i'm feeling generous, so here's another chapter before a week

Release season 5 of dxd already ffs, i need my influx of new readers and welcome them to the shadow cult

but the trailer for season 2 for TEIS is dope. More hype train fight scenes are always welcome

Meanwhile as we wait- enjoy Mr. Shadow's wild ride, shadowbros

〖 Chapter 8 〗

⦕ I Am… Delved Within the Shadows, Illuminating the Light ⦖

With my 'cameo' performance executed to perfection, I continue my quest to locate the hideout for Shadow's Underground Organization™—a work in progress, but one that's brimming with potential. That web-thingy The Spider had going on earlier piqued my interest. I bet that's her nifty way to spot 'unique' individuals, those with a Mana capacity that's higher than the average human.

It's a neat trick, and I can't help but wonder if I can borrow a page from her book.

But I'll just consider it...uh, inspiration. Not plagiarism. If she's filing a lawsuit, then that's a problem for future Shadow. Right now, I have base-searching priorities.

Wandering through the labyrinthine streets of Kuoh Town within my ever-convenient Shadow Dimension, I venture deeper into the less populated part of town. My eyes scan for any traces of supernatural shenanigans. And then, it happens. A faint but distinct shade of Mana tickles my sight. It's not glowing neon bright like whoever The Spider's real name is, but it's more vibrant than the average joes of this world.

It's the supernatural equivalent of having a glowstick at a rave—a subtle yet undeniable indicator that someone's got a little extra oomph going on.

A potential ally or a rival? Only time will tell.

I crack a sly grin beneath the comforting shadows of my hood. Looks like I've stumbled upon an unexpected treat.

My target? A man in a weird getup—white robes and all that screams 'here be holy servant of the lord'. But there's something off about him. Something that rings my internal alarm bells. He might be a priest, but there's a stench of blood in his coat, and, as I take a closer look, sure enough, I see the red splatter that sticks out like a sore thumb in his predominantly white clothes. It can't be ketchup nor fake blood either; I'd know. I've made some.

A holy man with a taste for blood—it's like a vegan working at a butcher shop. This doesn't add up.

And what's a priest doing in a town where its residents go to shrines rather than church? Maybe he's the town's professional confessional booth—people spill their sins, and he spills their blood. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement.

With a wicked grin concealed beneath the comforting shadows of my hood, I decide to tail this "holy" figure. It's a bit like stalking, but with flair. I shadow his every move, keeping a safe distance, poised to slip into my Shadow Dimension at the drop of a hat. But where he's leading me is beyond even my wildest expectations. Who would've thought I'd end up chasing a questionable priest down a rabbit hole? Well, time to see how deep this rabbit hole goes.

He descends a flight of stairs, standing before a huge circular metal gate that supposedly leads to, you guessed it, a sewer. At least, that's what it looks like. But where are the rats? The cockroaches? My edgy-vibes are tingling, and I can tell this place is a little more than just a sewer.

Then he starts to mutter some magical rambling before he enters a separate space, and disappears as he steps inside wherever that is.

Secret code, eh? Well, I've never been one to follow rules or codes, especially not the secret ones, unless it's mine. So, I'll just conveniently ignore that little detail and invite myself into your pocket world.

Re-entering my Shadow Dimension, I find myself facing a conspicuous blob of Mana blocking the entryway. Now, I learned from my past mistakes; no brute-forcing this time. Breaking the place's concealment would be like scratching a winning lottery ticket before cashing it in—I might want to claim this place as my own, after all.

Instead of barging in, I opt for a more delicate approach. Picture it: I'm like a shadowy seamstress, threading my own Mana through the hole that's been torn in the fabric of reality, carefully parting this blob of Mana. I slip through the opening like a whisper in the night, a master of subtlety. You may now applaud.

Remaining in this Shadow Dimension, I glide right past our holy-blooded friend, navigating this totally-not-a-secret-hideout at my leisure. There's a stairwell leading further down, and the passages of an underground maze sprawls before me. The Mana here is peculiarly clustered, not the usual scattered arrangement. My curiosity intensifies. Could this be it?

The air grows damp and I assume darkness envelops me like a well-tailored cloak. I can see fine through the dark while in this Shadow Dimension, ironically enough. Everything is just more purple. As the contents of this underground realm slowly unveil themselves—a maze of hidden potential. My shadowy mastermind spirit is practically doing cartwheels of delight. Could it be?

As I step deeper into the catacomb, following the trail of Mana that have thoughtfully arranged themselves to guide my way, my suspicion is confirmed. Right here, beneath this seemingly peaceful town, lies an underground catacomb—a treasure trove of hideout potential!

Oh, hell yeah, baby! Jackpot!

Now, you might be pondering why on Earth there's an underground catacomb beneath this tranquil town, especially in a world where human wars have been nonexistent for seven centuries. There must be a deep lore etched to this place. Well, to all that, I say: who cares! It's an underground catacomb!

And then, it happens—a moment of revelation. I stumble upon a hidden chamber with brick walls where a group of similarly dressed individuals is huddled around a table. Swords rest in scabbards on nearby racks. The swords alone make me wonder why holy people would carry them—until I remember this world's penchant for devils and demons who shoot lasers from unexpected places. Those swords could fetch a pretty penny, that is, if I can find a buyer who won't ask too many questions. Maybe Raynare can point me in the right direction.

But enough about the swords. What on Earth are these poser bandits doing here? Judging by the bibles strewn across the floor—pages torn and repurposed for swordplay practice—it's safe to say they aren't here for Sunday school. Besides, it's still Friday. Actual bandits masquerading as priests? What an unexpected twist! Or cultists, whatever floats their sinister boat. One thing's for sure—I have zero moral quandaries about erasing their presence from the face of the Earth.

I pick up one of their bibles for a closer look. Latin text shimmers in the dim light, though it might as well be written in ancient Martian for all I can decipher. Did I mention I can't read Latin?

Since eavesdropping on their slow-mo conversation isn't an option while time is in sloth mode, I find a cozy spot among the shadows in a corner of the room, conveniently next to stacked boxes, which I'm guessing contain their supplies. This box shall make a fine seat for my grand entrance, and a fine test as to how my swordplay fares against residents of this world.

For now, it's time for some shadowy sleuthing, and I gracefully exit the Shadow Dimension. Let the show begin.

Break

Within the dimly lit catacomb chamber, the Stray Exorcists, a small group of four individuals, huddled together around a simple wooden table, their faces reflecting a tumultuous mix of determination and apprehension. The flickering torches cast eerie, dancing shadows on the rough stone walls as they engaged in a heated discussion about their involvement in Kokabiel's ominous plan.

"We can't keep working for that madman," one of them, a young woman with fiery red hair, exclaimed with frustration in her voice, her brows furrowing deeply. "The people he's tasked us to kill are innocents! How can we justify that? They may have sold their souls to the Devils, true, but they are just everyday people! We're Exorcists, not… cutthroats!"

Nods of agreement rippled among the group, a silent acknowledgment of the moral dilemma they faced.

The leader, the grizzled veteran, maintained his calm demeanor, though the lines on his face spoke of the many battles he'd endured against the dark forces. "I understand your concerns, Noel," he rumbled, "but sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good. We're not just fighting for ourselves; we're fighting for humanity. If we succeed, we'll strike a devastating blow against those underworld creatures. Our names will be remembered as champions who protected this world."

A middle aged exorcist, torn between his convictions and the mission at hand, hesitated for a moment before speaking, "But at what cost? We're compromising our principles, our beliefs. And we might become what we've sworn to fight against.

"Kokabiel is insane!" The previous exorcist, her voice filled with frustration, cut in, "He's even made me carve the Good Book and stomp on it, Captain!" Her face bore the weight of her heretical actions, as though she was disobeying the Lord by treading this dark path.

The room seemed to hold its breath as the Stray Exorcists grappled with their choices.

Their leader met their gazes with unwavering resolve. "I won't deny that this path is fraught with darkness and uncertainty," he began, "but I promise you this: when it's all over, when the dust settles and the smoke clears, we will have saved countless lives. We'll be the beacon of hope in these dire times. Have faith in our cause, my brothers and sisters, and hold on a little longer. We're getting there. The sacrifices we make today will pave the way for a brighter future."

He turned his gaze to the quiet member of their group, Lint, the only one who hadn't spoken a word and who seemed strangely untroubled by their moral dilemma. "They're heading here as we speak," he said, seeking confirmation. "Is that right, Lint?"

"Yep," Lint, the youngest among them, replied with an easy smile as she casually blew her silver and black bangs off her forehead. Her nonchalance stood in stark contrast to the inner turmoil that gripped the others. "Big bro called yesterday; he'll be here by Tuesday with the swords."

"I see…" the burly man nodded. "Four more days, at most a week. We've endured for months; what's a week to that?"

The middle-aged exorcist trembled as he voiced his deepest fear, clutching his hands tightly. "But after this… once it's done… Can we be forgiven…? Will we… be welcomed back?" The thought of being cast out from a place he had once called home haunted his thoughts, rendering him vulnerable.

"We will not shy away from our just punishment, Graham," the leader stated firmly, his unwavering resolve lending strength to his words as he clasped the younger man by his shoulder, offering strength. "But don't worry. I am your Captain. The actions you carry out are strictly under my order. Once this is over, I will face Sister Griselda and tell her everything. If there's anyone who will understand, it will be her."

Noel's fiery hair seemed to smolder even brighter as she absorbed their Captain's words. She glanced at the others, her gaze filled with a mixture of uncertainty and hope. "You really think Sister Griselda will understand?" she asked, her voice softer, tinged with desperation.

Graham, his trembling hands still clenched, dared to look up. "And what if she doesn't? What if we're cast out, condemned by our own? What will we do then, Luther?"

Luther's grip on the younger man's shoulder tightened, his eyes stolid. "Then we accept our fate with dignity and honor. We made a choice, a difficult one, for the greater good."

As their Captain's words hung in the air, Lint, the youngest among them, flashed a carefree grin. "Come on, guys! We've got a week of adventure left! Don't be so glum, chums! We'll be back in Rome before we know it."

Noel sighed, her fiery resolve dampened but not extinguished. "I suppose you're right. We've come this far; we might as well see it through."

Graham nodded, a flicker of determination in his eyes as he grimly nodded, steeling his resolve. "For the greater good, then."

Their leader smiled, a rare expression of warmth on his battle-hardened face. "For the greater good, my friends. Now, let's focus on the task at hand. We must prepare for their arrival."

With renewed determination, the Stray Exorcists returned to their planning, their Captain's reassurance giving them the strength to face the uncertain path ahead. They might have strayed from the righteous path, but in their hearts, they held onto the hope that their sacrifices would lead to a brighter future.

All apart from Lint Sellzen. Lint was just happy to be out of the monastery, not being told what to do by the naggy nuns.

Unbeknownst to them, a figure had been watching and listening to them, lurking in the shadows…

Break

I stay perched in the shadows, my ears like radars picking up every word from the Stray Exorcists' powwow. It's like listening to a clandestine radio show, but without the jingles and annoying ads. They don't look Japanese. Europeans, most likely. Italians and Germans. They're talking in English, it seems like, and lucky me, I'm pretty good with English, thanks to all the movies and games I've watched and played.

Noel, our fiery-haired protagonist in this unexpected drama, throws her exasperated monologue into the ring. She's not happy about the gig, and her furrowed brows could probably plow a field.

Next up, it's the seasoned exorcist's turn to deliver a speech, and he's got that gravelly voice that could probably sand wood just by talking. He's like the wise old sage of the group, preaching about sacrifices and the greater good. I bet he's got a closet full of epic fantasy novels at home.

Then we have our middle-aged exorcist. He's like the "voice of reason" in a group chat full of wild ideas. He's having a moment of existential crisis, grappling with the possibility of becoming the bad guys. Unusual midlife crisis material. Tough luck, bud.

The room hangs in suspense, like a movie theater when the lights go down, and everyone's waiting for the show to start. Even the torches on the wall seem to be holding their breath. Me? Well I kinda have to. What if they can hear my breathing?

Then the captain, his jawline chiseled by the gods themselves, steps up to the mic and drops some wisdom. He's the motivational speaker at this gloomy seminar, promising that their sacrifices today will lead to a brighter tomorrow. Seems like I've arrived at a TED Talk for lost exorcists.

Lint, the youngest and seemingly carefree member of the crew, is the wild card. She's got this "I'm here for the thrill" vibe. If this were a heist movie, she'd be the one doing backflips while everyone else is trying to crack a safe.

As I eavesdrop on their discussion, I can't help but feel a pang of disappointment. These folks aren't the shady bandits or sinister cultists I'd imagined. This oddly feels like when you're going to a costume party and finding out it's a formal black-tie gala. Consequently, my motivation to "erase them from this world" takes a nosedive.

This world, it seems, is full of shades of gray. Morality isn't always as clear-cut as a penguin in a tuxedo. These Stray Exorcists aren't evil masterminds; they're just regular people caught in a moral pickle. Just cucumbers marinating in existential vinegar.

I come up with the weirdest metaphors, I swear.

How's this for a twist, I guess?

With a reluctant sigh, I slink back further into the Shadow Dimension, my eavesdropping session officially over. These Stray Exorcists might not be my ticket to a shady alliance, but they've inadvertently given me a lesson in the blurred lines of morality.

I better get going and leave them alone. I'd invite them to join my soon-to-be-true Incognito Shadow LLC, but they're too good to be serving in the shadows. They're the 'lights' of this world, fighting for what they believe in. I should remain true to the 'darkness,' my path diverging from theirs like a fork in the road. It's like that classic yin-yang thing, y'know: the brighter the light, the darker the shadow.

For now, I'll embrace the darkness and let these do-gooders carry on with their noble crusade. Who knows, our paths might cross again someday in a world where shadows and light dance together in intricate harmony.

And besides, they've got their TED Talks and moral dilemmas; I'll stick to my brooding and cloak-twirling.

Now that my grand plan of "erasing them from this world" has been downgraded to "maybe we can be friends," it's time to get back to the main event: finding the ultimate hideout for the Shadow Organization™. I've got a reputation to uphold, even if it's just in my own mind.

Re-entering the catacombs, following the Mana trails, I ponder upon what I've learned tonight other than the squabbles of morality.

Cockabiel.

I mean, really, who names themselves Cockabiel? Is he secretly trying to audition for a role in a Shakespearean play, or did he just draw random letters from a Scrabble bag?

I've got more questions than answers about this guy. Is he a devil? A fallen angel? Is his name a hint? An unfortunate misspelling of "cockatiel"? Is he related to avian? Perhaps he's a bird-man? What does he want to do with swords? Distribute them illegally?

Navigating this supernatural world feels like trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces, with no picture to guide you, in a completely dark room. Frustrating, to say the least.

But I digress. This Cockabiel character, he's got these Exorcists running errands for him, killing people that 'sold their souls' to the Devils, apparently.

Seriously, what's a Lost Guy like me to do?

Well, I could ask Raynare for some insights. After all, she's been around the supernatural block a few times. Or maybe I'll ping Kuroka, the ever-resourceful cat-girl, for some intel. Who knows, she might have the inside scoop on Kokabiel's favorite fish or his deepest, darkest fears. She's been my go-to source for all things supernatural in this topsy-turvy realm. But if she says more cryptic shit like The Spider or The Wolf or even The Cockatiel, I'm going to freak.

But until I unravel this Kokabiel conundrum, I'll just have to add him to my growing list of mysterious characters in this world, next to The Old Fox.

I glide past the first exorcist I was tailing, resisting the urge to give him a friendly pat on the back or whisper a cheesy villainous threat in his ear. Nah, not today, my exorcist friend. You lucked out this time. Good luck in your quest.

As I leave the catacomb, I can't help but think about it. It's got potential, real estate-wise. Maybe I'll come back next week, after Tuesday, to see if those Stray Exorcists have packed up and left. Until then, I've got some hideout-hunting to do.

So it's back to scouring the town for the perfect spot to set up shop. Secret entrances, trapdoors, and a panoramic view of the local pizza joint if possible – those are my top priorities.

But as I continue my quest, I'll keep one eye on Cockabiel and his merry band of supernatural misfits. They might not be the villains I thought they were, but in this world, you never know when a seemingly friendly face can turn into a laser-shooting demon.

Break

Back at school, I shed my nocturnal mantle and revert to the persona I've meticulously crafted for daylight hours—Cid Kagenō, the unremarkable student who blends into the sea of faces. It's a role I've perfected over time, becoming an inconspicuous part of this world.

Last night's search didn't yield much, leaving me somewhat disheartened. But giving up isn't in my vocabulary. Not when I've come this far. Tonight, I'll don my shadowy mantle once again and scour the town for that elusive sanctuary. My explorations have taken me through the shopping district, where neon lights and the hum of commerce create a vibrant backdrop. I've ventured into the red-light district, where the city's underbelly comes alive after dark. That leaves the business district with its towering offices and corporate facades further to the east.

Each night, I shall draw closer to my goal. This is a marathon, not a sprint. And I'm determined to complete it, to find that perfect place where I can dwell in the shadows with my shadowy company.

But for now, as the sun casts its warm glow upon the school grounds, I am Cid Kagenō once more, just another student navigating the halls and classrooms, honing my Mob Arts, biding my time until the cloak of night descends once more.

Hell yeah that was badass…

I avoid clubs and any unnecessary socialization, always staying on the fringes of group activities. My interests, or rather the lack thereof, are carefully curated to ensure I remain an unassuming background character. No peculiar hobbies, no standout talents—just an average student going through the motions.

In the classrooms, I take my seat, my gaze fixed on the front of the room, absorbing the lessons without drawing undue attention. The teachers hardly notice me, and my fellow classmates see nothing remarkable in the unassuming figure that is Cid Kagenō.

It's a deliberate choice, this life of anonymity during daylight hours. I've learned that the key to survival in both worlds is to remain hidden in plain sight. And so, I continue to play my part, biding my time until the cloak of night descends once more.

...Oh, wait, I used that line already. But you get the gist.

And yet, as I sit in my strategically chosen middle-of-the-classroom seat, my senses tingling with the familiarity of routine, something disrupts the usual monotony. There, perched on a tree branch just outside the window, is Kuroka—the black cat who seems to have a knack for showing up when I least expect it.

I can feel her gaze on me, even though I keep my eyes fixed firmly on the front of the room. It's as if she's daring me to acknowledge her presence, to break the unspoken rule of our silent encounters. But I know better than to take the bait. I'll maintain the facade of a typical high school student, determined not to let her disrupt the delicate balance I've created in my dual life.

Then give her an earful at lunch. After all, I can't let a pesky cat think she can just meow into my life and start calling the meows. I mean, shots.

Lunchtime. While most students head to the cafeteria or the courtyard to socialize, I have a different destination in mind. The woods behind the old school building. It's a risky spot, being dangerously close to… whatsherface— Chesty Redhead's group, but I've always had confidence in my ability to navigate these treacherous waters. Kuroka's been hiding from bounty hunters for two years; I figured those Devils are nothing to her.

Today's culinary masterpiece? Packaged bread I scored on the cheap. I find a quiet spot under the canopy of trees away from prying eyes, rest my back against it, and unwrap my humble meal.

Kuroka, perching on a nearby rock next to me, eyes my lunch with curiosity. "Tuna?" she asks, her voice a melodious purr.

I raise an eyebrow and take a deliberate bite of the bread, savoring its unremarkable taste. "Chocolate," I deadpan.

Her feline features contort into a look of disgust as she huffs loudly. "Ew."

"Are you fed?" I can't help but ask.

"I get cat food," she grumbles. "I can't eat cat food."

"Even if you're a cat?"

"I'm part cat, not completely a cat. Don't make me claw your face."

Snappy as ever. I shrug and take another bite of my "chocolate" bread, glancing sideways at Kuroka, who seems lost in thought. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I decide to break the silence.

"What brings you here, Kuroka?" I ask, my tone in its 'Mob' mode; lighter than Shadow's badass rumbly baritone.

She blinks and then offers a simple answer. "I've always been here."

Her response raises more questions than it answers. "Always been here? You mean at the school?"

"For months now," she nods, her gaze towards the old school building. "I've been keeping watch over my sister. Build up my courage to ask her to come back. Make amends, I guess-nya. But then, just as I was about to put my plan into motion, you showed up and threw a rebar in the works."

I pause, taking in the weight of her words. It's a lot to digest, and not just because of my slightly stale bread.

"You want to make amends and bring your sister back, but doing it by force might not be the best approach," I say, my voice carrying a note of caution, careful to say it without making it sound like I'm chastising her. "If you take her away against her will, she might resent you for it. She'll be with you physically, but her heart and mind will still be with the Devils. I doubt you want her to hate you."

Kuroka looks at me, her eyes filled with conflict. I can even feel her anger rising. "Not like I have any choice."

I eat silently again. I can say something to that, but I have a feeling she'll just get mad at me.

The heaviness of the moment lingers between us as Kuroka grapples with the difficult choices before her. I can feel her frustration and anger simmering just beneath the surface, and I'm cautious not to push her further. Instead, I let the silence envelop us for a moment as we both continue our meals, the distant sounds of the school's bustling lunchtime activity serving as a backdrop to our thoughts.

Kuroka breaks the silence with a sigh, her cat-shoulders seemingly slump slightly as she speaks. "I don't want to force her into anything. I just... I can't stand the thought of her being with those Devils."

My lunch temporarily forgotten, I regard her thoughtfully. "And why's that?"

She hesitates, the silence stretching between us as I continue to chew on my humble meal. "Feels like I've been replaced," she admits, her words barely above a whisper. "She's happy without me."

I can hear the pain in her voice. I take a moment to choose my words carefully before replying. "You know that's not true."

Kuroka turns her golden eyes toward me, her gaze searching for something—perhaps a reassurance that transcends mere words. "No, I wish that's not true. I know it's true."

"You're nonetheless watching over her," I say once I finish another bite. It's time for well-practiced world building. "In my former world, the greatest threats are born of and cultivated in the shadows. But so are the greatest protectors."

Her gaze lingers on me, a whirlwind of emotions playing across her cat-like features, probably thinking what the hell am I on about—it's just a Shadowy-way to say being with the shadows can be a double-edged shadow—I mean, uh, sword.

"...What do you think I've been doing all this time…?" She grapples with her feelings, torn between her desire to safeguard her sister and the painful realization that her sister may choose a different path. It's a complex situation, and there are no easy answers.

"You're saying to just watch her with those Devils? I don't want that… I want her to want me," Kuroka's voice trembles with despair, her feline ears flattening against her head. "And what do you know about that, huh? Back in wherever you came from, did you actually experience all this or you're just spouting stuff-nya?"

Heh. Of course I haven't. But if I say it outright, she'll likely try to scratch my face. And besides, this is a great opportunity to expand the "Lore of Shadow". And so I reply to her with, "I choose the shadows willingly, for there I find my fulfillment in knowing that those dear to me find happiness in the light is my reward."

That takes her aback for some seconds, and Kuroka's gone back to mulling well-crafted bullshit.

Sorry that I have to lie, but white lies, y'know. And all that.

"Well I'm not you," she finally huffs. "...And you said you'd bring us back together, you know."

Oh boy, she's still hung up on that supposed promise, isn't she? My internal monologue is having a field day with this. I guess this is a bad time to ask if she wants to join my club.

But, no, I didn't promise a tearful reunion; I merely signed up for the role of 'Guide to Sisterly Love: The Shadow Edition.'

"I'll guide you," I say, doing some subtle verbal gymnastics to correct her misconception. "From where you were, lost in the fear of separation and the possibility of being replaced, you've already taken the first steps in the right direction. Right now, at least from my perspective, you're back on the right track."

Kuroka's response is tinged with resignation. "...I don't see my sister anywhere near me-nyan."

"You're back on track. The journey is yet finished."

"...I hate long distance walks."

"It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop."

"Ugh…" Kuroka lets out her trademark begrudging groan again, but I swear I see a glimmer of acceptance in those feline eyes. Maybe Confucius knew a thing or two about guiding lost souls, even if they happen to have tails.

With the weight of Kuroka's sisterly struggles momentarily put on pause, I decide to steer our conversation toward a topic that's been gnawing at me like a mosquito in a quiet room—Cockabiel.

"Cockabiel," I begin, "do you know anything about him?"

Kuroka's response is a nonchalant shrug of her feline shoulders. "Just that he's a Fallen Angel. Not much else."

Well, that's not the most enlightening piece of information, but it's better than nothing. I guess beggars can't be choosers in the knowledge at least it confirms what I already know. My options for reliable intel in this world are limited, but Raynare seems to be the key.

"Why don't you ask your crow friend? She should know better. She's his little lackey."

Her mention of a 'crow friend' sends my mind into overdrive. The animal-themed names in this world are starting to feel like a theme park for furries. So far we've got The Black Cat, The Spider, The Old Fox, The Cockatiel, and now The Crow. Wonder what's next—The Dragon? The Bear? The Marsupial, perhaps, for a change?

But Raynare's working for Cockabiel? That raises a slew of questions. Is she one of the baddies? A pawn in a larger game? Or just an opportunist looking out for her own interests? My inner monologue spins theories faster than a conspiracy theorist on a caffeine binge.

And I can't just stroll up to her and ask her 'Yo, what's the deal with your boss?' to Raynare.

"You're a strange one, you know that?" Kuroka suddenly remarks, snapping me back to reality.

A hint of a wry smile tugs at my lips. "I've been called worse." Weirdo. Edgelord. Cringelord. Stylish Gangster Slayer—no wait, I came up with this one.

Kuroka chuckles softly, and the tension in the air eases a notch. "Well, you're not like most people I've met in this world."

"I'm not from this world," I casually correct her. My Mob persona maintains its nonchalant demeanor even as I allude to my otherworldly origins.

"Hmmn… What's your world like, nya?"

Aha! An opportunity to spin some wild tales about the fantastical world I call home! A golden opportunity to flex my worldbuilding skills with a generous helping of nonsense!

RING RING RING RING DIRIRING

But alas! The school bell chooses that precise moment to chime, rudely interrupting our budding conversation and killing my hype in one ringing swoop.

"It's a world bathed in constant abyss," I say melancholically. A teaser to keep her guessing and wanting for more. "Perhaps later. When the time is kinder."

Kuroka gives a dismissive nod, her feline grace on full display as she stretches. "Mmmn. Whatevs."

You say that, but I bet you just don't want to admit you're interested. Can't lie to me, you black cat.

...Please be interested. I want someone to hear my cool stories I've developed in my head.

But I ain't gonna beg for attention, and so, "Be seeing you again then."

"Mmmnyeh. Be seeing you-nya."

With that, she effortlessly leaps onto a nearby tree, her agility akin to a seasoned acrobat. As she resumes her watchful post, I can't help but feel a strange sense of camaraderie with the black cat. Hang in there, Kuroka. You've got a snappy tongue, but you're a good kitty. I'm sure Koneko would be glad to have you back—if she knew.

Wonder what it's like if I have siblings. Hmmm… LARPing alone is fun, but maybe it'll be way more fun if there's others to join my Shadow fiasco. Treat it like a co-op game. Granted, they gotta be just as motivated as I am, otherwise they'll just end up being a pain in the neck.

As Kuroka watched Shadow's, or rather, Shido's retreating figure disappear into the woods, a mix of emotions swirled within her, like a tempestuous sea that had briefly found calm. It was an unfamiliar sensation, that fleeting moment of relief. It wasn't something she was accustomed to, having spent so long as a lone wanderer in search of her sister.

His words, his demeanor, and his strange air had left an impression on her. She couldn't deny that there was something intriguing about him, something that drew her in despite her best efforts to resist

Yet, her heart remained resolute in its singular focus—her sister, Koneko. The bond between them was unbreakable, forged through years of shared experiences and hardships. She couldn't allow herself to be distracted from her mission to bring Koneko back, to mend the rift that had torn them apart..

So, Kuroka pushed aside any hints of growing feelings, locking them away in the depths of her heart. She had a purpose, a promise to fulfill, and nothing would sway her from that path. With a determined sigh, she turned her attention back to the old school building, where Koneko remained, unaware of the complex emotions tormenting her sister's soul.

.

In the cozy Occult Research club room, amidst the dimly lit room, Koneko felt an inexplicable tug—a whisper from the depths of her being, urging her to venture into the woods behind the old school building. A strange kind of yearning. A sensation she couldn't quite ignore. Like an invisible thread, it pulled at her, beckoning her to unravel the mysteries hidden within the woods' enigmatic embrace. Yet before she could contemplate it further, her attention was abruptly pulled in another direction.

"Four more?! Damn it—" Rias, their crimson-haired President, exuded a frigid aura, barely containing her simmering anger. She clutched a report from Sona, her fingers almost crumpling the paper with her vexation. The message conveyed the growing unease among their Contractors in the town due to a surge in murders. "We'll lose face and trust if this keeps happening…"

"And in a single night, no less…" Akeno muttered, her voice laced with genuine concern. "They're pushing it too far, Rias. It seems to me they've mistaken our leniency as an open invitation to be unruly."

"Those crows…" Rias seethed, her eyes blazing. The papers in her hands bore the brunt of her increasing rage. "It has to be them… They don't even try to be subtle. We've been keeping a blind eye on them for too long… It's about time we strike back. How're you holding up, Akeno? Yuuto?"

"I have some pent up stress after my embarrassing defeat, ufufu~"

"Ready for action," Kiba stated confidently, winding up his shoulder as if to prepare for battle. His bright smile radiated determination. "Are we back to bodyguard duty, Prez?"

"No," Rias declared, having a better idea. "I'll hire Devils from the Underworld to guard our Contractors. In the meantime, we simply cut the head of the snake. They struck first; they have no diplomatic leverage against us. Akeno, notify Sona that we're clearing their den tomorrow night. You may all take the day off on Monday to recuperate."

"Understood," her Servants nodded in unison, acknowledging their orders with unwavering loyalty.

Amidst this tense exchange, Issei was notably absentminded on the couch. He seemed distracted, his thoughts drifting elsewhere. Rias, mistaking his demeanor for fear, extended her understanding. "Hyoudou? Are you okay? You can sit this one out; I won't force you to participate."

"Huh? What? Are we going somewhere?" Issei blinked, suddenly returning his focus to the present conversation, Penemue's words slowly drifting away from his head.

His fellow Servants exchanged quizzical glances, their worry evident. Koneko, too, observed him closely, wondering if something was really bothering their normally perverted associate or he was just daydreaming about one of his perverted delusions.

"Are you sure you're alright, Issei-kun?" Akeno asked. "You seem oddly… distracted."

"Do I? Huh, my bad," Issei muttered sheepishly, attempting to regain his composure. "Just… have a lot in my head. Totally focused now though, so, what's up? Uh, Buchou?"

Feeling that Issei's distraction wasn't something he was readily willing to share, Rias decided to move on with the discussion and told Issei of their current planning, to which he energetically agreed upon with a fistpump. He seemed back to his normal behavior… and yet, a lingering sense of concern for her Pawn remained in the back of her mind.

Break

The full moon hangs high in the night sky as I slip into my Shadow mode, leaving behind the mundane world of high school and becoming the enigmatic figure known as Shadow. My senses sharpen, and my footsteps become as silent as whispers. The hunt begins.

The town at night is a different beast. Its rhythm changes, and shadows stretch and contort, playing tricks on the senses. I glide through it, cruising the skies on my Mana-formed saucers like an otherworldly surfer. It's a form of transportation that's hard to beat, and I don't need to worry about gas prices in this realm.

Change of plans, I'm not hunting for my future hideout; I'm on the lookout for The Spider. It's not that I have a particular vendetta against arachnids or anything, well, maybe slight paranoia, but her web of secrets intrigues me more than the Crow's affiliation with Cockabiel. Besides, those colossal pink webs in the Shadow Dimension are about as discreet as a neon sign screaming, "Secrets Here!"

As I navigate the darkened streets, I can't help but feel like a detective on a case. The city is my canvas, and every shadow holds a potential clue. I move through the inky darkness like a wraith, searching for any signs of The Spider's presence.

The night breeze carries a subtle scent of danger (couldn't resist throwing that in), but I'm not one to back down from a little peril, or a lot of it, for that matter. If anyone has the dirt on Cockabiel's grand plan, it's gotta be her. Or so I hope. I'd rather avoid asking Raynare for information; she's in cahoots with Cockabiel, after all, so I'm really banking on The Spider now.

That aside, I can't help but think that my life has taken a decidedly noir turn. Maybe I should invest in a fedora and a brown trench coat to complete my sleuthing ensemble. Nevertheless, I'm broke, and I just spotted the giant web. The Spider's web of mysteries beckons, and it's time to get entangled in the plot.

The sight of the giant web stretching out before me is as imposing as ever. It centers on the Chateau, drawing a complex tapestry of intrigue around it. The major difference is that the spaces between the webs appear more compact, indicating that The Spider is stepping up her game. But sadly for her, I can see the threads vividly, and gliding through them is a piece of cake.

I'm also totally copying her ability. For now, let's shove this to my to-do list.

The Spider herself, well, she's right where I left her—perched on her balcony like a fashion-forward queen of the night. Her wine-colored hair is artfully pulled back into a messy yet captivating ponytail, the kind that probably requires hours of meticulous disheveling in front of a mirror. Then there are those black sunglasses with circular frames resting on the small round glass table before her.

And speaking of her eyes, they remain resolutely closed, as if she's having a moment of deep meditation or pondering the mysteries of the universe. Or maybe she's just taking an epic power nap, in which case, pardon me but I have a mystery I'd like you to unravel.

Since her eyes are closed and I'm practically breaking the sound barrier in my approach, I seize the opportunity to set my stage. First, I borrow a nearby chair, placing it opposite hers with all the grace of a gentleman who's about to engage in a riveting conversation. Then, I take my seat, strike a thoughtful pose, and elegantly step out of my Shadow Dimension. It's all done with the finesse and nonchalance that comes naturally to yours truly, the enigmatic Shadow.

As time ticks forward, I hear the gentle strains of dark baroque violin music wafting through the air, filling the space between us. The haunting melody adds an eerie ambiance to our clandestine meeting, like the soundtrack to a hidden conspiracy. It's a peculiar choice, but then again, nothing about this world is ordinary. It's as if we're characters in a grand theatrical production, and the world itself is our stage.

"Good evening," I say. Gotta stay classy.

"Oh…!" she utters serenely, a delicate note of surprise gracing her whispered word, her eyes opening. Now, I'm no expert, but I'm starting to suspect those sunglasses aren't a fashion statement; they might be prescription. Could she be secretly blind? Is that why she relies on those elaborate webs to detect movements? If so, hats off to her for making visual impairment look chic. "It seems you've eluded me yet again… Shadow."

"So I did… Spider," I say calmly, smoother than silk, despite my nerves jumping out of excitement. A chat between two shadowy masterminds? You kidding me? I've been dreaming of this encounter for ages.

"You've heard of me?" she smiles—oh I know this kind of smile. This subtle smile states she's a mastermind or some sort, and I'm digging it. "Consider me touched… I've only heard a fair bit from you… mainly rumors, unfortunately."

Executing a tactical pause, I take in her striking appearance, I can't help but admire her sense of style. Her wine-colored hair, the white sleeveless collared shirt, and the black jacket with its intricate gold designs—all come together in a symphony of fashion. The butterfly pin and the spider-like pattern on her jacket add to her allure, and every detail seems to suggest a carefully cultivated persona. It's clear that she possesses a keen eye for style and aesthetics.

External beauty doesn't really matter to me since everyone in this world looks like they're cut out from fashion mags, but style? That's something entirely different. Gotta give credits where it's due.

And I can most definitely say The Spider 'gets' it. Fashion or weaving a metaphysical magical web, she's an expert in both.

The night draped around Penemue as she sat on her balcony, an enigmatic presence in the moon's ethereal glow. Her eyes remained closed, attuned to feel the slightest vibrations in her web as the tune of the violin wept subtly from her room. In her tranquil moment of solitude, she pondered the chance of him visiting her again tonight. It didn't seem unlikely, however. He hadn't even visited the Black Cat he'd left in Raynare's care.

She idly wondered what relation Kuroka might have with Shadow.

But just as she was about to pry upon this particular secret, she suddenly felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere. A presence intruding upon her sanctuary. Her lips parted slightly in a soft exhale of surprise as a deep, resonant voice cut through the silence. Surprisingly deeper than she had expected.

And yet again, despite her increased efforts, he had eluded her defenses.

Opening her eyes—eyes that, curiously, bore no pupils, as if they had been blinded during her days as a Seraph—Penemue took in the sight before her. A figure draped in the essence of the night itself, poised in a contemplating pose that mirrored her own sense of composure. The violin wept in the background, its haunting melody further accentuating the sense of intrigue and clandestine purpose that permeated the moment.

Fashioned from the remnants of a Seraph of Hope—Remiel—Penemue had wholeheartedly embraced the poetic symbolism of her altered existence. Hope, it was widely believed, tended to blind. And so were her eyes, void of pupils, a testament to the path she once blindly chose to follow. A silent ode to her old commitment to lean on that fragile beam, at least until she saw the world as it is.

"It seems you've eluded me yet again, Shadow," she remarked with a serene smile, her heart quickening with anticipation.

"So I did," he replied calmly, his voice a deep, velvety cadence that felt like a rich sip of aged whiskey, smooth and intoxicating. "...Spider."

"You've heard of me?" she inquired, her smile a genuine curve of curiosity that danced in her eyes. "Consider me touched. I've only heard whispers and rumors about you—tales that left much to the imagination."

"Rumors tend to obscure the truth," he mused. "And in this world, the truth can be as elusive as moonlight on a cloudy night."

Penemue, drawn by the magnetism of his presence and the lyrical cadence of his speech, found herself caught in the poetic dance of their exchange. "Indeed, it is a world shrouded in shadows and mysteries. And yet, it appears you are well-versed in the art of navigating its complexities."

A subtle, almost imperceptible smile graced the corners of Shadow's lips. He seemed young, but Penemue knew better than to judge him strictly from his appearance. After all, she herself is a few millennia old—ageless as she might be. This Lost Person might just share that ageless trait.

"And to what, do I owe the favor of having you visit me during the dark hours, Shadow?" she asked, her fascination evident in the arch of her brow and the soft lilt of her voice.

"You," he simply stated, his response hanging in the air like an unspoken riddle.

"Straight to the point; that I expect from you." She couldn't help but chuckle. "And what, pray tell, made me so coveted that you sought me out?"

"Answers."

"Well, isn't that what we all seek," Penemue mused, her words a reflection of the eternal quest for understanding that bound them all. "What makes you assume I can bring you answers? We've hardly known each other."

"I can tell."

"Is that so? Strictly from the way I look?" Her amusement was evident in her tone and the subtle curve of her lips.

Shadow nodded, his demeanor unchanging. Crimson eyes boring deep into hers. He had quite the piercing stare… Much like Kokabiel, yet less hostile and more… distant, if she had to put it.

"Well… I'll take that as a compliment. Much like appearances, however, answers can be deceiving…" Her smile grew a tiny bit wider. All his replies had amused her and satisfied her so far. "But I digress… May I invite you for a quick dance?"

As Penemue extended her hand in a graceful gesture, her fingers bathed in ethereal threads, Shadow's keen senses detected the subtle shift in the magical essences around them. Instantly attuning himself to the arcane currents, he glimpsed into his Shadow Dimension for a fleeting moment, confirming the presence of the transparent pink bubble of Mana that now encapsulated their meeting.

To her perception, it would appear as though he had momentarily flickered. A subtle quirk of his lips hinted at the amusement he felt at the situation.

Penemue's lips curved into a knowing smile as she completed the incantation, and the shimmering web solidified into a radiant, ethereal barrier encompassing their small enclave. It was the Zone of Truth, a mystical boundary that would compel truthfulness from anyone within its confines. In this dance of truth and lies, the shadows held secrets, and Penemue was about to test her newfound companion's ability to navigate the intricacies of her enigmatic world.

Little did she know that beneath Shadow's seemingly stoic and unfazed demeanor, Cid was doing mental cartwheels of excitement. This game of truth and deception was about to turn into the highlight of his day, and possibly his entire supernatural existence.

"Very well," Shadow said. 'The bet is on, lady!' "Take the lead."

Penemue nodded with a simple smile as she began her explanation for the 'rules'. "It's a simple game. We each have two questions we can ask, and the first question can be met with either truth or a lie, but the next answer must be the opposite of the first. The first question is quite trivial, but the second question is where it gets interesting…"

Shadow's grin broadened, the mental equivalent of a mischievous wink. Cid was mentally flexing his mental muscles, ready to outwit and outmaneuver in this metaphysical game of verbal chess.

He nodded, and gestured his gloved hand. "After you."

"My, quite the gentleman are you?" Penemue's light titter danced in the air, an ethereal melody that harmonized with her intrigue. "In that case, my first question is this: the balance of power between the various factions in this world is delicate. Where do you believe you fit in?"

Shadow's response flowed forth like a dark river, the weight of his words wrapped in a velvet cloak of ruthless conviction. "The web of allegiances may ensnare many. But shadow drifts through the fragile structures that bind others."

Translation: I'm basically a lone wolf and tour guide on the side, but with way cooler entrances. Gotta be independent and unrestrained otherwise I can't have my dramatic entrances.

Penemue's gaze didn't waver as she absorbed Shadow's response. Her lips curled into a faint, appreciative smile, and her eyes shimmered with a newfound respect. It wasn't often that she encountered someone who dared to walk the path of solitude in a world fraught with factions and allegiances.

But unaligned presence may disrupt the delicate balance that the Supernatural Order has meticulously crafted over the centuries. His existence, while intriguing, might be seen as a wildcard in the grand scheme of things.

"I see," she muttered, her voice a soft caress. "Your turn, Shadow."

Shadow leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as he formulated his question. "Cockabiel," he began, choosing his words carefully, noting the slight widening of her eyes and her slightly increased heart rate, "is a name that seems to echo through the shadows of this world. Do you believe his future actions pose a significant threat to the balance?"

She let out a faint hum, amused by the directness of his query, and decided to spin an answer that would also serve as a gentle warning. "If left unchecked; his actions will lead to horrific consequences. A drop of poison may ruin an entire barrel. His might cause it to explode the entire warehouse, or, if handled with care, may preserve them all. I can't say I recommend you to test it."

Cid's internal thought? 'So, he's the bad guy, you're using him, and you don't want me to butt in your business. Got it. As expected from a fellow mastermind. I'd tip my hat to you, but I only have a hood…" or so he assumed, until he considered she might be starting out the game with a well-crafted bullshit, which definitely might be her forte. 'Or she might be lying. Wait… this game is kinda hard.'

"My turn again," Penemue muttered as she placed her gloved fingers beneath her smooth chin. "You claim to stand alone… Assuming that is the truth, one can't help but wonder what individual goal you seek. What is your goal, Shadow? Your motive of staying in this realm despite hailing from another."

Cid wasn't surprised he knew that he was a Lost Person. That was basically the logical conclusion regarding his origin.

At that, Shadow reclined against his seat, a subtle shift of shadows accompanying his movement. The question was a delicate one, and he needed to be clever with his response. His true goal, the desire to become the Eminence in Shadow, couldn't be revealed here. Not yet.

"Goals, I've found, are like shadows themselves—ever-shifting, ever-elusive," he began, matching her penchant for vague, ambiguous answers. In his defense, Cid's goal did shift from day to day. Yesterday it was base-hunt, now he was out for the truth; so he could better plan where he should place Shadow in all of this fun supernatural trainwreck. "As for my presence in this realm, well…"

With a swift and practiced motion, he stepped into the Shadow Dimension, slicing the Zone of Truth that encompassed him in a circular motion without actually knowing what it does, cutting a circle at the top of the magical sphere. The spherical Mana enclosure fractured in response to his actions, and with the same swiftness, he re-emerged into the tangible world, the ephemeral barrier breaking apart.

"I happen to be terrible with lies," he said, lying through his teeth. "So let's just say I work in the shadows, to serve the light, regardless of where I am."

As he concluded his enigmatic response, faint purple lights, like ethereal remnants of shattered enchantment, cascaded downward around them.

Penemue smiled knowingly at his response. She was well aware that it was a lie. The way he had seamlessly shattered her spell affirmed that he was not only adept at the magic of this world but also a master of navigating its complexities. It was an unnerving realization, for before her stood a man of unknown origin, carrying the powers of his own realm into hers.

"Oh dear," she mused, her tone dripping with mock regret. "Caught red-handed, have I?" Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, acknowledging the cleverness of his escape from the Zone of Truth.

Cid, on the other hand, was internally giving himself a mental pat on the back. He reveled in the thrill of this intellectual duel, savoring the opportunity to showcase his wits. Of course, he kept his self-congratulatory moments private, not one to flaunt his glory in front of others. That was a pastime best enjoyed in solitude.

"My question then; do you perceive me as a threat?"

Such a direct question. It left her with little wiggle room with creativity for her upcoming lie. Yet, despite her best efforts to paint him in shades of darkness and label him as a potential threat to the supernatural order, despite the glaring lack of hope in his ambitions and the audacity of his insurmountable goals, Penemue couldn't help but feel an inexplicable ease in his presence—an oddity in a world rife with intrigue and danger.

And so she spoke, "Yes," a blatant lie delivered with a sweet smile.

Shadow, ever the master of interpretation, nodded with a hint of understanding. "I see," he replied, taking her answer at face value, understanding that of course he would be seen as a threat. "Thank you for this dance. Good evening."

Before Penemue could react, hoping perhaps that he'd prolong his stay, an encore despite her blunt attempt at cheating, Shadow pulled his exit. He vanished into the folds of his Shadow Dimension, in his mind, hyped that he had found himself a classy and formidable rival and had earned her acknowledgment. Truly, a testament to his skills. This world had been nothing less than a supernatural carnival with insanely fun rides.

And thus, as the violin carried on its haunting tune, their first waltz came to an end… and Penemue found herself looking forward to their next dance, whenever and wherever it might take place.

While Cid gracefully tripped himself into the absurd pit of misunderstanding, yet again, and thriving in it.

At least he's having a good time.

Break

In the hallowed chamber of the abbey, three figures draped in pristine white robes with intricate green lines etched upon them stood in solemnity. The room was adorned with ornate stained-glass windows depicting scenes from religious lore, casting colorful rays of light upon the assembly.

As the three figures knelt in reverence, a woman stood before them. Her blonde hair remained hidden beneath the solemnity of her sister's veil, a symbol of her dedication to her faith. Her piercing icy blue eyes held a gaze that was both commanding and compassionate, a reflection of the wisdom she had accumulated through her years of service to the church.

With solemnity, Griselda blessed the trio with Gabriel's Blessings, invoking the Seraph's divine protection ahead of the perilous path they were about to embark upon.

Their mission was simple: reclaim the stolen Excaliburs. These holy relics, now in the hands of the enemy, had to be returned to their rightful place. And yet, it was nonetheless dangerous as they must tread into Japan, a land predominantly governed by Devils and Fallen Angels and Yōkai; each having their own strong reason to refuse cooperation with the Covenant of Light, but, at the very least, Gabriel's Blessings should make them think twice before intervening.

As the blessing ceremony concluded, Griselda shifted her attention to the two figures who stood shorter than herself, Xenovia and Irina. Her stoic godchild and her energetic companion, sent by the Christian Church. With a tone that was both commanding and compassionate, she issued her instructions, "Kindly leave us for a moment, Xenovia, Irina."

The two young girls nodded in solemn understanding and exited the chamber, leaving Griselda and the other exorcist alone.

Griselda's stern voice resonated with a sense of urgency as she conveyed her personal request. "Lint has confirmed it… Asia has been taken by the Fallen Angels. She believes it is Raynare that has taken her; Kokabiel's right hand." Griselda's gaze bore into Rosaria's pale magenta eyes, a shared understanding of the gravity of the situation passing between them. "Take care of the children. Find Asia. Her, as well as the Excaliburs… And I may yet turn a blind eye to the times you've been caught indulging on the cathedral's rooftops."

"Good enough for me," Rosaria responded with a nod, her lips curling into a sly smile at Griselda's subtle mention of her rooftop excursions. Personally, she did like Asia a fair bit. Always fun to tease. A bit naggy, though, but it was a trait easily overlooked due to her innocence.

"And Freed?" she couldn't help but mention. He and Asia were like black and white.

Griselda's unwavering gaze didn't flinch. "Freed has crossed lines beyond redemption. Decide whether to tighten his leash or put an end to his madness."

This time, Rosaria answered with a silent nod, her wine-colored bangs draping over her left eye. A hint of amusement danced in her eyes as she made sure to savor this opportunity. Freed had been a persistent source of irritation, constantly criticizing her choice of attire. It was an easy decision to make.

As an Inquisitor, known by various titles like the Holy Phantom, the Divine Blade, Bloody Mary, and a slew of other monikers she had earned during her tenure in this unfamiliar world rich with supernatural conflicts, and not to mention the titles she'd gained during her time working with those Vampires, Rosaria was no stranger to getting her hands dirty.

Stepping out from the shadows... only to once again work in the shadows, but this time to serve the light...

Not that she minded it.

Break

In the heart of the ancient capital of Alexandria, bathed in the soft, golden light of twilight, a young and ethereal elf named Alpha stood in solitary contemplation. Her long, flowing locks of golden blonde hair cascaded like a radiant waterfall down her slender form, framing her striking beauty. Her once-vibrant blue eyes, once illuminated with unwavering determination, now held a profound, melancholic depth.

Alpha's gaze remained riveted upon the monumental statue before her. It was a masterful depiction of her Lord Shadow, a figure both imposing and inspiring, immortalized in enduring stone. The statue stood as a testament to his strength, a symbol of hope for those adrift in the uncertainty of the times. She felt an irresistible pull towards it, as if the stony visage held the elusive answers to the questions that tormented her soul.

"My work here is finished," his voice, though distant, carried a reassuring warmth that stirred vivid memories. "This world no longer requires the presence of Shadow."

Alpha remembered the day he spoke those words, the fear and confusion that gripped her heart.

"Wh...what do you mean?" she had asked, desperation lacing her voice.

"A Shadow has no place in a world blessed by light," he continued, his tone unwavering, "but there are other worlds, shrouded in profound darkness, where my hunt must continue."

"But Shadow-"

"Cherish this world, Alpha. Bask in its tranquil glow. You've earned this. All of your girls have earned it. But I cannot dwell here, for I know that my purpose transcends this realm, beckoning me to guide those lost in the abyss of despair, and to ensure those shadows won't ever ruin what we've built in Midgard."

His words lingered like a haunting melody.

Two years had passed since the quelling of the Diabolos Threat. Two long years since Shadow had vanished from their World, leaving a gaping void nestling deep in Alpha's heart.

She had been entrusted with the monumental task of maintaining world balance through the Shadow Garden, the Numbers, as well as the newly-crowned Queen Rose Orianna and her kingdom. They had meticulously erased all traces of his presence – Shadow and Cid Kageno. To most, Shadow was now but a fading legend, a guardian deity from a bygone era.

Even a majority of the Numbers only knew of him as some sort of a guardian deity, no longer retaining their memories of their former Lord.

All they knew was that Shadow's vision and guidance had laid the foundation, and Alpha and the Seven Shades simply had to build upon it.

At first, to become his pillars of support, and now, to ensure that his legacy of peace would not go to waste. Of course, niggling threats hardly require his attention... hence why he left with confidence, never once looking back, knowing the Shades were more than capable hands.

But now, even Alpha started to doubt.

For Alpha and the Shades, the world they had inherited from Lord Shadow was one of tranquility and harmony, yet it was also a world of longing. They yearned for his presence, for the guiding hand that had steered them through countless trials. Each passing day weighed on their souls, as they desperately clutched to their sense of purpose, fleeting away as days go by. His absence had cast a dark shroud upon their hearts.

Alpha, in particular, had always seen herself as strong, resolved to stand tall even in his absence. She was his right hand, entrusted with the Shadow Garden, and she had never wavered in her duty. She understood why Shadow had embarked on his solitary journey through the Worlds – the unpredictability and danger he sought to protect them from.

But of course, he would risk his life for theirs...

That was just the kind of man he is.

Only four Shades remained active in the Shadow Garden from the original seven. Delta and Zeta, driven by their unwavering loyalty to Shadow, vehemently rejected the idea to live in a world without Shadow. They had embarked on their own path, defying his request to pursue their relentless quest to search for him among the countless Worlds. Eta, a brilliant mind in the field of technology, had been easily persuaded to utilize her expertise and her study over the Black Rose anomaly to aid in their search for Shadow. Epsilon initially wanted to join them, but as she relied much on magic, the risk was too great.

There was no use restraining them either. Delta and Zeta had never been the ones willing to stay put, doing their own things, heeling only when their Master called for them.

Alpha was fully aware that they were going against his wishes, but, at the same time, all the Shades wanted to have him back. They wanted to prove that they could support him. Just as how he had been their support... even if they knew he would do fine without them.

It was the other way around, evidently. They need him. Shadow had given too much for these girls who had given up on living. Gave them purpose. Gave their life a semblance of meaning. And yet, they had done so little for him in return. None of them felt deserving for his legacy.

As she stood before the colossal statue of Shadow, his sword pointing toward the dark cloud, Alpha felt her once unwavering resolve began to crumble. The weight of leadership bore heavily upon her shoulders. Doubts crept in like relentless shadows, eroding her confidence in her ability to fill the gaping void left by his absence. She was meant to be the glue that held the Shades together, but even she struggled to keep herself from unraveling.

A quivering sigh escaped her lips. Despite her strength and dedication, Alpha couldn't erase the consuming sense of inadequacy that had taken root in her, eating her from inside out. Neither could she contain the tears that welled up in her eyes. Her slender fingers trembled as they reached out, as if reaching out for a lifeline – as if yearning to touch the cold, unfeeling stone of the statue, hoping to find a measure of solace in its presence.

But the inanimate figure before her remained unmoved, an immutable reminder that nothing could replace Shadow.

Clutching her chest, her voice trembled as she whispered to the towering figure before her, "I know I can never reach you… But your absence is getting too much to bear... Please, wherever you are, Shadow, if only you can hear my voice… come back to us… We miss you. The girls miss you. I miss you..."

The wind seemed to carry her words into the vast expanse of the ancient capital, as if conveying her longing to the very corners of the world. But whether her plea would reach its intended destination in the shadows of distant realms remained an unanswered question, leaving Alpha in the lingering embrace of her sorrow.

To be continued…

Well that got heavy. will someone give Alpha a hug?

Alt chapter title: In a Game of Truth and Lies, Shadow Guesses Wrong. Twice. The Audience Groans.
Alt alt chapter title: How's THAT for a twist?

Big congratulation for Cookie-4IS for speculating the chance that Cid has been at Midgard, doing his shadow stuff, and that he is indeed Lord Shadow with his memories 'magically' gone. Which explains why he's "18", broken from the start, and has easy access to cheat skills i.e. Shadow Zone/Dimension.

His 'skills' are still there

he just sorta forgor

of course there's a specific reason to his amnesia. You're very welcome to guess. could be the one hundred gods in dxd feeling his approach, or maybe he just hit his head too much.

This is the major twist I've planned since the start of the story, with the first hint being Delta still retaining memory of her Bossman. And the scattered deja vu hints during his fight against Kuroka; subconscious reminders of Delta's No Thoughts, Only Smash approach. Basically, this is Cid's New Game++

and ofc, there's always a lot more shit going in the background.
this is a huge project of mine. too ambitious? probably

With that out of the way—

ROSARIA JOINS THE FIGHT!
SHE WHO ACTUALLY WORKS IN THE SHADOW TO SERVE THE LIGHT! SO SHE COULD SMOKE AND SKIP SUNDAY MASSES ALL SHE WANTS
Yes, you may applaud my foreshadowing skills, thank you very much

But if you want to know, my thought process to justify her insertion to the story went like this:

it's bananas if the church just sends Irina and Xenovia without parental guidance to get back their friggin excaliburs. Gotta send them at least with 1 capable supervisor. I already wrote stories with Griselda as their chaperone. Could use Dulio but he's a bit too high up to be babysitting kids and their quest for the fragmented holy sticks. just make up some bullshit reason why he doesn't look for the excaliburs himself. Busy with michael, doing holy stuff or something like that—well it is time to use my toolbox of bullshittery that is the "Lost Realm" that I've totally not come up with on a whim!

And so i googled 'nunny anime girl but bad' and Rosaria came up top. Studied her lore and character a bit and made me go 'why yes, why can't I have a hot female assassin in my fic?' I've already have Not-Kafka, why not a Rosaria? She's from Genshin Impact, by the by
DxD is lacking female character that fits the 'cool but deadly' archetype, so all the more reason to reel her in into this world of my supernatural circus

And better yet, she fits in with Shadow's fiasco, what with her reverence to freedom and what not. She's practically destined to encounter him, one Lost Person to another

Sometimes, my genius is almost frightening. writing this fic has immensely upgraded my maneuvering skills. maneuvering intricate bullshit, that is

will she join the Shadow Garden™? Will there be lazy fights between Totally-A-Nun Rosaria and Kuroka? Or clash between her and Penemue as fellow purple-haired women with shadowy skills?

Or even better, a three-way clash?

Stick around and you'll see

And of course, this time, it's Cid himself that draws the shortstick of epic misunderstanding. You goddamn clown. But you're a cool clown though. Like the joker. Kinda. Just less murdery. at least for now

I cut my fingers from writing his answers with Penemue, send review bandaids, please

Kokabiel? No no, you must've meant Cockabiel

But dzanzy where's asia i want asia waaaaaaaaaehhhhhhh—
Look man, i can't just jam her in without good reasons. She'll appear soon enough, don't worry. I haven't forgotten the dxd people, im just expanding those that are rarely used or wrongly raised according to my headcanon which takes priority over YOUR headcanon. Case in point; Kuroka.

And before I go—let the real show, begin

yeah. the last 7 chapters are the tutorial level. the first 'arc', so to speak