Chapter 26: The Price of a Meal and the Weight of a Blade
The atmosphere in the Occult Research Club had turned from a home into a cold, hollow shell. Without Kiba's quiet presence and the rhythmic sound of him polishing his practice blades, the room felt cavernous. Rias sat at her desk, staring at the empty seat of her Knight, her eyes red-rimmed but her expression hardening into a mask of regal grief.
Lucian stood by the window, watching the rain pelt against the glass. He felt the phantom itch in his right hand—the scar from the compressed destruction—pulsing in time with the tension in the room. He knew exactly where Kiba was. He knew the Knight was currently hunting ghosts in the back alleys of Kuoh, throwing himself into suicide skirmishes just to feel the sting of the light he both hated and craved.
"He's not answering the familiar link," Rias whispered, her voice barely audible over the thunder. "He's actively blocking me out, Lucian."
Lucian turned, his dark red eyes catching the dim light. "He's not blocking you, Rias. He's protecting you. In his mind, his trauma is a poison, and he doesn't want it to touch the Gremory name. It's foolish, but it's how a Knight thinks."
"I don't care about the name!" Rias snapped, slamming her hands on the desk. "I care about him!"
Lucian walked over, placing his hands over hers. The heat of her skin was rising—a sign her magic was becoming unstable. "I know. That's why we're going to find him. But first, we need to handle the guests who are currently starving in our city center."
The Hungry Saints
The scene at the local family restaurant was, in a word, pathetic.
Lucian, Issei, and Asia stood at the entrance, watching two girls who looked like they had just survived a war—or a very long fast. Xenovia Quarta and Irina Shidou were sitting at a booth, staring intensely at a single menu. Their traveling cloaks were damp, and their pride was the only thing keeping their stomachs from audible growls.
"Issei-kun..." Asia whispered, her heart breaking for her former comrades. "They look so... hungry."
"They're the Church's top agents, Asia," Issei muttered, though his eyes were fixed on Irina's twin-tails. "How are they broke?"
"The Church provides for the soul, not the stomach, apparently," Lucian said, stepping forward. He walked to the booth and sat down across from them without an invitation.
Xenovia's hand moved instantly to the wrapped hilt of the sword resting against the seat. Her eyes were sharp, cold, and narrowed. "You again. What do you want, Devil? We've already delivered our warning."
"I want to buy you a meal," Lucian said, leaning back and signaling for a waiter. "You can't hunt a Cadre-class Fallen Angel on an empty stomach. It's bad for the brand."
Irina looked at Issei, then at the menu, her resolve crumbling faster than a dry biscuit. "A meal? For real? Issei-kun, your friend is surprisingly nice for a demon!"
"It's a trap, Irina," Xenovia hissed, though she didn't move to leave.
"If it's a trap, it's a delicious one," Lucian replied as the waiter arrived. "Order whatever you want. Consider it a tribute from the Gremory House to the Vatican's... financial management."
For the next thirty minutes, the "Elegant Prince" and the "Red Dragon Emperor" watched in stunned silence as the two holy warriors demolished three plates of steak, four bowls of rice, and a mountain of fries. It was a moment of levity that felt surreal. Here were the wielders of the shards of Excalibur, the ultimate weapons of the Cross, fighting over the last piece of fried chicken.
Xenovia eventually leaned back, wiping her mouth with a napkin, her dignity somewhat restored. "Don't think this changes anything, Lucian Gremory. We are still here to destroy the thief, and if your Knight gets in the way, he will be cut down."
"I'm counting on it," Lucian said, his voice turning serious. "Because Kiba is currently out there looking for the same man you are. If you find Freed Sellzen before we do, tell me."
Xenovia's eyes darkened. "Freed... that stray priest is a stain on our history. We will handle him."
The Sound of Clashing Steel
The meeting ended abruptly when a spike of mana rippled through the air—a frequency Lucian recognized instantly. It was the jagged, desperate energy of Sword Birth.
"Kiba," Lucian breathed.
He didn't wait for the others. He moved, his body flickering as he utilized a 30% output of the speed techniques he had copied from Kiba during their training sessions. He tore through the streets, leaping over fences and sprinting through narrow alleyways until he reached the industrial district.
The scene was a nightmare of silver and light.
Yuuto Kiba was standing in the center of a construction site, surrounded by dozens of jagged, black-steel blades protruding from the ground. Facing him was Freed Sellzen, the mad priest, who was swinging a glowing light-sword with the grace of a maniacal dancer.
"Is that all, puppy?!" Freed cackled, his white hair flying wildly. "I thought a 'survivor' would have more bite! You're just a little snack for the Holy Swords!"
Kiba lunged, his movements frantic. He was overdrawing his mana, his eyes bloodshot. "Shut up! Just shut up and die!"
He summoned another blade, but Freed caught it on his own glowing edge, the light eating through Kiba's steel like a hot knife through wax. With a brutal kick, Freed sent Kiba flying into a stack of steel beams.
"You smell like them, you know," Freed whispered, leaning over the fallen Knight. "The other kids. They smelled like burnt sugar and fear when the gas was turned on. Do you want to know what they said before they died? They called for their God. But only I answered!"
"DAAAAH!" Kiba let out a primal scream, a wave of darkness erupting from him as he tried to force a Balance Breaker he wasn't ready for. The ground began to crack, the holy-demonic energy spiraling out of control.
"Kiba, STOP!"
Lucian arrived, landing between the two. He didn't use a sword. He held out his right hand, the air shimmering as he released a controlled burst of the Power of Destruction. The dark sphere collided with Freed's light-blade, the resulting explosion throwing both parties back.
"Lucian..." Kiba gasped, coughing up blood. "Get out of here. This isn't your fight. This is my blood... my sin..."
"It's our problem now, Yuuto," Lucian said, not looking back. He stared at Freed, his red eyes glowing with a cold, predatory light. "And you... Freed Sellzen. You've been a nuisance for too long. You're talking too much about kids who can't defend themselves."
"Ooh! The Big Brother arrives!" Freed laughed, licking his blade. "The Gremory's little genius. I wonder... does your blood taste as sweet as the Heiress's?"
The Intervention of the Saints
Before the fight could resume, a massive golden cross of light slammed into the ground between them.
Xenovia and Irina arrived, their cloaks fluttering in the wind. Xenovia had her massive blade unsheathed, the wrap falling away to reveal the shimmering, dangerous edge of Excalibur Destruction.
"Freed Sellzen," Xenovia's voice rang out like a bell. "By the authority of the Vatican and the Grace of the Lord, you are sentenced to death for the theft of the Holy Shards."
Freed's grin widened. "The big guns! Oh, this is getting spicy! But I'm afraid I have a date with a certain fallen angel. Catch me if you can, ladies!"
With a burst of light-magic, Freed vanished into the shadows of the construction site.
Kiba tried to stand, but his legs gave out. Lucian caught him, pulling his arm over his shoulder. Kiba was shaking—not just from the cold, but from the realization that even with all his rage, he hadn't been enough to kill the man who mocked his fallen friends.
Xenovia walked up to them, her blade still glowing. She looked at Kiba with a mix of pity and disgust. "You are a broken thing, Knight. You seek to destroy Excalibur? You are like a moth trying to put out a bonfire."
"The moth might die," Lucian countered, his eyes meeting Xenovia's. "But it can still start a fire that burns the whole house down. Don't underestimate him."
The Broken Promise
The group returned to the ORC, the atmosphere heavier than ever. Kiba was treated by Asia, his wounds closing but the darkness in his eyes remaining.
Rias stood at the window, her back to the room. She had watched the entire confrontation from a distance through her familiar. She didn't scold Kiba. She didn't yell. She just looked tired.
"The Church and the Devils," Rias said quietly. "We are all hunting the same man now. Kokabiel has played us perfectly."
Lucian walked to her side, his hand brushing hers. He could feel the tremor in her fingers. The relationship they had built—the kisses, the "filler" laughter, the private moments of doting—was being tested by the grim reality of their world.
"We have to make a choice, Rias," Lucian said. "We either let Kiba go and watch him die, or we join this war and face the consequences of the Three Factions."
Rias turned, looking at her peerage—Issei, Asia, Akeno, Koneko, and the broken Kiba. Her eyes then settled on Lucian. He was her Bishop, her lover, and her strategist.
"We don't let our family die," Rias said, her voice reclaiming its strength. "If the Church wants to hunt Kokabiel, they can do it. But we will be the ones to deliver the final blow. Lucian, prepare the ritual circles. We're going to war."
Kiba looked up, tears finally pricking his eyes. "Buchou... I..."
"Silence, Yuuto," Rias said, walking to him and kneeling so she was at eye level. "You are a Gremory. Your vengeance is my vengeance. Your pain is my pain. We will destroy those swords together."
In the corner, Xenovia and Irina watched the display of Devil solidarity. For a moment, the rigid dogmas of the Church felt brittle.
Lucian looked at the horizon. The purple clouds were gathering, and the sound of ten wings flapping in the distance was growing louder. The "Elegant Prince" knew the script, but as he felt Rias's hand grip his own, he realized that some things—like the love of a King and the rage of a Knight—couldn't be predicted.
"The stage is set," Lucian whispered. "Time to show the Fallen what happens when you mess with a Gremory's heart."