A week passed like water through fingers.
Days blurred into a rhythm I hadn't expected to find comfortable. School. Training. Contracts. Sleep. Repeat. The supernatural had become ordinary, and ordinary had become... good.
The Fragment had opinions about that.
"Comfort breeds complacency."
And you breed headaches.
"Noted."
Akeno's lightning defense training was exactly as unpleasant as it sounded.
"The key," she said, her fingers crackling with electricity, "is to redirect rather than absorb. Devils naturally resist divine energy. Lightning is simply... accelerated divine energy."
"That's not how physics works."
"Ara ara. Physics is a suggestion in the supernatural world." Her smile widened. "Shall we begin?"
The first bolt hit before I could respond.
Pain. Pure, electric, screaming through every nerve. My body locked up, muscles contracting against my will. The Fragment's Enhanced Regeneration kicked in immediately, knitting torn tissue as fast as it formed.
"Again," Akeno said.
Another bolt. I tried to move, to dodge, but she was faster. The lightning caught me mid-step and threw me backward. I hit the training room wall hard enough to crack plaster.
"You're thinking too much." She approached, lightning dancing between her fingers like living things. "Your body knows what to do. Trust it."
I climbed to my feet, muscles still twitching. "Trust it to what? Get electrocuted?"
"Trust it to survive." Her smile softened, just slightly. "You've survived worse than me, Ryder Cross. This is just refinement."
The next bolt came. And this time, I didn't think.
I moved.
Not fast enough to dodge, but enough to redirect. The lightning grazed my shoulder instead of my chest, the energy flowing through me and into the ground. It still hurt. But not as much.
"Better," Akeno said. "Again."
By the end of the session, I could redirect about half her attacks. The other half still put me on the floor. But progress was progress.
The Fragment observed with something like approval.
"Pain tolerance: improved. Reaction time: improved. Combat instincts: developing. The thunder-priestess is effective."
Sadistic is the word you're looking for.
"Those are not mutually exclusive."
Kiba's sparring sessions were gentler but no less intense.
We faced each other in the training room, wooden practice swords in hand. The Knight moved like water, his strikes flowing into each other without pause or hesitation.
I blocked. Parried. Countered where I could. But he was faster, more precise, more experienced. Every exchange ended with his blade at my throat or chest.
"You're improving," he said after the tenth bout. "Your footwork is better. More deliberate."
"Deliberate is one word for it." I wiped sweat from my forehead. "Slow is another."
"Speed comes with practice. Foundation comes with understanding." He lowered his sword. "Your stance is Knight-influenced now. You've been watching me."
I had. The Fragment had been cataloguing Kiba's movements since my first day, comparing, analyzing, integrating. Some of that knowledge bled through in ways I couldn't always control.
"You're a good teacher," I said. Not technically a lie.
"Mm." His smile was knowing. "Or you're an excellent mimic. Either way, the results speak for themselves."
He raised his sword again. "Once more. This time, try to last thirty seconds."
I lasted twenty-seven. Progress.
Koneko's company required no training, no practice, no pain.
We sat on the ORC building's roof, legs dangling over the edge. She had a bento box that was mostly desserts, and she ate methodically, offering me pieces without comment.
I took them. The chocolate-filled mochi was excellent.
"...you're still sad," she said eventually.
"I'm fine."
"...liar." She didn't look at me. Just kept eating. "Different sad now. Quiet sad. Not loud sad."
I thought about the voicemail. About the static where my mother's voice should be. About how I'd stopped checking my phone for messages that would never come.
"Quiet sad is easier to carry," I said.
"...still heavy." She offered me another mochi. "Chocolate helps."
"Does it?"
"...always." She finally looked at me, golden eyes steady. "...senpai isn't alone anymore. That helps too."
I didn't know what to say to that. So I just ate the mochi and watched the clouds drift past.
The Fragment remained silent. Even it knew when to give me space.
Asia's healing had become a constant in my life.
Every training session ended with her glowing green light washing over my injuries. Cuts sealed. Bruises faded. The deep aches of overexerted muscles melted away.
"You push yourself too hard," she said, her hands hovering over a particularly nasty bruise on my ribs. "Koneko says you stay late. Kiba says you ask for extra sessions."
"I have catching up to do."
"You're not behind." Her voice was gentle but firm. "You're different. That's not the same thing."
The green light pulsed, warm and soothing. I felt the bruise fade, the pain receding like a tide.
"Asia."
"Yes?"
"Thanks. For everything. Not just the healing."
Her smile was radiant. "That's what family does, right? We help each other."
Family. The word shouldn't have hit as hard as it did. But coming from her, with her earnest eyes and unwavering faith, it felt like a promise.
"Yeah," I said. "That's what family does."
The stray devil contract came on the seventh day.
Rias gathered us in the ORC main room, a magic circle glowing on the floor. "Class B stray. Former Bishop piece from the Agares household. Has been preying on humans in the industrial district."
"Threat assessment?" Kiba asked.
"Moderate. Dangerous to humans, manageable for us." She looked at each of us in turn. "But we're not taking chances. This is a team operation. Everyone has a role."
The briefing was quick, professional. Kiba would engage first, testing defenses. Koneko would provide close-range support. Akeno would control the battlefield with lightning. Asia would stay back, healing as needed. And I would be the wild card, moving where I was needed most.
"Questions?" Rias asked.
No one spoke.
"Then let's hunt."
The industrial district was a graveyard of rusted machinery and forgotten buildings.
We moved through the shadows, each step silent, each breath controlled. The stray's presence was a dark smear on my senses, a wrongness that made my devil instincts twitch.
Kiba found it first.
The creature that had once been a Bishop was barely recognizable as human. Twisted limbs. Too many joints. Eyes that glowed with mad hunger. It crouched over something I didn't want to identify, feeding.
Kiba didn't hesitate. His sword flashed, and the creature screamed, leaping away from its meal.
"Target engaged," he called.
Everything happened fast.
Koneko blurred past me, her fist connecting with the stray's chest. Bones cracked. The creature flew backward, smashing through a rusted crane.
Lightning split the air. Akeno's attack caught the stray mid-recovery, electricity arcing through its malformed body. It shrieked, the sound like breaking glass.
My turn.
I activated Stealth Mode and flanked, Light Lance forming in my hand. The creature didn't see me coming until the lance was already flying.
Direct hit. The weapon punched through the stray's shoulder, pinning it to a concrete pillar.
It thrashed, trying to free itself. More lightning from Akeno. A follow-up strike from Kiba. Koneko's methodical demolition of its remaining limbs.
I formed another lance and waited.
The creature stopped struggling. Its eyes, still too human despite everything, found Rias.
"Please," it whispered. "I didn't want this. I was hungry. So hungry."
Rias's expression didn't change. "I know."
Her Power of Destruction bloomed, crimson and final. The stray didn't even have time to scream.
Silence settled over the industrial district.
"Target eliminated," Rias said. "Good work, everyone."
I stared at the smoking crater where the creature had been. Something stirred in my chest. Something that felt too much like enjoyment.
What the hell?
"Echo influence," the Fragment said. "The thunder-priestess finds joy in combat. You're feeling her bleed."
The realization hit like ice water. I'd enjoyed that. Not the killing, but the hunt. The coordination. The precision strike that ended the threat.
I pushed the feeling down, hard.
"Suppressing won't eliminate the influence. But acknowledging it helps."
Thanks for the warning.
"You were warned in the tutorial. This is the demonstrated reality."
We celebrated at a restaurant near campus.
The mood was light, easy. Kiba ordered for everyone with his usual precision. Koneko claimed the dessert menu immediately. Akeno made suggestive comments about victory rewards. Asia tried to heal a waitress who had a small cut on her finger.
Normal. As normal as a group of teenage devils could be.
"You did well tonight," Rias said, sitting beside me. "Your coordination has improved significantly."
"I had good teachers."
"Mm." Her smile was warm. "You're also less stiff. More natural. It's like you're finally comfortable in your own skin."
I thought about the Echo percentage sitting at 12%. About the influences that weren't entirely mine. About how comfort might just be the first step toward losing myself.
"Getting there," I said.
She studied me for a moment, something unreadable in her eyes. Then she reached over and squeezed my hand.
"For what it's worth," she said quietly, "I'm glad you're here. With us."
My heart did something complicated.
"Me too."
The Fragment chose that moment to be smug.
"You're becoming competent. How boring."
Boring is good. Boring means surviving.
"Boring means stagnation. Growth requires challenge."
Are you trying to jinx me?
"I don't believe in jinxes. I believe in patterns. And the pattern suggests challenge is imminent."
That's ominous.
"I am what I am."
It was late when I noticed something was wrong.
We'd returned to the ORC building, the others filtering off to their rooms or duties. Rias sat at her desk, handling the paperwork that always seemed to multiply when she wasn't looking.
A magic circle flickered to life near her. A message, sealed with a crest I didn't recognize.
She opened it. Read. And her expression changed.
Not obviously. Rias had too much control for obvious reactions. But I'd been around her long enough now to catch the subtle signs. The tightening around her eyes. The way her hands stilled on the desk. The slight stiffness in her shoulders.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Just family business."
She was lying.
I could tell. I'd copied too much of her to miss the signs. The way she held herself when deflecting. The particular tone her voice took when avoiding truth.
Echo. My own observations. Some combination of both.
"Rias."
"It's nothing." She folded the message and tucked it away. "Really. Just... scheduling. Nothing you need to worry about."
I wanted to push. But something in her expression said now wasn't the time.
"Okay. But if you need anything..."
"I know." Her smile softened, just slightly. "Thank you, Ryder."
I left her to her paperwork. But the worry didn't leave with me.
The Fragment stirred as I walked back to my room.
"Fire and feathers, little thief."
What?
"The message she received. The seal. Phoenix clan colors."
I stopped mid-step. You recognized it?
"I recognize many things. The question is what you do with the information."
Which is?
"Something approaches. Something with fire." The Fragment's voice carried an edge of anticipation I didn't like. "Your peaceful days are numbered."
That's not helpful.
"It's honest. Helpful is not always my function."
I stood in the hallway for a long moment, staring at nothing. Rias's lie. The Phoenix seal. The Fragment's warning.
Something was coming.
And for the first time in a week, the comfortable routine felt like the calm before a storm.
The Fragment laughed softly in the back of my mind.
"Finally. He understands."