The temperature dropped.
The air stilled—not like a calm before a storm, but the kind of suffocating pressure you feel just before lightning splits the sky.
I slowly raised my right arm, fingers flexing slightly, like drawing in the weight of the world itself.
Donaseek's grin faltered.
He sensed it too—the hum, the vibration rippling through the sealed space. The very atmosphere trembled.
Then, with a sound like glass fracturing across dimensions, my Sacred Gear activated fully.
No more holding back.
A rift tore open behind me—not just a crack in space, but a void teeming with potential.
And from it… came steel.
A single sword emerged first—long, elegant, humming with divine energy.
Then a spear tipped in crimson flame.
Then axes. Hammers. Greatswords. Twin daggers glowing with ethereal frost.
Dozens turned to hundreds.
Hundreds to thousands.
The alley lit up like a storm of celestial armament, each weapon suspended in the air, glinting with light from worlds both holy and hellish.
The very ground beneath me cracked as the sheer pressure of energy intensified.
Weapons floated behind me, above me, encircling me like a halo of death.
Every blade hummed with lethal intent.
Some bore inscriptions in angelic script.
Others were wrapped in demonic chains that pulsed like living things.
Donaseek stared, wide-eyed.
His wings twitched—like his body finally realized what his mouth had gotten him into.
I grinned slowly, raising one hand toward the wall of steel and fire behind me.
"Been wanting to try this…"
———————
He finally understood.
I watched it play out on his face—the slow death of arrogance.
First came confusion. Then disbelief. Then… fear.
"W-What is this…?!" Donaseek staggered back, wings flaring wide in instinctive panic. "This isn't possible! You're just a—!"
I flicked my wrist.
The world screamed.
The wall of floating weapons surged forward—no warning, no mercy.
A spear tore through the air like a bolt of thunder.
A warhammer followed, crashing down like divine judgment.
Swords swirled like a hurricane of polished steel, each one aimed with surgical precision, guided by sheer will.
BOOM.
SLASH.
CRACK.
CRASH.
Donaseek vanished beneath the storm.
I didn't even flinch.
His scream rang out, high and shrill, echoing off the alley walls. I heard metal tear flesh. Felt the impact through the soles of my shoes as the ground shook.
The air turned thick with magic and blood.
He tried to fly. Failed.
He tried to crawl. Failed.
He tried to beg—
I didn't care.
I turned.
Didn't even look at him.
Let the blades silence him.
Let the shadows finish what arrogance started.
My voice was quiet, but it echoed in the stillness like a verdict passed from a judge already walking away.
"Told you. Wrong time."
And just like that, I walked off—my shadow long behind me, stretching past the remains of a creature who had once believed himself a predator.
————————
The barrier shattered with a soft shhhk, like glass folding into mist. The quiet of the world returned, too soft, too normal after what had just happened.
I didn't stop walking.
Behind me, the weapons began to vanish—one by one—dissolving into sparks of energy, each mote of light drifting into the air before fading entirely. No sound. No flash. Just… gone.
The alley was empty now.
Empty except for the blood-soaked crater that marred the cobblestones like an open wound. A few feathers—black, charred—floated gently to the ground, twitching in the breeze.
I didn't look back.
Didn't need to.
My hands slid into my pockets. My pace didn't change.
I didn't feel pride.
Didn't feel power.
If anything…
There was a hollow chill in my chest.
Not guilt.
Just inevitability.
He would've done worse to someone else. He had done worse.
This wasn't justice.
It was necessary.
The evening air cooled against my face. Distant city lights flickered on as twilight fully claimed the sky.
Somewhere behind me, the last drop of blood hit the dirt with a pat.
I kept walking.
————————
I turned the final corner toward home, the familiar skyline of Kuoh silhouetted against the starlit sky. The lights of the town glowed gently, like nothing had happened. Like there wasn't a bloodstain drying behind me in a dark alley.
But I knew better.
The world never stopped moving just because someone died.
My boots crunched against the pavement. My mind was already turning toward tomorrow—toward more training plans, more flirtations, more chaos.
But above me, unnoticed and perfectly still, another presence stirred.
Perched atop a nearby rooftop, a figure stood with arms crossed and golden eyes narrowed beneath a fluttering coat. A fallen feather drifted past his face, catching a faint glimmer of starlight.
Azazel.
Watching.
Studying.
He didn't speak loud enough for anyone to hear. But the words left his lips all the same—a whisper meant only for the wind.
"So… the anomaly."
He didn't smile.
He didn't frown.
Just observed.
One hand disappeared into his coat pocket, fingers brushing something metallic.
The game board had changed.
And all the pieces were starting to move.