[Raynare]
The stale air of the underground chapel clung to Raynare like a shroud. She stood in the center of the ruined operations room beneath the abandoned church on the outskirts of Kuoh, wings furled tight around her shoulders. Debris from her brief rage was scattered across the floor—splintered pews, broken marble, blackened scorch marks where light magic landed.
It was supposed to be simple.
A Church sympathizer. A weak human boy. The plan had been nothing more than a symbolic execution—just enough to stir the Church into pressuring the local Devils, keep them twitchy. Instead?
Dohnaseek was dead.
Killed not by the assassin or a devil, but by him—Sam Barnes. A human. One who shouldn't have stood a chance. And it hadn't even been Tiche who dealt the final blow. No, she had been too busy locking down Kalawarner and Mittelt. Sam had done it. Sam had killed a Fallen Angel with his own two hands—wreathed in jagged, unnatural lightning.
Raynare's teeth clenched. She could still see it. Dohnaseek's body torn open, burning from within.
How?
The boy was supposed to be a pawn. Maybe a Church agent at most. But now? Something was wrong. Something dangerous.
She stooped, picking up a crumpled slip of parchment from the floor. One of the old scouting sheets with a different name scratched across the top: Issei Hyoudou. She stared at it with narrowed eyes. That boy had once been the easy target. Disposable. Predictable.\
But now? She tossed the paper aside with a dismissive flick. He wasn't the interesting one anymore.
Her thoughts drifted back to Sam. His power. His will. His unfamiliar presence. And the way he fought—like he wasn't just surviving, but adapting. As if killing one of her own was just a checkpoint on a path he was already walking.
Raynare felt something coil in her chest. A strange warmth. Curiosity. A flicker of something she didn't like to name.
She shook her head.
No. She was better than this. Stronger than this. She wasn't about to lose control over some wild card of a human.
But still… he could be useful. Maybe even turned. With the right push. A careful word. A lingering touch. She knew how to twist souls. How to tempt.
The Devils would be watching now, that much was certain. Their leash around Kuoh would tighten. She couldn't risk another exposed operation—not yet. She'd have to reach out to the Exile sooner than planned. And regroup.
But first…
Her lips curled into a wicked smile.
Let's see what makes Sam Barnes fall.
[Affection Error! Both negative and positive values exist! Cannot Quantify]
[Kalawarner & Mittelt]
The silence beyond the chapel's war room hung heavy, broken only by the occasional flicker of failing light crystals and the soft groan of stone settling above. In a vaulted chamber once used for baptisms, Kalawarner leaned against a broken column, arms folded tight beneath her chest, wings twitching with barely-contained irritation.
"I still can't believe Dohnaseek's dead," she muttered, staring at the cracked floor. "He had the easiest job out of all of us. Kill a high school kid. That was it."
Across the room, Mittelt sat on a cracked stone altar, knees drawn up under her chin. She didn't look angry—just… distracted. Distant.
"He wasn't just some kid," she said quietly. "There was something off about him. Like…" She shook her head. "Like he wasn't afraid. Even when he was bleeding."
Kalawarner scoffed. "Most humans panic when a devil even looks at them wrong. This one claws a full-blooded Fallen Angel to death with glowing lightning hands and then walks it off? Please."
But her voice lacked conviction, and both of them knew it.
Mittelt's fingers toyed with the hem of her torn sleeve. "I watched him. While you were dealing with the assassin. His movements weren't trained, but they were deliberate. Like… instinct. Like something inside him knew how to kill."
Kalawarner looked over sharply. "And that doesn't concern you?"
"It does," Mittelt said. "But that's not what's bothering me."
Kalawarner raised a brow.
Mittelt didn't meet her eyes. "It's the way he looked at us. Even when we weren't fighting him. Like he already knew who we were. Like he saw something he liked then he fell."
The silence stretched.
Kalawarner didn't speak for a while. Then: "He was kind of… mesmerizing. Not attractive—don't look at me like that—but compelling."
Mittelt glanced at her. "You felt it too, huh?"
A long pause. Kalawarner shifted uncomfortably, wings rustling.
"It's probably just the adrenaline. Weird night. One of ours is dead, and we're down a quarter of our strength. We're reacting to that."
"Maybe," Mittelt said, but she didn't sound convinced.
A faint flush colored her cheeks as her eyes drifted back to the entrance of the chamber. "Still. There's something about him. That assassin girl—Tiche? She was powerful, but I wasn't scared of her."
"And him?"
Mittelt swallowed. "He scared me… and I didn't hate it."
Kalawarner made a noise of disgust but didn't argue.
Both girls sat in a tense, reflective silence, the image of Sam Barnes seared into their thoughts—lightning-wreathed claws, a half-smile touched with madness, and eyes too steady for a normal human.
Something had changed the game.
And neither of them could quite decide if they wanted to run from it—or get closer.
[Kalawarner Affection +4, Detected change from unfriendly to friendly, Total:2]
[Mittelt Affection +7,Detected change from unfriendly to friendly, Total: 5]
[Akeno]
The silence in Akeno's room wasn't empty. It was waiting.
The fan ticked rhythmically as it oscillated, pushing warm air across her bare shoulders. Her long hair, unbound now, clung faintly to her neck. In the quiet, she replayed the moment from earlier today — again.
Sam Barnes, half-conscious and bleeding, was slumped against the rusted flank of a forgotten railway car. The air around him crackled with residual lightning, his skin dusted with soot and blood. Even in that state, something about him felt... untamed.
He'd been found in the abandoned train yard — the same place Rias had noted he often disappeared to. He thought it was hidden. It wasn't. Not from them. And certainly not from the ambush that had left him barely standing. He'd been training — sharpening himself in the dark like a knife — when the fallen angels came for him.
And somehow... he survived.
She had arrived with Rias just moments after. Akeno remembered the crunch of gravel beneath her shoes as they approached. She had opened her mouth to speak — a jab, maybe. A question, or a dry remark.
"He really went and—"
But her words vanished, smothered by the presence of Tiche, the strange assassin girl who'd appeared beside him like a shadow with a heartbeat. One moment there was blood, the next there was her — silent, poised, protective. Daring them to try anything.
Akeno's voice had died in her throat.
She had wanted to scoff. She hadn't expected the flicker of something else — something sharper. Not concern. Not exactly. It was more primal than that. A curling little edge of emotion she couldn't name.
She shifted on her bed now, frowning slightly at the memory.
Irritation? Envy? No, not quite. Maybe something worse. The sense of having been pushed aside from something before she'd even had the chance to step forward.
Lightning crackled faintly at her fingertips — an unconscious reaction. Usually it brought her a thrill, a grounding. Tonight, though, it felt like a hollow echo.
Because Sam's lightning had been louder. Wilder. When she saw him slumped there, pulses of it had still danced over his skin, even as his body gave out. It hadn't been graceful. But it had been real.
That kind of storm didn't come from nothing.
She stood and walked to the window. The glass reflected her silhouette against the night, and behind it, the moon watched like a passive god.
"It's not like I care," she whispered, barely audible over the hum of electricity. "He's just another curious case." That's what she told herself, anyway.
But she lingered.
Because something had changed. Since the interrogation. Since the fight. Since she saw Tiche move without hesitation to protect him.
The memory tightened in her chest — not with fear, but with something raw and unfamiliar.
"Maybe I just don't like being interrupted," she said with a faint, bitter smile.
And maybe she didn't like that she didn't understand why it bothered her at all.
The room remained still. But the air felt charged.
Just like he had.
[Affection increase +2. Total:22, Crush(?)]
[Koneko]
Koneko sat on the edge of a rusted shipping container, arms loosely wrapped around her knees. The metal was warm from the day's sun, now cooling in the dusk air. Below, the train yard was quiet — haunted by echoes. Gravel shifted softly with the breeze, and twisted bits of rebar jutted from broken concrete like old bones.
She had been here before. This was where he came. Sam Barnes.
She stared at the dark stain near the base of a derailed freight car.
That's where they found him.
He was alive. But barely. Blood loss, scorched nerves, fractured ribs. She remembered the way Rias's expression had faltered, just for a moment, when they arrived. She remembered how Akeno went quiet, too. Everyone had been... tense.
Koneko hadn't said anything at the time. She didn't need to.
She let her chin rest on her knees, silver eyes scanning the yard without focus.
He's weird.
That was her first impression. Too calm. Too quiet. Too thoughtful. People didn't walk like that unless they were pretending — or unless they'd seen something and didn't need to pretend anymore.
Then there was the other thing.
The first time she'd passed him in the hall, she felt it. Holy energy. But wrong. It didn't make her sick, exactly — not like some of the stronger exorcists she'd sensed over the years — but it didn't sit right in her bones.
Holy things didn't mix with devils, especially with her.
And yet… Sam wasn't either. Or maybe he was both. Or something else entirely. He smelled like a contradiction. Like… cinnamon and silence. Something new. Something not-quite-safe.
Koneko didn't like not knowing things.
She shifted slightly, leaning forward, her gaze drifting back to the ground below.
There — the blood.
It had dried, mostly. Cracked a little where it had pooled in the dust and gravel. She could still see the shape of his fall. He must've dragged himself to the car and collapsed against it. The scent of scorched metal and ozone lingered faintly in the air.
She narrowed her eyes and dropped down from the container, landing with a soft thud. Her feet made almost no sound on the gravel.
One step. Two.
She crouched beside the blood. Hesitated.
It should've smelled like rust. Death. Pain.
Instead…
She blinked.
No.
That doesn't make sense. Blood didn't smell like safety.
It was… warm. Not in temperature — in feeling. Faint, but strange. Sweet, but not cloying. Familiar, but impossible to place. Like something that wrapped around her mind and whispered comfort.
That doesn't make sense.
She leaned a little closer, nostrils flaring slightly. Not enough for someone watching to notice. But just enough to confirm she wasn't imagining it.
Her heartbeat ticked up — just a little.
Koneko straightened slowly and looked around the train yard, her face unreadable. A breeze drifted by, catching in her hair. She stayed still, eyes thoughtful, expression flat.
She didn't understand what she was feeling.
And she didn't like that.
"…He's weird," she said quietly, again. Not with annoyance this time. Not even dismissal. Just truth.
Her tail twitched once behind her skirt even as she tried to suppress it. And then she turned to leave.
But the scent lingered in her mind — curling around something she couldn't name.
[Affection increase +5, Total: 11, friend, complications detected]