The soft click of my shoes echoed against the pavement as I walked away from the church.
The sun had already dipped below the rooftops, leaving behind streaks of orange and violet across the sky. Street lamps flickered to life one by one, casting long shadows that danced behind me.
But I wasn't watching the path ahead. I kept glancing over my shoulder—toward the church I had just left behind.
She was still in there.
Asia Argento.
Sweet. Pure. Naïve.
And completely unaware of the nightmare waiting just around the corner.
I turned my gaze forward again, stuffing my hands into my pockets. My smirk—my default expression, my mask—was gone. Worn off somewhere between the front steps and this block of cracked sidewalk.
Tch.
Why the hell did this bother me so much?
I barely knew the girl. Just a few words exchanged. A moment of kindness, really. But something about her… clung to me. Like a whisper I couldn't shake.
Was it sympathy?
Guilt?
Some twisted sense of responsibility because I knew what was coming and she didn't?
Maybe all of it.
I knew what they were planning.
I knew exactly how they'd use her. How they'd lie to her. How they'd break her.
And the worst part?
I couldn't stop it. Not yet.
If I interfered too early, I'd throw off everything. The timeline. The power plays. The necessary confrontations. There was a structure to this madness, and I had to let the pieces fall just right before I picked them up and turned the table over.
Even if I told her the truth now, what would it accomplish? She'd look at me with those soft, innocent eyes and probably think I was crazy.
That pissed me off—not at her. Never at her.
At the situation.
At the system.
At the fact that, for all my power… I still had to wait.
I exhaled through my nose, long and slow. No smirk. No grin. Just a cold, bitter silence lingering in my chest.
But my jaw set.
They wouldn't have her for long.
And when the time came—when that first crack formed in their little plan—I'd be there.
Smiling.
Waiting.
With a very sharp knife.
————
The streets had thinned out as I walked deeper into the residential district. The sunset was fading now, the sky bleeding into shades of muted blue. Streetlights cast dim halos of gold over the sidewalk, but here, tucked between two narrow buildings, the alley I took was bathed in shadow.
I wasn't really paying attention.
My mind was still stuck back at that church. On her.
Asia Argento.
That innocence. That smile.
That doomed fate.
I barely noticed the change at first—just a flicker in the air, a whisper of pressure brushing against my skin. But then I felt it—like the whole world exhaled at once.
Snap.
The shift was subtle, but unmistakable.
Magic.
A barrier had dropped.
I stopped walking mid-step, boots scuffing slightly against the ground. The sounds of the town—the distant hum of traffic, the breeze through trees, even the faint chirping of birds—all vanished.
Silence.
Artificial silence.
My lips curled into a slow frown as I scanned the narrow alley. The exit behind me shimmered faintly now, blocked by an invisible wall of magical energy. I glanced upward—
And felt it.
The pressure.
The killing intent.
Too late.
Something dark split the air above me. A shadow descended fast and sharp like a hawk diving for its prey. Feathers of corrupted black spiraled with the motion, and a spear of light—tainted, wrong—glowed in the attacker's hand.
I knew that silhouette.
Broad wings. Angular face. Smug aura.
Donaseek.
One of the Fallen.
The same bastard who nearly killed Issei during his second encounter—in the original story.
So this is their move, I thought, eyes narrowing.
I didn't move.
Not yet.
Because I wanted him to get closer.
—
The Fallen Angel landed like a guillotine.
A swirl of shadowed feathers scattered across the alley floor as Donaseek touched down with theatrical flair. His black wings spread wide, catching the flickering streetlight overhead, casting jagged silhouettes against the brick walls. The smirk carved into his face was pure arrogance, the kind of expression born from centuries of bloodshed.
He folded his arms, spear of corrupted light still crackling in his hand.
"Well, well. You're not what I expected," he said, voice like a vulture's croon. "Just a human… yet you've made quite a bit of noise."
I didn't respond right away. Just stood there, head tilted, eyes sharp.
My thoughts were still half on Asia, and now this bastard shows up?
Of course he did.
I exhaled slowly, the smirk gone from my lips.
"You picked the wrong time," I muttered, voice low and steady. "I'm not in the mood."
Donaseek's sneer deepened.
"Big words for a monkey with a toy," he spat.
"They sent Mittelt to deal with you… and instead, she came crawling back like some tamed mutt. What a disgrace. I always knew that little slut had no spine."
I froze.
For half a second, the alley was utterly silent.
No wind. No breath. No movement.
Just heat.
Low, sharp, simmering heat rising beneath my skin.
He said what?
My eyes narrowed, jaw ticking.
"You know…" I said, voice dropping to something darker, colder, heavier. "You're really starting to piss me off."
Donaseek's smile grew wider—mistaking my stillness for hesitation.
But he didn't see the crack of gold flickering behind my irises.
Didn't feel the change in the air.
Didn't realize just how bad he'd screwed up.