Clang—clang clang clang clang!
Sparks exploded in the air, steel screamed against steel. From the very first clash, Tenra, Xenovia, and Irina had already exchanged dozens of blows.
Xenovia and Irina—the Church's finest Holy Sword wielders. Tenra—the devil who'd traveled the world, sharpening his blade against the strongest. Among their generation, no one's swordsmanship could compare.
"Haaaah!"
With a battle cry, Xenovia brought her greatsword down in a devastating arc. She'd never show mercy to a devil who dared blaspheme the divine.
The air itself wailed as Tenra barely dodged the strike. The ground split open with a thunderous crack, a deep gash carved by Xenovia's might.
Even Tenra felt his scalp prickle. With Excalibur Destruction in hand, Xenovia was a force of nature.
But before he could catch his breath—
"Holy sword—divide!"
Irina leapt high, her Mimic sword splitting into writhing serpents that darted for Tenra's throat.
Clang clang clang clang clang!
Tenra's eyes narrowed as he parried, his demonic blade flickering to keep up with Irina's relentless assault.
Childhood friends or not, Irina was merciless.
Sharp light flashed in Tenra's eyes, lips curling into a smile.
It had been far too long since he'd faced opponents of this caliber. He was going to enjoy every second.
—
"Ugh! So annoying! Tenra, just stand still and let us cut you down!" Irina puffed her cheeks, frustration boiling over.
"Idiot Irina, why don't you stand still and let me cut you?" Tenra shot back, rolling his eyes.
"Tenra Kamiyo, your swordsmanship is impressive. Even together, Irina and I can't guarantee victory." Xenovia's voice was cold. "But even if you're still standing, your sword is trembling and crying out."
She hefted Excalibur Destruction, confidence burning in her gaze. With the power of the holy swords, defeat was unthinkable.
Tenra glanced at his battered demonic blade and nodded. "You're right. Pitting a fake against the real thing was a stretch. Holy swords deserve to be met with holy swords."
A secretive smile played on his lips. He dismissed the demonic blade, raised his hand to the sky.
A heavy, sacred pressure filled the air. Purple light descended, swirling into his palm—solidifying into a violet longsword.
No doubt about it. The aura was unmistakable—a true holy sword.
"Ame-no-Murakumo. Well then, Xenovia, Irina—shall we continue?"
Tenra strode toward them, a devil's grin on his face.
The girls exchanged a glance—shock and resolve mirrored in their eyes.
—
"Ugh…"
"Impossible… We lost… to a devil?"
Xenovia staggered back, disbelief etched on her face. Struck in the abdomen by Tenra's sword hilt, she collapsed to the ground.
They'd started with the advantage—how had it ended like this?
This devil was too strong.
"I-Irina…" Xenovia reached for her friend, but her vision faded to black.
—
"Tenra, are you really going to make them your believers?" Lilith asked, unsurprised by the outcome as she and the others approached.
"They're both too talented to waste in the Church," Tenra replied, lifting Irina into his arms. "It'll be a hassle, but it's not impossible."
"Rias, I'll leave the rest to you. I'm taking them back."
"Alright."
—
"Ugh… Where am I…?"
Irina's eyes fluttered open. She was in an unfamiliar room.
"Thirsty? Here, have some water."
Tenra's voice—he approached, carrying a glass.
She gulped it down, sighing with relief. "Thanks…"
Like hell!
"Tenra, what did you do to me? Let me go—now!" Irina realized her hands and feet were shackled by four golden rings. She thrashed, shouting.
"Don't bother struggling. You're my prisoner now."
"P-prisoner?! Damn you, Tenra! Let me go and I'll fight you again—I won't lose this time!"
Tenra snorted. "Big talk for little Irina. You always say that when you lose. You and Xenovia together couldn't beat me. Maybe try again in your next life."
"Ugh… That's so unfair…" Irina pouted, remembering their humiliating defeat.
But then, a thought struck her. She looked up at Tenra, eyes pleading.
"Tenra, what are you going to do with me?"
She and Xenovia had learned secrets they shouldn't. Tenra wouldn't let them go easily… even if they were childhood friends.
"Option one: silencing."
"Option two: lock you in a dark room."
"Option three: leave the Church and become my believer."
Tenra pinched her cheek, grinning. "So, Irina, pick one."
"No, no, I don't want any of those!" Irina protested, cheeks burning. Death, imprisonment, or… becoming Tenra's believer? Absolutely not!
Tenra sighed, as if making a decision.
"In that case… Irina, you actually like me, don't you?"
Irina froze, stunned. Her face turned crimson.
"L-like? Stupid! What are you saying, Tenra?!"
Her embarrassment was palpable, her heart pounding.
Why was Tenra suddenly asking this?
"I've always liked you, Irina. So…"
He met her gaze, serious and unflinching.
"Tell me, Irina. Do you like me?"
Irina stared. Tenra wasn't joking—she could feel it.
They'd grown up together—played, trained, lived side by side. Her childhood was filled with Tenra's shadow. She'd always admired his strength and determination, always tried to catch up.
She'd known her answer for a long time. Otherwise, she wouldn't have—
"…I…like…"
Her voice was a whisper, barely audible.
"Louder. I didn't hear you."
"…!"
"Like! Like! Are you happy now, stupid Tenra?!"
Tenra smiled, watching Irina shout in flustered surrender.
"Yeah. I'm really happy."
"Since you like me too… let's go with the last option."
Irina blinked, confused, about to ask what he meant.
But Tenra leaned in, closing the distance.
And then—he kissed her.
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