We were standing there like petrified sculptures at the edge of liberty, the rough-cracked void in the Asylum wall outlined a now apocalyptic Tokyo.
The opening in the sky above was swirling like a wound and was spilling out tormentors in huge numbers onto the ground—sounds of agonizing cries were rising in the distance, mingled in a dreadful chorus.
The wind that blew through the gap seemed to be the very stench of brimstone and blood, pulling our garments as if the hands in its desperation were begging us not to go.
And then the darkness that was behind the opening started moving.
A shadow figure came out of the darkness—tall, extremely elegant, emitting an ancient evil which made my spirit uneasy.
Rooftop black wings slowly spread and covered the city lights that were glowing feebly. In the blackness, fiery eyes were glaring; golden hair was capturing the live embers like a halo made in hellfire.
A handsome, sharp face—innocent yet dangerous, muscular body was coiled with graceful lethalness—was covered with pale skin. A thick black line marked the circumference of his neck like a stamp of everlasting damnation.
Lucarious.
The moment I saw him, the image was already very clear in my mind from the stories my Father told at night about—whispered signs of the angel that could undo time.
But how? The curse of my lineage did not allow me to see fallen heroes, it was a protection against their allurements.
But he was here, though, visible, real, his being was like a lover's breath against my skin—hot, intrusive, awakening illicit heat in my blood despite the fear.
Akira's voice came through the howling wind, soft and bewildered.
"This angel... he is familiar, but I have never seen him before."
Without me looking, I was fastened on the figure. "Then your Father has also described him to you."
Yuna was next to Yura, her own wings quivering, when she took a step forward.
"That is Lucarious."
Yura's tone turned harsh, and disbelief thickened the air.
"But how can it be that a fallen angel can be seen by all of us? Lint—bound one—hides them from mortals unless they break the law of heaven."
Yuna's mouth silently twisted into a crafty, familiar smile while one eye sparkled as she looked at Yura. "What you are saying is all true... but only about fallen angels."
In an instant, Akira's voice sank into a serious rumble.
"What do you mean specifically?"
My anger turned into a realization.
"He's not fallen."
Father's shout came from near the dark figure of Lucarious, and I imagined it being aided by some hellish loudspeaker set up in the garden.
"Hey, Lucarious! It's been ages since we last met."
The angel's grin was like a sword—exquisite, and lethal.
"I should have killed you right away."
Kinard's laughter was low and scornful, like rolling thunder that spread through the chaos. He walked completely into the light, without any companions, and not afraid.
"You are the Angel of Time. How come you did not see every step I would take?"
Lucarious opened his wings so wide that the wind they created was strong enough to almost push us off our feet, and he came closer to us with an intention of intimidation. "I knew all of it from the start. But I can't kill a human—at least not if I'm still under the command of heaven."
Father smiled sarcastically and walked toward Lucarious as the angel did the same to him.
With the air of an arrogant man, he put his hand on shoulder of Lucarious and pushed the angel who was as unyielding as a sculpture moved by the wind, and he continued to us.
His sight first fell on Akira. "It is astonishing that you are still alive after our last fight."
The next moment, however, his eyes fell on me, bringing an icy feeling that morphed into something darker, more primal—the remains of a father-son bond turning sour in my intestine.
"And you... how does it feel, Vernon, siding with your brother..." He now fully turned to Akira, his voice becoming a soft, dark pit. "...and killing your own father?"
Akira's expression was one of pure rage.
"Father?"
He jumped, gripping Kinard's collar with the strength of an iron hand, pulling him so close that their noses almost touched.
"Where the hell was that father when Mother was murdered—when the baby was still in her womb?"
His grip became so tight that his knuckles turned white, veins throbbed with suppressed fury. Father looked at him with dry, emotionless eyes, like a vacuum that emptied the air from my lungs.
"And you," Akira spat, voice faltering with poison, "you tormented Yura—sexually violated her when she was just a kid. Do you really think you can stand here and get respect? All that's left in my heart for you is hate."
The truth that Akira revealed was like a knife stabbing into my heart. I looked at Yura—her eyes were watery, her body was stiff with the fear of the past, the woman whose burning love had once engulfed me but now was retreating under the gaze of the Father.
The trauma was visible in every shake of her body, her openness was awakening a protective fire in me, hot and possessive, mixed with the dark urge to guard her, to re-claim her through blood and fury.
The little respect I had for our "creator" had shattered into pieces that turned to dust.
Kinard remained unfazed.
Out of nowhere, he unleashed a savage blow to Akira's stomach, which made him bend down and grunt in agony.
"I had a reason for everything I did," he stated coldly, after letting out a puff of air Akira, being already straightened his suit.
"Then why the hell did you came here?" He asked, his gaze betraying a mix of pity and regret. "Only to see my sons one last time." The he repeated his question to Akira. "You have five hours. Take your... team and leave this prison."
Akira stood up with force, and his creature-like blackish-red aura exploded around him like flames—dark, captivating, the power that flowed was so hot that it felt like a caress from hell.
His blood-red mask appeared on his face, and his clothes turned into sharp armor that fitted his body and was dangerously attractive.
The devilish katana in his grasp flamed, the blade resonating with demonic appetite.
"Are you sure you can come and go just like that?" Akira yelled, his voice sounding like a demon's, filled with the suffering of the past centuries, "Will you then deliver your sermon and pass by?"
With the sword raised over him, the demon's aura grew, and the air became heavy with the anticipation of violence.
"You will be the one to shed your blood for the sins of your kin, Kinard!"
Father's grin got bigger - he was not at all impressed and even seemed to be enjoying it - as darkness gathered behind him.
A multitude of top-notch bodyguards appeared at the border of the rift, their weapons aimed at the intruders, surrounded by growling demons that were kept under control like dogs.
Lucarious was next to Father, his wings gently flapping, and it looked as if time itself was bending around him.
Right at that very moment, Akira, consumed by rage, rushed towards Father, his sword coming down upon Father's neck—
Everything went in slow motion.
I could see Lucarious looking at me through the turmoil, and he silently articulated one word that froze my veins:
"Choose."
And then time resumed its normal pace—the sword was not able to reach the flesh but rather hit an invisible force field that caused the night to be lit up with a massive explosion.