Our King was a gentle man.
Yet, our King was always angry.
From childhood, he raged against the tragedies surrounding humanity. He seethed at the suffering inflicted by beings beyond human.
Sometimes, he held the corpse of a child toyed with by Devils.
Sometimes, he stroked the head of a woman broken by Fallen Angels.
Sometimes, he mourned the death of a warrior defeated by God's trials.
Sometimes, he prayed before a village ravaged by supernatural conflicts.
Our King was desperate. Our King was earnest. Our King gave his all.
We knew it wasn't his fault, yet we feared him. We even deluded ourselves into thinking our pain stemmed from his lack of power. We understood that without him, without his resistance, we'd face far greater tragedies.
So, King, please—don't—apologize—to us—die—just die—please.
Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die!
Die, you incompetent King!
"A nap, huh? Quite the luxury, Cao Cao. Even our great leader's tired?"
"…Jeanne. No, just dozing off."
Awakening from a nightmare, Cao Cao reoriented himself.
Deep in the mountains of some country, a haven for monsters but unguarded by gods, it was perfect for their training. A small town at the base offered a chance to hunt monsters while honing skills—a two birds, one stone deal. In a clearing, the Hero Faction trained.
Nearby, Heracles pummeled a massive boulder. Others practiced swings, meditated to connect with their Sacred Gears, or strategized with teammates.
"Getting used to the new spear?"
Cao Cao glanced at the spear in his hand—a demonic lance given by Goetia to replace the True Longinus, whose divine will was sealed.
"They referenced the Fallen Angels' artificial Sacred Gears, but it's crafted by the Armory. It handles differently from the True Longinus, but I'll adapt soon. It's a weapon worthy of legendary spears."
In another era, wars would've erupted over this spear. Extracting the god-slaying True Longinus was necessary, and the Demon God Pillars spared no effort in its replacement. Their pride wouldn't allow subpar work—mediocrity was unthinkable.
It lacked god-slaying power, though. When Cao Cao pointed this out, they told him to "hunt Fenrir." Absurd. Fenrir was among the mightiest beasts. Yet, the Lion King and her Knights of the Round Table, their next foes, were likely as formidable, if not more so.
"Almost lunchtime. Who's on meal duty?"
"Asia. She's shopping in town."
Cao Cao's face twitched, as did those of nearby members eavesdropping.
"Her food smells like ethanol. Tastes good, though."
"Delicious, but kills my appetite."
Both exhaled heavily.
"Oh, Xenovia's guarding her."
"She doesn't need a guard… but fine."
"Hmm."
"What?"
"Just thinking you've changed. We all have, really."
"Yeah."
It was a good change. Not what they once wished for, but closer to their ideals—perhaps even better.
"We've changed. Goetia told us to face the Lion King—not as pawns. There's no reason to discard us. He believes we can win. The old us would've underestimated her and died. But now—"
"No, you shouldn't challenge the Lion King. You shouldn't become heroes."
A voice interrupted dripping with sharp killing intent.
All turned toward the voice, hearing deliberate footsteps. Everyone shifted to combat stances, cold sweat beading on their foreheads.
A cloaked figure emerged, face and hands wrapped in bandages, completely covered. A coffin rested on his back. His build suggested an adult male. His aura wasn't Devil or Angel, but the killing intent marked him as an enemy, his identity unfathomable.
"Human…? But not a Church envoy."
The bandaged man snorted.
"Correction. I'm a filthy cleaner. Less than human—a fake."
"Cleaner? What's that mean?"
Ignoring him, the man raised his coffin, aiming its base at them.
"My only words to you: drown in your ideals, you delusional fools."
The coffin opened, revealing a cannon barrel the size of a human head. A distorted mechanical hum echoed as divine light leaked from the muzzle.
"True Longinus activation, Noble Phantasm multi-deployment."
"Everyone, run—!"
"False Incineration Formula XIII: Catastrophe Longinus!"
A god-searing light surged toward Cao Cao and the others.
The Biblical factions' leaders initiated two major actions.
First, reviving the God of the Bible—a risky proposal from the Satan's son, but the only viable option. Without it, the three factions faced annihilation. This was a top secret, even more than Solomon's revival. While Solomon's return could be ignored by other mythologies, God's revival would provoke reactions. Based on Rizevim's intel, Michael and the Seraphim were secretly advancing this plan.
Second, gathering intel on Solomon and his presumed Demon God Pillars. A temporal discrepancy existed between Solomon's revival and the Pillars' appearance. When Cruzelei Asmodeus found the ring was unclear, but given Solomon's character, he likely acted immediately. Thus, he didn't create the Pillars—they were likely his subordinates but made by another.
To investigate, Sirzechs and Azazel went to Kyoto, bringing a Knight deeply tied to the city. They summoned Kingu, who knew more about the Pillars, to the Kyoto Sirzechs Hotel.
"Please leave, Lord Azazel, Lord Sirzechs Lucifer."
Yasaka the leader of Kyoto's youkai refused their interference with Kingu. She hadn't even informed him of their visit.
"Lady Yasaka, I hate to say this, but he's hiding something. He knows more about the Pillars than us. He mentioned a pact. He could be an Old Satan Faction agent."
"He finds such suspicions offensive."
Her firm rejection masked absolute trust in Kingu—perhaps more like affection.
"Lady Yasaka, do you know his past?"
"No, he shares nothing."
"Then why? If he's with the Pillars, it could endanger you and Kyoto."
"At first, I wanted him for his strength—to delay the day Solomon's curse destroys Kyoto. His unknown origins didn't matter; he was powerful. But now, I see he's kind. And sad."
Kingu sometimes looked sorrowful, especially when Yasaka and Kunou acted like family. It was the face of a child abandoned and rejected by parents. She didn't know his story and decided she didn't need to. Spending time with them could heal his sadness. Lately, he smiled more.
"He's a bit hot-tempered, but that's endearing. To us, that's enough. We love him, past or not."
"He's our family now. As parents, we trust and protect him. Please leave."
For Yasaka, meeting the Biblical factions' leaders was risky, but she did so to uphold propriety.
The reason tied to Japan's chief deity, Amaterasu, the supreme sun goddess of Takamagahara. Her famous myth, the Ama-no-Iwato, described her retreat into a cave—Japan's mythological take on a solar eclipse.
Upon hearing of Solomon's ring, Amaterasu withdrew again. In Solomon's era, Japan's Kojiki wasn't compiled, but its gods existed. Amaterasu was among Solomon's victims. Learning the Old Satan Faction held the ring justified her reaction.
Yet, no eclipse occurred. The myth wasn't reenacted, a result of Truth's influence. Most Japanese youkai, born after Solomon's death, felt his terror for the first time. They realized the world was forgetting them. The ring-wielding Old Satans became a greater threat, reinforcing the need to avoid the Three Factions. Expelling Devils and Fallen Angels from Japan was under consideration.
But the Three Factions couldn't back down, especially Azazel, who lost two cadres.
"My old war buddies—my friends—were killed! You think I'll back off? For Barakiel's daughter Akeno, I have to take that bastard down!" Azazel roared.
"Sounds like you've never killed anyone's friends or family."
At the open window sat a man with red tattoos, smiling with rage. His presence sent chills.
"Hello, hello!"
Azazel knew only one man who could embody such contradictory emotions.
"So… Cruzelei Asmodeus!"
He avoided saying Solomon. Yasaka didn't know—nor did any Kyoto youkai. Only the reclusive Amaterasu knew of Solomon's revival. If it leaked, not just the Biblical factions but the supernatural world would descend into chaos. The mere rumor of the ring's discovery caused this uproar. Azazel and Sirzechs agreed on this.
Yasaka, unaware, bristled with caution. She sensed a Devil—or something in a Devil's body. His overwhelming emotion, not just his magic, grated her nerves. He smiled yet raged, not from his heart but his soul. What could ignite such fury?
Unfazed by their hostility, the man—Solomon posing as Cruzelei Asmodeus—munched on a dorayaki.
"Tried it, but this country's sweets don't suit me. Not bad, though…"
"Eating snacks while infiltrating enemy territory? Bold, Cruzelei Asmodeus."
"Wanted to compare. I'm different from him. Like this, or those internet idols—what's fun about them? I respect and envy, but I can't relate."
"Cruzelei, can't we have a chance at reconciliation? We don't know each other. I don't know what caused your rage in the old world, but the world's changed. Your anger must've softened."
"Hah! Is that a joke, fake Satan?"
"Sirzechs, that's how he is. He rejects goodwill and returns pure malice. Someone once tried peace talks—he was torn apart on the spot."
Solomon raised an eyebrow and shrugged.
"Fair assessment. Yeah, just evaluation, you damned Fallen Angel. Torn apart? That was meant as peace talks? News to me. By the way, I rate you highly—in a bad way. Like, two Fallen Angel cadre heads might be worth one Almighty Wish Granter. That's the reward for indulging my whims."
"They'll hunt them down fast, but it buys time."
He smirking bitterly while radiating fury, his eyes cold as they fixed on the Satan and Fallen Angel leader.
"But you two… I or those guys shouldn't kill you. There's a more fitting opponent, a more fitting death. I came to tell you that—a taunt and a final mercy hint. It's not fair if you don't understand."
"What's that mean?"
"Exactly what I said. Think till you die and then die."
He summoned reinforcements. He could handle this alone—against Transcendent Sirzechs, he'd lose but could retreat given the location. But that wasn't fun. It wouldn't sate his three-thousand-year-old rage.
"By the Command Spell, I order: Come, Berserker."
A black-clad man appeared via an unknown method.
"With two strokes of the Command Spell, I order: Do as you please, Berserker."
The Berserker's gaze locked onto one figure—not Sirzechs, who seized the Satan's throne by force, nor Azazel, who ruined countless Sacred Gear wielders' lives. The mad warrior screamed a samurai's name, who betrayed nation, era, comrades, and organization, and drew his blade.
"Okitaaaa!"
***
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