Kuoh Academy – Abandoned East Wing
There were places in Kuoh even the most curious students avoided. Not for lack of access, but because something about the old east wing whispered wrongness. A hallway of warped reflections. Windows that showed empty classrooms where no doors remained. A floor that groaned as if annoyed rather than worn.
It was here, precisely, that Rias Gremory now stood.
A swirling sigil of mirrored flame shimmered before her — not her own magic, but something older, layered with mocking elegance. The air bent, fracturing light like a diamond, and in the center of the chamber stood Amon — wearing a student uniform far too well for someone who had only arrived yesterday.
"You knew I'd come," Rias said.
Amon turned, monocle glinting, expression unreadable save for the tilt of amusement at the corners of his mouth. "Of course. You're the queen of this little chessboard. Every queen must confront the unexpected piece."
"This isn't a game," she said flatly. "You hijacked Raynare's ritual, manipulated Asia's sacred gear, and now you're toying with the ley lines under my territory."
"Oh, but it is a game," Amon said smoothly. "One with very poor scripting. So I've decided to... improvise."
Rias narrowed her eyes, summoning crimson magic to her palm. "If you're some rogue god or stray devil, I'll purge you. This is Gremory territory."
He chuckled — low, theatrical.
Then he stepped aside.
Behind him, a mirror, taller than a door, shimmered. But it didn't reflect the room — it reflected truth. In the glass, Rias saw herself, but with faint cracks spreading across her features. Eyes glowing too brightly. Wings torn and stitched by duty.
"What is this?" she whispered, involuntarily stepping closer.
"Just a lens," Amon said. "One that shows what you deny. The burdens you hide even from yourself."
The mirror flickered. Rias saw herself kneeling before her family's crest. Chains made of bloodline expectations wrapped around her arms.
She blasted it with demonic power. The mirror remained.
"It doesn't shatter unless you're honest," Amon murmured. "Even with yourself."
She whirled, flames coiling around her. "You think you can manipulate me with visions?! I've faced fallen angels, sacred gears, even my own betrothal—"
"Yes, and yet you haven't faced the fear that you might be exactly what they want you to be," Amon said softly. "A figurehead. A chess piece in satin gloves."
She hesitated.
Just for a breath.
Amon tilted his head. "That doubt? That's where power begins."
Before she could respond, a burst of golden feathers scattered the air — and a ripple of divine-tech energy swept through the chamber.
Grigori Satellite Intervention Node – Above Kuoh
Azazel crossed his arms as his projection hovered invisibly in the mirror sanctum. He had cracked a path through the dimensional veil using a hybrid of holy code and quantum spellwork, but even now, he couldn't fully read Amon.
"So you noticed me," Azazel said aloud, speaking through a distortion echo only Amon could hear.
"I notice all who look too hard," Amon replied, not turning.
Rias looked around, confused. "Who are you talking to?"
"Just an old crow with too many eyes," Amon said with a grin.
Azazel stepped closer through the mirror-plane — a spectral form of himself overlaid with sigils of judgment and curiosity.
"You're not from any known pantheon," Azazel said. "Your soul-signature folds in on itself. You use narrative as magic. That's not power... that's storycraft."
Amon smiled wider. "And yet, here you are — peeking."
Azazel smirked. "I wanted to confirm a theory. You're not here to conquer. You're here to play. But not for dominance… for entertainment."
"Almost correct." Amon stepped toward the mirror. "I'm here to see what truths people hide from themselves when rules no longer apply."
"Then consider this your first field test," Azazel intoned, and released a pulse of light encoded with divine logic.
Amon's body flickered — but instead of resisting, he split into six mirrored versions of himself. Each laughed with a different tone: sarcastic, gleeful, bitter, amused, somber, hollow.
Azazel's eye twitched. "That shouldn't be possible."
Amon reformed, monocle gleaming. "Possibility is such a fragile thing when viewed from the wrong angle."
Azazel's projection shimmered, eyes narrowing. "Very well, wildcard. I'll be watching. But remember: some games bite back."
The presence vanished.
Later – Kuoh High Gymnasium Rooftop
Issei Hyoudou sat alone, swinging his legs, recovering from what had felt like a long week compressed into a day.
He'd seen Asia again — she was safe. The new transfer student had unsettled him in ways he couldn't explain. It wasn't jealousy, nor fear — more like... the feeling when you realize your dreams aren't your own.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin.
But it wasn't a yen. It was wrong. Smooth like mercury, yet etched with moving symbols. The letters shifted between languages — Greek, Enochian, something not meant for eyes.
He didn't remember picking it up.
Suddenly, the Boosted Gear on his arm throbbed.
[Be cautious, partner.]
[That is not a thing meant for you.]
"Ddraig?" Issei blinked.
[The one who dropped this coin... isn't part of this world's hierarchy. Not even the outer ones.]
Issei flipped it. The coin never landed — it hovered mid-air, spinning.
From the sky, a soft voice whispered:
"Heads, and you see what you want. Tails... and you see what sees you."
The coin clinked onto the ground, finally still.
Issei stared at it.
It had landed on the edge.
Back at the Sanctum – Just Before Midnight
Rias remained inside the mirror chamber, though Amon had vanished. She stared at her reflection again.
This time, it smiled. Gently.
No chains. No bloodline crest. Just her — tired, resolute, free.
She inhaled, then turned and walked away.
The mirror cracked slightly behind her.
Not from damage — but from release.