04/12/2012, Kuoh's Church, Afternoon
The afternoon sun filtered through the dense canopy of the forest surrounding Kuoh, dappling the overgrown path with shifting patterns of light and shadow.
Makoto Yuki walked with a measured, quiet pace, his footsteps a soft crunch on the bed of decaying leaves and twigs. The air was cool and carried the rich, damp scent of earth and vegetation. This was the path that led to the hilltop, the place Elizabeth had specified for his meeting with Azazel.
The further he got from the town, the more the familiar sounds of civilization faded, replaced by the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush and the distant calls of birds.
He emerged from the tree line onto the cleared summit, and the scene that greeted him was one of stark desolation. Where the abandoned church had once stood, a skeletal monument of faith and neglect, there now lay only a field of ruin.
The destruction was absolute. Shattered stone and pulverized concrete were scattered across the blackened earth like the bones of a fallen giant. Twisted fragments of stained glass, their colors muted by grime and ash, lay amidst the rubble like forgotten jewels. The air still carried a faint, acrid tang of ozone and something deeper, a metaphysical scar left by the explosive confrontation with the Shadow.
A small crew of municipal workers, looking minuscule against the scale of the devastation, moved slowly through the debris. The growl of a small excavator and the rhythmic clang of shovels hitting rubble were the only sounds that broke the hilltop's solemn silence.
To any observer, this was merely a construction site, a project of urban renewal. The official story, as Elizabeth had mentioned, was a simple demolition to make way for a new public park—a green initiative proposed by the mayor himself. The truth, buried under tons of wreckage, was known only to a select few.
"Makoto!"
The voice was high-pitched, brimming with an effervescent energy that was utterly alien to the grim atmosphere of the place. Before Makoto could fully turn to identify the source, he was enveloped in a crushing, enthusiastic hug. The force of it was surprising, and the scent of cotton candy and ozone filled his senses.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" the voice chirped directly into his ear. Over the shoulder of his assailant, Makoto saw Azazel leaning casually against the shell of a broken wall, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched the spectacle, clearly resisting the urge to laugh aloud.
The figure clinging to him was a petite young woman with long, dark hair, dressed in an elaborate, frilly costume that seemed better suited for a stage performance than a visit to a demolition site—a vibrant, sapphire-blue magical girl outfit complete with a miniature top hat and a ribboned wand tucked into a belt.
'How has the Councillor dared to call this ludicrous creature Leviathan?' The voice that echoed in Makoto's mind was dripping with a venomous, ancient disgust. It was the true Leviathan his tone icy with contempt. 'My respective in this world is truly this… this chattering brat?'
The Juggernaut of Sea sounded, for the first time in eons, not envious, but utterly and completely disappointed, a feeling so foreign it was almost fascinating.
'First came the devils' Lucifer, then the associate of Fafnir, and now this… Leviathan? Oh, shining Sun, I am starting to fear that even the great Me could be grimed by a lesser incarnation in this world,' Apollo lamented, a genuine thread of anxiety weaving through his usually boastful tone.
'What do you mean, my companions?' Robin Hood's cheerful voice cut through the negativity. 'I find the ones you just mentioned to be worthy of their names in spirit! Even this goofy girl—a laugh is always welcome, let us not forget this noble truth!'
While the internal chorus of Personas debated, Makoto was engaged in a physical struggle. "Would you let me go?" he asked, his voice muffled by the frilly fabric of Serafall's costume. He felt distinctly uncomfortable, his personal space violated by the overwhelming and unfamiliar display of affection.
Serafall Leviathan whined, a sound like a disappointed child, but her grip loosened marginally. "But... I like hugging Mako-dear!" she protested, pouting.
Eventually, with visible reluctance, she released him, hopping back a step with a spring in her step that made the ribbons on her outfit bounce.
"Elizabeth told me I would be the only one you were meeting," Makoto stated, smoothing down his rumpled school uniform and directing his comment towards Azazel, his grey eyes calm but questioning.
The Governor General of Grigori sighed, pushing himself off the broken wall.
"That was the initial plan, yes," he admitted, running a hand through his spiky hair. "But Leviathan here intercepted my communications. She was… insistent… on reopening a formal diplomatic dialogue between the Devil race and Grigori. Consider this an informal, preliminary meeting."
Makoto's gaze shifted back to the hopping, smiling Satan. "Oh! I didn't really introduce myself! I'm sooo sorry, Mako-dear!" she chirped, the chosen nickname causing Makoto's brow to furrow slightly. "I am Serafall Leviathan, one of the Four Great Satans and the devil's head of diplomacy! But you can call me Levia-tan!" she announced happily, thrusting out her hand for a shake.
Wary of her explosive energy, Makoto cautiously accepted the handshake. His wariness was justified. Serafall's grip was deceptively strong, and she proceeded to pump his arm up and down with an enthusiasm that was frankly jarring.
Had he been a normal human, the force might have dislocated his shoulder. A faint, shimmering aura of blue energy—the passive reinforcement of his Personas and the reality bending defense of the Omnipotent Orb—flared minutely around his arm to absorb the excessive force.
'Hee ho! I like her energy, hee ho!' Jack Frost's cheerful commentary piped up from within the sea of souls.
"I don't understand," Makoto said, extracting his hand once the shaking subsided. "What does 'reopening diplomatic dialogue' mean?"
Azazel's eyes widened in sudden realization.
"Ah, right. No one's given you the full geopolitical rundown yet, have they?" He cleared his throat, preparing to launch into an explanation of the three factions' tense history.
"You see, Messiah, our factions have been in a state of ceasefire, a cold war really, for some centuries now, ever since the conclusion of the Great W—"
"Levia-tan will explain everything!" Serafall interrupted, shouting with such volume that the workers across the site paused and looked over. "Oops... sorry," she immediately whispered, clapping a hand over her mouth, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
She then proceeded, in a much more moderated tone that still bubbled with excitement, to give Makoto a condensed but comprehensive overview of the political landscape. She spoke of the Three Great Powers—the Fallen Angels of Grigori, the Devils of the Underworld, and the Angels of Heaven—and the fragile, hostile peace that had persisted since the cataclysmic Great War five centuries prior.
She explained her personal ambition: to use the emerging, mutual threat of the Shadows as a catalyst to finally broker a formal, lasting peace and a reunification of the entire Biblical pantheon.
Such unity, she stressed with uncharacteristic seriousness, would be essential to present a strong, unified front against external pantheons who might see their internal strife as a weakness.
Azazel nodded along, confirming her points. "The possibility of peace isn't a new idea," he added. "It's been discussed in back channels for decades. But there's significant resistance on all sides—hardliners in Grigori, traditionalists in the Underworld, and doubtless purists in Heaven who are still clinging to old hatreds and insecurities."
"I don't think you asked to meet me here just to tell me this," Makoto pointed out logically, his eyes fixed on Azazel once the two leaders had finished their impromptu briefing.
"You're sharp," Azazel said with an appreciative grin. "No, the politics are just context. What I wanted to ask was if you would be willing to come to Grigori's headquarters. Today. Meeting you in person would be an invaluable tool for me in convincing the other Cadres that your power—and the threat your presence here implies—is real. Seeing is believing, especially for cynical old Fallen Angels."
"Wait! Mako-dear has to visit the Underworld first!" Serafall objected, stamping her foot on the ground, her expression morphing into one of a petulant child denied a treat. "We found him first! It's only fair!"
Azazel scratched the back of his neck, a gesture of mild exasperation. "While you New Satans have already had the privilege of speaking with his 'attendant,' my organization is still completely in the dark, Leviathan. I need to bring something tangible to the table. Proof."
"How do you know about that?" Serafall shot back, her eyes narrowing. They had taken extreme precautions, layering the room with enough anti-scrying wards to baffle even the most powerful seers.
"I have my ways," Azazel replied cryptically, his smirk returning.
The air between the two leaders, once playful, began to crackle with tangible tension. "I thought we were going to work together to build peace, Mr. Governor General," Serafall said, her voice losing its singsong quality and gaining a sharp, diplomatic edge.
"And we are," Azazel countered smoothly, though his own posture straightened, meeting her gaze squarely. "But let's not pretend centuries of cold war and mutual espionage will vanish in a day. We both need to take precautions. And we both know the Devil race engages in exactly the same kind of intelligence gathering. This is the dance we're in and we both know the only reason we aren't killing each other is because of the Messiah."
Makoto simply observed the exchange in silence, his expression neutral, waiting for the two powerful figures to reach a resolution.
'I'm starting to feel profoundly bored,' Apollo whined internally.
'They are choosing the path of peace, a hard and noble road, but a tedious one for spectators. I vote we assist them, if only to hasten the process!' Robin Hood declared.
'Our purpose is not to be politicians or diplomats and I want to remind you that's not exactly the field where the Universe excels in.' Kohryu intoned with deep resonance. 'He is a force of change for individuals, not for the cold and icy masks of politics.'
'I concur,' the voices of Orpheus Telos and Yoshitsune agreed in stoic unison.
"Okay, fine!" Serafall suddenly declared, the tension evaporating as she clapped her hands together. "I'll let you take Mako-dear to Grigori! But!" she added, pointing a finger at Azazel with dramatic emphasis. "I will be right here, on this spot, to pick him up at 8 pm sharp! Are we clear? Not a minute later!"
She placed her hands on her hips, adopting the stern demeanor of an overprotective older sister, a look so incongruous on the magical girl outfit that both Makoto and Azazel were momentarily thrown, raising identical eyebrows of disbelief.
'Just who does she think she is to command the Universe so?' Lucifer's voice was a vexed snarl in the depths of Makoto's mind.
Satisfied with her decree, Serafall gave a final, cheerful wave. "Bye-bye, Mako-dear! Be good and wary for Mr. Governor General!" In a puff of glittering, starlike motes and the faint scent of candy, she vanished from the hilltop.
Azazel let out a long, slow breath he seemed to have been holding and turned back to Makoto. "I apologize for that Messiah. She's… a force of nature. Right, we can go now."
He gestured for Makoto to step closer. As he began to trace a complex, glowing magic circle on the ground with a flick of his wrist, he paused.
"One last thing. For everyone at HQ who isn't a direct Cadre, you're just a human with a particularly interesting Sacred Gear that I've taken a personal interest in. Understood?"
"Why the secrecy?" Makoto asked.
"Your identity as the 'Messiah' is a strategic secret for now," Azazel explained, his expression turning serious. "The fewer people who know the full truth, the better we can control the narrative and avoid causing a panic. It's safer for you, and it's smarter for us."
As he finished speaking, he snapped his fingers.
The world dissolved into a blur of blinding white light and a sensation of immense, disorienting pressure. The sounds of the construction site vanished, replaced by a deafening roar of nothingness, and then, an instant later, they were gone from the hilltop entirely.