The fabric of reality had no floor.
Amon fell—not like a man plummeting through the sky, but like a concept being unbound, rewritten, and reshaped. He did not scream. He laughed. Somewhere in the void between existence and imagination, he tumbled through Door and Error, Duality and Deceit, wielding chaos like an artist with a brush dipped in lies.
Klein Moretti had bested him.
Supernova tactics. That audacious, glorious final move had torn apart the LoTM throne room, scattering gods and ideas alike across dimensions. Amon had lost, or so it seemed—until he realized he hadn't died. He had been redirected.
"Ah," he said as the nothingness around him began to ripple with form. "A different stage. And so the play begins anew."
Impact. Rooftop. Kuoh Town.
Amon landed with a divine thud that cracked concrete but stirred no mortal attention. He rose, dusted off his black coat, and surveyed the city below—quiet, suburban, deceptively mundane. But he could feel it. The tremors of devils playing student council. The flutters of fallen angels hovering over church ruins. The distant screams of a dragon sealed in flesh.
"Oh my," he murmured, pulling out a pocket watch that wasn't ticking. "So much pretending. I feel right at home."
He tapped the watch once. The hands spun wildly.
Kuoh Academy. Target Acquired.
In the Occult Research Club...
"I felt it too," Akeno said, her voice soft but sharp like distant thunder. "It passed the outer barrier like it didn't exist. No resistance. No acknowledgment."
Rias Gremory frowned. "A being outside of the supernatural systems? Even Great Red registers. This… didn't."
"It walked right past me," said Koneko, arms crossed. "I felt nothing. But I saw him. Tall. Pale. Smiling like he knew things I didn't."
Kiba shook his head. "No signature. No wavelength. That shouldn't be possible."
Rias stood. "Then we investigate. Quietly. If this is a threat, I want to know before the Church or Heaven does."
Amon had already enrolled.
The front office's memory was now a tangle of rearranged stories. Paperwork that didn't exist yesterday bore perfect stamps, fake ministry logos, and background checks on governments that had never formed.
"I'm Professor Amondó," he introduced himself, stepping into Kuoh Academy's hallway with a tap of his cane. "World History, Theology, and Lies."
He took a long drag from a nonexistent pipe and smiled. "Let's begin."
Class 3-C, Lunchtime
Issei Hyoudou looked up as the new teacher stepped in. "Yo, who's the weirdo?"
"European, maybe?" Motohama guessed, adjusting his glasses. "But he doesn't look like he cares about dress code."
"Maybe he's a secret agent," Matsuda said. "Or like… Rias's fiancé number two."
"Shut it," Issei muttered.
The blackboard screeched.
Amon had written one word in calligraphic flourish:
"TRUTH"
"Class," he began, pacing like a poet. "Today, we learn not what happened, but what could have. Not what is, but what must never be spoken. We study suppressed myth, dead gods, and lies that became law."
He turned to Issei. "Tell me, boy. If a god dies in one world, does he stop existing in all others?"
"Uh… no?" Issei stammered.
"Correct. Now tell me—can you kill an idea?"
"I—I guess not?"
Amon beamed. "Excellent. Then you're ready for my class."
For the next thirty minutes, illusions danced across the ceiling. Myths twisted. Legends bled into each other. Lucifer was shown as a hero. Heaven, a bureaucratic mess. And in every story, somewhere in the background, a figure with a monocle watched from the crowd.
None recognized him.
But all would.
Meanwhile, with the Student Council
Sona Shitori stared at the data crystal floating before her.
"Impossible," she muttered.
Tsubaki raised an eyebrow. "Another fluctuation?"
Sona nodded. "He's on campus. Our detection matrix says he's an empty node. No spiritual pattern. No history. He's like a character added to a book after it was printed."
Tsubaki shivered. "What now?"
"We watch. And pray he's just eccentric."
Evening. Amon's Office
His conjured office defied geometry. The shelves curved into impossible angles. The books rearranged themselves when unobserved. At the desk, Amon sipped tea brewed from the dreams of bored students.
He was content.
Until the knock came.
He did not turn.
"Enter."
Rias Gremory walked in, every step laced with infernal grace.
"You're not a teacher," she said.
"Neither are you just a student," Amon replied without looking. "We all pretend."
She raised a glowing sigil. "I don't care what game you're playing, but Kuoh is mine."
Amon looked up. "Ah. Authority. You wear it well."
He tapped his monocle. The world bent.
Rias blinked. She now stood in a glass room filled with infinite mirrors. Each mirror reflected a different her: a queen, a prisoner, a child, a corpse.
"You're unstable," Amon whispered.
"You're wrong," she snarled.
And the illusion broke.
Amon chuckled. "You'll be fun."
That night, Amon wandered the streets.
He met a stray dog and gave it the ability to speak Sanskrit. He turned a gang fight into a spontaneous ballet. He placed a riddle into the local vending machine code that only answered in ancient Sefirah terms.
"Soon," he whispered, walking under a flickering streetlamp. "They will all see me."
In the abandoned church ruins, he left behind a mural—painted in ash and light—of an eye staring from between veils.
It burned away before sunrise.
Elsewhere...
In the Dimensional Gap, Great Red stirred.
And in a floating library across dimensions, Ophis frowned.
"Something laughs too loud," she whispered.
Back at school, Issei woke from a dream.
He stood on a grand stage. Every audience member wore a different mask. A man in a monocle whispered in his ear:
"Your harem is a delusion. But oh, what a delightful one."
He woke up sweating.
Freed Sellzen, mad priest, heard whispers too.
From the shadows came promises. New scriptures. A gospel of contradiction.
Amon's laughter infected him like a plague.
Back on the school roof
Amon tossed a coin in the air.
It shimmered. Landed.
Somewhere far below, a student picked it up. Made a wish.
The wind shifted.
"Time to pull more threads," Amon said. "I wonder what happens if I visit the Church next. Or perhaps... the fallen."
He gazed at the moon, then smirked.
"Let's see who breaks first."