Love and War

by A Decent Hoonter

Cursed with a power he feared, Alfred lived his life in anxious loneliness until one day, a letter arrives. Come to Kuoh, it said, and all your dreams will come true. It was an odd thing, but he had long since learned to accept the strange. Or at least, so he thought. But in a town controlled by devils, he will have to face stranger things than he could ever dream of. (WC inspired)

7. Potential Thrusting Action

"So… you're a devil, huh?"

Alfred leaned against a tree as Kiba practiced his swordsmanship against an invisible opponent, both of them ignoring the looks that the supernatural creatures loitering around Kiyome's property. Well, Kiba got more looks than he did as the denizens of the Abe Family Manor had begun to grow used to his presence. Some even waved as they saw him, which he always made sure to smile back at. Maybe it was just his bleeding heart, but he figured that showing them at least some measure of kindness might help improve their day just the tiniest bit.

"Yes. I suppose it must seem shocking given your likely… one-sided education on us."

That was a bit unfair, though not unwarranted. None of his newfound friends had the best relationship with devilkind, and his own experiences with Akeno weren't the greatest. "A bit, though if you're a devil then they can't be all bad, yeah?"

In his mind, it was a lame way to try and ease the tension between them. However, it seemed to work on Kiba as the tension in his shoulders lessened somewhat. "You do me too much favor in your mind. Truthfully, not all devils are as bad as they're said to be. Many are, but the younger ones typically aren't."

"Generation divide exists with devils too?"

His head tilted as he dematerialized the sword in his hands and quickly summoned a different one, slashing with it as his footing changed somewhat. "In a sense. After the civil war, there has been tensions between Traditionalists and the Progressives, my fami- my master and her family belonging to the second group."

"You seem to think highly of her."

While most of his information on Rias Gremory came from the disgruntled mouth of Kiyome, even she was willing to admit that of the devils that could have taken over Kuoh, Rias was one of the better ones. The other owner was less prevalent in Kiyome's occasional rants, though from what he was able to gather the second owner seemed less interested in the territory as a whole.

"She saved my life and has asked for nothing but camaraderie in return. She is a good person, despite how often she tries to hide it."

Though clearly biased, it was hard not to take Kiba for his word. The guy spoke with such earnestness that believing him felt like the obvious answer, such was the knight's charisma. It was inspiring in a way, to know that someone as seemingly unshakeable as him could feel such reverence for another person. Briefly, Alfred wondered if he would ever be able to earn that same respect.

"You have a way with words, Kiba."

The blond laughed at that, taken aback by the compliment as he dismissed the sword in his hands once more. "Of all the things I thought would earn respect, my words were not one of those. Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

A gust of wind rolled past them as several harpies followed the breeze above them, a scene which would likely send any normal person into a stroke but felt right to Alfred. Maybe he had simply lost touch with the normal world, or maybe he had simply grown to appreciate the abnormal. If the difference mattered, he couldn't see why.

"Night will fall soon."

The reminder of their upcoming mission robbed him of some of the joy he had gathered in that moment but was likely for the best anyway. "You think your boss will come up with a good plan by then?"

"She doesn't have much of a choice."

Alfred had left the planning to Rias, not so much out of trust in a woman he'd never met but more so with the understanding that she understood Akeno and the city better than he did. Besides, not having to plan a strategy for the night would allow him to focus on more pressing matters.

How the hell was he supposed to fight in his current state?

Though Threat remained a trusted partner, his lack of magic was beginning to leave him a bit raw. While before he was able to beat Akeno by the skin of his teeth thanks to his overwhelming magical power (though not skill), he lacked that edge now. Not only that, but the physical disparity between them had reversed in the worst way possible. He effectively had no tools at his disposal to get the upper hand, and it was frustrating.

Well, no tools was a bit of a stretch.

A gun formed from a tendril poking out of his shoulder, a condensed ball of white energy shooting out the side of it. The light did little to damage the tree, but it did make Kiba jump from the surprise of it.

"How did-huh?"

The gun retreated back into his jacket as he got up from the tree, stretching his legs as he bit the inside of his cheek. "A trick Threat learned. It should come in handy, though I doubt it'll be enough on its own."

Kiba's uncertain stare at his jacket was far from subtle, though the knight quickly accepted it the best he could. "Even before her bonding with Malice, Akeno was never one to let a little holy magic stop her. Her resistance is naturally higher than most devils."

The why of that was never said, and Alfred never bothered to try and ask about it. Some stories weren't meant to be shared so recklessly, and he'd respect her privacy even if he didn't much care for her. "I don't have much else, unfortunately. I haven't fought an enemy that I couldn't just brute force until now."

"What else do you plan on doing to prepare then?"

That… was a good question. With magic suddenly becoming a much more finite resource, he found himself having to be a bit more conservative with how much he used it. Sure, he was currently generating as much as he could and storing it in his body for the battle to come, that meant nothing if Akeno just drained it from him. His tactics were going to have to change, but how effective would he be with only a day to prepare?

"Perhaps I could be of assistance."

The two of them turned to face the new voice, a lamia wearing a sports bra with her green hair in a ponytail. She held a long pipe in her hand, a puff of smoke escaping her nostrils as its relaxing aroma worked its magic on him. The smell was a bit off though. Did Kiyome mix weed into the angel dust incense?

No, that wasn't the point. Getting back on topic, Alfred bowed his head somewhat as a greeting to the lamia and greeted her. "Ah, hi. Have we met before?"

Kiba was silent beside him but offered a polite nod to the demon. She took a hit from her pipe, lazily blowing a ring of smoke from her mouth as she introduced herself. "No, we haven't. I am Bathsheba the Ill-Tongued, and I come to extend the aid of the Garter Tribe."

He and Kiba exchanged a confused look, but were unwilling to turn down any help they could get. "The Garter Tribe? Why would they want to help me?"

Bathsheba laughed, lowering her pipe as she raised an eyebrow at him. "Why would they not wish to aid their savior?"

It took a moment longer than he would like to admit, but he did eventually remember the group of lamiae that he had helped. In hindsight, him doing so had led to this situation though he didn't much regret it. "Ah, right. Then I guess we'll be following you."

Giving Kiba a glance, she shook her head. "I'm afraid they invited only you, Martyr of Hatred. Your friend may not invade upon their territory."

Alfred went to argue for Kiba's sake but was stopped before he could begin as the blond raised his hand. "I would hate to intrude. Please, don't hold back for my sake."

Once more, Kiba proved himself to be a much more gentlemanly figure than he was. Saying a quick later to him, Alfred followed after the lamia with a few questions still burning on his tongue. "So, can I ask what the titles are about? I mean, Martyr of Hatred? Ill-Tongued?"

Taking another hit from her pipe, Bathsheba opened her mouth to reveal a human tongue before closing it. "I was born with a human tongue rather than a lamia's tongue, leaving me unable to communicate with my first tribe. It has taken me many years to learn my people's language, but no amount of time will ever remove my honor name."

"Honor name?"

Smoke left her mouth and formed a snake which danced through the air, coiling around her neck before dissipating into the air. "It is a name given by a tribe after an honorable, or dishonorable deed. I was born with the dishonor of my ill-tongue, but you were honored with your name after curing the Garter Tribe of their madness, taking it into yourself so that they may suffer no longer."

Despite her generally very relaxed demeanor, there was a measure of awe to her tone as she spoke of his heat of the moment action. It led his gaze to her pipe and the disturbing implications of it. "Do you still suffer from it? The bloodlust, I mean."

She tried to act bashful about it, doing a poor job of hiding her budding hope as she spoke a little too fast. "W-Well, not as long as I smoke every now and again. It can be a challenge to deal with during the days of low supply, but Miss Kiyome does her best."

Her eyes darted to him nervously, switching between his face and his hands as her thinly veiled request laid bare for him to see. He didn't mind it of course, stopping for a moment as he placed a hand on her forehead. "Maybe I can help with that."

"I-If you must."

Alfred's lips twitched upwards before he prepared himself for the strain of what he was about to do. The gold of his eyes glowed as he saw her bloodlust, dormant for now but eager to send her rabid with but a single slip up. He grasped onto it, expecting a struggle yet receiving little as-

-the right thing to do? Malice was too young to offer any-

"Done."

Crushing the bloodlust in his hand, he felt himself absorb its power without so much as a hiccup. He hid the surprise the best he could, noting a very light prodding sensation at the back of his mind as his sudden connection to Malice left her trying to reconnect with him.

He would need to tell Kiyome as soon as he could.

"Thank you, Savior."

He felt his smile grow strained as the lamia all but prostrated herself before him, her eyes shining with something a bit too akin to worship for him to feel comfortable with it. "D-Don't mention it, really. I just did what any decent person would do."

Bathsheba didn't seem to believe his claim, though it was most certainly true. Alfred himself was nothing special. It was the power that had been forcefully bound to him that was anything worth note, he was just the container for them. Anyone of any decent moral standing would do the same as him, and he was certain anyone better would have done even more.

"Your humility befits your station, Martyr of Hate."

Knowing a losing battle when he saw one, he decided to just drop the issue there and move on. "Right. Anyway, can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

The way she looked at him as she said that made him feel vaguely warm, but he pushed it aside for now. "Kiyome told me that sentient demons were the result of the more monstrous ones… mating with human women. But at a glance, I wouldn't have believed you to be any different than a youkai. What makes that distinction?"

A large part of him hoped he wasn't being unintentionally racist, but thankfully Bathsheba took it in stride. "Culture, mostly. Demons are a western term for the creatures spawned of western pantheons while youkai is an eastern term. While we are similar in many ways, the youkai lack our curse and as such have a much more organized society. They also call their magic youjutsu, though outside of philosophy and technique it isn't much different than any magic we demons may possess."

Of all the explanations he could have gotten, that one did seem to make the most sense to him. Though his grasp on Japanese culture was flimsy at best, even he understood that youkai was typically used as a catch-all term for all manner of supernatural creature. Maybe it just caught on as all different kinds of creatures banded together to form some form of civilization?

"Is there a specific term for sentient demons?"

"Not truly, though I prefer to call the mindless ones monsters rather than demons. To lumped into the same group as the mindless always felt degrading to me."

Well, it was a better distinction than he could come up with. And if a monster ever came to him and declared the term to be ill-suited, he would change it in a heartbeat. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

"My thanks."

The two of them wandered a bit deeper into the forest, stopping as a massive cliff face broke up the forest with an even wall all the way across on both ends. Even squinting, Alfred couldn't make out where the wall ended.

"We have reached the end of the pocket space, and the entrance to the Garter Tribe's new home."

Bathsheba slithered into a hole in the otherwise impenetrable wall, forcing him to squeeze his much larger and less flexible body through the same crevice. His shoulders caught on the rocks a few times, head bumping into the ceiling as he was forced to crouch through, but he eventually made it to the other side.

"Woah."

Unlike the tight entrance, the inside of the cave was large enough for him to stand to his full height and then some, easily a good twenty feet. Though it clearly wasn't a naturally occurring cave, as the walls were too smooth to have come about by happenstance, and the cave was a bit too squarish as well. Still, it allowed for plenty of room for the lamiae to rest. Something they took full advantage of.

"Is that… me?"

A statue of a very familiar form stood tall in the center of the cave, crudely made but indistinguishable from anyone else. The statue depicted him reaching down, offering a hand to those who gazed upon it as his suit's eyes were drawn with a gentler curve than they actually had. That seemed to be the theme throughout the piece, softening his harsher features as well as granting him a much more noble air than he could ever claim.

"Indeed it is. Do not be alarmed by its differences, Savior. It is not uncommon for us demons to craft not in the image of what our inspiration looks like, but in the spirit of what they truly are."

That he could understand. It would be a cruel thing to create an image of oneself and see a maddened version of yourself, so why not embody the ideal of what one could be? Still, it felt a bit too much for him. Whatever nobility they saw in him was little more than willing blindness.

Such thoughts he kept to himself, not wanting to upset the lamiae by insulting their work. Instead, he forced a smile as the small tribe began to hiss amongst themselves, eyeing him with some uncertainty and hope. He looked back at the statue and understood.

Threat covered his form, returning him to the grotesque visage that they were more familiar with. They of course did not see it as such, not knowing the history which birthed its design. Instead, they saw the man that had saved them from madness and flocked to greet him.

Hissing echoed throughout the cave, the magical flames floating around the cave surrounding him as the lamiae all reached their hands out to touch him. He tensed, unsure of what to do as they spoke amongst themselves in a language he couldn't understand. Their words meant little to his ears, but the emotion on their faces… that meant so much more.

Gratefulness, joy, hope. They saw him as something he wasn't, some kind of savior of their people. And in their perspective, how could he argue against it? What perhaps may have simply been a good deed performed out of empathy for him, was a release from a lifetime of agony for them. The gravitas of his title had made little sense to him previously, but upon seeing the people he had directly affected with his actions, he began to understand why it was.

A loud hiss ceased all commotion, followed by the sound of a spear's bottom slamming against stone. The lamiae departed, allowing what seemed to be their leader to slither forward. Unlike the others, who simply wore two long strips of cloth to cover their breasts and a loincloth, she wore something akin to actual armor. Golden pauldrons covered her shoulders and chest, while some sort of waist armor hung on her hips. Her loincloth resembled a skirt more than the others, made from a red fabric with a black spear running down the center.

They were, he realized, the same colors he wore.

"How did they do all this in such little time?"

Bathsheba laughed, bowing her head as the leader grew closer. "Magic, Savior. Though lamiae are a warrior species, we are adept in forging magics."

The leader slammed her spear into the ground, black hair (the same color as her scales, which seemed to be a theme among the lamiae) falling behind her shoulders as a sort of golden crown rested on her forehead. She maintained her posture, though a slight curve of her lips gave away her own happiness for the situation. A happiness that, on closer inspection, brought forth a memory.

"You… you were the first one I helped. You were the one who helped calm the others down for me."

Bathsheba relayed his words, and the leader's face flushed as she bowed respectfully with a hiss.

"She says she is grateful that you remember a lowly lamia such as her."

"Lowly?"

Despite the less-than-ideal conditions of their home, Alfred could find no fault in their decorum. They held themselves with a pride befitting a warrior tribe, tugging at a part of him that had remained dormant for longer than he had been alive. "There is nothing lowly about a leader who commands respect from her people."

His tone shifted, going a touch lower in pitch as an unfamiliar regality took claim over his natural posture. Something about the situation struck a chord in some previously unknown section of his mind, his identity muddying.

The leader gripped her staff tightly as her restraint broke for a moment, a smile forming on her face as she hissed back to him.

"She is honored by your words, Savior."

Slamming her spear into the ground once more, she hissed at the other lamiae who swiftly retrieved their own weapons and fell in line behind her. She moved her arm to the side, half of the dozen lamiae moving to her right while the other half stopped by her left. They all mimicked her posture, looking straight ahead while the leader hissed to him.

"She has heard of your struggle from the fairies and has offered the use of her people's magic to aid you in your conquest."

Conquest? The word tickled something inside him that made his core spin erratically, Threat twitching around him slightly. "In what way?"

Closing her eyes, the leader began to chant alongside the others while holding up their spears. The floating flames around the cave began to brighten as the temperature within the cave began to rise. Fire licked at the tips of their spears, the black metal glowing hot at the tip. Like snakes gliding through the air, fire began to leave the spears and gather in front of him.

"Reach in and forge your gift."

Hesitance held no hold over his heart, his arm raising immediately as his hand reached into the fire. It covered his forearm completely, warming him but never burning as tendrils began to seep into it. The flames began to flicker, negative ki melding into the core as the static flame began to whisper to him.

Doth thou seek strength?

The Goetia of Fire questioned his motives, resisting his attempts to bind it to him. His jaw clenched, angered by the insolence before he shook the foreign mannerisms from his mind. Alfred stared into the fire, hand clenching as he spoke the truth. "I seek peace."

Burning brighter than any other flame in the room, the Goetia of Fire began to take shape as it gave him one last whisper.

Then thou shalt prepare for War.

He grabbed hold of the flame, watching as its power was shaped into a spear and then wrapped with Threat's mass. The organic tendrils which formed his partner hardened into an infernal iron, forming the shaft while a golden blade tipped the end. Tendrils made not of solid magic but instead fire wrapped around the blade's socket like tassels, moving just as erratically as Threat's own tentacles. Its power filled him, easing the burden of his own core as its own much less advanced one took up some of the strain.

The spear, however, was not the only thing that changed.

Threat shifted its form as the lines between his shattered bits of soul and the magical core began to blur ever so slightly. The patchy holes of red were filled in with black, the red bursting out from his hands and feet before covering his forearms and shins respectively, small bits of fibrous tendrils writhing like snakes around his elbows and knees. The mask around his face and neck went full red, the jagged edges of his mask's eyes smoothening out and slimming down. Around his shoulders sprouted a whole mess of tentacles, each of them layering atop another as they formed a living half-cape which reached down to his mid-back, a series of the tendrils peeking out from his collarbone as they formed the border between the orderly black and the chaotic red.

A part of his existence had changed, gears turning in an ancient consciousness which stirred within his core.

Alfred lifted the spear, feeling its weight in his hand settle with abnormal comfort. It was as if he had always known how to hold one, spinning the weapon around without effort as a piece of him found its place within the spear. The fiery tassels spun with it, a quiet burning of the air following behind it as a name for the weapon came to him.

"My Searing Whisper."

A fog had descended over his consciousness, forcing him to shake it away and ground himself to the moment once more. Giving the awed lamiae and thankful look, he used the spear to speak directly to them. "Thank you."

Several of them gasped, whispering amongst each other as their magic within his spear acted as a gateway for him to understand their tongue and them his. The leader slithered closer to him, mouth opening as she faltered, unsure. That doubt lasted no longer than a breath as she reassured herself and spoke directly to him. "You can understand us, Martyr of Hatred?"

Gesturing to the spear, Alfred nodded. "The magic you used to make this is helping me speak to you."

He didn't add in his own confusion as to how it worked to his answer, deciding that magic was something which would never cease to amaze him. It also must have amazed her, as she turned her spear around and stabbed it to the ground, hands clasping one another as she leaned closer. "Great Martyr, I cannot begin to thank you for what you have done for me and my tribe. We are forever indebted to you. We live new lives in your name, in your honor."

The mask over his face helped hide his embarrassment at her earnestness, tongue twisting in his mouth a bit before eventually managing to get something out without stuttering. "You owe me nothing. I didn't shatter one set of chains so you could trade it for another, alright?"

His oddly metaphorical answer struck Alfred as something not typical of him, but he wasn't much able to think about it as the lamia shook her head. "We cannot forget such a service. Perhaps to one as great as yourself, you cannot see the significance of your mercy. But not only have you freed us from a lifetime as beasts, but you have freed our children and our children's children forevermore. We are indebted to you not out of obligation but out of gratitude."

The end of her tail lifted itself off the ground, gently wrapping around his arm as she pressed her cheek to his chest. His head practically snapped to Bathsheba, who simply gestured for him to go along with it. Feeling more than a little awkward but trusting her judgment, he simply stood there as the lamia pulled away from him. "I, Nathara the First Blessed, make to you an oath on behalf of the Garter Tribe; so long as our minds remain clear and blood continues to flow, our lives will be spent in service of your name and legacy."

Nathara then bowed at the hip, the other lamiae following suit as Alfred was forced to stand there and uncomfortably accept their praise. His fingers drummed on his spear, jaw opening and closing as he was unable to resist a stutter. "Th-Thank you all, I'll be sure to uh… I accept your oath and swear to do right by your people as long as I draw breath."

He couldn't help but give something back in return, finding their worship of him far too much for a single action that anyone else would have done had they had the power to. At the same time, he couldn't reject their oath either. Not only would that be more than a little rude after all they'd done for him, but the nagging feeling that doing so would be devastating for them emotionally. So, he was forced to accept it.

"And now, in accordance with the ancient traditions of our Greek ancestors, we shall initiate the worship orgy!"

"The what now."

… … …

Kiyome knew that not everything in life was fair. It was hard not to, seeing as all of her family was dead and she was the inheritor of a land with more responsibilities than perks. She wasn't one to get petty (publicly) but every now and again she would get the urge to just say "Fuck it!" and leave everything behind.

This was one of those moments.

"So, Miss Abe, it seems you've been working with this previously unknown third party for quite some time."

Rias Gremory sat across from her, digging into a well-cooked steak prepared by the cyclopes she employed as chefs. They were masters of the kitchen really, having had quite the amount of history with cooking thanks to their ancestors innovating the field during the ancient days. Sure, their innovations had always involved human meat, but that was easily transferable to other kinds of meat. Human probably wasn't that much different from pork or chicken anyway.

"He is a patient of mine, as well as a subject of much study. I don't recall the terms of our contract forbidding me from taking either. Do you?"

The tension in the room was palatable, unnerving the usually passive Kiba to her left as he attempted to keep the peace. "Please, Rias, must we worry about such things now of all times? Miss Abe has been nothing but charitable."

The youngest of the trio simply ate her steak in peace, hers having had the instruction to simply be walked through a hot room then served. Despite the seemingly apathetic expression on the girl's face, Kiyome had worked with her as a physician for long enough to know when she was in a poor mood. Something which likely had much to do with Kuroka's presence still lingering within the manor. Not her magical presence, but more so her physical one. Bits of hair that Kiyome hadn't noticed on the furniture, as she spent less time cleaning the manor than she did cleaning her lab.

"She most certainly is. Especially to wanted criminals."

Cutting into her own steak, Kiyome felt her brow twitch at the redhead sitting across from her. Redheads, the bane of her recent existence. "Again, our contract never specified what kinds of patients I could have. Besides, she wasn't here for me."

Koneko stiffened slightly as she stopped mid-chew, not looking at anything other than her plate. Despite her annoyance, Kiyome couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for the implication that she had unintentionally made. "She wasn't here for any of us in this room."

While the younger devil still seemed rather angry by her sister's presence, it was better than her believing she was being targeted by the alleged criminal.

"Then she was here for our troublesome third party?"

Normally, she would rather die than throw her friends under the bus. And truthfully, she was considering it even then. However, one of those rare moments of pettiness began to rear its head as she remembered the last little trick that damned cat had played on her. Whatever went through Kuroka's mind to leave her behind a note detailing in excruciating detail the ways her and Alfred defiled his dorm had left Kiyome in a very pissed off state. Some of those positions didn't even look anatomically possible. "Quite. Apparently, she found his stamina to be more than worth the risk."

She took a sip of her tea as Koneko bent a fork in her hand, eager to get the heat off of her. Besides, it was that damned idiot's fault for even entertaining the flirtatious feline in the first place. Absolute scum he was.

"That's… okay then. Perhaps we should get back on topic."

Rias' eagerness to avoid such a topic was but a bonus to her, though one she was more than willing to take advantage of. "Let's. What is your plan to deal with your rogue queen, and what are you going to pay me to do?"

The topic of payment was the most important one to her, as there was no way she'd help them out of the kindness of her heart. Even Alfred, the closest thing she had to a true friend, paid her in valuable research material. Himself, namely.

"Of course. Triple the usual fee? No, that seems too meager. Five times?"

That was a potential half a billion yen on the table, but she wanted something that money couldn't quite buy. "I was actually hoping to open up negotiations for changes to our contract."

Rias stilled in her seat, putting her fork and knife down as she rested her chin on her hands and her elbows on the table. "Oh? And what would these negotiations look like?"

Polishing off her steak, Kiyome answered with little hesitation. "With my final year at the academy now at hand, I believe it's time that I take over my family's position full time. As such, it would only make sense that this manor and those who occupy it be registered as a true organization rather than some independent freelancer."

She was ready to receive some pushback on the idea, knowing full well that if she was legitimized as a proper third party that she would be required to have far more say in the politics of Kuoh. What she was not prepared for was an honest laugh from Rias, who drank from her glass before entertaining the idea. "I see. And this wouldn't have anything to do with a certain troublemaker still technically being an illegal independent within our territory, would it?"

Her face was stone as she lied through her teeth. "Not in the slightest."

The devil saw right through her façade but chose not to comment on it. "Yes, well, I suppose the idea has merit. A proper third-party of your family's prestige affiliated with Kuoh would certainly strengthen my support base. It would certainly expand upon the resources I'd have on paper as well."

Leave it to a devil to turn what should have been a loss of control into a boon instead. As much as she'd rather remain a separate entity from the devils, she wasn't sure how strong her bargaining position was. Her power did not lie in brute force, but rather her family's immense research and expertise. But then again, a certain patient of hers may change that if things turn out in her favor. "We'll have to go over the details more finely at a later date."

In the end, Kiyome chose a non-agreement to close off that line of conversation. Best not to agree to anything if she couldn't help it, even if only verbally. Rias seemed to recognize the strategy, an amused grin on her face as she returned to her meal. "Of course. After all, we have much bigger fish to fry."

"Himejima, you mean."

The amusement faded immediately from Rais' face, hands tightening around her utensils as she nodded. "Indeed. My precious queen must be subdued and freed from that thing's control. Your part to play will be simple."

Taking a bite from her steak, the devil placed her utensils back down and patted her lips and cheeks with a napkin. "I need you to use those fairies of yours to keep surveillance of the city while we're in the field, keeping us informed if anything unusual happens. Information has been our greatest enemy in regard to recent events, and I'd rather not remain in the dark about anything that goes on in my city."

"Fine."

Kiyome went to take another bite of her steak, before a fairy flew up to her ear and softly whistled into it. She made a show of sighing, hiding how eager she was to leave this conversation as she stood up and made her exit known. "Apologies, a particular patient of mine has some medical concerns that need attending before he enters the battlefield. I'd hate for him to be a hindrance to the mission, wouldn't you?"

"Hm, I suppose so."

The devil's smile was nothing if not pleasant, frustrating her more than she'd care to admit as she swiftly left the dining room and made her way to the lab. Her trusted assistants were already there, holding her coat and goggles in their small hands. Slipping both on, Kiyome entered the lab and stopped as she registered Alfred's sudden change in look.

"What did you do this time?"

He scratched the back of his head, the tendril cape around his shoulders wriggling in embarrassment. "Good news, my soul and core are melding properly."

"And the bad news?"

"My soul and core are melding properly."

She forced him into a chair, twisting her goggles and getting her core monitor over his chest. Adjusting the dial to account for his odd energy signature, she found herself dreading the implications. "What exactly happened?"

"Well, the lamiae I helped out decided to gift me a weapon as thanks. However, the situation must've triggered some kind of memory from the core as the mannerisms of whatever it originally belonged to sort of… took over mine."

Her teeth dug into the inside of her cheek as she poked a bit further. "And what did it feel like? Are you okay?"

The monitor showed his core before her eyes, the previously very damaged looking thing now having less noticeable seams where the soul and core had been fused.

"Weird. Like, it felt like it was me, but I could tell that it wasn't. I was just not me for a bit, like some other consciousness woke up and began to bleed into mine."

…Damn it. This shouldn't be happening so soon. The melding process should've been slower, more gradual. And for the core to have such strong memories despite the damage… it must've belonged to something powerful. But what? "Damn it, Alfred, it's always something new with you."

Her annoyance masked the fear quaking in her heart, her hands clenching and unclenching as she got her nerves together. "What about now? Are you still feeling different?"

"Thankfully no. I mean, something changed in me, but it doesn't feel as noticeable as earlier. Oh, also I sort of made another of what Malice was."

"You WHAT!?"

Alfred winced in his seat as she all but screamed in his face, a headache forming as a spear manifested itself in his hand in a burst of flame. "The lamiae used their magic to forge this out of fire, but I kind of intentionally made it another Goetia. But it did give me an idea as to how to help Malice."

"You mean Himejima?"

"Eh."

The bobbing of his head betrayed his cavalier attitude, his concern for his enemy as naked to her eyes as the pictures Kuroka had drawn for her. Damn cat. "Fine, what is it? Please don't say something dangerous."

His lips pressed together in a line as his shoulders slowly shrugged. "I think Malice being made sort of unintentionally meant that she wasn't fully completed and is now unstable because of it. So, in theory, if I can finish the process with her and make her a fully formed Goetia, then maybe we won't need to destroy or hurt her too much?"

"You care about it all of a sudden?"

That was a bit harsh, even for her annoyed state, and Alfred felt it as he winced at her rude but somewhat true words. "I… I felt her somehow. Like, I removed the bloodlust from Bathsheba and somehow made a temporary connection with Himejima. I heard her thoughts for a moment, and… and she's not in a good state. Neither of them are."

There went his bleeding heart. Despite how impractical it was, she didn't have the stomach to tell him off for it however, instead humoring his optimistic plan. "And how do you plan on completing Malice?"

"I'll cross the bridge when I get to it."

Of course he would. Kiyome placed a hand on her hip, wanting to scold him for his lack of planning but finding it hard to as she looked at his face. Instead, she found herself playing along with his poorly thought-out plan. "Well, you better get thinking. Especially since you won't be doing it alone."

"Right, the devils."

He didn't seem to share the same anxiousness regarding their presence as she did, but then, he had much less experience. However, there was a slight problem. "One of them has a strong dislike for you right now, the white-haired one."

"Huh? Why?"

"You slept with her sister, for one."

His eyes practically bulged out of their sockets, a nervous sweat beading down his face. "A-Ah, shit."

"Mhm."

She went to move the monitor away from his chest, before her nose caught a very peculiar smell coming off of him. "Alfred, why do you smell like lamiae fluid?"

"Why do you know what that smells like?"

"Physician. Now tell me."

He suddenly gained a curious interest in his hands, twiddling his thumbs as he proceeded to say the worst thing possible. "W-Well, after they had gifted me the spear the leader of the tribe made me aware of a very important tradition they had. One that was passed down from their ancestors and continued to be practiced today out of a deep respect for their history, so naturally I couldn't just say no."

"…"

Kiyome's nose scrunched up as she took a step away from him, eye twitching as she crossed her arms under her bust and glared at him. "You are absolute scum. Human trash even. Subhuman!"

"That's not fair-"

"I don't even feel bad for telling Koneko you fucked her sister."

"You told her!?"

Remorse was far gone at this point, frustration at the redheaded pervert in front of her outweighing all other emotions. "Perhaps I wouldn't have if you learned to keep your pants on, you waste of skin."

He sagged into the chair, hand covering his face as his cheeks began to match his hair. "What did I ever do to deserve this?"

"Her sister, to start."

"Fair enough."

… … …

Akeno stumbled down an alleyway, the high of Berserker's magic finally fading as the crash hit her like a truck. Malice tried to soothe her, giving her what strength the poor thing could in spite of going through its own sort of withdrawal.

Sorry. Make better. Promise.

She stroked a tendril, her mind more present than it had been for a while as she tried to ease Malice's guilt. "It's fine, really. Maybe this is for the best, we can't keep doing this."

Despite her words, she couldn't help but want more. The bloodlust Malice gave her felt so focusing, like every fear or doubt she had was melted away by pure rage. She wanted to keep going, to feed into the hate and let every pent-up emotion go at once. But was that the right thing to do? Malice was too young to offer any sort of advice but-

-the bloodlust in his hand, he felt himself absorb its power-

A connection was formed, albeit briefly, between her and the man who started all of this. Their minds had connected, a spark which only furthered her pains. His magic made her feel alive, every emotion being cranked up to eleven while satisfying Malice's hunger. It was a drug, she realized. A drug so potent that a single dose had her hooked.

"What am I doing?"

The fatigue that came from her sudden crash made feeling bloodlust harder, and cleared her mind enough to recognize the damage she was doing. While she may have only been killing stray exorcists for now, what would happen should she lose control even more and kill a random civilian? The question was rhetorical, she knew exactly what would happen. She'd have a mental breakdown before rationalizing it to herself and shifting the blame onto someone else.

She was self-aware enough to know her flaws. At least, she was self-aware enough while being too tired to justify herself to her own mind. She needed to find her family, the one she chose, before anything else could-

"Well well well, lucky day."

Akeno turned to see a fedora wearing man in a trench coat standing across from her in the alley, cutting her lucidity off as she got a feel for his energy. It was familiar to her, painfully so, and slowly her fatigue was forgotten as her greatest hatred began to worm its way into her mind.

"Fallen."

The fallen chuckled, not realizing the loosening grip she had on her own faculties as rage began to build. "Smart and beautiful. Yes, today is a lucky day after all. Why don't you surrender now? I'd hate to hurt your pretty body before I got to enjoy it."

Claws formed on her hands as several tentacles slid out from her sleeves, lightning sparking around them as a red veil was wrapped over her eyes.

"What the hell are-"

The fallen never got to finish his sentence, his screams cutting him off before they too were silenced.

… … …

I wanted to work the lamiae into this somehow, seeing as they were involved in Malice's inception, and I think this was a decent way. It gave them some character and also introduced Alfred to the fact that, "hey, this Goetia thing seems kinda handy actually". Thus, he now has a very strong incentive to learn how to use it a bit to try and solve this problem and further the whole Aethermorph business. So yay.

Also yeah, this is a less actiony chapter but that's cause the next one is going to be much more on the action side. Figured it'd make sense for the character to strategize and plan the best they could before nightfall, since they'd have the most freedom to move since A) Devils are stronger at night and the team is mostly devils right now and B) The Veil. Also, Isami is there just not relevant right now. Kinda didn't have space to put her anywhere so just imagine she's perving on monster girls right now. Or imagining Rias stepping on her, whichever is funnier.

And the other shoe finally drops with the core business. Yadda yadda, old being once owned the core and memories are bleeding through, yadda yadda. Decided to change Threat's suit design to be a little less overtly horrifying to better portray Alfred's character at this point, since he's less someone anxious over his own abilities and now growing into them the best he can. "Wow, that seems a bit fast Hoonter!" It's been over 50k words, Nathan, so shut up and eat ass. Fuck you Nathan. Anyway, I think next chapter will be the end of this beginning "arc" so to speak. So, it may be a bit longer than usual? I dunno. What I do know is that the fallen are so inconsequential right now that I'm going to have to play them for a bit of a laugh otherwise it would feel a bit out of left field for them to be a threat. That begs the question, what to do with the fallen? Should they all die? Or should most of them live (Dohnaseek is completely fucked, sorry Dohnaseek stans)? If they do live, what the fuck am I going to do with them? Great questions. I'll figure it out somehow. Most of my writing is very off the cuff anyway with minimal outlining.

One final thing to note is that I'm going to try and minimize OC usage the best I can. Not because I'm against them, but because DxD has way too many side characters that are never used to ignore. The only reason I employed them here is because there really aren't many lamia characters in canon outside of the nameless tennis one. But any OC that does pop up will be a minor side character at most, maybe a reoccurring mook type or something I don't know.

This has been A Decent Hoonter, and holy shit just barely making it to the seven day streak with fifteen minutes on the clock.