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"What do you think I should call it?"
He shrugged. As long it was not outrageous, he would not mind. Issei's face brightened.
"I've got it!"
The perverted gleam in the boy's eyes told him it would most likely be outrageous.
Two days of waiting and nothing had happened. Much of the spare time was wasted on lounging and patrolling. To alleviate the boredom and loosen their nerves both Sona and Rias had suggested a series of practice matches between their peerages. Not a Rating Game, but individual contests between selected pieces. He had declined to participate and was content with just watching. The entire affair had lasted for the better part of a day. He used that time to familiarize himself with the members of Sona's peerage he had not met and observe their Sacred Gears and methods of fighting.
On the afternoon of the third day, they gathered once more in the student council room.
"Perhaps I was wrong," Rias frowned.
Some of them nodded in response. A few hid yawns behind their palms.
"It always pays to be prepared," Sona said with a faint shrug.
"Still, I should not have wasted everybody's time," Rias sighed, "I do not think I will ever hear an end of this from Sirzechs. I will have to apologize to him for making him think we are in danger."
"At least your brother will understand," Xenovia muttered, "We will be reprimanded for delaying in bringing the Excaliburs back."
"The outcome we most wished for is one that would hurt our reputations the most," the devil mused. Turning, she smiled at him, "You may go home if you wish, Arisato-san. You need a good night's rest. Our peerages will stay at the academy for a bit longer just to make sure."
He had indicated his willingness to stay as well. His offer was politely refused.
"I do not think that is necessary," Rias replied, "As devils, our bodies are more resistant to fatigue than humans. We can manage a few more hours. You have been up as much as us and have no such resistance. Please go back home and rest."
Sona had agreed with the sentiment, as had the others. It was why he was currently trudging up the stairs to his apartment. They were right about that. The exhaustion part. Even though the two and a half days were not all spent on patrolling, it still tired him. His body craved the warmth of his own bed and his eyelids threatened to close by themselves.
She was there to greet him when he opened the door, and had he been in better condition he would have noticed the tentativeness that trailed her every motion.
"Nothing?" there was no jealousy in her tone which surprised him. He had expected it, after being away with the ones she loathed.
"Nothing," he confirmed.
Automatically, he moved to the sofa. His legs thanked him when he sat down. Half of his mind was already drifting off when she sat down next to him. The closeness of that act was not like her at all.
"There is something you should know," the softness of her tone was foreign to him, and he found it hard to believe that this was the same person he had left scarcely three days ago, "Metatron. When he gave out those Marks of Penance," she hesitated and cast a forlorn look at the ground, "I did not receive one."
In his weary state, he mistook that statement for a need to be reassured.
"All that means is that you will have to find your redemption elsewhere," he said, thinking it was what she wanted to hear.
"Yes," her voice had turned brittle and had he not closed his eyes he would have seen her face becoming fragile like glass, "I suppose you are right."
He awoke to a weight on his stomach.
His eyes flickered open to see Raynare straddling him, his shirt that she had taken to wearing at night clasped loosely against her frame. The thin fabric left little to the imagination and only served to accentuate her attractive form. He could see the pearl white skin of her calves pressed tightly against his hip, the way her bosom heaved alluringly every time she breathed, the gentle upturned curl of her lips.
It would have been an arousing sight had she not held the knife high up in the air, its tip gleaming above his head.
His gaze centered on the dagger-like blade.
"Why?"
The bitterness in her eyes stung him as much as her.
"Kokabiel," she whispered and brought the knife flashing down.
A figure landed on the roof of Kuoh Academy. Like a falling god it streaked down from the sky. Its impact cratered the ceiling, smote a hole knee-deep into the cement. Broken pieces of rooftop were flung high in wide arcs, smashing into pieces against the ground below. Slowly, it rose. Meticulously, it stood to its full height, every slight motion heavy with veiled threat. Half of its torso was bared. Pale, sickly skin stretched across a muscular chest, the color so white it was almost transparent. Blood-red eyes stared out from a fiendish face, burning with the light of insanity. Five pairs of feathery wings rose and extended from its back. They were black like a crow's.
The smile that stretched across its face was too wide, too long to resemble anything human. Fanglike, monstrous, it was the leer of a bloodthirsty vampire.
Around it a hundred Fallen Angels descended, their twisted forms landing on the roof like a flock of ravenous vultures. A hundred more remained floating in the air, the beat of their wings threatening to eclipse the crimson sky.
…
…
…
This place will burn.
Like the Flame of Apocalypse I will scour this sanctuary of all life.
From the fires of this wretched place a glorious new war will arise.
And you, all of you, shall be the martyrs before the pyre.
I am the Corrupted Son of God.
Leader of this Fallen Host. Lord among the Grigori.
I am Kokabiel.
I have come.
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