up, his armor was ravaged by Zenith Tempest and his helmet had a crack in the middle of the visor.

He survived being inside the Church, he survived many slashes of Ewald's holy sword and he survived the lightning? And he could still fight like it was nothing. His durability was off-putting.

Before he could go rampant once again, Mastema brought a shaky hand up and spoke, "No... no use fighting a monster like you. I give up."

Dulio was stunned for a split second, "What?"

"I-I give up," Mastema repeated as he stole several, bated breaths, "Better surrender than... losing my own life."

Dulio had to shoot an inquisitive glance to his way.

"I lost after I did my best against the Strongest Exorcist. Ha! I have no regrets," Mastema laughed awkwardly, mostly speaking to himself, "To think my Clan Trait could counter Zenith Tempest… if it was Incinerate Anthem, things would get complicated…"

So far, not a single ominous move coming from the foe. That alone wasn't enough to lay some comfort on Dulio's shoulders, nor undo the thunderstorm above then. This could be a trap as far as he could tell. The Strongest Exorcist wouldn't fall so easily for the bait.

Reinforcing those thoughts in mind, Dulio pointed a finger at Mastema's direction and took aim. His clouds grumbled in return, "Take your helmet off and tell me your House."

A hush fell between them. At first, not a single muscle moved, then Mastema began looking around either to ensure no one was spying or getting ready for his getaway.

Mastema reached out for the sides of his helmet, the process was slow as if he didn't want to startle him.

Blood sprouted from Dulio's mouth as he wrapped his free arm around his stomach without putting his clouds down. There were spots where Diethelm didn't heal because of his stubbornness. He was now paying the consequences.

A hissing sound came from Mastema after slightly twisting his helmet.

And after a moment of reluctance, he took it off, tossing it aside.

Dulio's jaw dropped after meeting the nervous smile of the terrorist.

Grey hair with matching eyes. Only a Clan was characterized for such colors.

And his characteristics were widely known within the Church.

"Danhauser… Belial…?"

"Next Head of the Clan Belial and a double agent working for the government of Ars Goetia…" Danhauser added awkwardly, "… nice to meet you."

The blond didn't reply, awestruck.

"I wish we could have met under happier circumstances, like a picnic under a sunset," Danhauser continued with a reassuring tone, "… but I swear, I'm on your side. I'm not here to fight you. If you wanna talk then I'm all ears, but I need you to listen to me as well?"

He shouldn't be here.

"I've got a plan."

Was Eminence Cristaldi right this whole time?

"But I'll need your help to make it work."

Why are you here?

.


.

After piercing the wall with his huge body, Vasco quickly regained his posture midair and landed safely. He was outside the Church now and almost brought his hand over his nose to protect himself from the miasma, but to his relief, all the toxic air was gone, all replaced by fresh air.

He spotted the huge bubbles floating in the distance, the unbreathable gas confined within them. He knew it that young Gesualdo could deal with it! Being the Strongest Exorcist wasn't just a brag after all!

"The barrier is still up!" He took a stance, the humming light around his Durandal amplified. The space around him and the sword became tinted in gold. He raised his blue broadsword and slashed it down, releasing the golden beam upon the distanced barrier as a flash of light.

Unfortunately, Crom Cruach appeared out of nowhere and reflected the attack with a sway of his hand, bouncing the beam back to its owner. Vasco evaded his own attack and the holy ray crashed through buildings, destroying them.

"I can't let you do that," Vasco turned to the Evil Dragon as he spoke, "Satanael's orders were to keep the barrier active until they were done."

Vasco furrowed his eyebrows, "Why is an Evil Dragon allied with a Fallen Angel?"

"…"

"So you won't answer," Vasco cracked his jaw, "Fine then. I believe you want to continue where we left off?"

Crom Cruach brought a fist up.

And they circled one another, like dance partners at the first notes of a waltz. Vasco then attacked with rapid thrusts of his holy sword. Crom Cruach had read the attacks before it and made a turn to the left, letting the broadsword distort the air, dodging the second attack and caught the third one with his bare hand. He pulled closer Vasco and bulldozed his elbow against his abdomen. The old man coughed blood and went down on a knee with a grunt of pain.

Human blood batted the side of Crom Cruach's face but paid it to no mind and punched him on the chin.

Vasco almost lost consciousness after the uppercut but shrugged it off. He took a steady breath and attacked once again, a streak of fiery-fast cuts that went high and low, a mixture of sweeping slashes, lightning-like thrusts, and overhead cuts. The buildings around them were knocked down by the sheer force, but the Evil Dragon parried them all, his fists in rapid motions as he countered and fend off the Cardinal's blade and punished him through stinging, bruising ripostes to the human's arms and legs.

Vasco was impressed, he did expect this outcome to him lose the lead against a superior adversary. What he didn't expect for his opponent to be unharmed from Vasco's many attacks. In the end, Vasco was the one getting the short end of the stick, he was the one getting hurt. The worst part was that Crom Cruach wasn't using his fire breath or draconic aura, only his pair of fists to pummel the strongest human to the ground.

As if he was reading his thoughts.

Was this the gap between the human race and the supernatural race?

Crom Cruach this time rushed after him, and if he's trying to take it easier on him, Vasco couldn't tell at first. The Evil Dragon managed to block or avoid the worst of it, though, and eventually, Vasco went for a swing of Replica Durandal. Crom Cruach caught the blade in his forearm, pulled him off-balance, and pinned him to the floor with a forearm across his collarbone.

From the floor, Vasco tried to strike him with his sword, but, without diverting his gaze off him, Crom Cruach backslapped his sword from his grasp and hurled it away. He could only watch his weapon flying like disk before getting stuck on a distant wall, thankfully not covered in innocent blood.

To his surprise, Crom Cruach tore his arm from Vasco's neck and backed down, giving him a moment to ease the ringing in his head.

Vasco tried to leave the floor, but he was exhausted already, his body already reached its limit and it yearned its well-earned rest.

One of the many curses of growing older over time, his stamina had notably depleted way too fast compared to his youth.

"Get up," Crom Cruach demanded and Vasco swore to hear mixed emotions in his powerful voice, "Get up. We're not over. Not yet."

The Violence of Heaven shakily lurched to his feet. His face covered in bruises as well as blood. His Cardinal clothes were beyond saving at this point. He was having difficulties to breathe, not only because of his age but because a few broken ribs were being a nuisance.

Only seconds he stood tall before crumbling to the floor with a groan.

"… It seems you can't keep up," Crom Cruach noted and sighed. "Pity."

"I'm… I'm not," Vasco breathed out, "I'm not as young as I used to be."

Crom Cruach seemed frustrated, disappointed even, "… Was I wrong from the very beginning? This whole time… You were not the right one?"

The Evil Dragon looked down to his hand in search of an answer.

His eyes widened slightly.

Imagine his surprise when he found the new addition in his wrist.

A cut.

A very small cut under his hand. Unworthy of spilling a drop of blood.

His brain hadn't registered the damage yet, perhaps the adrenaline was keeping him intolerant to pain? Or his physique was already used to injuries?

Whichever the answer was he couldn't care less. What mattered was the feat that the Apex of Humanity had achieved seconds ago.

"He wounded me," Crom Cruach lowered his fist while keeping an eye over Vasco with an expectant glint.

A thin hope.

"Nice… Nicely done. You fought until the very last, Apex of Humanity!" Crom Cruach laughed, relieved by the twist of events, "There's still hope after all."

Vasco wiped the blood off his lower lip, "Hope of what?"

"To show me where an Evil Dragon must head to," Crom Cruach responded vaguely, furtherly confusing the human, "I don't need you to understand, only to do your part. Get stronger, Apex of Humanity and prove me and the world that you're befitting to represent the human race."

Nothing else to add, Crom Cruach spun around and walked away.

"Are you not going to kill me?" the old man asked, surprised.

"No. The Fallen Angel ordered me to keep you occupied with a 'dance', but I'm a terrible dancer," Crom Cruach admitted, "I only know how to destroy things."

"What?"

"…" The Evil Dragon shot him a plain look and continued walking.

Someone didn't like repeating his words — Vasco thought. He was astonished by his self-control, Evil Dragons were known by their persistent, vicious and brutal nature. Today, he learned that not all Evil Dragons were rumored as such, there were a few with an honorable and respectful nature. And Vasco had the pleasure to fight one.

He gave a pained chuckle, "What an interesting dragon."

"Will you also strive for it?" Vasco's shoulders jumped up once the Evil Dragon addressed him, "Immortality? Divinity?… Godhood?"

"… I will live like any other human, and I will die like any other human."

"I see. You really are different from your predecessors, Apex of Humanity."

Vasco couldn't decide whether that was a compliment or not.

Even if could, his body was way too tired to find out. His legs dropped him to the floor and his eyes grew heavier over time, his fall was imminent.

Crom Cruach shook his head and walked away, saying, "If only you were born a little earlier... Young, so young."

.


.

Many things.

Many things had Dulio expected to see.

He expected a man full of scars as a symbol of his harsh training.

Someone with deformed features as a symbol of the many experiments supervised by the Old Maou.

Not a young man who shared the same age as him.

At first, he wouldn't permit the gossips of the Church and Cardinal-Deacon get in his head. He promised to be open-minded, especially when the peace treaty was at hand.

He would share the same ideology as the Apex of Humanity and not hold any grudge over Devils and Fallen Angels. Not all of them were as the bible depicted them, Eminence Strada would always say. Curiously enough, he didn't know much of Danhauser, aside from the negative rumors, and yet never spoke with ill intentions unlike Eminence Cristaldi and Eminence Legrenzi.

At one point, he would put his faith in Eminence Strada's advice.

But before the coup that had occurred four years ago, he'd entered on a stage of doubt when he had a private talk with none other than Rudiger Rosenkreutz, founder of the famous alchemist school Rosenkreutzer as well as a member of the Top Ten of the Rating Games, long time ago.

The Upsetting Sorcerer that had made several achievements that shook the Underworld tremendously. The fastest to reach the Top Ten with only his brain. A man who became famous because of his unmatchable tactics that brought even the Dragon Meteor Tannin to defeat despite the vast difference in power. The closest man to unthrone the Emperor of the Rating Games. And now, unfamed as a cheater like all of the Top Ten.

That was what everyone saw. What the public viewed every time he made his debut. A bullshit persona.

Dulio only recognized a desperate man whose son got sick because of a Sacred Gear draining his life. Someone who refused to accept the reality that his child passed away. Making up the excuse that his son, Ludwig, somehow, got reincarnated in another body.

Said body was right in front of him. Talking to him, making up excuses.

Of course, Rudiger had a change of mind after both of them apparently had an argument years ago. He, in sorrow, had embraced the truth about his son. Danhauser gave him the reality slap.

At first, the Rosicrucian didn't want to collaborate, but a few poured glasses of alcohol was enough for an intoxicated Rudiger to share the secret.

In wine lies the truth.

It wasn't Dulio's business to get involved in the strained relationship of Danhauser and Rudiger, but he had to step up, especially the way Rudiger had acted four years ago. To keep an eye out over the 7th ranked and make sure he didn't do something drastic.

Which Dulio failed to achieve, mostly because of how all the events had transpired out of his reach. Ars Goetia.

"Dulio?" the blond in question blinked out his daze, "this isn't the time to space out!"

He was right. It wasn't the time to dive into his pool of thoughts. Dulio went straight to the point. "What are you doing here?"

Danhauser jumped at the sudden shift in his voice. Looking anywhere but him, Danhauser accidentally fixed his gaze on Dulio's shoes. A pool of blood growing underneath the blond, "You're bleeding."

"Don't dodge the question," Dulio was well-aware of his condition, he didn't need a reminder, "Why are you attacking the Vatican?"

Danhauser brought up a hand, attempting to calm him down, "I know what it looks like," he paused to fish out words, "… but I swear, I'm on your side. I can explain."

"Then start explaining!" rare occasions Dulio snapped out on someone, today was an exception. He took a long breath and tried to ease his nerves, "… Why are they attacking the Vatican of all places?"

"World domination," Danhauser answered abruptly, "that's what these clowns are fighting for!"

It would make sense. From what he'd learned in the Church, the Devils were in a civil war after the Great War wrapped up. The Original Maous died, but their Housecarls lived on and took the responsibility to lead Ars Goetia, but their bitter spirits wanted vengeance. Of course, a disagreement happened between the Remaining Pillars and the Satans and war happened between them. The Old Satans were defeated and kicked out.

Focusing on the Vatican was a good strategy for them. Because of their natural weakness to light perhaps they were trying to wipe out each settlement connected to the Heaven Faction, that way, the Angels would suffer significant loses within its hierarchy.

World Domination? Now that makes sense, however…

"But how? How are they going to achieve this?" Dulio met Danhauser's eyes for a long second, "You will tell us."

Danhauser stared back incredulously, "What makes you think I have a clue?"

"…"

"… I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I am not from the bad side!"

"… I'm sorry if I sound harsh… but I don't believe you," Dulio pursed his lips, "… you lack evidence and justifications to back up your qualms. I, on the other hand, have a lot of proof."

Siegfried's disappearance.

Rudiger's obsession.

Joan's banishment.

Then a terrorist attack to the Vatican? All these awful incidents were pointing at Danhauser as a suspect.

And who knows? Maybe he'd played a role behind Asia's eventual excommunication as well.

And for the missing Holy Maidens as well.

He couldn't just let Danhauser get out with a slap on his wrist.

"… You want to arrest me," Danhauser caught on, "to put me behind the bars…"

Dulio's green eyes turned an apologetic glance in his way, "this is the only way."

"I will not get arrested," Danhauser stood firm his ground, "There's no use of interrogating me, you'll just leave with empty hands!"

"Don't make this difficult, Danhauser!" Dulio warned him, "Did you think we'd forgotten about your previous actions? Surely you understand that our trust must be earned."

"This… this is about Jeanne and Siegfried, right?" Danhauser realized, "If so then stop worrying, they're with me. They're safe, I swear!"

Dulio bit his lip, "I'm not the one who needs to hear this, but the Cardinals," he saw the agitation in his eyes and took a slow approach, "… that's why you need to turn yourself to the Vatican and show them all the evidence you have."

"I…I can't believe this," Danhauser massaged the bridge of his nose, "Are we really doing this?"

"To justify you're speaking the truth? Then yes, we're really doing this."

Danhauser shook his head with an empty chuckle.

"Danhauser, you have the opportunity, here and now, to choose, to clean your name and prove those who misjudged you how wrong they were," Dulio held his wound tightly, "Look at this as a chance to show what type of person you really are to the Church. You and the Church had an atrocious relationship for years. Today that could change, you could start anew. Fate does not offer such chances often."

"Everything's going to be a mess once they see me, you know that right?"

"Perhaps, but I'll be there at your side and endure it with you," Dulio vowed, "Griselda and Eminence Strada will back you as well once they listen to what I have to say. All you have to do is play your part and I will personally make sure you get a fair trial in the name of the Lord."

Of Danhauser, who the Church had cast themselves as a threat, steadfast in his manipulation, contempt, and hate — Dulio was willing to give him a chance. Eminence Cristaldi and Eminence Legrenzi had bad opinions over the gray-haired Devil, but Eminence Strada refused to point fingers. Not yet. He wanted to hear the full story. It confused him because of the Church had officially claimed Joan of Arc to be connected with Belial for years now and the old man was fond of the former saint.

He expected from Vasco to at least hold some grudge over Danhauser for tarnishing her name.

Sometimes the blond wondered if Vasco had met Danhauser in any way. Or the old man knew something that most didn't know because while Vasco may be a compassionate old man from heart and soul, he wouldn't support anyone unless it was justified.

That alone was a reason why Dulio was inclined to spare Danhauser. He had the right to kill Danhauser on the spot, because of his allegiance with the Old Satan Faction and intrusion over the Heaven Faction, but, terrorist or not, Danhauser was a member of Ars Goetia, the heir of a House to top it off. Killing him could involve him in politics and restart the Great War.

Maybe he wasn't a bad person, just misunderstood.

Dulio just wanted peace for his siblings and for the world.

Danhauser met his green eyes as if trying to detect any faint lie. The intense pressure that exuded from him was threatening, but Dulio was ready to fight back with the many of his clouds towering them. It was a standoff at this point. Both of them were deeply wounded. Danhauser had the choice here, whether do this the easy way or hard way.

"Just answer me this, Gesualdo," Danhauser broke the silence, "if I give myself, will you use Balance Breaker?"

"No," once Dulio refused, he saw Danhauser massaging his nose, "there are still survivors hiding in these constructions. Using my Balance Breaker could put their lives at risk."

Why would he even suggest that? The Vatican's a public place and with his Balance Breaker alone, he could send buildings flying across Italy. Suggesting fighting chaos with chaos made Danhauser a tad bit more suspicious.

"It'll take hours to escort them somewhere safe!" Danhauser tried to persuade him, "by that time the enemy has made their escape. You have to use it, Dulio!"

"… Many of my siblings died this day," the exorcist clenched his fists, "I was unconscious when they fought with everything to protect the will of the Lord… I refuse to let more die because of me."

"Your bleeding hasn't stopped and you won't use it? You have to. For the Vatican."

"You and me both are hurt," Dulio retorted, "Don't worry about me, Danhauser. I got this."

Danhauser raised an eyebrow, giving off a vexed aura, "is that so? Got a card under your sleeve?"

"Maybe I do."

Danhauser transferred his demonic power over his spear and then stopped, "Fine," his head hung in defeat, "we'll do it your way."

Dulio felt the tension in his chest slip away as he sighed, "I thank you for doing this. You can't imagine how grateful I am."

"What's the plan?"

"Toss your weapon over here, please."

Danhauser begrudgingly threw his weapon to the floor, silently hoping everything would be over.

Dulio grabbed it once it was under his shoes. He quickly took a closer inspection over the spear and noticed the magic sigil on the base.

"That's how I destroyed your ice back in the church," Danhauser hurriedly explained after following his gaze, "I rendered it worthless."

"Worthlessness," Dulio recalled and nodded, "Your Clan Trait, of course."

"What's next?"

"Face the restaurant and get ready, I'll put you in a cryostasis state," Dulio winced once Danhauser deadpanned at him from his shoulder, "I can't risk it. I need to make sure you won't escape while I help my brothers and sisters."

"What if I use Worthlessness?" Danhauser asked.

Dulio frowned at his question, "We both know what would happen."

"Ready?" Dulio asked after a brief silence, "How do you feel?"

"Chilly," Danhauser replied with a grunt, "always dreamed to be a popsicle."

Dulio sighed. He was obviously nervous, he would be as well if he was wearing his shoes. "I'll make it quick, I promise."

He brought his free hand up while the other gripped tightly the spear. Light blue with a cold aura surged from his palm and took aim at Danhauser's back.

"Gesualdo," the gray-haired called out and the exorcist met his stare through a window's reflection, "trust me when I say this, I'm on your side."

Dulio narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, "Of course—!"

He was interrupted when the spear glowed and viscous tendrils lunged after him, burying him under a large pile of pitch-black swamp-like substance. Pitch Resin.

His second Clan Trait.

He fell on the floor, locked in a cocoon made of pure pitch resin. His head was the only thing that laid bare. He tried to break free, but its stickiness was powerful. He couldn't summon any clouds and the ones that were active were gone by bullets of Worthlessness. The gigantic bubbles remained.

What made it worse was that Dulio felt his energy slowly depleting, light-blue aura surrounded the cocoon of resin.

The shock was still framed on his face as his gaze followed the spear rolling back towards its owner, a shoe stopping it from further movements.

It felt like a knife in the back. He looked into the eyes of the backstabber. His expression was blank, not a wrinkle of remorse on his face. Why would he do this? Were Eminence Cristaldi and Eminence Legrenzi right all along? Was Eminence Strada ignorant the whole time?

"You lied," Dulio pointed out the obvious.

Danhauser sighed, "I'm sorry," he offered an apology, "… but I can't just let Satanael and Creuserey off the hook this fast."

"A chance," Dulio breathed out, "I gave you a chance to sort everything out and you refuse it? All you had to was confess."

"Confess what?" Dulio swore heard Danhauser whispering to himself before bending down to pick his weapon. This time speaking to him, "Playing as cops won't take us anywhere. We must act and counterattack."

"How?"

"Since you won't use your Balance Breaker, I'll have to play appearances to gather info."

"… A lot of innocents died this day," Dulio uttered throatily.

"The few for the many…"

Dulio wanted to express anger, tell him to get off his high-horse, but his head had become foggy. He didn't know why and how, but Danhauser was the one behind this, "… Unbelievable."

"You will not hear of them anymore," Danhauser assured to the barely conscious exorcist, "I swear to God, I'll put an end to their organization."

The exorcist failed to reply, but his eyes were glazed and unseeing with pith darkness.

"Until then, Arrivederci, Gesualdo," Danhauser said, "sleep tight."

Dulio just drifted away from consciousness. And then blackout.

.


.

The moment the blond fell into a deep sleep, Danhauser stopped the Senjutsu from leeching his stamina and focused on healing Dulio's wounds.

He sheathed his spear and stared at his handiwork. Seconds passed and insides boiled up. He wanted to punch something, to express all the anger that almost exploded within him. It took a lot of mental control to not snap right now, but he suppressed it.

Dulio meant good. That he was willing to fight tooth and nail to clear his name and to end the negative scandal between them. To make sure that peace could happen. To prove that Devils, Fallen Angels, and Pure Angels could coexist without a knife resting on the throat.

But Danhauser believed he was four years late to convince the Church to forgive and forget.

They would sentence him to the death penalty after the trial was over.

Plus Dulio didn't trust him, and in the end, Danhauser didn't trust him either. He didn't trust exorcist overall.

"Dulio. The Church is lucky to have someone like you," he kneaded his eyes to calm down, "but your plan was just slowing us down from making progress."

Decisions had consequences. This he knew well.

He was expecting something, but this was too much and too soon.

Even the slightest action and it was all over for the timeline.

It pissed him off, to not know what's going to happen now. Knowing or being familiar with something gave him an edge because he already knew what to anticipate from the situation and how to counterattack.

It was frightening. The unknown was much, much more vast than the known.

At this point, it was foolish to think Danhauser could take a peek in his memories to remember events of the canon timeline, to rely on the Light Novels as a guideline. That, no matter what he does, he could not go back where everything was lighthearted with ecchi moments, just how the author of DxD wanted the series to be.

But at least, maybe, just maybe, he could lessen the damage.

They had to be stopped. Or at least delay their goals.

They may have won the fight, but not the war.

He had to write a report to Ajuka quickly, to make sure if somehow he or Sirzechs could persuade the Archangel from not going ballistic about Danhauser's involvement and keep Dulio's mouth shut.

From here on, Dulio may despise his guts. Hope not, he liked him in the series.

But the Old Satan Faction was being sponsored behind the scenes. He had to uncover the full story and report back to his higher-ups as soon as possible to make a possible move rather than waiting for the enemies to take the initiative.

"… They're a distraction, a decoy," Danhauser tried to piece everything together, "Qlippoth is using the Old Maou to draw the attention of all pantheons meanwhile he's hiding in the shadows."

For that purpose, Qlippoth provided them Crom Cruach, Niðhöggr, Satanael, and Incinerate Anthem. To make their whole faction appear threatening to the eyes of the whole world and focus their weaponry solely on them. Most likely the Old Maou was unaware that they're just puppets of the Super Devil.

Overall, they were buying Rizevim time to do… whatever a madman like him had in mind.

"… that wouldn't make sense, though," Danhauser bit his thumb, "Rizevim was hidden this whole time, no one knew of his existence aside from old people like Sirzechs and Michael. Or maybe I'm thinking like a sane person when I should think like a fucking psycho?"

Satanael did say something about retrieving an artifact from the Vatican's vault. His memory was a mess, he didn't remember much of the Light Novels, only big events like the revival of the Evil Dragons, the Hero Faction, Ragnarök, the Invasion of Heaven and the awakening of Trihexa.

Small nitpicks were out of his reach.

"… Unless they were desperate?" Danhauser muttered to himself, "Valerie is with me, which means that the Evil Dragons that died long ago like Apophis and Aži Dahāka are out of their reach. They can't awaken Trihexa either for the same reason, because they don't have the Holy Grail."

They only had Crom Cruach and Niðhöggr.

And if they were still adamant of kidnapping Valerie, then he had to be prepared for their debut.

Because like hell he would let Rizevim get near her. Let alone see her.

But he was a Super Devil, Danhauser wasn't.

"Guess I'll have to get fit," Danhauser stared into nothing, "… why attack the Vatican of all places? Because they were recovering thanks to Kokabiel's assault?"

Could it be that the Old Satan Faction had something that Qlippoth thirsts to exploit for their benefit? A part of him believed it was the girl Ingvild Leviathan, but he doubted the Old Satan Faction would reveal their key to control the Ouroboros Dragon and possibly Great Red.

Before the invasion, Creuserey refused to expose Danhauser's identity to Satanael, why would they share Ingvild's existence so nonchalantly?

Unless the Vatican had something beneficial for Qlippoth. Enough said.

No. It doesn't make sense either. Maybe Qlippoth was aware that they're on the losing side! That they're scarce in resources and soldiers to fight back against the Biblical Faction and other Pantheons? That they needed a lot of time to recover by impeding the peace treaty?

How?

By sowing distrust of Devils and Fallen Angels within heaven's ranks.

By giving a bad image of the Biblical Faction to other factions.

He was in a universe where people love to generalize, their plan would work.

Even so, Michael maybe would still shake hands if Sirzechs convinced the Archangel. Danhauser revealed Ajuka the face of Khaos Brigade, the Ouroboros Dragon, Ophis.

But the Church would be against it, and to express their disagreement they would throw a coup. Like they did four years ago.

"I can take a seat and keep digging for info, but I have little time," Danhauser kneeled down to grab his damaged helmet, "man, to think Senjutsu could save me from being poisoned by the light."

Maybe he could find a way to survive Samael's poison as well? Just in case.

He stood up and stared back at the cracked visor, "You did well Mastema," he said while bouncing the helmet in his palms, "maybe you didn't woo Katerea, but at least you'd tried. Uncle Coda is gonna get pissed."

Mastema was a nobody in the Old Satan Faction. A mere soldier. Someone expendable for their cause. Because of his low rank, he didn't have access to the intel shared between the main leaders.

He wore it. One last time.

"Lucky me, I'm wounded because of Gesualdo's lightning," to prove his point he slid a finger over a wound on his opposite arm, wincing, "… It won't look suspicious."

Time to put his plan in motion.

"I can now use my True Form," he looked down at the unconscious Dulio, "If I were to expose my spirit close to the Church, it would hurt. A lot."

It's now or never.

"I just hope Crom Cruach isn't familiar with my scent yet," he shaped a magic circle beside him and took aim at the barrier that had the Vatican encaged and fired, "Plan B it is, then."

The projectile reached its destination and got crashed into the barrier, a small portion of the barrier cracked like a broken mirror and quickly spread out.

Then, like a poorly edited movie, there was no impact or sound of breaking glass, only a raining down of fragments sharp enough to cut on contact.

"Better hurry up Satanael," Danhauser watched with satisfaction as the Vatican was released, "Your time is running out."

Honestly, Bova was the safest pick amongst his peerage members.

And he was thankful for that.

.


.

"Shit, that ain't good!" Satanael cursed once he sensed the barrier had fully deteriorated. He placed a finger close his ear and a magic circle appeared, "Walburga, what just happened with your barrier?!"

[That's what I'm trying to figure out!] snapped his assistant, [From what I've gathered, no physical force was involved! Before the barrier got disabled, it got struck by a wave of magical energy! Magic neutralization is my bet!]

Creuserey grit his teeth after listening to Walburga's report with his perfect sense of hearing, "Damn it, Mastema!" he snapped after blocking David's Galatine with multiple layers of barriers, "What the hell are you doing?!"

Before Satanael came up with a witty reply, he called forth his ten wings and shoot off to the air, barely dodging a stab of Ewald. It was time for the next phase. He brought up his empty hand to the air and many magic circles of Grigori were shaped behind him. The seals glowed with golden radiance and a shower of light-spears charged after the human.

But apparently, Ewald also stopped playing around and triggered the abilities of his Excalibur Replica, augmenting his speed until he became invisible to the naked eye. His movement was flawless that he easily evaded all the downpour of Satanael's spears.

"Any more bad news?" Satanael dryly asked while clashing blades with Ewald.

[Most likely the miasma of Niðhöggr is gone thanks to the Strongest Exorcists… Dulio,] she groaned afterward, [why are the hot ones always so annoying~?!]

"Quit jerking off and stick to the plan!"

[Tch. Whatever.] she huffed, [Once I have everything, we'll meet in the checkpoint.]

Satanael grunted once Walburga hanged the call. This wasn't going well from his side, the barrier was gone and they could now call for help. Walburga had to hurry the hell up before the cavalry appeared.

And by cavalry, he meant the Heaven Faction.

He caught sight of Creuserey and David fighting through the corner of his eye. Time ago, the descendant of Asmodeus had control over the battlefield, pushing the holy sword user back against the wall multiple occasions. But now, David decided to buckle up and exploit the abilities of Galatine.

Which were similar to Arondight, or rather, True Excalibur.

That alone was enough to make Creuserey nervous, an Ultimate-Class Devil.

"Had enough, Creuserey?" Satanael teased the conflicted devil, "What happened with the 'I'm gonna teach you human trash a lesson'? Or it was all bark?"

Creuserey's aura spiked around his body. David even stopped jumping after him to not get caught by the stray bolts of demonic energy, "… mind your business, Satanael."

"Relax a bit, won't ya?" the cadre said as he landed on the floor, "If you want, I can handle him while you play dress-up with princess Shalba."

The Devil's stoic facade was crumbling in the face of Satanael's mockery. "I'll show you!" Creuserey attacked with the same tired, predictable spells he had previously used in hopes to give the final blow over the human, but David was already on the move. With precise strokes he cut through the Asmodeus' demonic energy, he made use of his agility to avoid the Devil's attacks while gradually closing the distance between them.

It just further angered the Devil.

Before Satanael could cackle a laugh, his opponent appeared in front of him and quickly blocked the first swing. He stamped forward, the blade of his sword thrusting for the chest. Ewald had predicted it and deflected his attack, leaving Satanael staggered and vulnerable.

Ewald's Excalibur swept up, then brought it down in a perfect, diagonal arc.

Satanael's eyes widened at the wet spatter of blood on the wall and the shocking suddenness of the duel's ending.

Ewald turned as Satanael's two swords clattered to the polished floor. He fell to his knees, then slumped back onto his haunches, hands clenched to his opened throat from which blood pumped vigorously.

It reminded Ewald of a fountain full of crimson.

"You talk too much," Ewald chided the cadre, but his eyes were already empty and unseeing with impending death, "you easily get distracted as well."

Creuserey somehow escaped briefly from David just to enjoy the sight of the rolling head, "that'll teach you a lesson, worthless crow."

But before the headless body could drop to the floor, it exploded in a murder of crows.

Ewald brought his arms up as they flew in his way, "A mirage!"

He spun around to—!

Four fangs dug deep on his shoulder.

And before Ewald's eyes, his arm was torn off from his body.

"Almost got me there, but," the petrified Ewald could only witness the snake throwing aside his bloodied arm and retracting back to the katana, "I've got my own magic tricks, too."

Now Ewald was the one on his knees. He held what only remained of his butchered arm, trying to hold the bleeding. He bit his tongue to contain the screams of pain, but he was a human and thus, failed miserably.

"By the way, the snakes are like the real ones," Satanael stated, as though they were discussing the weather, "with venom and stuff."

"Eminence Cristaldi!" Diethelm came forward to assist his superior, and Satanael felt his shock at the Cardinal's defeat. "Please, let me take a look!"

Surprisingly, the Fallen Angel turned a blind eye at this, letting the Exorcist treat the Cardinal Deacon with his Sacred Gear.

His attention solely on the sidelines, "Oh, shit."

Ewald had not seen the danger, but all too soon he understood.

Screams and cries of terror soon erupted, and the songs of victory were snuffed out.

Incinerate Anthem, whose size was around two or three meters, now stood at ten. Not even the roof could contain the giant.

It moved like a ravenous beast. Armed with its trustworthy cross larger than any man could lift, unstoppable and invincible. It waded through their ranks with sweeping blows that slew a dozen men with every swing. Exorcists flew in pieces from its fumbling cross, crushed beneath its tread, or were rent asunder like bloodied rags.

No matter the cause of death, each one of them shared the same fate. They were burned to ash.

"Retreat!" Griselda cried out, already exhausted, "get out of the Church! We'll keep it distracted!"

"Get out of there, Lint!" David shouted.

None could wound the avatar, its ferocity was so primal, so inhuman, that it froze many to the spot. Its bellowing roars cut Ewald and Diethelm to the marrow with terror. The giant brought its hand up and a searing, purple fire blazed from its outstretched hand. They could only hear the cries of his fellow exorcists turned to dust.

"Stop you brainless fuck!" Satanael roared, "Don't destroy the place!"

Incinerate Anthem wanted to curse Satanael's cowardice. Its 'blood' was boiling most of the exorcists were running in panic. The few stood their ground to fend off the Utsusemi, perfect for the killing blow.

It wanted to give chase but relented.

"The less we kill, the merrier," Satanael said whilst sheathing both of his swords, "... just keep them away from us."

The one-armed Ewald could only glare daggers at his ten, pitch-black feathers.

He felt what he's looking at and smirked, the cadre then called out, "You like 'em? I made sure to brush them today. Here, as an 'I'm sorry' gift, I'll show you a neat secret."

To Ewald's horror, another pair of wings sprouted from his back.

"Goddamn, it feels good to shake 'em all!" Satanael fluttered the tension of his twelve wings off, "You know how long have had I kept these two beauties hidden?! Years, Ewald! Years!"

The shock was still registered in the cardinal's face by the sudden development, "H-how…?" he croaked out, "… Only the Archangel and the Governor-General have twelve, feathery wings how could you…?"

"Guess I'm His favorite!" Satanael's grin faltered a little, "or was."

Meanwhile, Ewald was lost in his head, trying to piece everything together and suppress the pain and the venom in his system,"… Adversary of God," he gave a rough translation and growled at the results, "Why the Lord would name you like that?!"

"Yeah, bite me," the cadre hid his wings, "Pops thought it sounded cool, I guess."

"… you're hiding something," Ewald met the cold gaze of Satanael, "Something that you want to keep for yourself."

Diethelm winced once Satanael snorted a half-hearted laugh. He looked at the Cardinal Deacon with a pleading look. He didn't mind if Eminence Cristaldi wanted to poke the sleeping bear with a stick, as long as the black-haired was confident of defending himself, by any means, go for it.

But given their circumstances, it wasn't a wise choice to anger a Satan-Class being with no energy left to fight. And a missing arm.

"Tone down the detective stuff, alright?" Satanael donned a smile with no humor behind it, "I've got no skeletons to hide."

Before Ewald could further push Satanael's buttons, a wail of pain erupted from the walls.

The sight was shocking or amusing from Satanael's perspective.

Creuserey almost fell on his bottom. He brought a hand to the side of his face and felt the crimson fluid flowing.

On his feet stood his slashed ear that quickly decayed to ashes.

"You pathetic piece of shit!" Creuserey's yell was like a booming bark and covered the spot where once his ear once was, "Y-you dare to—!"

David teleported behind the Asmodeus, "Clearly, your ambition outpaced your ability."

Before he could deliver the final blow with Galatine, Satanael jumped between them and blocked it with Arondight, "Sorry, can't let you do that," he said before shoving David backward. "I need the dumbass alive, unfortunately."

David steadied his feet and was ready to clash blades, but a familiar voice stopped him, "Pull back David," Ewald ordered, "… it's over."

He was ready to argue, but after spotting the Evil Dragon in the background, leaning on a wall with his arms folded, he shut his jaw tight, "Vasco…"

The grip over Galatine tightened but withdrew from fighting.

"Good thinking," Satanael then grabbed Creuserey by the arm and pulled him back to his feet, ready to drag him to the exit, "playtime's over, Creu-Creu. Burga is waiting for us in the—!"

The Maou descendant jostled the Fallen Angel out of his personal space. His eyes blinded by fury that couldn't leave the figure of David. A human had his right ear severed from his head, a low sniveling creature that should crawl back to whatever dumpster he slept in. He had to take something from him, an eye for an eye as they say. But the crow wanted to retreat. To escape from the human that harmed him.

If Shalba and Katerea were to find out, he wouldn't hear the end of this.

Creuserey was ready to deliver insults that could make a sailor blush. But stopped and laughed broadly, his mouth slowly stretching into a merciless smile, "Ever wondered how your prayers are ignored?"

David tensed at his cruel words, "What?"

Satanael grabbed Creuserery's shoulder, "Hey, what are you—!?"

But his words fell in deaf ears as Creuserey slapped his hand away, "Of course you low insects wouldn't know! Your miserable God is d—!" he chocked once Satanael wrapped his a hand around his throat and squeezed.

"So, that's what you wanted to say?" Satanael realized, "that could backfire terribly, you know?"

Creuserey couldn't reply, He tried to slip Satanael's hands out of his throat, but the Fallen Angel proved more physical strength.

"Is that the mysterious Clan Trait of Asmodeus?" Satanael said crankily, raising him from the ground, "to never shut the hell up?"

"… Oh Lord," David by mistake dropped his holy sword, eyes wide. You didn't need to be a genius to finish Creuserey's sentence, "… is He…?"

Diethelm grit his teeth, "A lie! A cheap lie that is! He's just trying to break our morale!"

"What are you talking about, Fallen Angel?!" An exorcist within the battlefield demanded.

"T-That's impossible!" Another one.

"H-He can't be killed so easily! He's omnipotent!"

"And his miracles! His miracles exist!"

"All my prayers were for nothing?!"

Soon shouts and battle calls broke out, rising in volume, filling the air like thunder.

Ewald was the most affected of all. He could just stare at the Fallen Angel's back, mouth agape. All this time he dropped to his knees and prayed, to try and speak with God, to make requests and seek guidance and ask for wisdom were for naught?

That explained the silent answers and how Arondight contained the demonic and holy elements around its blade.

"… You're a fucking dumbass, you know that?" Satanael snared at the strangled Creuserey, "I'll be honest, you just got on my nerves… what should I do with you now?"

Creuserey failed to reply, let alone breathe. He kicked and squirmed, but it was no use.

A flash of purple light filled the cathedral, and before them stood the familiar figure of Walburga.

Walburga looked around, pleased to see a lot of ashes on the raging battlefield. She was surprised to see a few of the Exorcists losing their will to fight, a crowd mumbling about their Lord's death.

So, they find out—she thought and smiled fondly after noticing her Longinus approaching her, each step quivering the ground.

"Your fucking Longinus wiped out half of their troops." Satanael's voice pulled her out of her trail of thoughts.

Walburga folded her arms, "So? What's the deal?" she finally saw his position, "… why are you strangling him?"

"It doesn't matter," Satanael grunted and dropped the Devil on the ground, "Found them?"

As Creuserey coughed and stole air, the girl in question formulated a magic circle and a folder filled with old papers appeared in her grasp.

Ewald saw the name registered on it, "… Chaos Edge Sieg's confidential documents…? Why?" his breath hitched after spotting the shard in Walburga's grasp.

A piece of the Holy Grail.

Ewald tried to snatch it, but Satanael pushed back, prompting him to fall down.

"To the victor goes to the spoils!" Satanael playfully shook the fragment before facing the witch, "Good thing the folder is still in one piece as well. For a second I thought it was a goner! You got a good eye!"

Walburga puffed her chest, "Naturally," she gloated, "Our barrier is destroyed, we have to leave now before they sent reinforcements."

"In a second," Satanael drawled, fixating his stare over the Maou descendant, "Where the hell is Mastema?"

Creuserey could feel the murder intent radiating from the Fallen Angel, all of it aimed after him. Luckily, before Satanael could make his move, a magic circle on Creuserey's remaining ear ceased the tension, [L-Lord Asmodeus!] Mastema cried out from the comms, [A-are you there?! Lord Asmodeus, say something!]

"Speaking of the Devil," Satanael folded his arms, never leaving his cold gaze from the frightened Creuserey, "go on. Answer him."

Creuserey still sat on the floor, panting for breath. He shakily brought a finger over the telecommunication circle and responded, "W-what now…?" he asked, but didn't leave his gaze from Satanael any second.

[It's the Strongest Exorcist!] He could hear the explosions coming from Mastema's side, [I-I don't know for how long I can distract him! I did some damage to him, but I need help!]

The communication abruptly ended.

"Huh, Mastema hurt the blondie a little?" Satanael hummed, "That's huge, I always thought he was just cannon fodder."

"What's the plan now?" Walburga asked.

"We got everything, we don't have any other reason to stay here," Satanael stated, "Time to say goodbye."

"And your Utsusemi?"

Satanael turned to the restless battlefield, corpses of Exorcists and Utsusemi laid bare on the floor and a few were still giving a fight.

"Meh, I'll make new ones," he turned to the Asmodeus, "Go lend Mastema a hand, we'll meet up at the checkpoint. Don't take too long."

Creuserey said nothing and slowly stood to his feet, his hand massaging his aching throat. In a second he summoned his multiple wings and shoot off from the obliterated Church.

"I don't know what happened between you two, but you can bet its gonna get us in trouble," Walburga brought a hand to her hip, "Euclid's gonna get pissed."

"Not if they don't find out." He said before whistling at the silent dragon, "CC! We're leaving!"

Crom Cruach pulled himself off the wall and followed from behind.

Walburga turned to her Longinus, a hand outstretched, "let's go."

The giant grunted and decreased its gigantic size, changing into a small ember of purple that orbited around its owner.

"Why spare us?" a paled Ewald asked the retreating cadre, his voice changed from one of alarm to curiosity, "why not finish me off already?"

Having already expected this question to arise, Satanael turned to face the drowsy Cardinal and explained, "Because, as much as I fucking hate humanity, Mickey needs people like you," he said, "not like Übermensch, not like the Strongest Exorcist, but people like you. So, hang in there and keep praying for Mickey until I find another way."

"Find another way?" Diethelm parroted without tearing his eyes off Ewald's deep wound, "… What are you trying to say?"

"Take a guess," Ewald watched as the brunet flipped the small piece of the Holy Grail with his thumb, "And besides! I told you, didn't I? I just came here to yoink something out from your cellar."

"That's it for us. Let's hope we don't meet again," Satanael extended his wings and took off, accompanied by Walburga and Crom Cruach.

"Dulio," David breathed out once they were out of earshot, "He needs our help! He's going to get outnumbered!"

"Go then," Diethelm instructed before focusing on his patient, "I'll take care of Eminence Cristaldi."

With one last look over the barely conscious Ewald, David rushed to the mauled exit. Inwardly praying for the blond's life, even if the Lord was confirmed dead.

.


.

He knew it was a bad idea to team up with Qlippoth.

They were fucking crazy, the fact that they crowned Rizevim of all people as their leader was just a nod to his justification. He almost died back there, by the hands of that pathetic crow of all things. It'd be humiliating if it was by the hands of a human. Heck, taking one of his ear was too much!

Shalba had to know this about this act of disrespect coming from Qlippoth.

He had to give credit when credit was due, to make an Evil Dragon follow orders of all things was an impressive feat. Only Evil Gods could do that, or Balor in this case.

Creuserey had to leave this damned place as fast as possible. He wanted to leave Mastema here, to retreat and save his own neck. It wasn't his business whether or not the gray-haired devil made it out alive from the front line. Mastema's role was to fight under the banner of the Old Satan Faction and die by their ideals, a 'cannon fodder' as Satanael had implied.

His fate was already sealed, to die once he successfully completed his role. A desperate fool he was for shaking hands with Shalba.

He believed Shalba would help the Clan Belial, as if.

But as much as it pained him to admit it, they still needed him on their faction. He was their only set of eyes of Ars Goetia, where Ingvild Leviathan could be hidden. The girl with the powerful Sacred Gear.

Nereid Kyrie was the name of the Sacred Gear if he remembered correctly. Its powers were similar to an attribute of the Clan Buné, to tame dragons. The most powerful and prominent creatures on earth. An Apex Predator.

With that Sacred Gear on their side, the Ouroboros Dragon would bend its knee before them.

It wasn't even a Longinus.

Of course, they had to test it first before aiming for the Strongest Existence, Crom Cruach could be the perfect target.

They couldn't care for that hybrid girl Ingvild, what mattered was what her body housed.

Even if she was a Leviathan, her blood was impure, stained by humanity itself. It was too late for redemption.

"Where are you…?!" Creuserey flapped his multiple wings, searching below the dreary, dead and barren wasteland that used to be the Vatican. There were collapsed buildings and bodies of civilians. In the air were huge bubbles floating around, and, within them, the miasma that killed all the citizens. No signs of survivors nor of Mastema and the Strongest Exorcist.

His hand was surrounded by demonic energy and aimed after one bubble, but before he took the shot. A burst of demonic power caught his attention.

He quickly headed in that direction and saw the one behind the explosion. It was Mastema with his armor ruined and smoke coming from it, he was holding someone in his arms.

"There you are!" Creuserey landed in the opposite direction, "Hurry up! We need to…"

That's when he saw who he was carrying in his arms. It was the Strongest Exorcist, Dulio Gesualdo.

Shalba said Danhauser/Mastema was strong. He didn't expect THIS strong!

"Y-You did it..."

"I did it," Mastema confirmed, "I defeated the Strongest Exorcist."

Creuserey dismissed his surprise, "Why are you carrying the corpse?" he demanded, "he's dead already is he?"

"No, he isn't."

"Then what are you waiting for?!" Creuserey raised his voice, "he's a threat! Finish him off already!"

"I could do it, but don't you think it would be a waste, Lord Asmodeus?"

"What are you talking about?"

"If I kill him his Longinus will then disappear," Mastema warned him, "We can take him with us and extract his Sacred Gear… for you to wield."

Creuserey raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued, "Oh?"

"Just think about it," Mastema lured while approaching him, "the first pureblood devil whose lineage is that of the Originals Maous to carry a Longinus, and one of the strongest to top it off. To possess immense power, and live freely according to your own will. The fate of the world will be dominated by your hand."

To become supreme.

"You'll be stronger than Shalba and Katerea combined."

To surpass Sirzechs and Ajuka.

"To worship no Gods, to bow to no kings."

To become justice itself.

"That's what the Old Satan Faction needs, a powerful leader that can even slay the gods," Mastema drawled and from his back sprouted a tendril of pitch resin, its end sharp,"… But if you want Gesualdo dead, then so be it."

Creuserey watched with horror as Danhauser prepared to sheathe blood, "W-what are you doing, you moron?!" he quickly reached out and stole Dulio out his arms, "You said it yourself, didn't you?! We need him alive for his Sacred Gear!" he paused to think, "Satanael can't see us with him or else he would take him from us! Listen, while you were gone, Satanael tried to—!"

His words died once Mastema invaded his personal space by pressing a palm over his chest.

He wore a puzzled expression and eyed Mastema warily, but before he could demand answers, "What did you—?"

Something was off.

His head was pounding.

Why was it suddenly becoming difficult to breathe?

The oxygen he had had moments earlier was spent and he was left with a headache, dizziness. When Danhauser grabbed Dulio out his grasp he was unaware, too preoccupied with his health than anything else.

He fell down on four, already his thoughts were groggy. The incredible pressure compressed his chest, forcing his lungs to burn as if on fire. His heart began hammering, increasing in intensity and speed, like a bird trapped in a cage. His throat seared in agony with the rising pressure of trapped air.

Opening his mouth again to breathe, Creuserey let out a string of saliva. Despair filled him with every struggling gulp.

Did he just make his lungs worthless?

"You pathetic glory seeker," he heard Mastema spat out as he carefully laid Dulio on a wall, "You really thought I'd let you get stronger? That I would give you Dulio so you can kill him?"

Something dropped in front of him and he was met with Mastema's helmet, he saw his own reflection on the cracked visor.

What a miserable sight.

He was going to die.

"M…!" Creuserey rasped out after seeing the tip of a spear from his blurry vision, "Mercy…!"

"…Like the one you gave to the Vatican?" Danhauser said, "No. You're going to suffer as they did."

Danhauser slammed his spear on Creuserey's leg and twisted, the latter tried to scream, but only chocked for pain and air.

"You'll pay for what your ancestors did to the Malebranche Clan as well."

His feet cracked across his face, snapping it back with the force of his blow and causing his head to reel sickeningly as he was thrown into the wall beside him.

Barely, conscious he saw as Danhauser's body transforming and growing into a pitch-black abomination. True Form.

It reminded him of Malacoda Malebranche.

The ground around him turned into Pitch Resin and a large pile collapsed on him.

And darkness started devouring Creuserey's vision.

.


.

"We have to hurry!" Walburga yelled as she kept her teleportation circle active. Their destination ready, all they needed the whole team to be present.

They were in the middle of the destroyed Vatican. Satanael and Crom Cruach were also present as they stood further back. It did surprise her how Exorcists weren't trying to go after them, unless they were intercepted by stray Utsusemi, buying their master time to escape.

"We can't!" Satanael refused, "We need them or else we'll get in trouble!"

"We were in trouble the moment you started strangulating him!" Walburga countered.

Satanael cracked a fist as he stared at Walburga, "The son of a bitch deserved it! Do you understand what he has done?! He fucked me over!"

Crom Cruach, who watched their bickering with annoyance, detected a familiar aroma drawing near. He looked up and was met with a Devil with his multiple wings unfurled.

He frowned once the smell reached his nose. From the little time, he had by being around the descendant of Asmodeus, he had recorded his scent. He smelled exactly the same, but he also shared the scent of something different. Something new.

"He's here," he said, putting an end to their discussion.

Satanael growled as Asmodeus landed in front of them, "About damn time you're here! You know how long we've waiting?!" he frowned after seeing he was alone, "where the hell is—!"

His mouth was shut once Creuserey tossed him a helmet, he instinctively caught it and inspected it. The visor had a hole in the middle and was covered in blood.

"The hell is this supposed to be?" he demanded before his eyes widened in realization, "… wait, is he…?"

"Yeah, yeah! Whatchamacallit will be missed!" Walburga snapped, "let's move it! Now!"

Their surroundings were suddenly hidden from view by a bright flash of purple light. As the illumination quickly faded away, they found themselves standing in an unrecognized forest.

"Phew~!" Walburga groaned while falling flat on the grass, "… I'm so damn exhausted~!"

"…" Crom Cruach just leaned on the nearest tree and waited for further instructions.

"Wonderful! Now we got time to talk!" Satanael reached out for Creuserey's shoulder, but the latter dodged his hand, "Careful there, buddy. Don't make this more difficult."

Creuserey didn't reply.

"What now? Cat got your tongue?" Satanael mocked him before throwing the helmet aside, "Don't think I've forgotten your fucking obnoxious mouth! How you announced Pops dead in the Vatican of all places. Do you at least the slightest fucking idea how much you…!"

Satanael stopped after he saw his ear.

His two ears.

… Could it be?

Satanael slowly broke into a wide smirk, "You know what? Forget it," he pulled back with his hands raised in defeat, "it was all my bad, I didn't want to start unnecessary drama!"

"Okay, what's happening right now? Did a worm got inside your ass or what?" Walburga eyed Satanael oddly, "Weren't you pissed off with him back in the Vatican?"

"It was all a misunderstanding!" Satanael boasted a laugh, "Am I right, Creu-Creu?"

Creuserey refused to speak.

"Good! Glad we sorted things out!" Satanael clapped to throw the tension out of the way, "Then I guess this is where we part ways! Creu-Creu. You were remarkable. An honor to cause terrorism by your side."

Walburga deadpanned, "I'm seriously lost."

"Doesn't matter!" Satanael winked at her, "Let's just head back."

Walburga stared skeptically before sighing, "You're the boss…"

"And what about you, tough guy?" Satanael nudged at the quiet dragon, "Wanna join us in our hideout?"

"Not interested," Crom Cruach said.

"Mah, mah. Playing hard to get are we?" Satanael began bribing him, "Tell you what, I'll buy you a whole stack of bananas!"

Crom Cruach perked up, "Bananas?"

"And huge ones!" Satanael then broke into a grin as he grabbed his crotch, "not as huge as this one, of course!"

Creuserey's mouth twitched.

Walburga's face wrinkled in disgust, "Fucking pig."

Crom Cruach frowned in deep thought, "I don't get it."

Satanael groaned a bit, "You guys can't take a joke," he then beckoned Walburga to shift closer, "Let's make like a tree and leave, Burga."

"Finally…" Walburga huffed while making a magic circle beneath them, "I need a nap."

A blinding flash of purple light surrounded them, forcing Creuserey to shield his eyes with an arm. The purple flash of light almost instantly dissipated and once he stole a peek, he saw he was alone.

Once Creuserey made sure no one else was around, his whole body started melting like a candle after being exposed to fire and his skin color changed from vast white to pitch black. It continued until it morphed into the familiar look of Danhauser in his True Form.

"… It worked, nice," He placed his hands on his hips and gave a victorious laugh, "And it was all thanks to you, Creu-Creu!"

He pierced his own stomach, unfazed. He started searching until he grabbed a mane of hair and yanked until the head of the real Creuserey was out of him.

He didn't stop from there, a strong tug and the whole body of Creuserey was tossed to the grass.

"Like giving birth... kinda," he looked down at the unconscious Creuserey lying on the the floor in a fetal position, globs of Pitch Resin around his body, "Your smell was useful for Crom Cruach, thanks for that."

Honestly, he took inspiration when Lycaon possessed Tobio four years ago. In this scenario, he just took control over Creuserey and made sure to look exactly as the Asmodeus descendant, essentially a 'second skin' that happens to have control of the 'first skin'. Devils were widely known to change appearance to appear younger, Danhauser just decided to look like Creuserey. His True Form made it easier, the only flaw on it was that he couldn't imitate Clan Traits and their voices.

Speaking of which, he had to hurry up and call Shalba in the form of Creuserey. Most likely the descendant of Beelzebub was waiting for a report coming from him.

For that, he had to imitate Creuserey's voice.

There only was one person who could help him out on that issue.

A Daiyoukai.

"… I guess our meeting is going to happen sooner, Nurarihyon," Danhauser returned back to his real form and kneeled close to Creuserey before tossed him onto his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, "Next stop, Kyoto Youkai."

He conjured a demonic circle of gray color under his feet and seconds later he vanished from sight.

.


.

"That wasn't Creu-Creu."

Walburga half-heartedly glanced up from her book as she caught sight of him, lying down on the worn-out sofa with a playboy magazine covering his face.

She was floating in the middle of the room with multiple, open books orbiting around her. Crom Cruach was on the table, peeling bananas and eating them in one bite and throwing the skin somewhere around the room. The table and floor were covered by bananas peels.

Far away in the background stood two people, one butler, and one maid. Natsume Minawaga and Kouki Samejima if she remembered their names correctly. They were wielders of the Four Fiends Sacred Gears that the Utsusemi Agency had captured four years ago, back when they were relevant. Their eyes were expressionless, almost machine-like.

Of course, thy were controlled with magic that Satanael used. He rarely brought them with him in times of a fight, mostly because their Sacred Gears were a great asset in his ranks, worthier thank the Utsusemi he had. He didn't want to lose them. Maybe he had bigger projects for them?

Seriously, all he should do was extract their Sacred Gears and be done with it.

"Say what again?" Walburga finally responded.

"My gut tells me that Mastema is still on his feet," Satanael brought his arms behind his neck, proud of his discovery, "He was impersonating Creuserey."

Eating his tenth banana, Crom Cruach nodded in affirmation, "He smelled like the Asmodeus… but there was something new on his scent. It was different from Mastema, but also similar," He said with a serious expression, but the image was kind of ruined by the rests of banana that had settled on his cheeks.

"Creu-Creu lost one of his ears while getting bullied by the Galatine user," Satanael recalled, "The Creu-Creu we'd talked with had two ears. All in all, if we ignored that slight mistake, Mastema did a decent job imitating him."

"Shouldn't we warn those dumbasses then?" Walburga suggested, "if it's true then the Old Satan Faction should be warned that they have a spy loose on their headquarters."

He pulled the magazine off his face and fixed his eyes on her and, to her annoyance, Satanael exploded in a fit of laughter. Sitting up straight whilst mocking her intelligence.

A vein popped on her forehead and resisted the urge to turn him into crisps. Many times had she question why her former teacher, Augusta, accepted a truce with him. In her eyes, he was a complete idiot that somehow survived the Great War and kept himself hidden in the shadows for eons.

"No matter how much I tried, I can't get in his head," Walburga inwardly recalled Augusta's words. Neither could she read his true thoughts. She decided to spend her time in books to find if he appeared somewhere. A brief mention of his name in any Bible. To her surprise, his name wasn't written anywhere. Only the Governor-General and the other members of Grigori were.

Maybe this was the reason why she was still under his wings, to finish what her master didn't manage to finish. To figure out his true nature.

Or her hunger for revenge.

"Why would I help them? They're not my business," Satanael toned down his laughter into snickers, "They all can die for what I care. No one would care."

"They're working with us, with Qlippoth," she pointed out, "From what I had seen, they're, in a way, beneficial for Qlippoth."

"I don't care about Qlippoth either," Satanael scoffed, "They're a footnote not worth reading. And remember, The Old Maou is seeking world domination. Like hell I'll live in a timeline where we have to lick clean the feet of shitheads each day," he stretched out a bit, "… Y-you're right, though! They're essential for Rizevim… or rather, their technology so that Nebiros guy can play the mad scientist... but what for?"

"Speaking of which, I searched about the Nebiros," letting out a sigh, she closed her book and began, "Nebuchad Nezzar Nebiros, son of the Original Nebiros and widely known in the City of Dis."

"Yeah, yeah, I know that," Satanael dismissed her words, "Euclid told us he had an allegiance with Elder Naberius who is in prison as we speak. Heck, that shithead gave Nebuchad a King Piece."

"Did you know he was doing naughty things too?" Walburga smirked a little, "Way before he decided to help Rizevim?"

Satanael was interested now, "Go on…"

"He was curious about Senjutsu," Walburga explained, "He always bought Stray Devils to experiment with them, all his research failed horribly."

"He knows Senjutsu then?"

"Nope, his former assistant knows," Walburga stated, "a Nekomata by the looks of it. She must be a grown woman by now."

Satanael curved an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

In response, Walburga pulled a picture from her dimensional storage and lend it to him, "Take a look."

He glanced at the picture. It was a man with black and white hair and eyes of the same color, he had heterochromia. Two small girls sat on his knees, Nekomatas.

One had black hair while the shorter had white hair and both had hazel-colored eyes and pair of cat ears, Satanael theorized they were sisters.

"Aw, this is so wholesome!" Satanael gushed with sarcasm, "look! He looks so happy in the picture!"

"The one with black hair was his assistant," Walburga ignored his satirical comment, "she must be good with Senjutsu if Nebuchad found her reliant at a young age."

"They're his daughters?" he saw Walburga shaking his head, "Damn, for a second thought they were," he stared at the picture again, "I wonder if he was attached to them? That's what the picture us trying to tell me after all…"

A picture speaks a thousand words.

"Their mother was a Nekomata while the father was a human working under Nebuchad," she explained, "I don't know what they were working back then, but do you think it is connected in some way with the files and the piece of the Holy Grail that we'd retrieved from the Vatican?"

Satanael looked to the side, where Crom Cruach was devouring his bananas, "Only time will tell us."

Walburga suddenly giggled, "You seemed to be pissed with Creuserey back in the Vatican, the real Creuserey. Why? He stole your teddy bear?"

"Funny. Look, that son of a bitch told them Pops is good as dead… and because of that, my time went downhill. I have to act quickly now," Satanael shot a morbid smile, "I had in mind killing Creu-Creu nd Mastema after we escaped the Vatican, you know? And make up a lie that he was crushed by the Übermensch to avoid suspicion. But lo and behold, Mastema did me the honors. I should thank him next time I see him. I'll buy him a few girls!"

Walburga sighed at his attitude, "This guy, Mastema, why do you think he wanted to achieve by taking Creuserey's place?"

"Beats me," the cadre shrugged, "most likely a spy of sorts. Or he wants to get in Katerea's fine panties. But, I don't hate that frankness. I would, too."

"What's so special of that woman anyway?" Walburga folded her arms, "Her blood is the only useful thing about her."

"Tanned. Lines."

Walburga rolled her eyes and continued, "So, we're gonna stay quiet and let Mastema do his thing."

"That's the plan, yeah," Satanael stood up from the sofa, "Remember, we are working with Qlippoth just because they are the heavy hitters of Khaos Brigade behind Ouroboros. Due to that, we got our backs covered for now."

"For now?"

"Let's be real, they accepted us in their group because of you," Satanael rubbed the back of his neck, "… because of Incinerate Anthem. You know what I mean."

Walburga felt a chill crawl on her spine. She didn't mind to become the center of the attention, as long as said crowd had a working brain. Unfortunately, Rizevim wasn't in that category. The last thing she needed was a Super Devil, son of Lucifer and Lilith, to approach her.

For what reason would they want her Longinus apart of being capable of slaying Gods?

She finally stuttered, "I-I don't trust them."

"I'd call you lost cause if you did," she was surprised to see his expression dropping serious now, "the only sane people so far are that vampire from the Tepes Faction and that Nebiros fella. But they're up to something as well."

"Crom Cruach?"

"He's a fucking battle maniac and an Evil Dragon, do I need to say more?" Satanael offered a sheepish smile to the Evil Dragon, "No offense."

"…"

"… Not a clue what Lilin is up to, but sure as hell ain't gonna end with rainbows and sunshine. He's told me to make contact with the Netherworld. You have any clue the things that are crawling down there?"

"Grim Reapers," Walburga replied with a shudder, "as well as Gods of Hells and Darkness."

He bit the tip of his thumb, and continued with a frantic, worried tone, "Keeping my fingers crossed that it won't affect any further my plans."

"… We should go back to Euclid," Walburga suggested, "They're most likely wondering where we are right now."

Satanael sighed, "Agreed."

Crom Cruach left his seat once Satanael and Walburga got ready.

"Goddamn, CC! You made a damn mess!" the cadre whistled at Natsume and Kouki, "You two better leave this place as clean as a whistle once I come back!"

Like machines, the butler and maid immediately began their duty.

"Let's not waste more time," Satanael nodded at Walburga, "Do your thing."

The girl created a teleportation spell and disappeared.

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The reason why I didn't wait for my beta reader to check the grammar errors was because I'll be gone for eight days. I will not have internet. And I decided to send the chapter now so you guys could at least enjoy it. Once I come back, I'll reupload the chapter with the correct grammar.

This story is finished in my head. I know the ending, the powerups, character development and many other things. It may change depending what Ishibumi does to the Light Novels, though.

This fic has many flaws, it could be grammar errors, the plot or even the characters themselves. But we can all agree that the biggest flaw/weakness of this fic is the super slow update. All thanks to my personal life.

I've received PM'S asking when the next update was coming, and I told them in a few days. And guess what? I never uploaded becuase the chapter wasn't done yet. It is not okay for me to constantly give everyone an expectation, only to let them down, over and over. Yes, I eventually deliver the chapter, but at the cost of some people's patience. It's a horrible thing to do.

The failure to meeting my deadlines is incredibly disappointing.
That's why, I'll stop putting stress on myself with these deadlines. I'll keep them for myself. Private.
I will, however, keep updating my profile whenever I make progress in word count for my story. I will NOT say when next chapter is going to come out.
I will no longer be making any release date estimates.

For all of you and those who'd PMEd (you know who you are) I'd like to apologize for my delays.

This is something I wanted to talk about for so long, to ask you guys help, but I never did it because I don't like asking help. I dont know if it because I'm an arrogant prick or a distrustful person. Whatever the answer is, it's not alright to be like that, but damn, its really difficult to change.

But do you guys want me to cut the length of the chapters? Like, 7K words? Because maybe that way, I could update quicker. The only reason I refused to do that its because I feel the plot would feel slow or rushed as well as the character development feel empty. I read many fics with 5k to 7k and all of them semeed forced to me in some scenes, especially in the romance department. I don't want to fall in that trap, or maybe I already did but I'm unaware.

I wasn't joking about that canon is dead. Canon IS dead. meaning new timeline and different things are going to happen from here on and I feel that 7k won't be enough.

Actually, only one thing is going to happen like in canon, I'll give you a hint: Rating Games.

Back on track, I feel that 7k words won't be enough to make the chapter feel 'complete'. But if you guys prefer this option then fine, I'll try it. But if I feel it isn't working out for me, then I'll be forced to do the 10k chapters.

Or I could just continue writing 10k, but this time being a bit quicker. For example, each day I'll write 1k words, in a week I would have 7k in total. A week and a half around 15K and so on.

Or maybe I should try doing both? Sometimes 7k+ or 10k+?

I sometimes feel that you guys got used reading my 10k+ chapters that seeing a short one would make you feel... dissatisfied? Maybe that's just me.

And I'll say it as many times I have to. I will NOT abandon this story. Ever.

Last but not least, I'll be without internet until October 8. Meaning that you won't see updates on my profile, but I'll try to still write the next chapter.

I'm sorry, I'll do my best to change.

Thank you.

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Life.6: High Priest of the Moon, Nurarihyon