{Omni POV}
Just as the last embers of energy from the shattered barrier faded into the night, the sound of wings stirred the air.
A dark figure descended from the sky like a shadow stitched to the moonlight—his arrival was both casual and unmistakably imposing.
He landed effortlessly atop a lamppost, coat fluttering behind him. A smirk tugged at his lips as he surveyed the scene below.
"Even the next heads of Gremory and Sitri are interested in him, huh?" Azazel's voice was lazy, almost amused. "Looks like I wasn't the first to take notice of our little anomaly."
Every head turned—startled.
The atmosphere shifted immediately.
"A-Azazel?" Rias whispered, her eyes narrowing.
"The Governor-General of the Fallen Angels…?" Sona's voice was laced with wary respect.
Rias and Sona stepped forward instinctively, their Peerages tense behind them.
Meanwhile, Issei leaned closer to Kiba, whispering urgently.
"Who the hell is this guy?!"
Kiba didn't take his eyes off the floating man as he answered, calm and low.
"That's Azazel. The leader of the Grigori—the strongest Fallen Angel alive. And… not someone to take lightly."
"Wait, THAT'S the leader?!" Issei's voice cracked.
Azazel chuckled as he descended smoothly to the ground, folding his wings behind him.
"Relax. I'm not here to start a war," he said, waving one hand dismissively. "Just happened to be in the area. Thought I'd enjoy a peaceful stroll... until I sensed something far from peaceful."
Rias crossed her arms, her tone sharp. "You saw what happened here?"
Azazel smiled, tilting his head like a man toying with his audience. "I might've caught a glimpse. But it's far more fun if you figure it out yourselves, don't you think?"
Sona's gaze sharpened. "Then at least tell us this—how strong is he? Is he a threat?"
That got a pause.
Azazel looked at the scorched alleyway, the impaled remains of Donaseek, the cratered ground that still hummed faintly with residual power.
He closed his eyes thoughtfully.
"Low-High Class, maybe higher," he said. "And no—he wasn't using his full power."
Shock rippled through the group again.
Kiba's grip on his sword tightened. Rias' lips parted slightly, a quiet gasp escaping before she composed herself. Even Sona's brows furrowed.
"That much destruction… and he was holding back?" Reya murmured.
Momo shook her head, disbelief in her voice. "Honestly, I never expected this."
Akeno's expression was unreadable—serious, focused, for once not wearing a smile.
"Looks like we underestimated him," she murmured.
Azazel began to ascend again, slowly lifting off the ground with ease. His voice drifted down.
"I'll be keeping an eye on him too," he said casually. "And my advice? Be careful not to get on his bad side."
With that, the Governor-General of the Fallen Angels vanished into the night.
Leaving behind stunned silence… and the growing sense that the world had just shifted.
——
{Malrik POV}
The streets were quiet now. The echo of my footsteps tapped softly against the pavement, and the cool evening breeze slipped past my collar.
I felt… better.
No, refreshed was the word. There was something deeply satisfying about watching a pompous Fallen Angel get obliterated under a rain of divine-grade weaponry. Donaseek hadn't even managed a decent scream before the last blade dropped. Not that I felt good about it—just justified.
He insulted Mittelt.
He earned what he got.
A faint smirk tugged at my lips again as I let my usual playful attitude return. The weight that had settled in my chest earlier had lifted, scattered with every explosion, every shattered bone.
"I should crush people more often," I mused under my breath. "It's Therapeutic."
By the time I reached home, the tension in my shoulders had all but vanished.
The house was lit from the inside—lights flickering faintly through the window curtains. I opened the door and stepped in, immediately catching the subtle hum of a spell being cast in the living room.
Sure enough, Aika and Mittelt were there. Aika stood barefoot on a magic circle drawn in chalk, her usual cheeky grin replaced with rare concentration. Mittelt, wings half-opened, had one hand raised mid-cast, murmuring something.
I lifted a hand lazily.
"Yo."
Aika blinked, breaking her focus. "Oh hey, Malrik. Took you long enough."
Mittelt looked over her shoulder and gave me a look, though her eyes lingered on me for a moment longer than usual.
"You're back late," she said.
"Peachy," I said, already climbing the stairs. "Don't wait up. I'm crashing."
"Night," Aika called after me.
I waved without turning around and slipped into my room.
{Omniscient POV}
The sound of Malrik's door clicking shut echoed faintly through the house.
Aika's playful smirk faltered. She turned to Mittelt, who was still staring at the stairs.
"Did he seem… off to you?" Aika asked, voice lower now, more serious.
Mittelt slowly lowered her hand, her expression troubled.
"He was smiling. But… not the way he usually does."
Aika folded her arms. "Yeah. He's usually all smug and cocky. But that smile earlier? That was forced."
"Something happened," Mittelt murmured. "Something bad."
The room fell into silence, broken only by the gentle hum of fading magic.
Neither of them said it aloud—but they both felt it:
Malrik had come home different.
And neither of them liked it.