Chapter 57: The Exiled Holy Maiden
A week's worth of training has gone by, and I'm proud to say the progress of my students has been nothing short of exceptional.
When we first met, things were definitely a little rocky—but now? It's become abundantly clear to me that each and every one of them are gleaming diamonds in the rough, chalk full of immense potential.
However, I have absolutely no intention of telling them that. The word 'potential' can be rather counterintuitive when it comes to training people, especially those of a lower age bracket.
It makes them think that any and all mistakes they make in the present can be excused, because their 'future self' will be in a position to better manage whatever situation they find themselves in.
The result of such a mindset? Lowered standards. Not by virtue of sloth or lack of belief—my students would never be so weak-willed—but rather an excess of belief and self-assurance.
They'll undermine the training they do in the moment because of the implanted belief that their future 'potential' is guaranteed to come to fruition, regardless of how much effort they put into their present work.
Again, my students aren't lazy, they're the farthest thing from it. But it's a teacher's duty to constantly keep the pressure on their students' shoulders, regardless of how talented they are. Lest they stagnate to the point of remaining coal, never being allowed to truly shine and spread their wings like they're supposed to.
For better or worse, that's a lesson I picked up from the old man. Yes, his mindset towards me didn't contain so much as an iota of warmth—but that doesn't change the fact that the principle is the same.
Never let up. Never get complacent. Never falter. Train, train, train. Till your muscles tear and your bones collapse, only to be repaired stronger and new—so you can do it all over again.
My training began when I was 4. The age where most children are just able to walk, albeit rather clumsily. I trained, or rather, I was trainedevery day for the past 14 years of my life. One spar against Martha in the morning, and another against Sebastian in the afternoon.
10,220 spars. 10,220 losses. Not including the elemental training I did with Thora, which admittedly, wasn't even remotely as punishing as what I went through with those two—and I mean that in a good way.
Those thousands upon thousands of losses are the foundation of my strength, physical, magical, and instinctual.
Do I plan on putting my students through that same gauntlet? That training may have worked for me, but let's face it—I'm kind of a weirdo. A weirdo who possesses severe Mommy and Daddy issues.
I mean, maybe it could work for Sairaorg as well? I only met the man once, but the will his aura exuded felt like that of flat-out tungsten. And from what I've heard of House Bael, and rumours of the treatment Sairaorg faced in his youth? He probably shares my plight as a troubled youth of the Underworld.
Heh. The strongest of the Underworld's younger generation both come from royal messes of a family, there's definitely some irony to be found there.
Back to the topic at hand, while I understand the results such a method could bring about, I think adopting it would be a bit too excessive. Just because I need to keep the pressure up doesn't mean I can ignore the need to maintain its balance.
'Everything in moderation, including moderation', would be a good way to put it.
Mentally speaking, Akeno's easily the one who I've been pushing the most with the illusion-training we've been doing. As expected, she's still unable to see through them.
I know there's some kind of acute demonic sense one could attain to make it doable if one lacks a sensory ability, but I also know it's unimaginably difficult to pull off. Not even Thora's managed to do it, which means I'm still light-years away from getting to that level.
I'm not really sure how to explain it, but I recall Thora explaining the phenomenon to me once as being akin to ejecting your blood cells out of your body, sustaining them while they're airborne, keeping them connected to you, and getting them to inform you of their surroundings all at once.
'Hyperesthesiac demonic power'—I believe it was called? Or something along those lines. Honestly, it sounds like a feat only Lord Beelzebub would be able to pull off.
Anyhow, Akeno being able to see through the illusions or not is irrelevant. What matters is that I've noticed her marginally becoming calmer and calmer with each spar, which means her mental endurance is beginning to strengthen and as a result—so is her mental energy.
As of now, without needing any charge-up time, she can produce about one million volts of lightning-natured demonic power, and a quarter's worth of Holy Lightning.
True lightning's output can range anywhere from one hundred million to a billion volts, but that's a natural force. If Akeno got anywhere near that range, she'd immediately be classified as a Satan-Class Devil, perhaps even more considering her Holy Element.
If she can at least achieve a tenth of natural lightning's lowest possible output, that would be more than satisfactory for me—I'm expecting her to produce that without needing any charging after all.
Of course, simply because Akeno's receiving the hardest training, at least in my opinion, doesn't mean that I've been neglecting the rest of the cohort.
Shirone, for instance, has been making insane progress in her meditative training. As a matter of fact, I don't think it'd be a stretch to say she's the one who's made the most headway out of the entire peerage.
She can spend a total of seven consecutive minutes in Nekomata Mode while keeping her Ki in perfect harmony—and I mean that literally. Not a single fluctuation, not the mildest flare of emotion, nothing. Just total zen concentration.
Even Sylvie couldn't help but praise her, and my adorable little serpentine companion isn't exactly known for handing out compliments. A Nekoshou's talent is undoubtedly as profound as most say.
When you take the span of most real fights into account, seven minutes sounds like more than enough. However, Shirone's the peerage's Rook—their tank.
In her case, endurance is more important than anything. Thus, I need to keep pushing her as much as humanely possible until the Rating Game comes around.
Besides honing her endurance, I'm trying to see if I can find a way to make her capable of using Kasha. It's an ability said to be exclusive to Nekomata Yōkai, where they can create wheels of spiritual flames that contain the purification element. Making it highly effective against creatures such as Vampires.
In the report of the Kuroka incident, it stated that such flames were left behind at the crime scene. So, logically speaking, I see no reason for Shirone to be unable to replicate them.
Yet, throughout all our training sessions, not once has her Kasha shown itself. And it's not because she's purposefully holding it back, I'd detect even the slightest hint of purposeful suppression in a heartbeat.
After discussing it with Sylvie, we've come up with two possibilities. One, she simply needs to spend more time training her Nekomata Mode for Kasha to manifest. Or two, there's still a considerable amount of trauma in her mind left over from the Kuroka incident—causing her to subconsciously hold back part of her Nekoshou abilities.
I'm willing to bet money on two. Meditation has its uses, but it's not some magical mental tool that'll allow Shirone to resolve her deep-rooted trauma in the span of a mere week.
Not to mention that the fact that her older sister used Kasha during the incident could also have created some type of mental block, associating the power with the monstrous visualization of Kuroka living in her head.
If I want to resolve that block, I'll need to find a significantly more direct way for her to confront the memory. Any speech I could conjure just won't suffice. It's too tame an approach.
Hopefully, I'll figure something out sooner rather than later.
Isaiah's been making great progress as well, his grasp of what it means to truly test the limits of just how exploitable Sword Birth's attribute creation can be is developing wonderfully.
When he spars with me, I believe there are three particular creations he's grown quite fond of using.
His Sword of Kinetic Absorption, which can absorb the energy generated from the impact of my physical blows, store that energy, and redirect it back at me when he swings.
Naturally, the amount of energy it can store isn't limitless. If I were to punch it at full force, it'd just snap and shatter. Regardless, I'm glad that he's found a reliable way to counterattack. It suits a high-speed, high-power fighter like him.
He's also got his Termite Sword, which, as one would imagine, is specifically designed to counter my Wood Manipulation.
Isaiah quickly realized that he couldn't create a sword with enough power to just outright break through the raw defense of my wood formations, so he decided to settle for an alternative.
A sword that could weaken the internal composition of the formations, rotting them from the inside, and making them more and more susceptible to being destroyed with each passing second.
Is it a perfect solution? No, far from it. There are so many variables when I use Wood Manipulation in a battle that could render that counter useless—however, that's not the point.
The point is that his mind's continuing to evolve. When faced with a wall, he doesn't just blindly throw himself at its bricks, hoping he'll eventually make a dent. He takes a step back, observes it, and checks if there's a way around.
He's getting creative.
That's the kind of mental development he needs to hone to grow Sword Birth, and I'm proud to say he's doing just that.
To complete the anti-me trio, he has the Sword of Magnitude. A sword that specializes in destroying and disrupting earth formations.
Unsurprisingly enough, Isaiah was quick to realize that earth was my personal favorite among the four basic elements.
I can't help it, when we're fighting in an expanse literally covered in earth from head-to-toe—how am I supposed to resist having a little fun with the terrain? That would be like putting playdough in front of a toddler and telling them not to touch it.
Not to imply I have the mentality of a toddler. Cough cough.
The sword is basically a portable earthquake-creator, if he touches any of my earth formations with it, it'll instantaneously create an epicenter within that formation and start sending out fierce seismic waves throughout it until it breaks.
I don't have a clue how it really works, since my formations don't possess the necessary shape and composition to even be earthquake-prone in the first place—but I guess that's the beauty of Sword Birth for ya.
Oh, he also has to be quite careful when he's wielding the sword. If he touches the ground with it, even by accident, it'll still create an earthquake. Which means there's a good chance he could level a good portion of Kuoh if he's not careful.
Fortunately for him, the training chamber is sectioned off from Kuoh's soil by the layer of flexible wood surrounding it to keep it stable.
Hopefully, he'll have full control over its activation soon. Probably once he's managed to impart more of his will onto Sword Birth.
That is the root of every Sacred Gear's power after all, it's wielders 'will'—their desire.
On the topic of Sacred Gears, Gasper's permanent strength is finally starting to surface. For the past week, I've been feeding him ten milliliters of my blood every day—with Thora keeping careful watch over him to ensure his body doesn't experience any adverse reactions.
And so far, there haven't been any. According to her, the amount of draconic blood Gasper can consume without experiencing dragon blood poisoning is uncanny. Far, far more than a child his age should be capable of.
There are three hypotheses she came up with.
One, it's a result of Gasper having not consumed blood for such a long amount of time, which created an effect where his starvation resulted in the awfully high level of tolerance he's displaying.
Which would suggest that tolerance is more likely than not temporary, and will fade once his 'starvation' has settled.
Two, it's the fact that my draconic cells are mixed with those of my Sallos ones, the latter proving to have the power to 'soothe' the former. I already know for a fact that the effect of draconic blood varies with how diluted it is because I've consumed Tannin's, so I can see the logic here.
Three, Gasper's innate tolerance is really just that good. He's a special Dhampir, that's for sure, possessing the fearsome power that is Forbidden Balor View, House Vladi's noble bloodline, and a mutated Bishop Evil Piece.
"And the fact that he's your favorite."
I can neither confirm nor deny that statement, nor will I comment on it as my imaginary lawyer has advised me.
Back to the matter of his power's permanence, as of today—Gasper has achieved one second.
One second of stopped time, completely at his discretion. Freezing all that remains within his field of vision with no outside help.
In the heat of battle, a lot can happen in a second. But this is only the beginning, his Sacred Gear's finally starting to wrap itself around the feeling of stopping time when influenced by my blood, slowly but surely engraving it into its long-term memory.
In short, it's only a matter of time before he'll be able to stop more time—no pun intended, heh.
Finally, there's the leader of the group. Rias.
I don't have much to say regarding her, but I don't mean that in a negative way, quite the opposite really.
Her control over the Power of Destruction is improving, and it will continue to do so. Besides that, there's not much assistance I can offer her in regards to her physical growth.
Because of her role as the leader, I have purposefully refused to teach her any form of strategy whatsoever. I've only given her a few hints here and there as to how she can develop her own brand of strategy.
Strategy doesn't just apply to combat after all, it's a key part of tackling politics, and as someone who'll one day lead House Gremory as its Matriarch. She'll inevitably have to learn how to swim in that treacherous pool.
Her strategy will be shaped by her own values, what she considers valuable and invaluable, acceptable and unacceptable, important and unimportant. That will be the core of her approach.
I have no desire to shape that for her, that would be controlling, not teaching. All I can do is sit back and give her what little support I can.
Strategy is a fickle thing after all. In the words of Martha, 'there are some people who simply get it, and those who simply do not.'
I think it's obvious which category I fall into, according to her standards.
"Young Lord," Thora's voice called out to me while I was standing in the backyard, staring up at the morning sky while engrossed in my own thoughts. "You have a visitor."
I raised my brow, noticing a strange creature floating around her shoulder.
A snake, the shape and features of which heavily resembled a python. It's a size a monstrous thirty feet in length, the entirety of it covered in a layer of alluring, deep-blue, shimmering scales.
Pinch!
"Ow! What was that for!?" I winced at the feeling of Sylvie's fangs sinking into my skin beneath my kimono.
That better have been a dry-bite.
She slithered out of my collar, her hood flared wide open with a nasty look in her eyes. "You're ssstaring master, did you think I wouldn't notice?"
Oh, that's what this is about.
"Don't tell me you're… jealous?" I said with a teasing grin.
"What's there to be jealousss about? Unlesss you're suggesting that I'm somehow inferior to that creature?" She opened her maw, revealing droplets of faint-purple liquid dripping from her fang. "Is that what you're suggesting, massster?"
I gulped, a single bead of sweat sliding down the side of my head out of panic. "Of course not! I wouldn't dare doubt Lady Sylvie's boundless magnificence, please forgive this lowly contractor for his folly!"
I lowered my head, a single thought overwhelming my mind as I watched her venom fall onto the fabric of my kimono.
Please don't bite me. Please don't bite me. Please don't bite me. Please don't bite me. Please don't bite me. Please don't bite me. Please don't bite me.
"Hmph. I sssuppose your reverence is acceptable, see to it that you don't go ogling at another ssspecimen. Lest you want me to give you a firm reminder of where your admiration belongs." She hissed, returning into the comfort of my attire.
Phew, I think that moment just qualified as another near-death experience.
"Alduin Buné… I presume?" The azure python spoke to me in a posh, feminine voice, the kind I'd expect from a noblewoman.
She hovered a noticeable distance away from me, as if she instinctively realized how dangerous a creature Sylvie was. Specifically to her, as our brief exchange had just shown.
"That's me," I narrowed my eyes. The demonic power signature radiating off the python seemed awfully familiar to me. "Are you Sona's familiar?"
"Yes, I am indeed contracted to Lady Sona. My name is Miriam. I've come on her behalf to relay a piece of information to you." She extended her tail out towards me, her lower half coiled around a polaroid photo.
I reached out to grab it, my eyes widening in immediate recognition once I observed the photo's contents.
It depicted a blonde, emerald-eyed girl wearing a nun's outfit—standing in the streets of what I believe was Kuoh's town square. A clueless, dazed look was plastered firmly on her face.
Asia Argento was here.
"You have my thanks, Miriam. The same goes for your Lady," I nodded my appreciation.
"I'm merely doing my duty," she replied plainly. "Although my Lady would like to know what you intend to do now that you're aware of her presence, if you're comfortable with answering."
I hummed in deliberation. I guess it wouldn't hurt to answer that, there's no real need for secrecy here. Lucifer knows I've had more than enough of that lately.
"For now, I'm simply going to reach out to her and ensure that she's alright. She probably doesn't have any lodging arrangements either, so I'll go ahead and set that up as well."
Honestly, I'm not sure what my endgame plan for her is either. Obviously, sending her back to the Church or anyone affiliated with them won't work, since she's excommunicated and all. Her file didn't mention any living relatives, so it's not like I can call anyone either.
Man, it's really hard not to pity this girl, isn't it? I guess I'll just have to do my utmost to make her as comfortable as possible. Until I figure out something more permanent, I think it's best if I can personally look after her.
"I see, your honesty is appreciated. I'll convey that back to my Lady." Miriam didn't hesitate to take her leave right after. I think the aura of fierce hostility coming out of my kimono might've been too much for her.
I turned to face Thora, her face telling me she already knew what my next words would be.
"I'll be going out for a bit, it would seem I've got a guest I need to retrieve."
"Don't worry, I'll watch over your students in the meantime." The sound of them going haywire down below, with all sorts of explosions and whatnot being set off, could still be heard from where we were standing.
I should probably do some soundproofing before the neighbours realize something's up.
"Thanks, I can always count on you." I smiled, moving past her to head over to Kuoh's plaza.
"But not enough to tell me what's really weighing on your mind, right?"
But before I could, I was caught off-guard by a string of words I wasn't expecting to hear—causing me to freeze amidst my steps. My brain took a moment to process what my ears had just heard.
I had a feeling you'd bring this up.
My lips dropped into a frown. I wanted to face her before responding, but for some reason, I just couldn't bring myself to.
Or at least that's what I'd like to believe.
I know exactly why I can't do it, don't I?
Shame.
"Now's not the time," my response was almost reflexive. Like my brain was trying to shield me from telling her the truth.
"No, of course it isn't." She continued, her tone growing colder by the second. "Yesterday wasn't either, nor the day before, nor the day before that, or before that, or before—"
"You've made your point, Thora." I wanted to sound just as cold, but I knew my voice just now wasn't nearly as convincing as I thought it'd be. "We'll discuss this at a later time."
"'Later', he says." A harsh scoff escaped her breath. I expected her to follow up, but instead, all I heard was the sound of her footsteps descending into the training chamber.
Fuck.
I can't leave this be, can I? Shutting everyone else out is one thing… but Thora? That's not a matter of maintaining secrecy, it's just plain idiocy, and cowardice.
A staggering amount of the latter.
I have to address this, don't I?
"You don't have to, but I can tell you want to. You feel too strongly for that woman to let her experience any form of dissatisfaction, even an ounce."
Painfully accurate, as per usual.
"I aim to please."
Tonight's going to be eventful… that's for sure.
But first things first, I've got a Holy Maiden to secure.
===
The state of the streets of Kuoh Town's town square was about as one would expect on a pleasant Sunday morning. Loud. Cramped. Active. Bustling with families, couples, and friends looking to relax from the stress of the week's work, schooling, and household chores.
All manner of shops, restaurants, and supermarkets had colorful posters positioned in front of their entrances, alongside a few poorly-paid flyer distributors wandering the streets, haphazardly seeing if anyone would be bothered enough to pick up one of their leaflets—all in an effort to help themselves to some of the green stored within the pockets of passersby.
And amongst all the ruckus and crowding, wandered a young, blonde-haired girl adorning a nun's outfit. The attire caused a few onlookers to shoot her questioning, confused stares, some believing she was a cosplayer, others a young missionary.
For the few people who were curious enough to walk up to her and ask, all they received in return was a panicky demeanor and an outburst of slurred, confused mumbles.
After all, the girl didn't speak a lick of Japanese. Only Italian, and a fair amount of English.
Unfortunately for her, Kuoh wasn't much of an international community—and on a weekday, most people couldn't be bothered to go through the effort to whip out Google Translate, which, for the record, was still highly ineffective even two years after its initial release.
Another eight years remained before it became anything truly worthwhile.
As a result, the nun could do naught but helplessly roam the town square, hoping the person who'd called her here would find her eventually.
"Ehi, tutto bene? Sembri perso." (Hey, are you alright? You look lost.)
Minutes later. Her ears were hit with the shocking sound of someone speaking perfect Italian, causing her to come to a complete halt and blink repeatedly, wondering if she had misheard them.
"Mi dispiace, non volevo spaventarti." (Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.) He followed with a gentle, apologetic expression.
As luck would have it, her hearing was working just fine.
She turned around, facing a man wearing a simple outfit consisting of a plain, freshly-ironed dress shirt, black slacks, and brown loafers. Alongside a white scarf draped around his neck with the design of a snake—which was rather strange seeing as Kuoh was shifting into its summer season.
Yet—not a single soul among the plaza's populace paid attention to his neckwear, because his appearance was far—far more attention-grabbing.
Exceedingly long, ashen-hair possessing spikyness that'd make a porcupine lower its head in shame, reaching all the way down to his waist. Bright, verdant eyes, about the same as hers—save for the reptilian shape of their pupils, and the ominous, haunting presence they exuded.
And most strikingly of all, the man had horns. Four of them. Two at the front curving forward, and two at the back curving backwards.
Unlike the girl, everyone who spotted him was 100% certain he was a cosplayer, and more likely than not a foreigner, judging by his appearance. The sentiment behind the looks he received from them varied.
Curiosity from the younger ones, wondering why someone was cosplaying with no convention happening in the town.
Mild to fierce displeasure from the older male generation, wondering why someone had to 'disturb' the people roaming the town square with his odd appearance, and possessing an unfortunate, but expected amount of disdain for the Gaijin.
And from the older female generation, ring-wearing or not…. looks that made it clear they were wondering how best to get him in their bedroom. For whatever reason.
"U‒uhm. Sei Padre Freed?" (U‒uhm. Are you Father Freed?) The nun took a step back, examining the man from head to toe. With fluency like that, who else could be other than her supposed benefactor? The person she had come to Kuoh for in the first place.
The man chuckled lightly. "No, ma lo conosco. In un certo senso, potremmo dire che siamo conoscenti." (No, but I do know him. You could say we're acquaintances in a way.)
"O‒oh. Ti ha mandato a prendermi?" (O‒oh. Did he send you to pick me up?)
"In un certo senso." (In a way.) He repeated with a strange grin, the sentiment behind which was hard to decipher. "Hai già avuto modo di mangiare?" (Have you had a chance to eat yet?)
The girl was prepared to respond to him with a firm 'no', assuring him that she was perfectly fine.
Groooowwwl!
However, her stomach decided to intervene before she could do so. Leaving her with an embarrassed flush on her face.
"Haha, credo che questo risponda." (Haha, I guess that answers that.) With a light smile, he turned to the side, taking notice of one of the promotional posters a restaurant had plastered outside its front door, depicting a pancake-based breakfast meal. "Che ne dici di mangiare qualcosa prima di parlare della tua sistemazione qui a Kuoh? Dopotutto, è difficile sistemarsi a stomaco vuoto." (How about we grab a bite before we talk about your arrangement here in Kuoh? It's hard to get settled in on an empty stomach after all.)
"M‒ma non ho soldi…" (B-but I don't have any money…) She replied with a dejected expression.
"Ovviamente è offerto dalla casa, che tipo di ospite sarei se facessi pagare il pasto alla mia ospite?" (It's on the house, obviously, what kind of host would I be if I made my visitor pay for her meal?) Without giving her a chance to refute his generosity, the man hurriedly ushered her inside. Approaching the cashier while completely ignoring her starstruck look of curiosity and wonder. "Table for two please."
===
Thanks to the handy devilish power of 'translation'. I had no issue communicating with Asia, every word I spoke being translated into perfect Italian in her mind.
"I‒is it alright if I ask what your name is? Father Freed said there'd be others, but he didn't tell me anything else about them." Asia asked.
I can only presume Freed was referring to Raynare and her stooges—who were revealed to have some not-so-savory intentions regarding this kind young girl with that 'Sacred Gear Extractor' device the Governor disdained with such vehemence.
"Alduin," I replied calmly, deciding to keep the fact that I was a devil a secret for now. I'd like to at least establish some kind of trust between us before I drop that bomb on her.
Her whole life basically went to shit because she helped one of our kind. I wouldn't dare hold it against her if she felt a strong sense of animosity towards us.
Then again, part of me feels like she somehow doesn't hold a grudge—despite everything she's lost.
Is that just wishful thinking from my mind? Or something more deep-rooted? I wonder.
"Alduin… I see. Are you also a priest like Father Freed?" A hopeful glint shimmered in her eyes, which managed to pique my intrigue.
"No, I'm not, just an acquaintance." I maintained the veil, folding my hands over each other. Although I have a feeling it might not be necessary for me to do any acting. She hardly strikes me as the paranoid type—quite the opposite, really. "If you don't mind me asking, what exactly is it… Father Freed… told you before you came here?"
She blinked in confusion. "He didn't tell you?"
I shook my head. "No, all I know is that he wanted me to pick someone up matching your description. However… I had no idea that person would be the Church's exiled Holy Maiden. Asia Argento."
I made use of yet another one of my neat conversational tricks, revealing information while clouding how you know said information.
Her expression quickly tightened with discomfort. Her mind was probably racing to figure out whether I was actually on her side or not, since my actions suggested one thing, and my tone another.
"If you're worried about me reporting you to the Vatican or something to that effect, you can relax. Like I said, I'm merely an acquaintance of Freed. Personally speaking, I have absolutely no ties to the Church whatsoever." Her posture softened, showing that my guess was spot-on. "But on the same note, I would like to know why he called someone of your status here. This town is rather important to me, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't have my reservations about an exiled member of the Church being here."
I watched as she shrank under my gaze, enough to the point where she could feel the pressure—but not the point where she was plagued with outright fear.
I know I'm being a little harsh, arguably more than I need to, but it's all for the sake of steering this conversation to a point where we can come to a mutual agreement.
My goal is to make her feel like I'm someone she can trust to look after her, not someone she doesn't have any other choice but to obediently listen to. I'm sure the poor girl got more than enough of that treatment at the Vatican.
Call me crazy, but I don't think saying, 'Hey, I'm a devil who killed the people who called you here, who were actually evil and plotting against you, and oh—I'll be taking you in from now on. Okay? Okay!' Right out of the gate is a great way to inspire that kind of trust.
"F‒Father Freed said there was work I could do here, and that I'd be reinstated into the Church if I did well…"
Yeah, that's about the kind of lure I expected him to use. False hope is frighteningly effective against those who find themselves in times of desperation.
"I see," I paused, helping myself to a glass of water before continuing. "I presume you haven't heard anything regarding Freed's reputation at the Vatican, have you?"
I'm not sure how the excommunication process actually works over there, but since nothing clocked in Asia's mind when that name was brought up, I guess a member being exiled isn't exactly something they like to advertise.
Puzzled, she shook her head. "N‒no, should I have?"
I took another sip, giving her a faint, visible hint that my next words were going to catch her off-guard.
"Whether you should or shouldn't have depended on your superiors, I suppose. But I'll be informing you now regardless." I leaned back into the padded couch. "Freed Sellzen is, or rather, was a Stray Exorcist. I don't know when or why his excommunication occurred, but I have a feeling it had something to do with 'violent tendencies', if you catch my drift."
I watched Asia's train of thought come to a grinding halt. Her mouth agape as her mind slowly started to process what she had just heard.
"H‒huh!?"
Or at least attempt to.
"He was cooperating with a cell of Fallen Angels, as Stray Exorcists do. Naturally, that means all his talk about getting you reinstated was complete bogus." To nail in the information, I decided to continue. She'd have all the time in the world to ponder what I'm about to tell her anyway. "His true plan wasn't to help you in any way. Rather, it was to lure you to the head of the Fallen Angel cell, so she could seize your Sacred Gear for herself."
"THAT CAN'T BE!" She shot upwards, slamming her fists against the table and rattling the cutlery—alarming a great deal of the surrounding patrons, wondering what all the commotion was about.
After realizing what she had just done, Asia looked around with embarrassment, timidly sitting back down with her head hung low.
"S‒sorry, I didn't mean to yell…"
"It's fine, your shock is perfectly understandable."
While she was absorbed in what I could only imagine was a chaotic thought process, a waiter came over to our table, carrying a plate with a generous stack of sweet, syrupy soufflé pancakes, and another consisted of a random assortment of bacon, ribs, and sausage—just as I had ordered.
As I believe I've demonstrated by my disinterest in properly masking my appearance to blend in with the rest of Kuoh, I couldn't care less about receiving weird looks from anyone.
"Thank you."
"You're… welcome?" Including the one the waiter was giving me as she handed me my seemingly bizarre meal choice.
Being weird wasn't a crime, especially in a country where seeing salarymen passed out on the streets at midnight with their ties wrapped around foreheads, and a dozen or so cans of Asahi beer littered around them was the norm.
"Here," I slid the pancake stack over towards Asia. "Dig in. There's a lot more you're going to need to process with what I'm about to tell you, so you might want to fuel up that brain of yours beforehand."
Understandably, she hesitated a little. I had just given her a considerably tough pill to swallow, forcing her to come to terms with the fact that her supposed chance to get her position back was naught but a farce. Concocted by people who wished her nothing but the worst.
However, the combination of her evidently strong hunger and the sweet, aromatic smell of the discs of floury goodness sitting before her seemed to pull her towards a more comfortable state of mind.
But before she indulged, I noticed her clasp her hands in preparation for something.
Oh shit! Don't tell me she's about to—!
"Bless us, O Lord, and these,
Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty.
Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."
She finished with the Sign of the Cross, leaving me with a splitting headache that caused me to grip my pulsating forehead in pain. Forcing me to use every ounce of restraint I could muster to prevent myself from letting out a pained yelp.
I even went as far as to use Partial Hypnosis to hide my anguished expression from her. There are still a few things I want to say before I throw out the 'I'm a devil' statement.
Fuck, I really should've seen that coming. I exhaled sharply. The pain was strong, but fleeting. Only lasting as long as the words were coming out of Asia's mouth.
After completing her grace, she picked up her knife and fork with an eager, hungry sparkle in her eyes—and proceeded to take her first bite of Japanese breakfast cuisine.
"W‒what deliciousness!" She squealed, her face beaming with ecstasy as she devoured the chunk of pancake she had bitten out with rejuvenated fervour.
Cute. A warm smile overcame my face as I watched her devour the breakfast meal at a speed that you'd expect from someone who had been fasting for a whole month.
"Cough! Cough!" She started patting her chest, clearly having forgotten to chew before she swallowed.
"Relax, the food isn't going anywhere." I chided her softly, sliding her a glass of water before she ended up choking right in front of my very eyes.
"T‒thank you."
"No problem," I happily allowed her to finish her meal without interruption.
I don't know if the care I can provide for her will be enough to make up for all she's been through—even remotely. But I'll still do my best, because that's all anyone can really offer at the end of the day.
"Uhm. A‒Alduin." She began after clearing her plate. "You said you were an acquaintance of Father Free‒… I mean, an acquaintance of Freed, right?"
"I did."
"Is it alright if I ask how exactly you two were acquainted?" Unsurprisingly, she gathered that the two of us weren't familiar with each other in a positive way.
Come to think of it, we never really got acquainted at all, did we? Since I y'know, decapitated him and all before he could even look at me.
Oh well.
"We were enemies, well, former enemies now," I explained with indifference. "He and the Fallen Angels he was working with operated in a town they weren't authorized to be in—and engaged in activities they weren't authorized to undertake. So they were dealt with."
Asia definitely carried an air of naivety around her, but she wasn't naive enough not to infer what I meant by that. The shocked, knowing look in her eyes told me that much.
"But… you're not with the Vatican. Why would you go out of your way to deal with them? And what do you mean by a 'town they weren't authorized to be in', are you referring to… here?"
Alright, now it's time to drop the bomb on her.
"One, yes, I have absolutely no affiliation with the Vatican, or any religious organization for that matter. Two, it's my job to deal with people like them. And three, yes, I'm referring to Kuoh. At the moment, it's under the jurisdiction of another supernatural faction. The one I'm currently working for."
Her eyes flicked to my horns, a sense of unease written all over her face. "...And which faction is that?"
Here goes nothing.
"The Underworld."
Her pupils dilated from shock, and her posture stiffened.
"Huh?" Was the only word she could mouth.
"The Underworld, you know—the one with all the devils and stuff." I pointed my fingers up against my head, imitating a pair of horns. "Wings that kind of look like bats, a bunch of noble houses, Satans. As a former member of the Church, I'm sure you're familiar."
To put the final nail in the coffin, I loosened the suppression I was enacting on my demonic power. Allowing a very faint, but noticeable enough trickle of it to escape through my pores.
She breathed a quiet, nervous chuckle. "Y‒you're…"
"A devil. Yep." I finished. "I work with the Foreign Affairs Department to help supervise the town, and make sure the two noblewomen living here are safe—my bosses are a lot more interested in the latter than the former, though."
I could feel the tension build up in the short amount of space, distancing us from one end of the table to the other. Her breathing hastened. Moisture was building up on the surface of her skin, and unease seeped through her skull.
"Are you going to h‒hurt me?" She asked, her voice shaking with agitation.
"No, I'm not." I leaned forward, folding my hands under my chin. "Honestly, I'm not sure what to do with you. I'm hoping I'll figure that out through the course of this conversation. If I were to get needlessly meticulous with the Underworld's laws, you could technicallybe labeled a 'trespasser'", I made air quotations. "But we both know that would be comically unfair to you. You were lured here by criminals, who made you believe they had good intentions. If anyone's at fault, it would be me for not dealing with them sooner."
Asia pressed her lips together, clearly unsure how to respond.
At the very least, I think she understands that I have no ill intentions regarding her. In my position, I have absolutely no reason to lie about wishing her harm. I'm the one holding all the cards here.
"Asia, I know it might be redundant of me to ask this. But is there anyone you know you could reach out to? If so, I'd be more than happy to help you establish a means of communication."
She pushed her palms into her lap, shaking her head. "N‒no. There isn't anyone."
"I see." Yeah, I thought so. "In that case, you can stay in Kuoh as a guest. My residence might be a little crammed right now, but there's still plenty of space to go around. Until we're able to figure out something more permanent for you, you'll be taken care of there."
Her eyes lit up in shock, the hopeful kind rather than dreadful. "...Is that really alright? You don't have to go out of your way to—"
I raised my hand, gesturing for her to stop. "I'm not going out of my way to do anything. I'm simply doing the bare minimum. I found your file in the base where those Fallen Angels were operating, and it's clear to me that you've been through your fair share of tribulations. Offering you a moment to breathe is the least I could do."
Bzzt!
I furrowed my brows, feeling a vibration from one of the two phones I was carrying.
The phone Azazel had given me.
This better be important.
I pulled it out, discreetly glancing at it while holding it under the table.
"Hyoudou Issei. Genshirou Saji. Let's talk."
Ah.
I guess that does qualify as important.
———
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