The pencil spun lazily between my fingers like a miniature baton, its yellow surface catching the afternoon sunlight that streamed through the classroom windows. Outside, cherry blossom petals drifted past like pink snow, but my mind was elsewhere—caught in the web of possibilities and threats that had been weaving themselves tighter around us with each passing day.
It's been seven days since I'd sent Elmenhilde scurrying back to her queen with my message burned into her memory like a brand. Seven days of waiting for the other shoe to drop, for retaliation that should have come swift and merciless. Instead, there had been nothing but silence—and in the supernatural world, silence was often more terrifying than screaming.
The pencil completed another revolution around my thumb as I stared out at the courtyard below. Students moved in their predictable patterns, laughing and gossiping about teenage concerns that seemed impossibly distant from the reality I now inhabited.
*Were the Carmilla faction really so intimidated by my display that they'd abandoned their prize?* The thought should have been reassuring, but experience had taught me that when enemies went quiet, they weren't retreating—they were planning.
A chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the classroom's air conditioning. *Something's coming. I can feel it in my bones, like the pressure drop before a storm.*
"Akira-kun!"
The sharp voice cut through my brooding like a blade through silk. I turned to find Sensei glaring at me over her wire-rimmed glasses, her expression carrying that particular brand of irritation reserved for students caught daydreaming. The entire class had turned to stare, thirty pairs of eyes fixed on me with varying degrees of amusement and sympathy.
"Since you seem so fascinated by whatever's happening outside," she continued, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with one finger, "perhaps you'd like to solve this equation for us?"
She gestured to the blackboard where a complex mathematical formula sprawled across the surface like algebraic graffiti. Quadratic equations—child's play, really, especially after spending the last few weeks drilling Asia and Valerie through their upcoming exams.
I rose from my seat with practiced nonchalance, ignoring the whispered commentary from my classmates. The chalk felt familiar in my hand as I approached the board, muscle memory taking over as I worked through the problem with mechanical precision. Numbers and variables danced across the black surface, each step flowing naturally into the next until the solution stared back at me in stark white certainty.
"Correct," Sensei admitted grudgingly, though her tone suggested she'd hoped for a different outcome. "But perhaps next time you could pay attention to the lesson instead of whatever drama is unfolding in the courtyard."
*If only you knew,* I thought, returning to my seat as suppressed laughter rippled through the classroom. *The drama isn't in the courtyard—it's sitting right here, trying to figure out how to keep the people I care about alive.*
The lesson continued around me, but my thoughts had already returned to their familiar groove. Asia and Valerie had adapted to academy life with surprising grace, each finding their own rhythm in this strange new world. Asia, with her natural diligence and gentle nature, had quickly become a favorite among both students and teachers. Her kindness was infectious, turning potential enemies into friends with nothing more than her genuine smile and willingness to help.
Valerie, on the other hand, had approached her studies with the same fierce determination she brought to everything else—which made her ongoing war with mathematics all the more entertaining. Just yesterday, I'd found her glaring at her textbook like it had personally insulted her bloodline.
*"Whoever invented calculus clearly had too much time on their hands and not enough sense to use it productively,"* she'd declared, throwing her pencil down in frustration. The memory still made me smile, even as worry gnawed at the edges of my consciousness.
Asia's progress in combat training was... less encouraging. Her healing abilities had grown stronger under careful guidance, but when it came to actual fighting, she remained as gentle as a summer breeze. Every sparring session ended the same way—with her apologizing to training dummies for hitting them too hard, despite barely making them sway. Her heart was too pure, too kind to embrace the violence that might one day save her life.
*How do you teach someone to fight when their very nature rebels against causing harm?* It was a question that had been haunting me for weeks, with no easy answers in sight. Maybe time would change her, or maybe I'd have to find another way to keep her safe. Either way, forcing her to become something she wasn't felt like a betrayal of everything that made her who she was.
Valerie's development with Chastiefol, however, was nothing short of remarkable. The Spirit Spear responded to her will with increasing fluidity, its forms shifting from defensive barriers to offensive strikes with an elegance that spoke of true mastery in the making. She'd grown stronger, more confident, and watching her progress filled me with a pride that went deeper than mere satisfaction.
My phone buzzed against my leg, pulling me from my thoughts. A quick glance revealed a message from Rias: *"Club room after school. Important matter to discuss."*
*And there it is,* I thought, pocketing the device as unease settled in my stomach like a cold stone. *The other shoe finally drops.*
---
The Occult Research Club room felt different when I stepped inside—charged with an tension that made the air itself seem to vibrate. Rias sat behind her desk with the kind of carefully controlled expression that meant trouble, while her peerage had arranged themselves around the room in positions that suggested they were expecting conflict.
But it was the two figures standing beside Rias that made my brow raise with recognition.
*Irina Shidou and Xenovia Quarta.* Even without introductions, I knew exactly who they were—the Church's exorcist duo, wielders of Excalibur fragments, ones who would ensure chaos to descend on Kuoh Academy. The fact that they were here, now, meant the Holy Sword arc was beginning in earnest.
Irina stood with her long, chestnut-brown hair cascading down her back like a silken waterfall, violet eyes bright with the kind of zealous determination that made her both endearing and quirky. The white and blue exorcist uniform of the Church fit her like a second skin—practical yet ceremonial, with silver crosses adorning the collar and cuffs that caught the afternoon light.
Xenovia was her opposite in almost every way, blue-green hair cut in that familiar practical style that framed eyes. Her identical exorcist uniform somehow looked more threatening on her frame, worn like armor by someone who'd learned that faith and sword were often the only things standing between order and chaos.
"Akira," Rias said, her voice carefully neutral as I closed the door behind me. "I'd like you to meet our... guests."
The brown-haired girl stepped forward with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm Irina Shidou," she said, her voice carrying the kind of cheer that felt practiced. "And this is my partner, Xenovia Quarta."
The blue-haired girl—Xenovia—merely nodded, her gaze cataloguing me with the efficiency of a predator sizing up potential prey. When she spoke, her voice was flat, businesslike. "We're exorcists, sent by the Church to retrieve stolen property."
*Perfect timing,* I thought grimly, settling into one of the vacant chairs while affecting casual interest. *The Holy Sword arc begins, and with it, all the complications that come with Kokabiel's involvement.* If these two were here, it meant events were already in motion that would soon spiral far beyond simple sword retrieval.
"What kind of property?" I asked, though something told me I wasn't going to like the answer.
Xenovia reached behind her back and withdrew what appeared to be a sword wrapped in white cloth. Even concealed, I could feel the power radiating from it. "Three fragments of Excalibur were stolen from Church vaults," she said, her voice carrying the weight of absolute conviction. "We're here to retrieve them."
Irina produced her own wrapped weapon, this one smaller but no less potent. "Excalibur Mimic," she said with obvious pride, then gestured to her partner's blade. "And that's Excalibur Destruction."
*Holy sword fragments and Kokabiel.* The pieces were falling into place exactly as I remembered, though experiencing it firsthand felt far more ominous than reading about it ever had. In the hands of trained exorcists, those Excalibur fragments would be devastating against supernatural beings. But against a Fallen Angel leader like Kokabiel...
"Do you know who's behind the theft?" Rias asked, leaning forward with interest that seemed genuine despite the underlying tension in the room.
Xenovia's expression darkened like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. "Kokabiel," she said, and the name fell from her lips like a curse. "One of the leaders of the Fallen Angels."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Even I, with my limited knowledge of the supernatural hierarchy, knew that name. Kokabiel—the fallen angel, one of the rebels who challenged Satans just for the sake of fight. A Battle Lunatic just like Vali, but stupid one.
"You're planning to face Kokabiel," I said slowly, studying their faces for any sign of doubt or fear. "With just the two of you and those sword fragments."
It wasn't a question, but Xenovia answered anyway. "We are," she said, her chin lifting with the kind of pride that usually preceded spectacular failures.
I couldn't help myself—I laughed. Not a cruel laugh, but the kind of incredulous sound that escaped when faced with something so absurd it defied rational response. "Are you confident enough to take on a Fallen Angel leader with those swords?"
Xenovia's eyes flashed with offense, her grip tightening on her weapon's hilt. "Are you suggesting we're incompetent to handle Kokabiel?"
"Um, yeah," I said, letting the words hang in the air like a challenge. "From what I've heard, Kokabiel is a being with centuries of combat experience and power that could level city blocks. If you think you can defeat someone like that just because you're carrying fragments of a legendary sword, then it's very stupid thinking. And whoever came up with the idea of sending both of you on this mission was the stupidest of all."
The silence that followed was deafening. Xenovia's face had gone pale with rage, while Irina looked like she'd been slapped. Even Rias's peerage seemed shocked by my bluntness, though I caught what might have been approval in Akeno's eyes.
*Good,* I thought, watching Xenovia's hand tremble with barely restrained fury. *Let her anger override her judgment. Angry opponents make mistakes.*
"Akira," Rias said quickly, clearly sensing the explosive potential building in the room. "Perhaps we should—"
"We didn't come here to discuss our methods with devils," Xenovia cut her off, her voice tight with controlled aggression as she turned her attention to Rias. "This is a matter between the Church and the Fallen Angels. Any interference will be met with appropriate consequences."
Rias's own temper flared at the barely veiled threat, her crimson hair seeming to catch fire in the afternoon light. "I have no reason to involve myself in your affairs," she replied coolly. "There will be no interference from us."
Xenovia nodded curtly and motioned for Irina to follow her toward the door. But as they passed my chair, she stopped and turned to face me, her eyes burning with challenge.
"Apologize," she said simply. "For what you said before."
*Perfect.* Inside my head, I was grinning like a wolf who'd just cornered a particularly fat sheep. She'd taken the bait completely, her pride overriding whatever common sense she might have possessed. A spar with a trained exorcist would be exactly the kind of challenge the system rewarded—and I could practically taste the gacha ticket already.
"I did nothing to apologize for," I said, rising from my chair with deliberate slowness. "If both of you think what I said isn't true, then defeat me in a spar. Maybe then I might believe you're really capable of handling someone like Kokabiel."
The words hit her like a physical blow. Xenovia's wrapped sword came up in a flash, its tip pointing directly at my chest as holy energy began to leak through the cloth binding. "I accept your challenge," she said, her voice carrying the finality of a death sentence.
"As do I," Irina added, though she seemed less certain than her partner.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Rias's expression shift from concern to understanding, her eyes widening as she realized exactly what I'd been doing. The setup, the provocation, the carefully calculated insults—it had all been designed to lead to this moment.
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