The New Demon King

by kilomarski

This will be a cross over between High School DXD and Misfit of the Demon King Academy. The Story will follow the same path as DXD with alterations. At the moment I plan to only have Anos cross over but if I can find a way to transfer more characters over I will. In this Fanfic Anos will find himself in a new world with a fresh start and deciding on going back or to stay here.

42. Chapter 41

Apologies for the late episode, had some life stuff happen and didn't have time publish on the 1st or 15th but I still wanted to get this chapter out this month for the next chapter it probably won't be the first but if not the first definitely the 15 thanks for your patience.

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Chapter 41: Restoration

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Anos was not a dense man. He picked up on things quickly—how could he not? In his past life, people often hid their true feelings from him.

Sometimes it was to avoid worrying him, other times to deceive him.

Learning to read and understand people had become second nature to him, a skill sharpened by centuries of observation.

So, no. He wasn't blind to those who held romantic feelings for him.

He had simply chosen not to act upon them.

Why would he? Anos had never intended to remain in this world for seventeen years.

His focus had always been on finding a way home. Romance was a distraction—a luxury for a man who didn't belong here.

But ignoring feelings didn't mean he couldn't see them.

Koneko's quiet, watchful loyalty.

Ravel's eager enthusiasm, always finding excuses to linger near him.

Even Sona, the ever-composed Student Council President, couldn't entirely mask the flicker of longing in her gaze when she thought he wasn't looking.

But the one who tried the hardest to hide her feelings was Serafall Leviathan.

There were plenty of reasons why.

The most obvious? Serafall didn't want to take Anos away from her beloved little sister.

Even though she kept things professional—in her own eccentric way—Anos wasn't fooled. He saw the subtle signs:

The way she hung on his every word when he spoke of his world, like a child being handed candy.

The fleeting softness in her gaze, quickly masked by playful banter.

The way her energy dimmed ever so slightly whenever he mentioned Sona.

Serafall had been the first person, besides his brother, to truly take the time to learn everything about him.

She would talk for hours, asking questions, sharing stories, always curious—always present. Sometimes, she'd cancel important meetings just to answer his questions about this strange world.

It was… endearing.

Too endearing.

Anos had enjoyed her company far more than he should have. But there was always a wall—a fragile, self-imposed barrier that Serafall refused to cross.

To protect Sona. To protect herself.

And so, they had danced around the truth, pretending neither of them noticed the undercurrent of something more.

When Anos revived her, he expected many things:

Confusion...Shock...Maybe even Serafall launching herself into Sona's arms, relieved beyond words.

What he did not expect was for Serafall to tackle him to the ground and kiss him—tongue and all.

The impact knocked the air from his lungs as they rolled, her grip surprisingly strong for someone who had just returned from the brink of death.

For the first time in a long while, Anos was completely taken aback.

By the time his mind caught up, Serafall had already pulled back, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips as she lay beside him, breathing heavily.

"Well," Anos muttered, blinking in disbelief. "That's one way to say 'thank you.'"

A furious crack echoed nearby.

Anos turned his head, only to see Sona standing frozen, her glasses now fractured, cracks spiderwebbing across the lenses.

Her face was a storm of emotions—shock, anger, and something dangerously close to betrayal.

"Sister, what the hell was that?!" Sona's voice cut through the air like a whip, sharp enough to make even Anos flinch.

Serafall's eyes snapped wide open, realization dawning as horror washed over her expression.

"...Damn it. I'm not dead, am I?"

Anos sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, you're very much alive. And," he added with a teasing smirk, "I can tell that was your first."

Serafall's face flushed scarlet, her usual composure shattered.

"WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT…" she stammered, hands flying to her face in embarrassment.

Sona's glare intensified, and the crack in her glasses deepened.

"First?!" she echoed, voice rising an octave. "You kissed my fiancé, and it was your first?! What the hell, Sister?!*"

"Wait! It wasn't supposed to happen like this!" Serafall cried, waving her hands frantically.

"I thought I was dead you see! I just—I was saying goodbye! I didn't think I'd actually… actually…"

Her voice trailed off as her blush deepened.

Anos chuckled, amused despite himself. "I should give the space?" he muttered under his breath, stepping aside to let the sisters argue it out.

But as he turned, he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve stopped him.

"Wait," Sona whispered, her voice suddenly soft and sincere.

Anos glanced down at her.

"We have… a lot to discuss later," she said quietly. Her eyes, usually neutral and calm , now held annoyance.

"...Don't go too far, okay? Dear."

Dear…the word hung in the air, thick with unspoken meaning.

Another crack splintered across Sona's lenses.

Anos blinked, momentarily speechless.

For the briefest moment, Sona didn't look like the calm and composed person she always was.

She looked like someone mighty sea serpent with monstrous teeth and glowing sky blue eyes.

"...Yeah," Anos murmured, nodding slowly. "I won't go far."

Sona smiled, relieved, while Serafall paled, "Wait don't leave," but stopped when she looked at her younger sister looming over her.

"Now, Sister," started Sona.

Serafall's spine snapped straight, and she sat back on her knees, head bowed like a child awaiting punishment.

Anos wisely chose to tune out the ensuing lecture, though Sona's sharp, almost maternal tone caught him off guard.

"I've never see her like this before… and it's kind of terrifying," thought Anos.

As he walked away, shaking his head in amusement, Anos couldn't help but smile.

But Anos's smile wasn't well-received.

As he turned toward the onlookers, he was immediately met with Mittelt's icy glare.

Arms crossed and left eye twitching in irritation, she practically radiated disapproval.

"So," she drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm, "you're just letting anyone kiss you now, huh?"

Anos blinked, his expression flattening. "I'm pretty sure you saw her jump on me."

Mittelt didn't budge, gesturing wildly to the crowd of witnesses. "Everyone here knows you could've dodged that. Easily."

Heads nodded—far too many heads, in fact.

Erishkigal, standing next to Mittelt, peeked out with a blush burning across her cheeks, fingers barely parting to let her eyes peek through.

Rias stood nearby, arms folded, foot tapping rhythmically against the ground like a countdown to an impending explosion.

"Not fair!" Issei wailed from where he sat, still sniffling dramatically on the ground.

"First Koneko, now a smoking-hot Devil King?! Come on, Master! Save some for the rest of us!"

Asia sighed and knelt beside him, patting his back awkwardly.

It didn't help that her own blush was faintly creeping up her neck.

Kiba, ever the gentleman, was pointedly scratching his cheek and looking away, though the faint twitch of his lips suggested he was fighting laughter.

Gabriel, standing stiffly to the side, blushed furiously, her wings fluttering nervously as she avoided eye contact.

The rest of the group?

They either whistled innocently, pretended to examine the sky, or looked down at their feet like children avoiding a parents scolding.

Even the devil soldiers and angels seemed to find the horizon suddenly fascinating, their awkward silence speaking volumes.

The only ones not pretending were Sona's peerage, standing like a jury of judgmental siblings.

Momo and Reya glared in perfect unison, while Saji's jaw clenched so tightly that Anos half-expected his teeth to crack.

But the chill that ran down Anos's spine came from Ophis.

She stood motionless, arms at her sides, but her glowing purple gaze was sharp and unwavering.

And beneath that calm exterior, Anos could feel it—a faint but undeniable pulse of something intense.

The Infinite Dragon God was… pouting.

"Oh, for the love of-"

Anos exhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Fine," he muttered. "I was caught up in the moment. I was happy to see my friend alive, so I… let it happen."

CRACK!

Another sharp sound split the air.

Anos turned his head just in time to see broken glass at Sona's feet—her fractured glasses, now completely ruined.

He froze.

Her glare was absolutely intense.

Slowly and carefully...Anos turned back around to face the crowd, deciding it was safer not to look away, for now.

Saji opened his mouth to speak, and the other members of Sona's peerage seemed ready to let Anos hear what they had to say, but Rias's voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"There are so many things I want to say to you right now," she said, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides.

"But all I really need to know is… who are you, truly? Are you the brother I love, or are you this all powerful Demon King from another world?"

Her voice trembled, raw with uncertainty.

The weight of her words shifted the entire atmosphere.

Even Hades and Hela, who had been quietly conversing behind the devil army, fell silent.

As their attention was now drawn to what was happening before them.

Anos met his sister's gaze. The vulnerability in her expression pierced him deeper than any sword ever had.

"I am both, Rias," he answered softly. No hesitation. No masks.

"My true name is Anos Voldigoad and I come from another world… but above all, I am your brother. The same man you've known your entire life."

Rias took a shaky step forward, her voice cracking as she whispered, "Another world truly…is that true?"

"Yes," Anos said, his voice gentle but firm.

But Rias wasn't satisfied.

"Did you you ever plan on telling me?" she croaked out.

"Did you not trust me? I'm your twin, Anos—you can tell me anything."

Anos frowned, sensing the pain hidden in her words. "I did, but—"

Rias cut him off, frustration overtaking her voice.

"Or were you just going to keep it secret and disappear without saying anything?"

Anos sighed. "Of course not. I wouldn't leave without saying something to you."

"Then why keep it a secret for so long…its been seventeen years?" she demanded, her frustration boiling over.

"You even told a Dragon God before your own sister."

She gestured sharply toward Ophis, who stood silently in the background, just observing.

Anos sighed, knowing he had no choice but to be honest.

"No, she found out on her own, but that is besides the point… long ago, when you were just a baby, I had every intention of leaving immediately.

But those days turned to weeks, to months, then into years… and to now."

He met her gaze, his voice steady but tinged with something rare—regret.

"I didn't think I'd be here this long. I told myself I didn't need to say anything… because I never expected to stay."

Rias didn't like his answer.

Worse—she kinda understood it.

And she hated that.

"Still you should have told me," she whispered, her hands trembling.

"You are right, I should have," Anos admitted.

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken emotions.

Then, without warning, Rias threw herself into his arms, squeezing him so tightly it was as if she feared he would disappear.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"Don't lie to me again," she sobbed.

"I don't care if you're some Demon King. You're my twin first—remember that."

Anos held her close, one hand gently cradling the back of her head.

"I will remember that from now on," he whispered. "I'll do my best not to lie to you again."

The sincerity in his voice seemed to settle over the battlefield like a calming breeze.

Rias gripped his coat tighter, her tears soaking into the fabric.

"You can be really annoying at times," she whispered.

"I know," Anos replied softly.

"Can't believe you were just going to leave eventually without saying a word all this time," she said, voice cracking.

Anos sighed, pressing a hand atop her head. "Rias, I would never abandon you."

"You say that but you almost broke your promise."

Her words stung in a way that nothing else ever had.

For all of his strength, for all of his experience, Anos was completely and utterly powerless against the emotions of his sister.

A flash of memory overtook him.

A younger Rias, barely more than a toddler, clutching the hem of Anos coat as she stumbled to keep up with him in the courtyard of the Gremory estate.

"Wait for me, Anos!" she had cried, her tiny hands grabbing for his as she tripped over her own feet.

He had turned just in time to catch her before she hit the ground, her big, teary eyes looking up at him.

"Careful," he had said, lifting her with ease, "Your turning into a klutz, lucky the better looking twin was here to help you."

She frowned puffing out her cheeks, "Lies mommy says I'm prettiest girl in the underworld," she said after dusting off her dress, "But thanks for catching me."

"I'll always be there to catch you when you fall."

"You'll always be with me, right?" she had asked innocently, her voice light and filled with childish certainty, "Yea its a promise," he answered with a smile.

"Of course, Rias, were twins right we gotta stick together."

And yet, here they were.

Anos exhaled slowly, the weight of that long-ago promise pressing down on him.

He gently pulled back from her embrace, looking into her tear-filled blue-green eyes.

"Rias, I'm not gonna up and leave one day but there are responsibilities I need to take care of?"

Rias swallowed thickly, her grip tightening.

"truly," she admitted, her voice breaking.

"Yes."

Her lip trembled, but she nodded and lightly punched him in the chest.

But this was enough, after hearing Ophis story from the sound of it Anos had kept this from her and planned to leave one day without a word leaving her alone but after talking to Anos it seemed some of concerns have been lifted somewhat for now.

The devil soldiers, once stiff and uncertain, awkwardly dropped to one knee.

The suddenness of their action drew everyone's attention.

More than fifty devils, warriors who had once been skeptical of Anos, now bowed before him.

They didn't know him the way Rias did.

To them, he had always been a rumor—the prodigy of devil society, the "Gremory twin" who had achieved the impossible, and the heir who lost his title.

A devil without the Power of Destruction who had somehow climbed to the top ranks of the Rookie Five purely on his own skill.

Many had dismissed it as propaganda pushed from his family and the Devil Kings—a convenient tale spun by the Gremory family to compensate for their heir's apparent shortcomings.

This was mentality shared by most of devil society as the rumors of Anos grew twisted down to the masses.

But now?

They had seen the truth with their own eyes.

And in devil society, power commanded respect.

More than that—Ophis had told them stories. Stories of a Demon King who wasn't just a destroyer, but a protector.

A being who had waged wars to end wars.

A man who had ruled not through fear, but through sheer, undeniable strength.

And now, after seeing how effortlessly he had held back the gods, they couldn't deny it—

Anos was more of a hero than a tyrant.

Some among them wrestled with jealousy.

Anos had lost his title as heir long ago, and yet somehow, he had become something far greater.

For nameless foot soldiers, it was frustrating.

They had spent years fighting, rising through the ranks… and yet, Anos stood at the summit effortlessly.

But now they understood.

One of the soldiers finally spoke.

"Sir Anos," he muttered, clearing his throat. "I don't think we can treat you the same way we did before… my liege."

Anos immediately frowned, waving his hand dismissively.

"You already have four Devil Kings. I am not one of them. Just Sir Anos will do."

The soldiers exchanged hesitant glances before one, bolder than the rest, stepped forward.

"Then… could I at least shake your hand, Sir Anos?" the man asked quietly.

"I should be dead. We all should be. But because of you, I get to go home. To see my family… I don't have much. I'm just a normal devil, not one of the 72 Pillars."

Anos blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the soldier's sincerity.

"You don't owe me anything," he said. "But I can definitely shake your hand."

He extended his hand, and they shook firmly.

But as the soldier stepped aside, Anos's gaze swept over the crowd as he frowned—there it was now a line.

More than fifty soldiers, now standing patiently, waiting for their turn to show their appreciation.

Anos sighed heavily, though there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

From the sidelines, Hela and Hades exchanged glances.

"What's going on?" Hela muttered, brow furrowing.

Hades shrugged, his usual smugness replaced by quiet contemplation.

"I'm not entirely sure," he admitted. "But one thing is clear—our master trusts him. Ereshkigal chose Anos as her guardian, and it seems that wasn't a mistake…"

He trailed off, watching as another soldier clasped Anos's hand with an earnest nod of gratitude.

"…His power is immense and may be the one to finally be the one to bring our masters dreams of happiness to reality," Hades finished quietly.

Hela nodded in agreement, she knew just as much about the pain that Erishkgal went through as Hades and she expected the moment her master was freed that the world would burn.

From the memories both gods shared their master had a deep animosity for the her Pantheon and the world as from what they knew she wanted nothing but revenge.

But from the way she was acting now she seemed different but in a good way, she seemed happy and it was a good thing they both thought.

Meanwhile, Rias still clung to her brother, like a child holding candy unwilling to let go.

Anos didn't mind.

He shook hands effortlessly with his free arm while absently rubbing circles into her back.

But amidst the warmth of reunion, reality crept back in, as he remembered Shiva words about heaven, "Gabriel."

The archangel looked up from where she stood, comforting a shaken Dulio.

"Earlier, Shiva made it sound like Heaven might be in trouble," Anos said, his expression darkening.

"You should head back and see what's going on."

Gabriel nodded immediately, her concern evident.

"I'll take the angels and Dulio with me."

With a flare of golden light, the angels vanished—leaving behind only the fading echoes of divine energy.

Sona stood over her sister, arms crossed, glasses long shattered, and fury rolling off her in cold waves.

Serafall knelt on the ground, head bowed, shoulders trembling—not from physical weakness, but from something worse: guilt.

Despite being the stronger of the two by power and title, Serafall felt utterly powerless beneath her little sister's icy glare.

Sona's voice was low but sharp as a blade. "Are you going to say anything?"

Serafall peeked up, then quickly looked away as their eyes met.

"Look, I'm sorry… I wasn't in my right mind. It was a mistake—it won't happen again. I don't even like Anos like that. I was just… caught up in the moment."

Sona's frown deepened. "Do you take me for a fool?"

Serafall flinched. "I-I don't know what you mean."

"You feel the same way I do about Anos."

"What? Me? Like Anos? Come on, that's—"

"Sister," Sona cut her off, voice like frost. "Stop talking."

Serafall fell silent immediately.

Sona wasn't dense. She had known—deep down—for a long time that Serafall held affection for Anos.

She'd seen it in the subtle way her sister's expression softened when Anos's name came up.

She saw it in the guilt and regret that clouded Serafall's eyes whenever Sona brought him up. But she had never said anything.

Because she was afraid.

She didn't want to admit that the person she admired most—her sister—might one day become her rival.

And now that fear was a reality.

Sona wasn't mad about the kiss. Not exactly.

She was furious that her list of rivals had grown again.

Ravel, Mittelt, and Koneko—those, she had expected. Each had made their feelings clear.

But Sona had always held one advantage: she had known Anos longer than all of them.

Or so she thought.

Now came Ophis, possibly Ereshkigal… and worst of all, her own sister. A sister who had known Anos before anyone else in this world.

It felt like the foundation of her confidence—her "number one" position—had cracked.

And Sona Sitri did not handle cracks well.

"I love Anos," she said coldly, each word deliberate.

"And I am going to be his number one, no matter what. I will stop at nothing. Even if it means toppling you."

Serafall's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait… are you saying—?"

Sona narrowed her gaze. "There is no one in this world—or the next—who loves him more than I do."

Her cheeks flushed, but her expression didn't waver. "So if you think you do, you'd better prove me wrong."

For a moment, silence.

Then Serafall blinked, stunned—before a warm smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Her little sister had grown so much.

And she'd declared war.

But before Serafall could respond, Sona's expression finally cracked—not in anger, but in overwhelming emotion.

Tears welled in her eyes as she suddenly dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Serafall, burying her face into her shoulder.

"I missed you," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I thought I'd never see you again…"

The floodgates opened. Sona broke, sobbing into her sister's embrace.

The memory of Serafall's cold, lifeless body haunted her—the hopelessness, the silence, the ache of loss she hadn't been able to express in battle.

Serafall stiffened in surprise… then smiled gently, wrapping her arms tightly around her sister. "Seems I made you worry… I'm sorry."

"Please… don't leave me like that again," Sona choked out.

"I won't," Serafall whispered, rubbing slow, comforting circles into Sona's back. "I promise, Sona."

A moment passed, warm and quiet, before Serafall gently pulled back and looked down at her sister with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"But," she added, "I should say one more thing."

Sona looked up through teary eyes, blinking.

"I'm not going to lose to you," Serafall said with a challenging smirk.

Sona's tears stopped mid-flow. Her brow twitched. "You what?"

"I mean, if it's a fair competition, then may the best sister win," Serafall said with mock cheer, her hands raised in peace.

"It's not like I'm backing down just because you said you'd topple me."

Sona's expression darkened again, her tear-soaked cheeks flushed with returning irritation. "You're insufferable."

"Love you too, So-tan," Serafall beamed.

And just like that, the rivalry was no longer silent.

It was official.

And neither of them planned to lose.

The tense atmosphere left by Grendel's attack, the arrival of Death, and the intervention of the gods now felt like a distant memory.

Peace had returned, if only temporarily, as everyone tried to push the chaos aside.

But peace, like the sea, is ever-changing. It can be still one moment and a violent storm the next. And just like that, the calm shifted again.

Anos blinked as two familiar divine auras registered in his senses. Moments later, Athena and Artemis teleported in, flanked by Ravel, Sirzechs, and Grayfia.

They had tried to be discreet, masking their presence—but it was pointless. Anos noticed the moment they arrived.

He had just finished shaking hands and receiving thanks from the soldiers when his gaze turned to the newcomers.

Realizing they'd been spotted, they stepped out from concealment.

Sirzechs limped forward, leaning on Grayfia for support. Ravel walked beside them, while Athena and Artemis lingered close, visibly tense.

A few devils moved to assist their king, shocked by his battered state, but Sirzechs waved them off.

So did Grayfia and the two goddesses, stopping others from bowing.

They had come with questions—serious ones. From cities away, they had seen Anos's spell light the sky, felt the clash of divine powers, sensed Shiva and Ophis in the distance.

They had arrived as quickly as they could, not to interfere, but to understand.

Anos had deliberately left Ravel behind to shield her from danger once he sensed Rias release her Source in response to Grendel.

Athena and Artemis remained behind as well—not out of fear, but out of restraint.

They knew they couldn't stop Anos from fighting their kin, and Ravel had assured them he wouldn't kill needlessly.

Sirzechs and Grayfia, though better after receiving healing from Anos, were still far from battle-ready.

"Brother, you look... well," Sirzechs said, taking in the devastation. "And clearly victorious. But what of the gods? Did you..."

Anos smirked. "You want to know if I killed them."

He glanced toward Artemis and Athena, both visibly on edge.

"Of course not. I didn't have to. Shiva drove them off."

Athena blinked, her mind racing. Just days ago, Shiva had withdrawn from the gods' alliance with no explanation.

But now... it made sense. If Shiva knew of Anos's power—if he had seen something—his actions were perfectly logical.

Why hadn't he told anyone?

"So Shiva intervened," Athena muttered aloud, rubbing her chin. Artemis nudged her sharply.

"Earth to nerd. You're muttering again."

"Right. Sorry," Athena blinked back to focus. "You said Shiva sent them away. So... our family is alive?"

Anos nodded. "Yes. For now. Had they stayed, I wouldn't have held back. I would've killed them. Brought them back, sure—but only if they were willing to change."

"So," Anos continued, folding his arms, "what can I do for the two Greek goddesses today?"

"We have enough questions to last a century," Artemis said. Her gaze swept the ruined landscape.

"But it looks like you've got a lot of rebuilding to do."

She wasn't just talking about the prison or arena.

The attack from the Old Satan Faction, Apophis, and Mr. Black had left Lilith and surrounding cities in ruins.

At her words, the grim reality returned.

Soldiers, who had assumed the battle had been contained, now considered the broader consequences. Families. Homes. Cities.

The unease was palpable.

Ereshkigal, watching the crowd's shifting mood, closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, she stood within the quiet recesses of her mind—her soulscape. Death sat at a round table, alone but expectant.

"You're uneasy," Death noted. "The atmosphere outside? Too heavy?"

Ereshkigal nodded. "Yes. And... I have an idea. But you might not like it."

Death raised an eyebrow. A second later, her expression changed. She understood. They were two halves of one soul, after all.

"Absolutely not," Death said, standing. "Do you know what kind of pain that would cause? We could go insane."

Ereshkigal squeaked and covered her face, nervous.

Death sat again, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Why do you feel so indebted? Never mind—I know."

"Still... I want to do something."

"I'll handle it. That many souls is a strain, but I can manage."

With a snap, two more chairs materialized. A heartbeat later, Hela and Hades appeared, startled.

They blinked at the sight of two Ereshkigals.

"Why aren't you on your knees?" Death asked dryly.

Both gods dropped immediately. Erishkigal sighed. "Please, sit. There's no need for that."

"You're too nice," Death muttered. "Servants should bow."

The gods shared a glance. It clicked.

Ereshkigal had split herself.

Death—the one they'd made the pact with long ago—was her other self. No wonder she'd always felt... different at times.

"I need your help," Death said. "And you're going to give it."

"Please be nicer," Ereshkigal interjected.

"This is me being nice. I could just command them. You know I could."

She wasn't wrong. Their pact bound them completely.

Ereshkigal turned to the gods, nervously but firmly.

"I have a request. You don't have to say yes... but can you help me bring everyone back? Rebuild?"

She shared her plan.

"I accept, my lady," Hades said, bowing deeply. "You need us. That's enough."

"You have my support as well, master," Hela added respectfully.

Death stood, cracking her neck. "Good. Let's get to work. You, softie, sit tight. I've got this."

Ereshkigal shook her head. "Actually... I want to do this together."

Death arched a brow. "I said—"

"I know. But it was my idea. If you won't let me help, I'll take the burden alone."

Death's eyes narrowed. She grabbed Ereshkigal by the collar, shaking her. "Are you insane?! You'll get hurt. I won't let you. I will take over your body by force if I have to."

Ereshkigal trembled... but smiled, recognizing the fear in Death's voice. Not anger—concern.

She reached up, patting her own head.

"Stop that," Death muttered, blushing.

"It'll be okay. As long as you're with me... it'll work out."

Death released her, grumbling. "Fine. But if you start to falter, I'm kicking you out."

"Thank you."

Death turned to Hades and Hela. "And you two? Share the burden. So softie doesn't get hurt. Got it?"

They nodded, amused but ready.

As the atmosphere in the are grew more stagnant, Anos blinked.

His senses flared sharply as a burst of magic unlike any other surged into the air.

All heads turned as Ereshkigal opened her eyes—and within them, her right eight-pointed star eye blazed with golden power.

The magic rising from her was immense, ancient, and divine.

Mittelt, who had been silently watching Anos turned her attention to the girl standing beside her, blinking in surprise and confusion. "Hey… what are you doing?"

Ereshkigal smiled softly, almost too calmly for the amount of power she was radiating. "It's fine. I plan to fix it all. It's the least I can do. These are my lands."

"What are you planning to do?" Anos asked, narrowing his gaze. His voice was even, but his posture subtly shifted, eying her curiously.

"Like all of you were saying," Ereshkigal replied, "there's been much death and much destruction some which can not be undone. I am the Goddess of the Underworld and with my power I have the ability to restore everything."

There was a quiet edge in her voice—not the timid goddess Anos knew her as.

Anos frowned. "You understand what it will cost you, right? You're not just recalling souls. You're opening yourself to everything they've felt—their final pain, their fear, even their corruption."

"I know," she said, meeting his gaze.

"But for once… I want to use my power because I choose to—not and not be forced like I once was. My father used me to manipulate souls into believers. Now I'll use my gift to heal and restore."

Rias tugged on Anos's sleeve, whispering under her breath. "Uhh… question. Who is that?"

"That's Ereshkigal," Anos replied calmly.

"…The girl you went after to recover Issei and Serafall's souls? I thought you'd—killed her or something."

"I didn't," he said, watching the goddess ascend into the sky. "But it looks like she's about to undo everything that happened here."

"You mean—?"

Anos nodded once. "She's reversing everything."

Ereshkigal floated high above the destroyed prison, her golden eye glowing brighter.

Her divine aura spilled across the land like starlight.

Those gathered below—devils and gods alike—felt it wash over them. A sacred calm, like standing in the eye of a cosmic storm.

Gasps rose from the crowd as the ground itself responded.

With a wave of her hand, the monstrous gates of Tartarus burst from the earth, towering with divine authority.

Beside her, Hades and Hela appeared, rising into the sky to flank her.

"We've completed the preparations, Master," Hela said.

"We await your command," added Hades.

"Excellent," Ereshkigal said, her voice echoing with layered resonance.

Then she turned inward, connecting to her other half. "Death… are you ready?"

Death's voice answered inside her mind. "Yeah. Just don't overdo it."

Above them, a massive golden magic circle spun into existence, forming a halo of interlocking runes and ancient seals.

Identical circles appeared above Hela and Hades, and as they activated, their eyes shifted—glowing with matching eight-pointed stars.

Streams of golden energy poured from Ereshkigal's body, weaving into her subordinates, connecting her powers to theirs.

The light intensified, turning the sky a burning shade of dawn.

Then came the souls.

Thousands—no, hundreds of thousands—of blue flames erupted from the gates of Tartarus and Ereshkigal's domain.

Each soul danced in the air, swirling around the trio like a cyclone. They moved not with chaos, but with purpose.

The battlefield stood in stunned silence.

Ravel covered her mouth, eyes wide with awe.

Rias muttered, "It's… magnificent."

Even Sona, still recovering from her emotional whirlwind, stared in awe.

The analytical side of her brain tried to comprehend the sheer scale of the spellwork, but it was like trying to read constellations in a storm.

Anos simply watched, expression unreadable, though his eyes shimmered with amazement.

Then, amid the spectacle, Death's voice broke into Ereshkigal's mind.

"Hey, uh... small problem."

Ereshkigal blinked, still channeling power. "What is it?"

"We got the souls. Where are we putting them some had their bodies completely destroyed, we can heal the ones who had their bodies damaged but we can't create new ones. ?"

"…Ah."

A slight panic flickered across Ereshkigal's face, barely noticeable—except Anos noticed.

"I…Uh…ummm..," she muttered. "We can't create vessels."

She activated a mental link with Anos. "Umm… Anos. I need help."

He chuckled in response. "You seemed so composed before you seemed like a new person. It's kind of cute seeing you flustered."

"Please…stop laughing! I'm serious!"

"All right, all right," he said, still smirking. "How can I help?"

"I need you to make bodies. I'll rebuild the environment and determine where everyone was at the moment of death. I'll transmit that knowledge to you, and you can place their new bodies there."

"A tall order," Anos mused, "but not impossible."

Ereshkigal beamed. "Thank you."

And with that, she focused again.

All around them, the land shifted and rumbled even more viciously.

Craters smoothed, fissures sealed, and burnt earth reformed. Buildings rose from rubble like reversed footage—first the prison, structures rebuilt themselves, stone by stone, tile by tile.

The courtyard restored its gates. The wind stilled and ash vanished.

The gods, devils, and peerages watched in stunned silence as entire prison was restored in pristine condition like the attack never happened.

Back in Grigori, the world felt like it had cracked and bled.

The skies were gray, not from clouds, but from ash—settled thick in the air like grief itself.

The great floating city once vibrant with the quiet hum of machinery and research now lay fractured.

Blackened buildings smoldered, and jagged wounds split through streets where bodies still lay.

The once-immortal pride of the Fallen had been humbled.

Baraqiel limped through the ruins, his right leg dragging behind him.

A makeshift bandage clung to his side, soaked crimson, but he paid it no mind. His heart was heavier than any injury.

The sudden retreat of Hades' forces had left everyone dazed, unsure why they were spared.

Thanatos had come claiming vengeance, declaring Grigori guilty of aiding the Shadow, and the carnage that followed had been indiscriminate.

The silence now was oppressive. No mourning cries, no commands, only the hollow echo of wind across scorched stone.

He found himself at the Eastern wall.

That was where Shemhazai had made his last stand.

His friend of centuries, the comrade who had stood beside him since the earliest days of the Grigori—now lying still with a gaping hole in his chest.

His face, once full of life and insight, now blank and pale beneath the ash.

A soldier approached behind him, boots crunching on rubble.

"Sir," the young Fallen said quietly, "we've begun accounting for the dead… but the losses are…"

Baraqiel turned, hollow-eyed.

The soldier hesitated, then forced himself to continue.

"Ten thousand confirmed… but that's just the bodies we've found. Many were disintegrated entirely. We may never know the full toll."

Baraqiel looked away. "Give me a moment."

The soldier nodded and retreated.

Baraqiel knelt beside Shemhazai, his shaking hand brushing dust from his friend's face.

"I'm sorry, old friend," he whispered. "I should've done more."

The silence that followed felt eternal.

And then—the earth moved.

At first, just a tremor. Then a deep, resonant hum—like the breath of the world exhaling for the first time in ages.

A sharp burst of stone zipped past his face, making him stumble back.

Before his eyes, the broken wall began to rise—brick by brick, stone by stone.

Rubble reformed, ash lifted into the air and swirled into new life.

Buildings stood upright again, towers rebuilt themselves as if time reversed in slow, deliberate motion.

Gasps echoed across the ruins.

He wasn't alone in witnessing it.

All around him, soldiers stopped, their weapons forgotten.

Fallen stared wide-eyed as the impossible unfolded around them.

And then—it got stranger.

From the sky descended tens of thousands of tiny blue flames—souls.

Baraqiel's instincts flared, and he summoned a barrier, fearing a new assault.

But the flame passed through harmlessly.

Into Shemhazai's body.

Light bloomed from the wound in his chest as muscle knit itself back together.

The glow wrapped around his heart, then spread across his form like dawn's first light over cold hills.

And it wasn't just him.

Bodies, previously missing or destroyed, began to return—forming out of glowing mist, standing silently with eyes shut.

Then, as the blue flames entered them, their eyes opened. Some blinked in confusion. Others gasped for breath.

The field of death was becoming a field of resurrection.

Whispers turned to shouts. Cries of mourning transformed into stunned laughter.

Families embraced, comrades wept as friends they thought lost forever returned, dazed but whole.

Baraqiel looked down in disbelief as Shemhazai stirred beneath him.

"…What the heck happened?" Shemhazai groaned, rubbing the side of his head as though waking from a long nap.

Tears welled in Baraqiel's eyes as he choked out a laugh.

"You… you died," he whispered. "And you came back."

Shemhazai blinked. "Well, that explains the headache…"

High above, unseen to most, a golden light pulsed from the underworld.

And far across the realms, hope began to take root once again.

Far away, in a city scorched by Apophis's rampage, ruins smoldered in silence. The wind carried the faint scent of ash and burnt stone through shattered streets.

Lying amidst the rubble was the lifeless body of a young woman with a gaping hole in her chest.

Her name had been Emma.

This was not supposed to be her fate.

Just hours earlier, she'd been full of joy—nervous but hopeful—as she prepared for the meeting that would finally bring her long-awaited promotion.

She wasn't anyone special in terms of magic. A devil from a low-ranking house with no famed bloodline or great power.

But she had something else: grit. A work ethic beaten into her with gentle love by her father, who had always told her, "It's not the name you wear, it's how you wear it that matters."

She had clawed her way up the corporate ladder at a modest logistics firm in the outer districts of the Underworld.

The company wasn't glamorous, and the hours were brutal—but Emma endured.

Today was supposed to be her reward. Her new title. Her moment.

She had just walked into the executive office, heart pounding with anticipation, when the entire building lurched violently beneath her feet.

Files scattered, lights flickered, and a distant boom shook the air.

She looked out the wide office window—and saw him.

Sirzechs Lucifer, the Crimson Satan. Her king.

He was battling a dark-skinned figure cloaked in swirling shadows, and the scale of their clash was unlike anything she could comprehend.

The sky split with each exchange. Waves of power tore across the landscape.

Then, without warning, both vanished from sight.

And something—something monstrous—slammed into the side of the building.

The office crumbled in an instant.

Emma screamed, thrown to the floor as a chair smashed into her shoulder.

She pushed it off, coughing, blood dripping from a gash above her eye. And then—she saw him.

Sirzechs. Bruised, staggering, barely upright. Their mighty king, the most powerful devil in the Underworld—broken.

He saw her too, and before she could speak, he grabbed her and pulled her close, wrapping his battered arms around her as a brilliant explosion of black flame detonated behind them.

She closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, the building was gone.

Dead bodies littered the streets—friends, coworkers, strangers. Among them were limbs, weapons, and ash.

And above them loomed the dragon.

Apophis.

A colossus of death, its wings blotting out the sun. Her breath caught in her throat. Emma turned to her king for strength, but that was when it happened.

Something shot through her back—cold, sharp, silent.

Her body trembled as her legs gave out. She looked down in confusion.

A black spear. Shadow-born. Sprouting from her chest like a cruel, foreign branch.

And it was her own shadow that birthed it.

Blood bubbled in her throat.

"My Lord…" she whispered, collapsing into his arms. "Please help me. I don't want to die…"

Sirzechs looked at her. She saw it in his eyes—not power, not salvation.

Guilt.

And failure.

The last thing Emma thought of was her family. Her father's smile. Her mother's laughter. She had wanted so badly to call them and tell them she got the promotion.

Please… just one more moment…

Darkness took her.

She didn't know how much time had passed. Time meant nothing here—wherever here was.

It felt like floating inside a dream made of static and silence, like seeing through your elbow or hearing through bone. Limbo wasn't the right word. Less than limbo.

She couldn't feel her body.

Couldn't scream.

Couldn't cry.

She only existed.

Until… a flicker.

A blue flame.

It floated in front of her—warm and distant. She had no hands, no voice, but in her mind, she reached.

The flame pulsed.

Then engulfed her.

Emma gasped.

She opened her eyes and staggered slightly.

She was… standing?

She turned, eyes wide.

It was the executive office. Intact. Perfect. Just like before. The same ugly carpet. The cracked mug on her desk.

"What the hell…?" she breathed.

Around her, coworkers blinked and looked around just as confused.

Some were crying. Others stared at their own hands in disbelief. One woman fell to her knees, sobbing.

Emma stumbled toward the window.

And her breath caught.

The city was healing.

Streets paved themselves in glowing golden light. Craters reformed into buildings.

Trees grew from ash. It was like watching the world breathe again.

It wasn't a dream. It couldn't be.

She felt tears slip down her cheeks.

Her hand reached into her pocket. Her phone was still there.

Her fingers shook as she hit the call button.

It rang.

Then—"Hello?"

"Mom?" Emma choked. "Dad?"

"Oh, sweetheart!" her mother replied cheerfully. "Aren't you in your meeting?"

Emma sobbed. "I just… I wanted to hear your voices again."

"Aw, darling, are you okay? Something wrong?"

"No. No, it's perfect. I'm okay now. I'll call you again soon. We should… have dinner tonight. Something special."

She hung up, clutching the phone to her chest, then looked out toward the distant horizon.

She didn't know how it was possible.

She didn't know who had saved her.

But she had one name in her heart.

"Thank you, Sirzechs…" she whispered. "Thank you for bringing me back."

Before Crom Cruach leveled the city of Lilith, a peaceful day was unfolding. In one of the city's parks, nestled near the central plaza, a devil family enjoyed a quiet afternoon stroll.

They were the Thompsons—a noble High-Class devil family with deep ambitions.

The father, Charles, held the title of Viscount.

Though his lineage wasn't one of the 72 Pillars, his family was respected, and given another few centuries of growth and political maneuvering, they were poised to join that elite rank.

But such thoughts were for another day.

Today was about family.

With him were his wife, Sarah, and their twin daughters, Mia and Mei—lively six-year-olds full of energy and imagination.

They had taken the girls to the park before heading to the coliseum for the much-anticipated exhibition match.

Charles himself had little interest in the event, but his wife and daughters were massive fans of Anos Gremory—the prodigy who had recently ascended to Ultimate-Class status.

Sarah had joined the Anos Fan Union long before it became mainstream, and the girls eagerly followed in her footsteps.

Charles couldn't deny the young devil's achievements.

He'd been skeptical at first—another flashy youth trying to rise too fast—but after witnessing Anos defeat Riser Phoenix in that now-legendary Rating Game, even Charles had been forced to admit: he's the real deal.

Still, the obsession was… excessive.

He watched with a half-exasperated smile as his daughters reenacted the famous battle.

"Here comes my massive wave of water!" Mei declared, spreading her arms with theatrical flair.

"You'll never defeat me!" Mia retorted, puffing out her chest. "I am Riser! I have fire! Hahahaha!"

Sarah stood over them, laughing and cheering. "Kick his butt, Anos! Show that birdbrain who's boss!"

Charles sighed, chuckling to himself. "They're such groupies."

A soft laugh echoed behind him.

Turning, Charles spotted a stranger standing just a few feet away.

"They're adorable," the man said, smiling warmly.

Charles nodded, somewhat caught off guard. "Ah… yes. They are."

"My apologies," the man said casually, stepping closer.

"Didn't mean to pop in unannounced. Funny thing about teleportation magic—when you don't know the exact coordinates, you end up wherever the wind takes you."

Charles eyed him cautiously.

The man was dressed in black, from the polished shoes to the long overcoat. His presence was casual, yet unnervingly composed.

"Charles Thompson," he introduced politely, extending a hand.

The man grasped it with a firm shake.

"Pleasure's mine. My friends call me... Mr. Black."

Charles frowned slightly. "Young boy," the man had said a moment earlier—an odd phrase considering Charles was over 500 years old.

There were only a handful of devils alive who could speak to him that way. And he knew most of them.

Something about this stranger was off. Old. Dangerous.

Mr. Black's stomach growled, and he chuckled. "Well, I suppose even enigmatic travelers need lunch. You know anywhere a man could get a good bite?"

"There's a pastry shop two streets down. Can't miss it."

"Oh, splendid." Mr. Black turned and began to stroll off, waving over his shoulder. "I'll grab something sweet before I get to work."

Work? The word lingered ominously in Charles's mind as the man vanished around the corner, swallowed by the crowd like smoke.

He stared after him, unsettled.

"Girls," Charles said, his voice suddenly firm. "Let's head to the coliseum early. We'll want good seats."

The twins groaned in protest at first, but quickly perked up at the idea of seeing their hero live.

As they made their way through the city's cobbled streets, they passed a teddy bear shop.

Mei stopped and pressed her hands to the glass, eyes wide. "Daddy! I want that one!"

He couldn't say no. Not today.

He bought the bear, and the girls skipped alongside him, arms full of joy.

And then… everything went dark.

Charles opened his eyes to emptiness.

Floating in a void. No sound. No light. No form.

Only a flickering blue flame drifting toward him like a memory come alive.

He reached for it—not with his hands, but with his will.

And then—Light.

Charles gasped and blinked.

He was… back. Standing on the sidewalk. The teddy bear still clutched in Mei's hands.

"What…?" he muttered, looking around. Everything was just as it had been—almost.

Except the world was… rebuilding.

Stone rose from dust. Buildings that had been destroyed were restoring themselves in flashes of golden magic.

Roads paved themselves anew. Trees regrew from ash.

It was as if time itself had reversed course.

Around him, people emerged in confusion—others who had perished, now revived. Mothers wept as they clutched their children.

Soldiers stood still, gazing in disbelief. Some screamed. Some laughed.

Charles turned toward his family—Sarah clung to their daughters, tears in her eyes.

He had no words.

Somewhere far away, a force greater than anything he had ever known had made this possible.

He looked to the sky, where arcs of magic danced like comets across the heavens.

And he whispered, his voice tight with gratitude.

"…Thank you. Whoever you are."

Ajuka stood in the coliseum's center, eyes fixed above.

Moments ago, the sky had lit up with impossible red radiance—a pulse of magic so vast and powerful.

It had not originated here, yet he felt it as though it was right underneath spell.

And he knew exactly who it belonged to.

The others gathered on the ruined coliseum floor—Sirzechs' peerage, Sairaorg and his team, Seekvaria, and Parisa—stood in stunned silence.

The residual magic still hung in the air, crackling like static around them, and it made their skin prickle.

Fear…Confusion…Unease.

Those emotions passed from person to person like wildfire.

Some looked to the sky as if waiting for something else to happen. Others whispered, voices hushed, uncertain if they had just witnessed a something divine or something far worse.

Ajuka alone understood the weight of what they had felt.

And it uneases even him.

"Anos... what did you just do?" Ajuka thought, his brows furrowing.

"You wouldn't release that much power unless there was no other way. But if Ophis has revealed herself... then you must be on the road to do the same?"

Parisa, always sharp-eyed and sharp-tongued even after her fall from grace, narrowed her gaze at him.

He was calm, too clam as everyone else was freaking out.

"You know something," she said evenly, no emotion in her voice—but there was steel in her words.

Ajuka exhaled slowly, debating his response. "...Yes. And if what I suspect is true, then Anos has revealed who he truly is."

Sairaorg stepped forward, brow furrowed. "What does my cousin have to do with this?"

"That's... complicated," Ajuka muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "And I'm not sure how to explain it without sounding insane."

"What do you mean," Parisa said calmly. Her voice dropped just slightly.

"The magic from earlier... it was his. I fought him once—during the incident Kuoh. Back then, he was strong… but not this strong."

Seekvaria stepped up beside her, arms crossed. "Your Majesty," she said carefully. "If you know something, you need to tell us."

Ajuka sighed, resigned. "Fine. You want the truth? Then I'll tell you... but fair warning: it's going to sound a little strange."

He began, carefully choosing his words.

He didn't reveal everything—he left out details about Anos's tyrannical nature—but he explained enough.

That Anos Gremory was Demon King from another world but he wasn't their enemy.

That his power was beyond Ultimate-Class, beyond logic.

That what they had felt was simply a glimpse of what he could truly unleash.

As he finished, silence stretched out around him like an endless ocean.

No one moved. No one spoke.

Then Souji, ever the realist, finally broke the tension.

"No disrespect, sir... but that story sounds like it came straight out of left field."

Ajuka nodded, not insulted. "I understand. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it either."

Doubt lingered—until the wind shifted.

A deep hum rose from beneath their feet. The broken stones of the coliseum trembled.

And then… something wondrous began.

Stone reformed. Cracks healed.

Pillars that had been shattered began to reassemble, golden light pouring from the seams like liquid sunlight.

The once-ruined stadium came alive, piece by piece, as if time itself had reversed.

Gasps echoed throughout the group.

"What in the world—?" Sairaorg whispered, his fists clenched at his sides.

"That's not magic," Seekvaria breathed. "That's... resurrection."

And then it happened.

Thousands of brilliant blue flames streaked across the sky like falling stars.

They descended in sweeping arcs over the coliseum, gently spiraling downward like a meteor shower slowed to a crawl.

The flames reached the ground—then touched the dead.

The bodies of fallen devils warriors and civilians—once lifeless and cold—began to glow.

Their wounds healed. Their burned flesh and torn armor regenerated. Breath returned to lungs that had not breathed an hour.

One by one, the dead began to stir.

Eyes fluttered open.

Limbs twitched.

Voices cried out in confusion, in disbelief… in hope.

Souji dropped his sword with a clatter, speechless at what was happening all around him.

Someone fell to their knees clutching their loved ones thinking they would never see them again.

Seekvaria covered her mouth, her eyes wide in awe.

Ajuka's heart thudded in his chest. He had seen miracles. He had created them.

But this… this was divine…It was beautiful….It was healing….he didn't know if it was Anos but he knew he had something to do with this.

High above the prison, Ereshkigal hovered flanked closely by Hades and Hela.

From below, they shinned like distant stars, glowing faintly against the murky sky.

But the power they radiated… it was overwhelming and crushing.

And Ereshkigal was at the center of it all.

Using her dominion over death and the underworld, she poured her essence into the land.

Streets reformed. Schools, shops, and homes—reconstructed with divine precision, every stone returning to its proper place as if time itself were being rewound.

It was a miracle, but it was not finished, not yet.

Because the magic fueling it came with a price.

The process was not difficult in a technical sense.

Ereshkigal wielded her authority with divine instinct. But what made it unbearable was the toll.

The emotional weight. The incomprehensible tide of death itself.

She felt every life.

Every moment of fear. Every scream. Every desperate, unanswered prayer.

She didn't just restore cities—she relived the final moments of everyone who had died within them.

Her mind swam with grief. Terror. Anguish. Some souls had died screaming.

Others died quietly, unaware. Some had died protecting others. Some… alone.

Even their happiest memories just before death felt like daggers—tiny, gleaming fragments of light extinguished by sudden, senseless violence.

And she wasn't alone in this suffering.

"We're almost done… hang in there, Master," groaned Hades, his voice tight, face pale and contorted in strain.

"Yes, just a little longer," Hela added, clutching her temples. "We can't stop now…"

They were helping process the souls, splitting the burden—but it still felt like an ocean crashing down on all of them.

Ereshkigal trembled, her arms quivering as light bled from her fingertips. Her eyes flickered, unfocused. Her body shook, barely staying upright.

"Alright, softie—time to tap out," Death's voice echoed sharply in her mind. "You've done enough. Let me take over," she said concern growing in her voice.

"No…" Ereshkigal whimpered, her voice ragged. "I can… I can keep going…"

"Damn it, you're mind is growing unstable! STOP!"

But she didn't.

Ereshkigal screamed—loud and soul-shattering—as her divine magic pulsed wildly, growing unstable.

The winds howled. The light around her fractured into chaotic spirals.

This was what Death feared most.

Long ago, in a moment just like this, Ereshkigal lost control while trying to do something similar on a smaller scale and had lost control.

The result had been catastrophic. Her magic had not restored life—it had annihilated souls, erasing them from existence. Thousands gone. Forever. No revival could save them.

That event had scarred her which led to her fearing her power leading to more similar events happening again.

It had terrified the god, and this is why her father locked her in the underworld— as punishment and out of fear for his own soul being destroyed, leading to his own death.

And now, it was happening again.

"ANOS!" Death's voice cut through the storm of magic like a blade, sending a mental message.

Anos, already watching, lifted his gaze to the sky. Ereshkigal was writhing in agony, power surging beyond control.

"She's slipping—if she loses control again, everyone will die!"

Anos hesitated for only a second before raising his hand, ready to intervene.

But she saw him.

"STOP!" she shouted through clenched teeth. Her voice thundered across the sky, trembling with resolve.

"Please… trust me."

Anos stared at her and she started back. Through the pain, through the chaos—he saw it. Not a timid goddess but a flicker of unbreakable will.

He slowly lowered his hand.

"What are you doing?!" Death yelled, frantic. "She's going to destroy herself then all of you!"

"Have a little more faith in your other half," Anos replied calmly. "She's not the so weak."

"I don't want her to have more blood on her hands… I should carry this burden—"

"You probably could," Anos said softly. "But she doesn't want to be saved. She wants to succeed."

Death was silent. Then, with a low, exhausted sigh, she refocused her effort.

"Fine. But if this breaks her, I'm taking over."

Above, Ereshkigal clenched her fists tighter. Light exploded around her, but this time it was focused. Controlled.

And then—

A final chorus of blue flames erupted from Tartarus and her own domain.

Thousands of glowing souls spun into the air like fireflies, encircling the gods in a divine whirlwind before cascading downward.

They found their bodies—bodies that had already either been rebuilt by Anos magic or healed by her—and then the souls merged with them.

One by one, the fallen began to rise.

Families reunited. Cities returned to life. The silence of death was replaced with the breath of the living.

The underworld was whole again.

And then… it ended.

The last soul passed through. The final city restored. And Ereshkigal—alongside Hades and Hela—collapsed in the air, unconscious.

With the Gates are Tartarus closing and sinking back into the ground along with Ereshkigal's gate closing.

Anos lifted a hand and caught her gently as she descended, her exhausted form cradled against his chest.

Her eyes fluttered open for just a moment.

"I… I did good… right?"

Anos nodded, smiling gently. "Yea, you did good, congrats."

Her lips curved faintly into a smile before she passed out.

Hades groaned as Thanatos appeared beside him. "Lord Hades, are you—"

"Please don't talk so loud," Hades mumbled, dragging himself up, utterly drained.

Hela, clutching her head, winced. "Ugh… I forgot how much that sucks…"

Then her eyes turned to Ereshkigal, still unconscious in Anos's arms.

"Even with our help… she took on most of it herself."

Anos looked at them and nodded. "She's alright. Just exhausted."

And in the distance, all across the underworld, the light of life returned to a world once drowned in death.

The miracle was complete.

As Anos stood quietly, watching over the sleeping form of Ereshkigal in his arms, a soft rustle of footsteps reached his ears, Athena and Artemis approached.

Their eyes were fixed on Ereshkigal, awe written plainly across their faces.

"She's… incredible," Athena murmured, adjusting her armor straps absently.

"I haven't seen magic like that the Great Titan War."

"Nor have I," Artemis added, her voice quieter. "It was truly a divine feat."

Anos said nothing, but his grip on Ereshkigal tightened just slightly. He knew.

He saw the pain on her face, the agony she bore to give everyone a second chance. It was more than divine—it was human.

Athena stepped forward, more composed now. "Anos, we must to speak with you. We need answers—who are you, what your role is in all this."

But before Anos could open his mouth, another voice cut across the clearing—firm, but not harsh.

"Not now," everyone turned.

Sirzechs, his clothes still tattered from the earlier battle, stood with a calm but resolute look in his eyes. His tone brooked no argument.

"Sirzechs," Artemis said. "We mean no harm and we know Anos doesn't either. But we must have answers—the world sees all of you—"

"I know," Sirzechs interrupted gently. "I know you have questions, but this—" he gestured to everyone scattered across the area, "—this isn't the time."

Athena frowned. "You'd rather wait? After all we've just seen?"

"Yes," he said simply. "Look around you, Athena. Rias and Sona's peerages are exhausted.

Plus the soldiers who fought and were revived need time to rest. My own body is barely holding together, and even I need time to catch my breath."

Athena opened her mouth again, but Sirzechs stepped closer.

"I'm not asking for a week," he said. "Just an hour. One hour to let people breathe, to let everyone decompress and then prepare a proper setting for what's about to be revealed."

"And what is about to be revealed?" Artemis asked pointedly.

Sirzechs looked at her, his expression unreadable.

"The truth. All of it. But it needs to be shared the right way, in front of the right people. Not while people are recovering."

Anos nodded in agreement, his gaze still on Ereshkigal.

"It's not just about me anymore," continued Sirzechs, "too many people were involved in this—too many saw, felt, and sacrificed. They all deserve to be present."

Artemis crossed her arms, thoughtful. Athena sighed.

"Sounds like you are about to make a big public announcement, but ver well we are very drained ourselves."

"Thank you?" Sirzechs said bowing his head slightly.

The tension eased slightly.

Sirzechs turned to the surrounding devils, raising his voice to address them.

"Everyone, please listen. In one hour, we will reconvene. The truth about everything—about Anos, and why everything happened today. We will hold a press conference so please just wait until then."

A murmur rippled through the gathered, some wanted answers now about everything that happened while others just wanted to see their families, so reluctantly everyone went their separate ways for at least.

In a large guestroom at the Lucifer estate, a girl lay in bed, her face contorted in distress.

Beads of sweat rolled down her cheeks as she thrashed under the sheets, trapped in the grips of a nightmare.

Visions of fire, steel, and screaming filled her mind. The moment her brother fell. The sharp pain in her abdomen. The helplessness.

Then—

"Brother, no!"

Le Fay Pendragon jolted upright, gasping for air. Her chest heaved as she clutched her stomach, eyes wild and confused. But there was no wound. No blood.

Just silence.

Her trembling hand hovered over her now-unmarked abdomen.

The pain was gone, but her mind hadn't caught up.

"You're fine," came a calm, monotone voice. "Anos healed you."

Le Fay whipped her head toward the sound—and found Ophis sitting quietly in a chair beside her bed.

The Dragon God of Infinity wasn't looking at her at first, only gazing out the window.

But as Le Fay turned to her, Ophis met her gaze with her ever-emotionless eyes.

"Oh…" Le Fay whispered, letting her body relax slightly. But her breath caught again.

Her expression twisted—not in physical pain, but something else.

"If you're worried about the Old Satan Faction's attack, it was repelled," Ophis added, assuming that was the source of her renewed panic. "There is no danger now."

"No… It's not that." Le Fay's hands balled into fists.

"It's my brother. The Vali Team… they've been taken hostage by the Hero Faction. I saw it—right before I blacked out."

Ophis tilted her head. "Would you like me to save them?"

Le Fay blinked. "Wait… what?"

"Would you like me to save them?" Ophis repeated flatly.

Le Fay stared, stunned. "I—I mean, yes! Please, I'll do anything. If not save them yourself, then please lend me your power! I'll return the favor however I can—"

A light flick to the forehead interrupted her plea.

"I already said I would save them," Ophis said, blinking. "No need to beg."

Le Fay rubbed her head, confused and slightly embarrassed. "You… will? But why?"

"Anos asked me to," Ophis replied, standing up. "I didn't ask why. I don't care."

Le Fay opened her mouth to ask more, but was cut off again.

"Let's go. I want to be back before the press conference starts."

"Press conference?" Le Fay asked, even more bewildered.

"You'll see."

With that, Ophis touched her shoulder—and the world shifted.

They reappeared in a dark, cold hallway of steel and stone. Le Fay stumbled, the air here heavy and foul.

"Where are we?" she asked cautiously.

"The Hero Faction's hideout."

A purple glow sparked in Ophis's hand. A serpent of swirling dark energy formed—growing larger, longer, more imposing by the second.

"And that…?" Le Fay asked, staring up at the rapidly growing creature.

"A message," Ophis answered plainly.

The snake, now towering over them, hissed before bursting through a wall into the courtyard. Screams rang out from within the compound.

"What kind of message—!?"

"An effective one," Ophis said, walking toward a thick steel door.

She tapped it lightly.

It blasted off its hinges, flying across the room.

"Hmm," she muttered. "My strength really has increased since training with Anos."

Inside, several beaten figures stirred. Chains bound them tightly—Vali, Bikou, Kuroka, Arthur, and the others of the Vali Team.

"...Ophis?" Vali's voice was hoarse, disbelieving.

"Yes," she said plainly. "I am here to save you."

Vali chuckled bitterly. "Didn't think you cared enough."

"Maybe I do," she replied with a shrug. "Maybe I don't."

With a snap of her fingers, every shackle vanished into dust.

Le Fay rushed past her, eyes locked on her brother. "Arthur!"

She dropped to her knees beside him, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

"You're okay… I was so scared…"

Arthur groaned, returning the hug weakly. "You're safe too… thank goodness…"

Suddenly, the entire compound shook violently. Debris fell from the ceiling.

"What now?!" Vali asked, alarmed.

"The message," Ophis replied and teleported them away.

A moment later, they were gone.

They reappeared in the same room where Le Fay had awoken. The sudden shift startled the Vali Team, who looked around in dazed confusion.

"Where… are we?" Arthur asked.

"Lucifer's estate," Ophis said flatly. "You're just in time."

"Time for what?" Vali grunted, still getting his bearings.

Ophis turned toward the television on the wall, flicked her fingers, and it powered on.

The screen lit up with the image of a grand round table, where the leaders of the supernatural world sat: Anos, Serafall, Ajuka, Sirzechs, Grayfia, Azazel, Falbium, Michael, Gabriel, Hades, Hela, Artemis, Athena, and Shiva.

The broadcast was beginning.

"Time for the truth," Ophis whispered. "And the world is watching."

---

Epilogue 1: The Battle for Heaven

Angelic light clashed against divine arts and elemental fury as a war unlike any in recent history raged above the gates of Heaven.

Magic surged across the sky in dazzling bursts of gold, azure, crimson, and violet—clashing midair in deafening explosions that shook the very firmament.

The sky resembled a battlefield of stars, constellations shattered and reassembled with every impact.

Below, a tempest of wings and war cries erupted.

Angels, clad in radiant armor and wielding weapons of divine light, clashed with divine beasts and Shinto warriors whose weapons sang with nature's fury. Wind howled and flames surged.

Thunder echoed from above while torrential rain, summoned by gods of storm and sea, drenched the heavens in celestial fury.

And yet… no blood stained the skies.

There had not been a single confirmed death on either side.

They fought with all the force of their respective realms—but with purpose, not bloodlust. The angels sought passage.

The Shinto gods sought prevention. It was war fought under restraint, but war nonetheless.

Commanding the central air legion was Uriel, one of the Four Great Seraphs. His wings, now eight and ablaze with golden fire, cut through the sky like comets.

Having received Anos's gift not long ago, he had transcended his former limits. Once only comparable to a Mid-Class God, Uriel now radiated the might of a Super Angel—an unprecedented rank, even among Heaven's elite.

"Form up!" he bellowed as celestial runes formed in the air around him. "If they breach the front, the lower gates will fall next! Defend them with your lives!"

"Yes, Lord Uriel!" chorused the angels behind him, forming spearhead formations and diving into the fray.

Despite their strength, Uriel noted a strange hesitation from their adversaries.

Shinto warriors struck hard, but not to kill. Blows were aimed to disable, not destroy.

Many of Heaven's soldiers, once defeated, were captured and moved behind enemy lines—not executed, but treated. He saw healers among the gods. Tents. Medical teams.

They were holding them back—but not trying to end them.

Down on the ground, Raphael stood firm against five gods at once. Takeminakata, God of War. Futsunushi, the Blade God. Raijin and Fujin, gods of thunder and wind. And Kuninotokotachi, the silent arbiter of balance.

Their divine weapons struck in unison, but Raphael parried with unyielding strength. Light radiated from him, pulsing like a heartbeat with every swing of his flaming blade.

His armor shimmered with divine sigils—scratched, but intact.

"You're holding back," Raphael said mid-swing, clashing against Futsunushi's blade.

Raijin snarled, lightning crackling from his nostrils. "So are you."

"I assumed you wanted to kill us."

Futsunushi scoffed, driving Raphael back with a spinning slash. "Some of us did. I didn't. Most didn't. You shouldn't be going to the Underworld—not now."

"To protect us?" Raphael asked incredulously.

"To stop you from dying," Raijin growled. "You've no idea what you're walking into."

Raphael's eyes narrowed. "Then tell me. Help us."

"We were ordered not to," said Takeminakata grimly. "Now shut up and fight."

Meanwhile, high above, a golden storm surged.

Michael, the General of Heaven, fought alone against the full might of the Shinto Trinity—Amaterasu, Tsukuyomi, and Susanoo.

Lightning crashed as Susanoo was hurled backward, crashing into the mountain below and leaving a deep crater.

But he roared and surged skyward again, blade crackling with divine voltage.

Amaterasu's flames danced around Michael like a blazing tornado, warping the air itself, while Tsukuyomi's shadows weaved through them, binding and pulling with maddening force.

Michael's wings flared. His armor cracked but held.

"Enough," he commanded, summoning a hundred spears of light that hovered above him like a divine constellation. "We don't need to fight!"

"You still intend to enter the Underworld?" Amaterasu demanded, eyes blazing.

"I do. We must help."

"Then we have no choice," she said, sorrowful but resolute.

The spears fell. Tsukuyomi's shadows surged upward to meet them. The sky fractured.

But then—something changed.

A new light.

A pulse of angelic song, sweet and piercing, resonated through the clouds like the first breath of spring after endless winter.

The gates of Heaven opened.

And through them poured the Heavenly Host.

The elite angels surged forth in perfect formation, their wings glowing like suns.

At the head of them soared Gabriel, her silver-gold wings expanded, her halo burning with resolve. Beside her was Dulio, the Ace of Heaven, his Sacred Gear ablaze with holy wind and cleansing light.

Gabriel's voice echoed across the battlefield. "Do not kill. Heal. Drive them back if you must—but do not end life needlessly."

Her command, though soft, rang with divine authority. Her presence—serene but commanding—shifted the tide instantly.

She moved to assist Michael directly.

One moment Amaterasu's flames closed in on Michael, and the next—Gabriel stood between them, wings forming a barrier of celestial light that dispersed the inferno like smoke in the wind.

Michael looked at her, surprised. "You came."

"You looked like you needed me," she said softly.

He smiled. "I think I would have managed."

With Gabriel at Michael's side, the tide turned.

Their combined radiance overwhelmed even the Trinity. Susanoo was forced back again, his attacks slowed. Tsukuyomi's shadows flickered under the sheer pressure of Gabriel's divine light.

Amaterasu gritted her teeth. "Even you as well Gabriel..."

Gabriel didn't respond.

She only raised her hand—and a wave of harmonic resonance burst from her palm, sending the Trinity skidding backward, their footing lost for the first time in the battle.

On the ground, Dulio's wind surged like a divine hurricane.

He protected captured angels, knocked aside Shinto warriors with care, and stabilized collapsing terrain with his Sacred Gear's adaptability.

Even the Shinto healers paused to stare as he created an entire wall of wind and light that split the battlefield like a divine barrier.

For the first time… the Shinto gods were losing ground.

And just when it seemed Heaven might finally seize control—

The sky cracked.

Thunder unlike any before boomed across the battlefield.

A single bolt of lightning fell—so fast, so precise, it cleaved the earth between the two armies. The shockwave sent angels and gods tumbling backward.

A man stood in the crater, spinning a finger lazily in the air.

Golden tattoos ran across his arms like living storm veins, his eyes smoldering with power.

He wore sunglasses.

And he was smiling.

"Well, well. Looks like things got lively."

Amaterasu's face paled. "Indra…"

Gabriel narrowed her eyes. "Why are you here?"

Indra shrugged. "Breaking up a fight between schoolchildren. It's getting old, and I'm hungry."

Behind him, the Hindu Army appeared in full force—silent, disciplined, and utterly terrifying in their stillness.

"You brought them," Amaterasu muttered. "You brought all of them…"

"I was watching from a distance," Indra said, spinning a bolt of lightning like a coin. "Shiva asked me to intervene if things got too messy."

"And this is you intervening?" Michael asked, stepping forward.

"Yes. Because now I'm bored." Indra's grin widened. "Unless you all want a three-way war... go home."

A Shinto god beside Amaterasu growled, stepping forward.

"Who do you think you—"

Indra pointed lazily.

The god was blasted backward in an instant, body charred from a single bolt.

"Try again," Indra said, now grinning darkly. "I don't mind roasting the rest of you either."

The field went deathly silent.

Michael, ever the diplomat, gave a small bow. "I wish it hadn't come to this…"

Amaterasu sighed, resigned. "We'll fall back"

Gabriel placed a hand on Michael's arm. "Seems we reached the light at the end of the tunnel."

The armies pulled back.

Angels gathered their wounded—though most were already healed.

The Shinto gods regrouped. Indra stood in the middle, twirling a bolt of lightning and watching everyone like a bored teacher.

As Michael passed, he gave Indra a respectful nod. "Thank you."

Indra snorted. "I didn't do it for you. Shiva practically begged and I'll never pass up the opportunity to have him owe me one even if the world is ending."

And with that, Indra and the Hindu Army vanished in a flash of gold.

But the world had changed.

Gabriel turned to Michael as with news that was about to reshape the foundation of the supernatural world.

---

Epilogue 2: Message Received

In the west wing of the Hero Faction's headquarters, Chao Chao stood shirtless in the middle of a scorched training chamber, his body crackling with controlled bursts of draconic energy.

The floor beneath him was riddled with cracks, steam rising from the shattered tiles as the remnants of his last attack faded into the air.

The battle against Vali had filled him with anticipation—an appetizer before the true challenge he craved: the Red Dragon Emperor, Issei Hyoudou.

"It's been too long since that Rating Game with Riser," Chao muttered, breathing heavily as he tightened his gloves.

"Let's see if you've grown, boy. And if you haven't… I'll make sure the next host has more potential."

He wasn't training alone.

Around him, the Hero Faction's strongest warriors pushed themselves to their limits.

Georg hovered near the center, manipulating his Dimension Lost to warp gravity fields around himself, effortlessly crushing steel training pillars with invisible force.

Jeanne danced through the room with blinding speed, her sacred sword Radiant executing elegant arcs of pure holy fire with every movement.

Sparks trailed behind her strikes like divine comet tails.

Heracles shattered reinforced steel barriers with his bare fists, his monstrous physique rippling with power as he tested the limits of his strength.

The shockwaves from his punches sent crates tumbling across the room.

Siegfried, calm and composed, meditated midair while balancing five sacred swords around him, each one spinning with deadly precision as if preparing to launch at unseen enemies.

Perseus, with his magical shield in one hand and spear in the other, practiced deflecting concentrated blasts from Leonardo's monstrous creations—creatures birthed from his imagination and brought to life with nightmarish detail.

A dragon-headed centipede lunged at Perseus, only to be cleaved in two by a perfectly timed counterstrike.

The room pulsed with raw energy—sacred gear pressure, divine enchantments, and killer instinct all colliding in symphony. They were more than a team. They were a small army—and Chao Chao stood at its center.

Then—everything changed.

A wave of pressure unlike anything they'd felt before hit the facility like a hammer.

Chao Chao's head snapped toward the west wall as a massive, suffocating presence made itself known.

A draconic aura—ancient, cold, and impossibly vast—washed over the compound.

A beat later, the entire complex shook as an explosion of shadowed fire tore through the air.

BOOM.

Chao didn't wait.

With a single swing his spear, he blew a hole in the reinforced wall and stepped out into the open air just in time to see hell itself crashing down on their base.

Towering over the skyline like a god of destruction was a serpent.

A blackish-purple king cobra larger than the Statue of Liberty, its scales shifting like liquid shadow, its golden eyes glowing with eerie calm.

Flames poured from its mouth in sweeping arcs, incinerating turrets, towers, and reinforced bunkers.

Concrete melted like wax. Screams echoed across the base as debris was flung hundreds of feet into the air.

Laser turrets tried to engage—but the serpent's body shifted through them like smoke, reforming with every hit.

And then it roared.

A deafening, primal roar that shook the foundation of the Hero Faction's fortress.

Windows shattered. Lights burst. Several buildings buckled under the sheer weight of its sonic wrath.

"Holy hell," Heracles muttered, taking a step back. "Where did that thing come from?"

"Ophis…that thing is basically drenched in her power," Jeanne growled, drawing her sword.

Chao Chao's eyes narrowed, as his anger flared—there was only one reason why she would do something like and currently they were imprisoned.

He clenched his fists. "This is a distraction she is here to save Vali and his team."

"Should we—" Leonardo started, looking toward the underground cells.

"Forget them!" Chao barked. "Fighting Ophis directly is suicide. We deal with what we can control."

Around the compound, explosions continued as their lesser troops tried and failed to subdue the serpent.

"Tch," he spat, staring into the burning remains of their outer wall. "You'll get yours, Dragon God. I swear it."

He turned back to his team. "Everyone, with me," he said but in a whisper only hear by him said, "Message received you dam dragon but just you wait I'll pay you back ten-fold."

The Hero Faction's elite charged forward, weapons glowing, sacred gears at full release.

---

Epilogue 3: Who are you Kid

Kanon and the girl with the strange, familiar aura walked in silence across the scorched, wind-swept sands.

He had tried, multiple times, to coax words out of her—to learn her name, her destination, anything.

But she had yet to speak, or even react. It was like walking beside a shadow.

From her appearance, it wasn't hard to guess the truth: torture, experimentation, isolation.

The sterile white lab coat she wore hung off her tiny frame like a reminder of the horrors she'd survived.

Her bare feet bled with each step, but she never winced, never slowed. Kanon wasn't even sure she knew how to speak.

"So," he tried again, adjusting the pack slung over his shoulder, "where are you in such a hurry to get to?"

Silence.

She didn't even flinch.

Then—suddenly—her knees buckled. She collapsed face-first into the sand.

"Hey!" Kanon rushed to her side, kneeling in alarm. "Hey, kid—are you—?"

Her chest didn't rise. She wasn't breathing.

Panic surged through him—but just as quickly as it came, it was replaced with a jolt of pure energy.

Her eyes shot open—glowing gold, marked with an infinity symbol pulsing in both irises.

Her body arched off the ground, glowing with power that felt eerily familiar.

"…Anos?" Kanon murmured, narrowing his eyes.

But it wasn't just Anos.

This aura… there was something draconic about it. Old. Primordial. It wrapped around her like a serpent—coiling, hissing, protective.

Her pale skin flushed with color, her breathing returned, and she slowly sat up, still silent.

"Well," Kanon said softly, "you look more alive."

Still, she didn't respond.

Kanon could feel it now, clearer than before—her power was violently unstable.

Like a storm that could never find a center.

Whatever she was, her body was tearing itself apart from the inside out. And yet… something was holding her together.

A seal? Instinct? Or something else?

If he knew how to use sealing magic, he might've helped her.

As it stood, all he could do was occasionally heal her body and watch helplessly as she unraveled and then restitched herself.

They had been walking for at least an hour by now. His stomach growled, and he reached into his cloak, pulling out an apple he'd been saving. As he brought it to his lips, he felt it.

A stare.

He glanced down.

The girl's glowing draconic eyes were locked on the fruit with unblinking intensity.

"…Would you like some?"

No response.

"Well, considering you're looking at it like you want to kill it, I'll take that as a yes."

He chuckled and drew his sword, slicing the apple clean in half. He offered one piece to her, but she didn't move. Just kept staring.

"Maybe…" he muttered, slowly setting it on the ground. "You don't like food being handed to you?"

The moment he stepped back, her body lunged—jaws parting, teeth sharper than before.

She devoured the apple with terrifying desperation, chunks of flesh and rind vanishing between her jaws, even swallowing some of the sand around it.

Kanon stood frozen.

He'd seen that look before—in war camps. In prisons. In people starved nearly to death and fed only when someone remembered they existed.

"What… did they do to you?" he whispered, more to himself than her.

The girl licked her fingers clean, then stood without a word and resumed walking—as if nothing had happened.

In the distance, a shape emerged from the shimmering heat—a small hut, battered but standing.

A single figure sat on the porch in a rocking chair, needles and yarn in hand.

As they drew closer, Kanon could tell—she was a devil. Old, but powerful in her own way. Her crimson eyes flicked up from her knitting.

"Well, ain't this a strange sight," the woman said, brow raised. "You two from around here?"

The girl's torn lab coat flapped in the breeze. She was still barefoot, covered in sand, ash, and dried blood.

"And the little miss…" The old woman leaned forward, squinting. "Goodness, child—do you even own clothes?"

Kanon picked her up gently—this time, she didn't resist. He'd figured it out by now.

As long as he walked in the direction she was already heading, she didn't struggle.

It was like she had some internal compass pulling her forward.

"She's… under my care," Kanon lied smoothly.

"We were ambushed on the road. Barely made it out. Could you point us to the nearest town? And maybe some clothes for her?"

The woman's eyes narrowed, studying him.

Then her expression softened.

"I see… So you were caught up in that mess too. Tragic thing, it was. But by the news I've heard, no one died—thank the kings."

Kanon gave her a polite smile, pretending to know what she was talking about.

"Wait right here," she said, rising from her seat. "I might have something that fits."

She vanished into the house, and Kanon waited quietly on the porch, the child still limp in his arms.

A few minutes later, the old woman returned with a folded bundle of clothes—a faded dress, a coat, and boots.

"Hope this'll do. Poor thing must be freezing under that lab coat."

"Thank you," Kanon said, bowing slightly. "We'll be on our way."

The woman nodded and watched them disappear into the horizon.

Then she turned on her old radio.

A calm voice crackled through the static:

"Welcome back to DevilNet News. We'll now be hearing from King Lucifer, addressing the aftermath of the recent incident…"

The old woman's knitting paused.

She listened, her fingers tightening around the yarn.

Somewhere far away, the world was changing.

---

End Chapter