Thinking of taking a break. I can feel the wind calling my name

My hibernation is creeping closer

Please Be Normal

〖Chapter 7〗

⦕ Occupational Benefits ⦖

In the cozy Occult Research Club, Speirs now had swapped his casual attire for something a bit more polished. He now wore a slim-fitting shirt that subtly accentuated his decent build, accompanied by a pair of dark jeans. His biker jacket was neatly folded and draped over his thigh as he lounged on a comfortable sofa, quietly observing the lively scene before him.

Kunou, ever the lively Kitsune, practically buzzed with curiosity as she tottered around the room. Her tiny form radiated an infectious energy as she observed Rias with unbridled inquisitiveness.

"Ria-neetan, what are you doing?" Kunou's voice bubbled with youthful enthusiasm as she approached Rias's desk, peeking at the documents spread out before her.

Not-so-secretly delighted by the informal term of endearment, Rias smiled warmly at the young Kitsune now standing next to her, peering over her desk. "I'm working on some important Devil paperwork, Kunou."

"Devil paperwork?" Kunou echoed, her wide eyes locked onto Rias, as if trying to decipher the mysteries of the supernatural world.

"Yes," Rias explained patiently, "it's part of my duties as a Devil. I have to handle various matters related to our Peerage and the affairs of this town."

"Affairs?" Kunou nodded as if she understood, her fascination undiminished. "That sounds important."

"I bet our Prez will make a great mom someday," Issei chimed in from his seat, causing Rias to blush slightly, her poise momentarily disrupted.

"Hush! Focus on your studies and stop teasing me, Issei," Rias retorted, her tone a mix of embarrassment and playful annoyance.

Issei pouted but obediently returned to his textbook, grumbling under his breath. "...It's not like studying is a walk in the park…"

Next to him, helping his study, Kiba interjected with a knowing smile, "Issei-kun, if you fail the next test, Sona might personally tutor you. I'm sure you'd rather avoid that."

"You're absolutely right, blondie," the brown haired dude parroted firmly, burying his sights on his book as though they were a pair of boobs. "I don't want Sona-kaichou to chew my ass like she did Saji!"

"P-President Sona eats humans…?" and last but not least, the most skittish person in the room that had avoided his gaze like the plague itself—Asia Argento. The nun in a flock of devils.

"Oh… erm… it's uh… it's an expression, Asia-chan," Issei awkwardly explained while Kiba chuckled handsomely.

"Oh… Thank goodness. Cannibalism is not good, regardless if the participants are the willing one or unwilling."

Issei blankly stared at the blonde exiled nun, wondering how someone could be so adorable.

Rias coughed. "Issei. I know you've been injured but you seem healthy enough to daydream. Perhaps you prefer physical training?"

"No ma'am!" Issei immediately barked, before the well-known leering gaze started to take form on his face. "...What kind of physical training? Is it an intense one?"

Not exactly in the mood, Rias smiled thinly at her adorable dirty minded Pawn.

The cold smile slapped his attention back to his book. "...Actually Math is great…" he said before muttering under his breath. "...not…"

But, at least he wasn't alone in his study. Studying in a group was fun, especially when he got Asia next to him, intently studying Japanese.

Amidst this lively atmosphere, a pint-sized girl, barely taller than Kunou, sat before Speirs. She was in the midst of quietly savoring a slice of shortcake that he had thoughtfully brought along as a bribe. If it was a bribe, it was working on her.

And with her characteristic deadpan demeanor, Koneko remarked, "You should visit more often. You always bring food."

Speirs couldn't help but chuckle at her bluntness. "Well, someone's got to keep you guys well-fed, right?" He then casually threw a glance at Akeno next to her, and then one at Rias who now had Kunou sitting on her lap, trying her hardest not to bury her face in Kunou's bushy tail, before returning his gaze back to Koneko. "Or at least you."

Koneko immediately scowled. "What's that supposed to mean."

Speirs didn't feel the need to elaborate further. She got the idea. Her withering glare was definitely hint enough.

"I have mixed feelings towards him," grumbled Koneko.

"Get in line, Ankle-Biter," he said with a hearty chuckle, much to her dismay.

Akeno didn't want to miss the chance for some playful banter. "My, that's no good, Speirs-san. Koneko-chan is still growing."

"To put it in perspective," Issei chimed in, "Prez and Akeno-senpai are near the finish line while Koneko-chan is still at the starting li—" Before he could finish his sentence, a thrown pillow smacked him squarely in the face, leaving him momentarily disoriented. "I deserved that."

Speirs leaned back his seat with a chuckle. This was a lively group, Speirs idly thought. Teens doing teen stuff… devilish stuff, sure, but still. Took him back to a time when everything was much simpler, where mulling about which professor to mooch and which professors should be avoided like the plague was his daily routine.

Now…

Sensing a wave of nostalgia about to sweep in, the Custodian rose from his seat, slinging his jacket over his shoulder as he strolled toward a nearby window. With practiced ease, he withdrew a small box from his pocket, extracted a cigarette, and brought it to his lips. Just as he was about to ignite the flame of his Zippo lighter—

Akeno's tattled on him, her tone filled with mischievous delight. "Buchou~ he's lighting his cigarette again."

"By Lilith's ashes," Rias sighed, exasperated by the situation and her workload. "How many times do I have to repeat this? No smoking allowed on the school grounds!"

Speirs rolled his eyes at the scolding, a defiant grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Bah. Cut me some slack," he retorted, refusing to be deterred. "I'm buggered. I haven't got much sleep."

"Buggered…?'

"It means he's tired, Issei-kun."

Issei stared at Kiba. "...Well aren't you Mr. Worldwide."

"Maybe you wouldn't be so exhausted if you weren't fraternizing with our enemy," Rias criticized, causing several raised eyebrows towards the man. "Kunou, can you tell him not to smoke?"

"Okay," Kunou said with a determined nod. "Uncle, no smoking."

A gray haze seeped out of Speirs's nostrils and wafted out of the window before he replied with a nonchalant "No."

Kunou looked up at Rias, her expression flat. "Well, Kunou tried her best."

"That you did," Rias said, squeezing the Kitsune. She couldn't help but entertain thoughts of keeping Kunou with her despite the complexities of their situation. Maybe, just maybe, once Speirs was done with his dangerous line of work in her World, she could convince him to let Kunou stay.

Meanwhile, Akeno decided to tease Speirs a bit more. She had a knack for treading where others wouldn't dare. If there was anyone to make a mention of the countless blemishes on his neck, then it had to be her. With a graceful strut, she approached him, casting a brief glance out of the window at the woods beyond. Speirs sensed she was up to something, his eyebrow arching subtly in anticipation.

"Why do you smoke, Speirs-san?" she bluntly asked. The question earned her Rias' questioning gaze. But for now, the Gremory heiress remained silent, allowing the exchange to play out.

"To numb the pain of my existence," he said with a theatrical grin. Several eye rolls were made, specifically from Rias and Koneko. Issei thought it was funny as he snickered.

"Oh?" Akeno hummed, adding her own touch of drama. "Does it truly help?"

"One easy way to find out," he simply said as he offered his lit cigarette over, tucked between his fingers. He wasn't about to let anyone outwit him, Devil, Hybrid or not.

"Oh my…" Akeno stared at the fizzling embers, now aware she had underestimated him.

Knowing Akeno wasn't one to back down either, Rias intervened before things could escalate further. "Alright, I'll have to stop you right there, Speirs. Don't corrupt my Servants with your unhealthy habit."

Shooting Rias a challenging glance, instantly met by a 'don't you think about it' look from her, Akeno nonetheless went to grab the cigarette, but Speirs retracted the cancer roll, slipping it back between his lips with a smirk.

"Go get your own," he added with a wry grin, taking a defiant drag from his cigarette.

Akeno arched an eyebrow, her playful demeanor undeterred. "Very well then, Speirs-san," she purred, "but I must say, I've always found the sight of a burning cigarette rather alluring. Don't you agree, Prez?"

Rias sighed, realizing she was being roped into this game. "You're impossible," she muttered, deciding to focus on her work or Kunou. "Don't encourage his bad habits."

"But it's a guilty pleasure. And aren't we meant to be Devils?," Akeno teased, casting a pointed glance in Speirs' direction. Specifically his neck. "Well, Devils we are, but it seems he's more knowledgeable in certain… sinful things compared to us."

Rias shook her head, deciding to let Akeno be. Speirs should be more than capable in handling her nonsense. The word 'sinful', however, had caught a stray attention from a boy that really should be working on his calculus.

Her playful grin never fading, Akeno leaned in closer, her voice a sultry whisper but enough that it could be heard. "I couldn't help but notice those marks on your neck."

"Hm?" he quirked a single eyebrow, before quickly realizing what she was hinting at. "Oh. Well. Aren't you nosey."

"They do look rather... intriguing."

Rias sighed. "Seriously, Akeno?"

"Battle scars," Speirs said, now joining in on the fun. He wasn't going to entertain Akeno, but riling the Gremory? Her? Who stripped down to her knickers the first day they met? Right. Speirs wouldn't pass on that.

Rias rolled her eyes, her patience waning. "Don't try to pass them off as battle scars."

"Battlefield can be a very passionate place, you see," he replied, his grin unyielding. "But fine. Souvenirs then. Souvenirs tend to be quirky."

Akeno didn't relent. "Care to share how you acquire these sorts of souvenirs?"

He shrugged, taking another sip. "Careful now, Lady." Speirs cackled, fully aware she was trying to get a reaction out of him. It was not a charming laugh. Rather demeaning, really, which only ignited Akeno's competitive spirit.

"Why should I be careful? I just want to know. For future references."

"My room," Without missing a beat, he confronted her, "Why'dya ask? Got any lucky guy in mind?"

"Not at the moment, though I do see someone who's managed to get lucky."

Another shrug. "Eh. Occupational hazard."

"Hm… so who's the lucky girl?"

From her desk, Rias sighed exasperatedly as she shook her head. "Honestly, you two are beyond incorrigible."

Enjoying Rias' reaction and most especially Issei's flustered response as he poorly pretended he was engrossed in his book, the ever provocative Akeno nonetheless carried on. "Well?"

"You always pry into people's personal life, Lady?" Speirs shot her a playful look, to which she responded with an innocent 'I've no idea what you mean' expression while pretending to kick an invisible pebble. "Keep at it and I'll pry yours with a crowbar."

Akeno couldn't help but laugh at Speirs' comeback, her playful banter unabated. "You're so unflappable, aren't you, Speirs-san?" she cooed, leaning in even closer. "But I must say, I do enjoy a challenge."

Before Rias could throw her hands up in the air, however, Speirs pushed Akeno back gently. With a palm to her face. "Oh!"

"Horrible idea. Don't even try," he chuckled, squishing her entire face before reeling in his hand. "You're ten years too young, Akeno."

Now wide-eyed from the size of his nicotine-scented palm, now definitely flustered, Akeno gazed at the floor as she felt undeniable heat creeping up her cheeks. Oh dear, she might have yet met her match.

"I can't believe you two are having this conversation," the Gremory sighed. "And in front of Kunou, no less."

Speirs smirked, clearly unfazed still. "She's been exposed to much worse scene, Rias. In fact, she just did this morning."

Kunou, who had been watching the exchange with wide-eyed fascination, finally piped up, her innocence showing through. "What are you talking about, Ria-neetan?"

Rias blushed profusely, her devilish conversation with those two provocateurs was clearly not meant for the ears of a young kitsune. "N-Nothing, Kunou. Just... grown-up stuff."

Kunou tilted her head, clearly not satisfied with that explanation. "Grown-up stuff? Like what?"

Akeno and Speirs exchanged knowing glances, realizing they had inadvertently dragged the kitsune into their playful banter. Rias, on the other hand, buried her face in her hands in embarrassment.

"Let's just say," Speirs began, trying to give an age-appropriate answer, "we were talking about... battle scars."

Kunou's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Battle scars? Can I see them?"

Rias, now blushing even deeper, stammered, "N-No, Kunou! They're not something you should see!"

"Why?" Kunou pouted, clearly disappointed.

"They're… not… um… uh…"

The Devils and Speirs couldn't help but chuckle at their innocent exchange, the back and forth tease momentarily forgotten. It seemed they had unwittingly stumbled into a minefield of youthful curiosity, and Rias was left to navigate the delicate terrain of explaining the unexplainable to a six-year-old kitsune.

"So can you give me some battle scars, Speirs-san?"

"Akeno!" Rias shouted, causing Kunou to flinch and quite literally ruffled her fur. "O-oh, sorry for scaring you, Kunou, I didn't mean it— g-geez! You two! Quit it!"

As the banter between Speirs, Akeno, and Rias continued, Issei, ever the aspiring harem king, found himself engrossed in writing down Speirs' smooth and suave actions and replies in his notebook. His eyes darted back and forth, trying to capture every word, every gesture, and every ounce of charisma that Speirs exuded.

He scribbled furiously, his notebook filled with phrases like "Comeback 101:," "Akeno-senpai's playful teasing," and "Prez's adorable blush." Issei had delved into his own world of imagination, envisioning himself using these newfound techniques to win over the hearts of beautiful girls.

However, his clandestine note-taking didn't go unnoticed for long. Asia and Kiba, who were studying nearby, couldn't help but notice Issei's uncharacteristic focus and the mischievous grin on his face.

"What's got you so excited, Issei-san?" Asia asked, leaning over to peek at his notebook.

Kiba, ever the calm and collected one, raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the notebook's contents. "Issei, that doesn't look like math."

Caught red-handed, Issei nevertheless trudged on unapologetically and held up his notebook with pride. "My Magnum Dopus."

"It's Magnum Opus, Senpai…" Koneko corrected, somewhat dejectedly.

Some time passed, and with Akeno satisfied for her teasing-quota and be-teased quota and had returned to the group of studying Devils to help, Speirs mostly hung around for the vibe. He'd have bothered the Devils enough, he supposed. He then glanced out of the window and noted that the heat outside had finally started to relent. He stretched his arms forward and smushed the burning filter into an ashtray Rias had forced to create. He decided that it was time to make his exit.

Rias, engrossed in her work, looked up when she spotted Speirs shuffling. "Leaving already?" she asked, curiosity lacing her tone.

Speirs, blunt as ever, replied, "Still got some questions to ask the Fallen Angels. Need answers."

Rias raised an eyebrow, concern creeping into her expression. "Where are you heading to?"

He paused for a moment before replying, "Some place called The Chateau."

Rias immediately recognized the name and refrained from asking further. The Chateau was known to be a rather unique establishment run by Fallen Angels, gathering information in more ways than one. She had no desire to pry into his business there.

"Watch out for The Spider," she nevertheless warned. "Penemue's moniker. That joint is hers."

"I know. She's who I'm looking for."

A ripple of unease resonated across the Devils who knew — so essentially everyone apart from Issei and Asia. Akeno had an uncanny glower that went unnoticed as she pretended to busy herself with her tea-making.

"...Be careful, Speirs," Rias then added. "Think of… you know." Her blue-green eyes drifted hintfully towards a Kitsune who was busy drawing a paper with her new set of crayons, courtesy of, of course, Rias Gremory.

"No need to get dramatic," Speirs chuckled, waving her concern. "There's more than one way to get info."

Rias rolled her eyes, taking back her words and worry. "Anyway, before you go," she stopped him in his tracks. "Satan Leviathan, one of our four key leaders, wanted to meet you. I've just received notification from Sona a while ago."

"Does she? Well, what's she like?"

The Gremory considered her words. "She can be a little… eccentric, but she's nonetheless a highly-respected figure in the Underworld and tight schedule. If you can't attend for whatever reason, do tell."

"Uh huh. When and where?"

"Eight, tonight, and here in this room. Me and Akeno will be attending as well as Sona and Tsubaki. This town's Co-Overseer, and her Queen."

"Alright," he said, taking out his small pocket note to jot down the time. "Anything else, Princess?"

Rias made a face at that nickname but nonetheless shook her head and said, "No. That'll be all. Take care out there."

And so he moved on with a nod. But just as Speirs was about to make his way out, he felt a small tug on his pants. He looked down to see Kunou, her big eyes amber fixed on him with all the determination a six-year-old could muster.

"Uncle, uppies!" Kunou demanded, her tiny arms reaching up toward him.

"Spoiled little fox," Speirs bent down to scoop her up with one arm, hoisting her onto his chest. Kunou giggled with delight as he lifted her high, her fluffy tail swaying happily.

"...Kunou wants to give you a kiss, but you're beardy now. So no goodluck kiss."

He smiled. "Truly a shame."

After a throw that drew her 'wheeee!' and a few giggles and chuckles from the Devils, he set her back down. She gave him a wide, satisfied grin. "Bye-bye, Uncle!"

"See you later, Kiddo," he replied, ruffling her quirky ponytail gently before turning to the others and tossed a quick two-fingered salute at Rias. "Take care of her and I'll take care of your place. Be seeing you around."

Break

The twin engine's roar faded into silence as Speirs dismounted his bike and tucked his trusty helmet over its side mirror. He adjusted his leather jacket, ensuring his weapon of choice was within easy reach. The basement was empty, save for a few parked motorcycles and cars, as well as a lingering sense of unease that seemed to permeate the dry air.

He made his way toward the elevator, his footsteps echoing in the empty space. He threw in a nod to the lone security guard, who appeared on the brink of dozing off and toppling from his chair at any moment. This place didn't seem concerned about security checks. Well, it made sense. Everyone in this place was probably equipped with supernaturals and their magical nonsense. And just like most places he'd been in, mundane magicless weapons were likely the least of their concern.

As the metal doors slid open, he stepped inside the elevator, alone at the moment. The Chateau was known for its connections to the Fallen Angels and their not-so-mysterious information gathering operations. A place where secrets were bought and sold secretly like contrabands.

These sorts of places were right up his alley, really, except his currency was more often his words or the pair of brass knuckles nestled within his jacket's inner pockets.

However, that solitude was short-lived. Just as the metal box began its ascent, a faint, malevolent presence seeped through from the tiniest crack. From the shadows themselves, The Crawling Chaos materialized, her form coalescing into existence, complete with her suit and black and sickening green thigh-highs. She slinked her taupe arms around Speirs, wrapping around his own, as her eerie green eyes glinted with a wicked malevolence.

He let out a hefty sigh.

"Missed me?"

"Never."

Nyarlathotep chuckled.

"Wouldn't expect me to miss this one, hm? You're heading to their nest, after all," Nyarlathotep purred, her voice dripping with ill intentions. "I expect a glorious slaughter, nothing less than the feat you pulled off at that decrepit church. Or at least a few breaking of their sanity. Or at least, a couple of new, willing recruits."

He kept his stare straight at the door. "I'm not here to make enemies, just answers."

"Truly? Is that why you brought your weapons?"

This time he shot her a look, as if offended by her. "I could use some brass knuckles."

Nyarlathotep chuckled softly, her 'human' form shifting and swirling like smoke. "Ah, indeed. To force answers."

"Only when necessary," he shrugged, not shutting out the possibility.

"But where's the fun in that, my dear Custodian? A little chaos and madness can be quite invigorating."

"We'll see how it goes."

The elevator doors opened, and Speirs stepped out into the lobby of The Chateau.

The opulent lobby of The Chateau was a testament to extravagance and elegance. Bathed in the warm, inviting glow of ornate chandeliers, the room exuded an air of luxury. Plush velvet drapes adorned the walls, antique furniture occupied the spaces, and gilded mirrors stretched from floor to ceiling, reflecting the opulence back upon itself. The air was thick with an atmosphere of intrigue, and the soft murmur of conversations added to the overall sense of secrecy that permeated the space.

Nyarlathotep remained by Speirs' side, her presence with her formal attire blending in seamlessly with the refined surroundings. But her form seemed to flicker and shift like a mirage, twisting as she caught stray glances from the crows nearby. Her dark-skinned arms still wrapped around his own as she observed the lobby with an almost predatory curiosity.

Speirs strode confidently through the lobby, acknowledging the glances from other patrons but reacted no further. As he approached the reception desk, the concierge, a poised and impeccably dressed woman in a stark blue uniform, greeted him with a polite smile. "Welcome to The Chateau. How may we assist you today?"

Without any hesitation, he leaned in slightly and asked in his typically blunt manner, "I'm looking for Penemue. Where can I find her?"

His straightforward question sent a ripple of caution through the Fallen Angels on guard duty. Penemue wasn't just anyone; this he knew. She was the vice-leader of their faction and not someone he casually inquired about, especially if he was an unknown human with no apparent affiliation.

But Speirs really couldn't care. The faster, the better. He'd been to this sort of 'professional' establishment way too many times to bother with formality and procedures.

The concierge shifted her demeanor, her professional poise giving way to suspicion. "And who might you be, Sir?"

"I'm here for Penemue," he stated, his voice unyielding. "Something about the incident at the old church. I suggest you make a few calls." Speirs offered nothing more than a flat, unwavering gaze, his grip subtly tightening on the brass knuckles concealed within his jacket. Nyarlathotep, standing nearby, grinned with anticipation, her eerie presence easily piercing through the concierge's professional facade.

The tension in the room thickened as the Fallen Angels exchanged glances, unsure of how to proceed with this unanticipated visitor. The receptionist picked up her phone and made a call, speaking in hushed tones while keeping a watchful eye on Speirs and Nyarlathotep.

"Understood. I'll bring them there." Then the concierge placed down the phone, her suspicions masked behind a veneer of professionalism, kept her voice steady and composed as she led the way. "If you're looking for Penemue," she said, circling around the receptionist desk, "you'll find her in the Velvet Room. Please follow me."

Speirs offered a curt nod in response, acknowledging her assistance. Nyarlathotep, her grin never wavering, seemed to revel in the tension that permeated the air, sensing the chaos brewing.

As they reached the door to the Velvet Room, the concierge motioned for them to enter. Speirs said a brief "Thanks," and followed her inside with Nyarlathotep moving smoothly beside him.

The room they entered resembled a karaoke lounge, bathed in an eerie, pulsating velvet blue light. However, Speirs quickly noticed that it was not a room meant for a casual meeting; it was filled with Fallen Angels, all bearing their light weapons and casting wary glances and a grin on his way.

Before he could react, the concierge gave a forceful push, propelling him and Nyarlathotep into the room. She pushed with such vigor that it seemed as if Nyarlathotep, in her smoky form, had been physically pushed as well, though her body remained incorporeal. The door swiftly shut behind them, the sound of it locking echoing ominously in the confined space.

Speirs found himself surrounded by armed Fallen Angels, all eyeing him with a mix of suspicion and hostility.

Speirs sighed, a sense of weariness evident in his eyes. "A welcoming party, huh?" His voice was tinged with a hint of resignation. "Well, I came bearing gifts."

In one fluid motion, he drew his brass knuckles, the golden metal gleaming ominously in the eerie blue light of the Velvet Room. Chaos erupted as the Fallen Angels reacted, drawing their own weapons, the deadly lightspears, spears of radiant light meant to pierce and obliterate their foes.

However, to their bewilderment and growing dread, the lightspears proved entirely ineffective against The Custodian. The magical weapons sizzled and fizzled as they came into contact with his jacket or eyes that refused to blink, leaving him untouched. In stark contrast, his golden brass knuckles caused a cracked nose or spewed out bloody teeth or two whenever they landed a blow.

Amidst the chaotic onslaught, Speirs spotted a nearby table covered with ornate glassware and bottles. With a swift, aggressive sweep of his arm, he sent the fragile objects hurtling through the air. The shattering glass created a blinding distraction, briefly disorienting his adversaries.

Seizing this moment, Speirs lunged forward with primal ferocity. He grabbed the nearest Fallen Angel by the collar and rammed his forehead for an explosive headbut. The crunch of bone echoed in the room as his opponent reeled, momentarily stunned, blood pouring from their nose. But there was no respite in this brawl, only an unrelenting rhythm of violence. Speirs received a blow to his side, pain blossoming in his ribs. Without hesitation, he retaliated, his fist finding its mark in a gut-wrenching punch that left the attacker gasping for air.

Nyarlathotep, meanwhile, had immediately made herself comfortable on a nearby sofa, watching the unfolding chaos with a joyful grin. When one of the Fallen Angels attempted to hurl a lightspear at her, she phased through it with ease, offering a mocking wave of her fingers before she twisted the assailant's mind, letting her experience what it felt like to have her brain squeezed. The woman's scream echoed through the room as she crumpled to the floor, consciousness and sanity permanently lost from the imaginary agony.

"Ah, mortals~ so delectably weak…" she hummed as the electronic music and chaos picked up the rhythm.

The fight raged on with Speirs taking on multiple Fallen Angels at once. His movements were fluid, a brutal ballet of destruction as he weaved between attacks, delivering devastating blows that left his adversaries battered and broken. The Fallen Angels, realizing that their magical weapons were futile against him, resorted to fists and kicks, their light-imbued weapons dissipating.

"Oh my!" she feigned a gasp as Speirs was tackled to the ground by a rather bulky Fallen Angel. The rest of his companies immediately flocked the grappled human, kicking and stomping his sides as he groaned. More from annoyance than in pain.

But Speirs reached out something and quickly smashed it against his grappler, only to realize it was a tambourine. The man on top of him grinned but Speirs scrambled a shattered bottle and this time stabbed it right to his grappler's shoulder, causing him to wince as red spurted to the Custodian's outfit, before Speirs drew it back out and shoved the bottle right down his throat.

"Fuck off ya cunt—" with a growl dripping with his thick accent, Speirs shoved the now bleeding Fallen off him and made use of the moment of shock rippling down his ambushers to get back up and wiped his face, smearing his beard with the red hot blood.

As their companion struggled and clutched his neck, a wave of fear cascaded down the Fallen Angels like a wet blanket. They looked at each other for a moment, and with a nod, seemed to have found their lost courage, and charged at him again.

There was no finesse in Speirs' fighting style, only raw power and a relentless drive to end the confrontation swiftly. He got hit; a blow landed on his cheek, but he didn't falter. Instead, he retaliated with a punishing right hook that snapped the female Fallen's head back, sending her crashing into the room's decadent furnishings.

The battle raged on, a chaotic dance of fists and bodies. His opponents were no match for his brute strength coupled with his experience. With each opponent he took down, another stepped up to replace them, and they'd soon meet the carpeted floor or clutching their hit body as they agonized over a couch. One particular male was crying in gasps as they clutched their family jewels. It seemed that a kick to the nads was still more than enough to incapacitate.

The bassy music ended just as the last Fallen Angel fell, groaning and defeated. Speirs stood in the center of the room, chest heaving with exertion. His once polished appearance was marred by sweat and a bruise on his cheek, his fury evident over his bloody face.

Not his blood though.

In a final act of defiance, he spat a gobful of bloody saliva at one of the fallen adversaries, a grim expression on his looks.

And then arrived the slow clap. Clapping her hands in a slow, mocking applause, her eerie green eyes glinted with amusement as she observed the aftermath of the battle. Slightly disappointed that there was only one dead and one beyond recovery.

"Bravo, my dear Custodian," she purred, her voice dripping with a mix of admiration and sardonic humor. "Such a splendid display of chaos and destruction. I love how intense you look."

Speirs, not in the mood for her theatrics, rolled his eyes and approached the exit, only to find it locked. His frustration grew as he realized they were trapped.

"Need any help?" Nyarlathotep offered.

Speirs grunted as he wound back.

Outside the soundproof room, the female concierge waited with an air of indifference, checking her painted nails. It shouldn't take long, she mused. Soon she'd be back on her post and the days should go as—

Her boredom and thoughts were shattered when the door burst open. Her world suddenly spun, and before she could react, she found herself sprawled on the ground. The impact knocked the breath out of her, leaving her momentarily stunned and confused why the empty hallways seemed to have grown taller.

As she tried to regain her composure, she was flipped over and found the furious gaze of the suspicious human, now mounted over her. His brass knuckles gleamed ominously, and his intense expression struck fear the instant their eyes met. Her heart raced as she realized the dire situation she was in.

"Hello there." Looming above his shoulder, was the previous lady with glowing pale green eyes. "I suggest you play nice and give him what he wants. It isn't worth getting your brain squeezed out."

As a droplet of blood dripped to her cheek, the concierge stiffened. "Y-you weren't supposed to—"

"Penemue." The bloody brass knuckles poised threateningly near her chin, and he leaned in, his voice low and dangerous, "Where. Is. She? Lie to me again and I'll cut your tongue and have you swallow it."

"Th-the abandoned church—!" she immediately blurted out, stammering, sweating.

That got his expression to ease. "Well. That wasn't so hard was it?"

"Wait!" Her blue eyes widened as he reeled back his fist, and with a swift, brutal motion, he dislocated her jaw with a punishing crunch, as darkness consumed her vision.

Nyarlathotep couldn't contain her amused titter. "Ladies or gentlemen, you Custodians never know no mercy."

"My fists are bisexual."

…

Nyarlathotep blinked. "...What?"

"They speak in a universal language, is what I should've said— argh, forget it."

Break

The dirt road leading to the abandoned church crunched beneath Speirs' boots as he dismounted his bike, Nyarlathotep a silent companion beside him, her black hair dancing in the breeze. He parked the motorcycle near the church's entrance, where two imposing Fallen Angels in professional attire stood guard, clearly Penemue's personal bodyguards.

Each donned in charcoal black suit over a magenta shirt, they had their black wings out. Four of them. He didn't know what they represented, but he could take a guess and assume they were stronger than the crows he'd fought.

As they eyed him with disdain, moving in to confront him, Speirs coolly opened the compartment on his bike and retrieved a silver revolver with a long barrel. If bullets were unlimited, he'd have brought this with him. Sadly though, the only world that produced the .44 calibers wasn't exactly operational.

Their sneers at the sight of a man-made weapon were met with his unwavering gaze.

"Where do you think you're heading, pal?" one of the guards challenged, a smirk on his face.

"Penemue," Speirs responded, his voice steady. "She in there?"

The two guards burst into laughter, clearly unimpressed by Speirs' presence and his demand. They exchanged amused glances and then, with a dismissive wave, tried to usher him away.

"Save ourselves some trouble and point that toy gun somewhere else," one of them jeered.

"Well if you say so."

In one fluid motion, a gunshot pierced the air, finding its mark in the thigh of the guard on the right. The man's pained cry filled the surroundings as he crumpled to the ground, clutching his bleeding leg. "AAARGH— SON OF A—!"

As the other guard's eyes flickered with recognition, his earlier confidence was entirely replaced by scathing dread. "Y-you! You're him!"

Speirs swiftly turned the revolver toward the remaining guard, his aim steady and intent clear. "Look, mate, why don't we both do ourselves a favor, I save my bullet, while you save your sorry arse?"

Penemue found herself alone in the chamber beneath the abandoned church, the atmosphere pregnant with an unsettling silence. The room itself had borne witness to an inexplicable event—around two dozen Fallen Angels, all members of Raynare's splinter cell, had vanished overnight, leaving behind no trace or bodies. The double doors leading to this hidden sanctum lay blown apart, bearing testament to the destructive force that had infiltrated this lair.

Survivors of the mysterious attack, agents of Kokabiel who had gone rogue, had been confined to jail or hospitalized. According to their reports, a man donning a biker jacket and helmet had stormed this place, a man impervious to the lethal lightspears wielded by the Fallen Angels, believed to be able to snap their bones as though their supernatural resilience had vanished. And if that wasn't enough mystery itself, she had just recently received an alert from The Chateau, about a human who came looking for her, as well as a group of injured and two dead he had left.

As she shifted her wine-colored tresses, careful not to ruin the messy stylish bun or the pair of pince-nez sunglasses resting on top, Penemue felt a subtle ripple through her web-like detection magic, her unease intensified. The sensation felt off, a distorted reflection of reality that unnerved her. Suddenly, her connection was overwhelmed by a nightmarish barrage of horrifying scenes, a feedback loop of terrors that compelled her to sever her web-like threads abruptly. Agony and shock coursed through her, her hands clutching her head as if to prevent it from splitting.

"...What…?" She clutched her head in agony and shock, uneasy from the malevolent power that had invaded her senses and threatened to twist her sanity.

Amidst her distress, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the stairwell outside. Penemue's eyes widened in alarm as a human in a black leather jacket, a silver revolver firmly gripped in his gloved hand, had entered the scene of his crimes.

"You..." she muttered, her voice tinged with a mixture of recognition and apprehension. She could smell the unmistakable metallic stench of blood oozing from him. "You must be The Biker."

His cold gaze locked onto Penemue as he entered the chamber, his presence imposing and his piercing gray stare unyielding. The dim, eerie glow of the underground chamber's lighting cast haunting shadows on the walls, casting one each over his protruded brows, and, coupled with his full beard and sunken cheeks, granted him the silhouette of a skull missing its lower jaw.

Close behind him, his companion—she presumed, was a young woman that moved with an uncanny grace. Her dark eyes glittered with a blend of curiosity and mischief, and her ever-present tightlipped smile carried an unsettling edge. She raised a hand and offered Penemue a languid wave, her intentions veiled and disconcerting.

"And you..." Penemue began, her voice calm but laced with accusation. "You're the one who sent those visions."

Though still reeling from the nightmarish visions and the sudden realization of their source, Penemue kept a defiant stance. She assessed the situation quickly, her analytical mind at work. It was evident that Nyarlathotep had been responsible for the terrifying illusions that had assaulted her senses moments ago. Penemue straightened her dress shirt, her black coat billowing as her ten midnight feathered wings unfurled.

"Visions? Sent?" Nyarlatothep tilted her head, her flat forelocks swaying along. "Aren't you the one that got overly curious, young lady?"

Penemue's brow furrowed in confusion as she met her enigmatic gaze. "Curious? I—"

She paused, realizing the twisted nature of the situation. Whoever this woman might be, she was dangerous, and she had effortlessly turned the tables on her, leaving Penemue momentarily speechless. The Crawling Chaos's playful demeanor had managed to sow doubt within her own mind.

"I may have been hasty," Penemue admitted begrudgingly, her wings twitching with agitation. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this… fascination of yours…?"

His demeanor marked by an air of detached efficiency, Speirs responded with a casual tone, his gravelly baritone resonating through the chamber. "Are you Penemue?"

Her magenta eyes narrowed as she studied him curiously and cautiously. "...That I am… and you are…?"

"Speirs," he replied succinctly, his steady gaze unwavering."The Biker, I guess."

"...Am I mistaken to assume you both are the one responsible for this… scene?"

"Me?" Nyarlathotep's voice floated into the conversation, an eerie amusement tinging her words. "Oh, no, I like to watch. He doesn't need my help much."

"Categorically," he affirmed without hesitation once her eyes diverted to him.

A wry smile played at the corner of Penemue's lips as she assessed the situation. "I see," she murmured, her fingers subtly weaving threads of magic, spinning her web as caution, ready to ensnare. "Well then, I suppose I owe you gratitude for... taking care of one of my problems, unwittingly or not."

"Uh huh, I value information over empty gestures, Lady."

"You seek answers? A common ground at last," she mused, tittering softly. "I have several questions in mind that you no doubt possess the answers to."

"Fair enough." Information exchange. Not his first rodeo. Far from his last. "Be the generous host and let me ask first, aye?"

Her eyes narrowed as she assessed Speirs, her demeanor cautious. His composed casualness and directness left hints at naivety or experience. In his case, Penemue believed it was the latter.

"And what makes you think I would just hand over information without veiling it under a lie?" Perhaps he had his own tricks to reap truths, that was what Penemue wanted to know.

He didn't flinch under her scrutiny. "Let's just say it's in your best interest. Less trouble for you in the long run."

Penemue's expression remained inscrutable. "You're not very convincing, Speirs. I have no reason to trust you or divulge any information."

Nyarlathotep chimed in with her unsettling smile. "Oh, come now, dear," her words easily caused Penemue to bristle from unease. "He did resolve your little problem as you yourself admitted. A show of gratitude might be in order… Elsewise, I can assure you I can rip out answers without you ever saying a word."

As Penemue slightly narrowed her eyes from being on edge, Speirs shot Arla a glance. "And I thought you were being helpful for once."

"I'm getting bored, Speirs," she huffed. "It's not about you, it's always me. Let's make this quick, yes?"

Speirs rolled his eyes, whereas Penemue's wings twitched in irritation as she considered the unpredictable dynamics at play. She was confident of her strength and wit, but standing before her were two undetermined variables. Caution was her most reliable ally for the moment, or perhaps, the only one.

"Very well," she reluctantly agreed. "Let's proceed. But first, I have a question."

Speirs raised an eyebrow, encouraging her to continue with a subtle nod of his head.

"Your apparent immunity to lightspears and magic," Penemue began, her curiosity evident. "Is it a natural ability or an acquired one? And how are you able to resist our magic?"

"Occupational perks, Lady," he answered almost immediately. Definitely not his first time receiving such a question. "But I'm willing to share more information, provided you reciprocate. Fair's fair."

She couldn't deny the appeal of a straightforward exchange. "Very well, ask your questions."

"I'll start simple," Speirs said. "What's the deal with those feathers of yours? You all have them, but you have ten while your goons outside have four, while the rest in the hotel have two."

Penemue hesitated for a moment, considering her response carefully. "Our wings are not just decorative. They are conduits for our magic, allowing us to manipulate the elements, cast spells, and even communicate across great distances. Each feather holds a unique ability, and skilled Fallen Angels can use them for a wide range of purposes. They are an essential part of our heritage and power, and each pair of wings is a testament of our strength."

"That so?" He raised an eyebrow, mentally counting the wings she had. "You must be strong then."

She nodded courteously. "Wit can't always ensure safety."

He could agree to that.

"Kokabiel," he then stated. "Who is he, and what are his plans? Why are you allowing Raynare and her rogue agents to continue their activities without intervention? Their operations are far from discreet, and it's common knowledge in that hotel. So don't play dumb or smart with me. Spare me any riddles, or you might find yourself stitching your feathers back on this afternoon."

Her expression shifted, her eyes narrowing as she weighed her options. It was clear that Speirs wasn't playing games, and he was armed with a dangerous companion. And even if he wasn't, he was shrouded in layers of mysteries. Penemue disliked having to approach without having any reliable information first.

"Very well," she sighed, realizing that evading the truth could potentially lead to disastrous consequences. "Regarding Raynare and her splinter faction, they are indeed rogue agents, but they still possess valuable information and resources. We've been observing them closely, using them as a means to gather intelligence on Kokabiel's activities. We can't afford to intervene directly without exposing ourselves prematurely, especially since the Devils own a majority of this town. Information leakage can lead to unprecedented damage and chaos."

Speirs absorbed this information with a measured expression, Nyarlathotep watching silently, her eyes flickering with interest at the mention of the c-word.

"You're talking about that Sacred Gear extraction ritual, I'm guessing."

"...Correct."

"And Kokabiel?" he prodded. "Isn't he your leader?"

"Once a respected leader among us, but he has gone rogue," Penemue corrected and continued smoothly. "His plans... They involve a plot to disrupt the balance of power among the supernatural factions, including the Devils and the Angels. He's gathered a following of loyalists who share his dangerous vision. They do not align with the interests of the Grigori."

"She's lying," Nyarlathotep interjected with her ominous amusement. "Well. Categorically," she then tittered as Penemue's eyes widened and Speirs tapered his. "Half-truths are spectacularly dressed lies intended to mislead, thereby wasting my time. Just finish her off, Speirs. I'll play nice. I want another ride on your mechanical steed."

"Look, Lady," he warned, his gravelly voice taking on a stern tone. "You'd better be careful with the games you're playing here. I don't have much patience for deceit, and neither does she," he added, nodding subtly toward Nyarlathotep, who grinned mischievously. "Give me what I need, straight and undecorated with bullshit. I don't make empty threats. I will pluck those pretty feathers of yours even if it'll take me my entire evening."

His warning hung heavily in the dim chamber, his voice conveying his seriousness and the dedication he had to carry his threat to the letter. The woman's presence, with her unsettling grin, only heightened the tension in the room.

Penemue hesitated, her eyes now betraying a hint of distress as she grappled with her decision. She knew that revealing the full truth could jeopardize the elaborate plan concocted by the upper echelons of the Grigori. Kokabiel's role was an essential part of their strategy, one that not even his own crew, including Raynare, were privy to. It was a perilous gambit, one that must not be divulged, no matter the cause.

As Nyarlathotep's gaze bore into her, Speirs' gray now sending a steely piercing glare, Penemue knew she couldn't afford to disclose that critical piece of information to either of them—suspected agents of the Devils. Her loyalty to her organization and Lord Azazel's overarching goal took precedence, even if it meant facing dire consequences.

"I understand your impatience," she replied carefully, her voice measured as her ten wings unfurled, subtly concealing the pink light needles that gradually materialized behind her. "But some truths are best left unsaid, even when facing a determined interrogator. I've provided you with what I can without crossing lines that shouldn't be crossed. If you value the delicate balance between our kind, you'll accept this compromise."

Nyarlathotep grinned wickedly. Finally, some abrupt chaos.

But Speirs missed that hint, and simply drew out his revolver, aiming the silver muzzle at Penemue's stomach.

"Your balance or your entire world," he stated. "I ain't asking twice, Lady."

Penemue met his unwavering gaze and spoke with a heavy heart, knowing that the next moments would determine her fate. "Then, I'm afraid, our exchange ends here."

Her ten wings beat forward, releasing a powerful gust as a barrage of pin-sized light-infused missiles honed toward Speirs. The room was filled with an otherworldly spectacle as the projectiles moved like a swarm of deadly fireflies, guided by her will. Speirs instinctively shielded his eyes from the ferocious gust, which seemed to have the force of a small tornado.

However, despite the might of the magical assault, he remained utterly unyielding, not budging an inch. The tiny magic missiles that should have pierced his flesh and turned him into a bloody pincushion simply fizzled out upon contact with him, and worse, the invisible threads squeezing every part of his body that was supposed to restrain him was immediately ruptured the moment he took a move, confirming Penemue's fear—she might be under-equipped to handle him.

But nevertheless, she wouldn't falter.

Annoyed by the futile attempt, Speirs lowered his arm from his eyes as the miniature twister dwindled. He swiftly aimed his revolver at Penemue, only to find that she was approaching him with unnatural speed. Before he could take aim and shoot, she crashed into him with a burst of unnatural speed. Their collision sent them both tumbling to the ground, and Speirs lost his grip on his revolver, which skittered away from him.

As for Nyarlathotep, she had taken her seat on a nearby broken stone altar, a remnant from the church's previous use. The once-sacred object was now shattered and defiled, a fitting perch for the enigmatic being as she observed the unfolding battle with a gleeful smile, eager to see how The Custodian would overcome his new adversary this time.

Penemue's realization hit her like a cold wave; relying on magic was entirely futile against her mysterious adversary. With her katana-shaped lightsword dematerializing into nothingness when it should have cleanly sliced through his neck, she swiftly assessed the situation and decided to switch tactics. She leaped back, her wings transforming into deadly blades as she slashed at Speirs with their sharp feathers.

"Ugh—" Yet, every strike seemed to accomplish nothing more than smacking him physically, as though her attacks were nothing more than oversized feather dusters. "C'mere you oversized peacock!"

"—!" she gasped in shock as she felt Speirs' vice-like grip at the base of one of her wings. With brute force, he pulled her toward him, and she winced as pain exploded from her back upon contact with his body. Her retaliation came in the form of a sharp, well-aimed kick to his gut, which elicited a groan of pain from him and allowed her to break free.

As she staggered into position, her quick-healing magic mending the bruise on her back from growing, Penemue noticed the golden brass knuckles on Speirs' hand. They gleamed ominously in the dim chamber as he closed in for another strike, and she knew she needed to find a way to outmaneuver this seemingly invulnerable foe.

Penemue shifted her stance, her wings flickering with magic as she attempted to create a blinding flash of light, aiming to disorient him momentarily. However, to her dismay, the blinding light seemed to have little effect on him, and he continued his advance undeterred.

Desperation welled up within Penemue as she realized that her bag of tricks was quickly running dry. She couldn't afford to underestimate her opponent any longer. With a sudden burst of speed, she lunged forward, aiming a swift and precise punch at the center of his chest, where his heart should be. She hoped that hitting a vital spot would have some effect, even against an opponent as formidable as Speirs.

It was a grave mistake. Honed by years as a Custodian, and countless skirmishes that had claimed his life (temporarily), Speirs effortlessly sidestepped her attack, his movements fluid and precise. With a quick pivot, he countered by delivering a powerful uppercut to her jaw.

Her sunglasses were thrown away as her head snapped back, stars swirling in her vision as the force of the blow left her momentarily vulnerable. Speirs wasted no time, closing the distance with blinding speed and delivering a devastating knee strike to her abdomen.

"KH—GAH!?" A sharp gasp escaped her lips as the powerful blow lifted her off her feet, sending her crashing to the ground. Pain radiated through her body as she grappled with the impact.

Nyarlathotep watched the scuffle unfold with keen interest from her perch, her smile widening as she saw Speirs' martial brutality in action. Anyone was in a tough fight against an opponent who had honed his skills through countless battles, especially someone who always used his fists and body as a weapon, as opposed to those who relied on their magical armaments and mental trickery.

Clutching her stomach, casting another ray of healing, Penemue swiftly grasped the dire situation she found herself in. Worse yet, she noticed that her movements had grown sluggish in comparison to his blinding speed. It was as though she was battling against a force of nature, an unstoppable hurricane of strength and staying power.

As she attempted to maneuver herself out of harm's way, Speirs's fist connected against the side of her arm with a devastating punch. Hissing in pain, the impact sent Penemue reeling backward, her lithe form thrown off balance by the sheer force of his blow. She collided with a crumbling stone pillar, her wings flailing as she fixed her posture.

Regaining her footing, Penemue realized that it wasn't that Speirs had accelerated; it was she who had slowed down.

A sudden kick to her leg, her only defense being the thin fabric of her tights, nearly sent her sprawling. Before she could react, Speirs unleashed a ruthless, devastating kick that drove the heel of his boot deep into her gut, slipping beneath the defense of her arms.

"Urk—!" The impact was devastating, causing Penemue to double over in excruciating pain, gasping for precious breath as she fought to regain her composure. "Ha… hah… agh—..."

Despite the odds stacked against her, she fought to regain her composure, determination gleaming in her eyes. With so much at stake, she couldn't afford to falter. She needed to devise a strategy to outsmart her unrelenting adversary and turn the tide of the battle.

"Just tell me what I want," he demanded. She could feel his glare as her hands, now trembling, radiating pink shimmer to reduce the pain. "I take no pleasure in punching women."

"Liiiiarrr~" Nyarlathotep chimed in, her eerie laughter rippling through the dim chamber. "Categorically, again. He's a massive sadist. Most Custodians are."

Speirs rolled his eyes at Nyarlathotep's comment, his patience running thin. "I'm not here to debate my personal preferences," he retorted sharply, his gravelly voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Give me the infos I need, and we can all walk away from this. Preferably not in a body bag."

"...Custodian…?" Penemue repeated, her voice tinged with a mixture of pain and curiosity. The searing agony from their earlier brawl was gradually subsiding, allowing her to focus on the enigmatic figure before her. "Is that... is that why magic doesn't work on you? The reason why… you're like a void, a walking black hole that nullifies our powers in your vicinity?"

Her astute observation arched his black eyebrow in acknowledgement. "That's one way to put it. You're as smart as you look and speak, huh lady?"

Speirs then crouched down beside her, his piercing gray eyes meeting hers. After a moment of contemplation, he decided to divulge a bit more. "I'll let you in on this because I feel bad; I'm a guy whose job desk is to hop around Universes. I've been nominated by my employers to check this one—yours. I don't need to tell you the specifics, but I'm here to make sure this world doesn't stop spinning, and I'll do whatever it takes even if it means I'll have to beat pretty ladies to a bloody pulp."

He sighed, his expression weary but determined. "So, if you'd be so kind as to share what you know, I won't have to resort to any more unpleasant measures."

Nyarlathotep couldn't resist interjecting, her tone playfully mocking. "And trust me, compared to his past deeds, this is him being kind."

"Zip it, Arla, or I will."

Nyarlathotep nevertheless let out her simpering giggles. Nobody died, but it was pretty fun watching the poised multi-winged cretin before her feeling inadequate. The shattering of confidence was a delightful sight to see. Not to the point of having her world crumble that would shove Penemue into a world of self-pity and preferably isolation from severe sanity loss, but it was sufficient.

As for the Fallen Angel, now disheveled and fatigued, her wine-red locks clinging to her sweat-drenched face, sought further clarification on his purpose.

"...Then, whatever it is you do, it is for the benefit of this 'World,'..?" Penemue inquired, seeking further insight into his mission.

"Yeah."

"To ensure peace, no matter the cost or method?" she pressed further.

"The end justifies the means," he shrugged.

With a weary sigh, Penemue yielded, her eyes conveying her reluctant agreement. She grasped the gravity of the situation and the potential ramifications of concealing vital information from someone who could prove instrumental.

"...Understood," she conceded. "I'll share what I know. But swear to use this knowledge for the greater good and to keep the Grigori's involvement a closely guarded secret. This information is highly classified."

"I'm not here to expose secrets."

Penemue's gaze then turned to Nyarlathotep, who had been a disconcerting presence throughout their encounter. "...And what of your companion?"

Speirs glanced at Nyarlathotep, a stern look in his eyes. "She's here for her own twisted brand of 'fun.' Any unnecessary interruptions, and I'll hand her the boot."

Nyarlathotep responded by playfully crossing her index fingers over her dark, eternally smiling lips, shaking her head to complete the 'I won't tell no one' gesture.

With the terms set, they delved into a conversation that would unearth the secrets Penemue held, secrets that could potentially impact the stability of the Three Major Factions, and perhaps the entire supernatural world. The dim underground chamber, once a battleground, now became the setting for a quiet exchange of knowledge, with Nyarlathotep's presence serving as a reminder that chaos lurked just beneath the surface.

As Penemue concluded her revelation, this time without any embellishments or half-truths to obscure her words, and with him filling in on her regarding his job as a Custodian, Speirs now fully understood.

Whatever the cost, Kokabiel must succeed.

With newfound understanding and an uneasy alliance forged, Penemue's magenta eyes glittered with curiosity. She found herself intrigued by him, the enigmatic Custodian who traversed the multiverse, and his task to preserve the balance of worlds.

"Speirs," she began, her tone taking on a more contemplative note, "I must admit, your role as a Custodian and your unique abilities are... fascinating."

Speirs regarded her with a measured gaze. "I'm just here to do my job, Lady. No strings attached."

Nyarlathotep chuckled from her perch, amused by the unfolding conversation. "Oh, how touching. It's like a budding friendship."

Penemue smiled faintly, learning to disregard "Arla"'s comments. "A man of duty, I can respect that. Admire it, even. But consider this – our world is full of secrets and mysteries waiting to be unraveled. Would you be willing to cooperate with the Grigori and allow us to study you more closely? Your insights could prove invaluable in our mission to safeguard this world."

Speirs regarded her proposal with a raised eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his gaze. "Cooperate and be observed closely, eh? By who?"

"By me, of course," she stated plainly, her contralto a pleasant tune of femininity compared to his rough masculine baritone. "I hold a high rank within the Grigori. Perhaps a partnership of sorts could prove beneficial to both parties. I can offer you insights into the workings of our realm that you might not discover on your own, and in exchange, you continue to ensure its stability."

"Cooperation doesn't sound too bad," he admitted cautiously. "But I have my own rules, and I won't be anyone's puppet. You want my help, you play by my terms."

"That's understandable," Penemue rested her eyes temporarily as she nodded. Before he could respond, Penemue's voice took on a slightly softer tone, her eyes studying him intently. "And personally, I find your presence rather intriguing. You are an anomaly in our world, a variable I can't help but be curious about."

He eyed her, his intense steely gaze never leaving her eyes, before he said with a mirth of humor, "Lady, are you hitting on me?"

"...Eh…?" Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink as she realized her own words, a rarity for a confident Fallen Angel like herself. She quickly composed herself, though, and replied with a hint of playful sarcasm, "Oh, please. Don't flatter yourself, Custodian."

To be continued…

Penemeu's appearance is based from Kafka from the Impact series, by the by, and it's going with canon description. Mostly.

At first I was gonna use either Scathatch or Medusa from Fate, but Kafka's got a more amusing personality compared to the two

From enemies to allies and potential bed warmer. Seems like it's going to be a recurring theme — not. Let it be known i hate fast burn, but i'm no longer a big fan of slow burn romance either. So it's gonna be a medium heat

And yes, as much as Akeno and Speirs hit it off well, they're not and never gonna be a pair

Kunou cute. Arla is there for the vibe. Speirs is brutal as usual. Issei is slowly gaining actual personality. Asia is scared. Kiba is sorta there. Penemue is a good ally to have and flirt around with high potential to be an OTP. The under-used Serafall is knocking at the door with Danzy already cramming a bunch of backstory for her that is hopefully a fresh take, willing to give Penemue a run for her money as I will get a kick from their clash of personalities. Penemue is an elegant fountain pen while Serafall is a pink glitter marker

And the plot nevertheless thickens. What's the deal with cockabiel? Why must he succeed? Well, i'm sure you guys have an idea or two, and feel free to guess. The correct ones get a ":)" as an award

All in all, i think this chapter has got it all. At least for me

LASTLY. Have you seen The Eminence in Shadow? No? Wdym no. go watch it. It's good. It's great. It's got Delta. And i've got a fic about Cid bumbling his way through dxd, which is probably next in line for an update

SO GOGOGO

Leave a review tho, tell me what you wanna see more and what you think could use some improvement, and follow this goddamn story