"Who did this?"
Tenra's voice was low, eyes narrowed as he looked over Raynare's battered form. Sword wounds crisscrossed her body, and Aisha was frantically working to heal her. With Raynare's current power—a four-winged Fallen Angel bolstered by the [Black Evil King]—almost no one should have been able to hurt her. Only a high-class devil, or something even stronger, could have left wounds like these.
But these weren't just any wounds. The gashes festered as if laced with venom, the edges blackened and corroding, refusing to close.
Holy sword wounds.
"Lord Tenra, it was that Exorcist, Freed," Kalawarner reported nervously, Mittelt nodding beside her.
A few quick words and Tenra understood the gist: the three of them had finished their assignment and were on their way back when they ran into Freed. The last time they'd crossed paths, Raynare had nearly killed him—so when they met again, neither side hesitated. Normally, Freed wouldn't have stood a chance, but this time he'd been wielding the holy sword Excalibur. Its power had turned the tables, allowing him to wound Raynare before escaping.
"Excalibur…" Tenra murmured, eyes flashing. The name sent a ripple of memory through his mind. If Freed had Excalibur, then the rest of that troublesome crew couldn't be far behind.
Things were about to get interesting.
Holy swords were poison to devils and Fallen Angels—especially a legendary blade like Excalibur. Even the smallest cut could be fatal.
Raynare was in agony, but she gritted her teeth and bore it in silence, letting Aisha work in a frenzy to save her. Tenra shook his head and placed his hand on Raynare's shoulder, activating [Saint's Smile]. A soft, holy glow enveloped her, and the festering wounds began to heal, the poison burning away under his touch.
When it was done, Tenra looked at her, eyebrow raised. "Why didn't you let Kalawarner and Mittelt help?"
Raynare, now stretching comfortably as her pain faded, smirked. "That bastard was my prey. I didn't need help."
"Hmph. Didn't need help, yet you ended up a bloody mess?"
Raynare shrugged, lips curling into a wicked grin. "He may have managed to hurt me with that sword, but trust me—he's in worse shape. If he hadn't run, I'd have finished him off."
She slithered closer, her smile turning sly. "Aw, Master, are you worried about me?"
Tenra rolled his eyes, refusing to play along with her chaotic games. Instead, he turned to Rias. "Any news from your side?"
"Not yet," Rias replied, shaking her head. "But I've sent familiars to scout every suspicious spot in town. If anything turns up, we'll know right away." Her expression darkened, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Those damned Exorcists, bringing a holy sword like Excalibur into my territory… I won't let them get away with it."
A faithless Exorcist armed with Excalibur—who knew what kind of chaos they might unleash? Rias would not allow her town to become a battlefield.
"I'll send Yubelluna and Wendine to help with the search over the next few days," Tenra said. "If we spot them, we move immediately."
"Good." Rias nodded, her resolve clear.
With the plan set, Tenra dismissed the others and slipped away to Tosca's room.
She stood by the window, her back to the door. When she turned, her delicate face was streaked with tears.
Tenra had suspected this—Tosca had surely heard about the Exorcists and Excalibur. The past was never far behind.
"Still thinking about what happened back then?" he asked softly, drawing her into his arms and gently wiping her tears.
"I can't forgive them. If it weren't for them… my friends, my comrades—they'd still be alive…" Tosca's voice broke, and she pressed her face into Tenra's chest, sobbing.
She was the last survivor of the Holy Sword Project. All her friends, all her pain, all her hatred—she carried it alone.
Tenra held her, letting her grief run its course. Only when her tears finally slowed did he speak.
"Don't worry, Tosca. You'll have your revenge soon."
He brushed his cheek against hers, voice gentle. If fate hadn't changed, Freed's appearance with Excalibur meant the mastermind behind the Holy Sword Project—Balba Galilei—would show himself soon, too.
"Really, Lord Tenra?" Tosca looked up, eyes burning with a fierce, desperate hope.
"Yeah. Really." Tenra smiled, soft but certain.
He'd promised not just Tosca, but also Isaiah, that he'd see justice done for what had been stolen from them. He might not know Balba personally, but when the time came, he'd make sure the bastard paid.
—
Deep beneath Kuoh's church, in a hidden chamber, screams echoed off stone walls.
"Damn that Raynare! Next time I see her, I'll kill her! I swear I'll kill her!"
"Arghhh—it hurts, dammit! Old man Balba, take it easy!"
Freed writhed on a makeshift bed, his body a patchwork of burns and bruises.
"Stop squirming. Without the holy sword's protection, you'd be dead ten times over by now." The speaker was a short, stout, graying man—Balba Galilei himself—busying over a bubbling concoction.
"This curse… That Fallen Angel must have gotten her hands on some powerful Sacred Gear," Balba muttered, eyeing Freed's wounds.
"Tch. She never had anything like that before. Must've spread her legs for that Sacred Gear thief from the Phoenix family—sold herself for power," Freed spat, voice full of venom.
Crude, but not far from the truth.
"The medicine's ready. It'll hurt—deal with it."
Balba poured the mixture over Freed's wounds. Instantly, Freed's skin hissed and bubbled as if doused in acid.
"GYAAAAAAHHHHH!"
His screams rattled the stone, echoing through the darkness.
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