After concluding his business with Lady Sitri, Motohama arrived at the outskirts of Kuoh Town with a single aim moonwalking in his mind.
Kuoh Town looked like any other Japanese town, but appearances were a scam. Devils, fallen angels, and Church hunters had divided it into invisible territories, like rival gangs sharing a city while pretending not to be one bad day away from a war.
Motohama stopped where the road thinned into forest grass, and drew in a slow breath, and feeling relief slide through his body like taking a cold shower, after a long day at work.
'Considering how often I should've died lately, it feels less like luck and more like death having serious navigation problems'
Lady Sitri's warning lingered at the back of his mind like a blade poised against his neck.
He closed his eyes and turned his senses inward. His shoulders relaxed first, then his fingers slowly curled, and only when his body finally ceased bracing for an ambush did his thoughts drift toward the strange pressure lurking within him.
Sacred Gears responded to desire.
She had spoken as though she were explaining a simple fact of life, but the look in her eyes had told a different story. Even Lady Sitri had regarded the thing within him like a predator waiting to wake.
Desire shaped the power. Desire pulled the trigger.
The stronger the desire, the stronger the Sacred Gear responded.
His old desire had been survival, but that had worn thin after too many near-death appointments with idiots carrying divine weapons. He had survived fallen angels because some of them fought like drunk crows with spears. He had survived the Hero Faction because their ambush had almost worked, which made it less funny and more irritating.
His fist clenched. Surviving was the bare minimum. His desire was not to just scrape through.
His desire was to win. Always.
His vision drowned beneath an endless expanse of blinding purple light.
Motohama's eyes snapped open as a violet flame wavered at the tip of his finger. No heat radiated from it, but the surrounding air strained against it as though the world was resisting its very presence.
A slow breath escaped him as he experimented with the flame. It danced across his fingertip, shifting forms at his command. A slight motion of his hand reshaped it into whatever form he imagined. It twisted into a thin strand, folded into a crescent, circled into a ring, and hardened into a needle-like point. The childish urge to keep experimenting vanished almost immediately.
The display would have been mesmerizing under different circumstances. A flame powerful enough that even a Satan-class devil had treated it with caution rather than confidence.
"No way" he muttered, staring at the purple glow reflecting in his both eyes "Of all the things to wake up... Incinerate Anthem?"
The tiny flame danced across his fingertip, radiating a confidence it had no business possessing. Motohama rubbed his forehead with a sigh as it seems even his powers seemed convinced he was the main character.
"Because normal holy fire wouldn't piss off enough factions at once, right?" he eyed the flame in fascination "No, we had to go straight for the premium-grade blasphemy"
He lifted both hands, pulled the flame into a thin line between them, and shaped it like an arrow. His wrists steadied. His pulse kicked once. He aimed at a giant tree far end in the woods and released. The purple shot crossed the clearing with a sharp fwoom and struck the trunk dead center.
He cupped the flame between his palms and drew them apart. The fire stretched into a glowing line before condensing into an arrow of violet light. His shoulders squared. His aim settled on a giant tree in the distance.
Fwoooosh!
The shot left his hands in a violet blur, struck the trunk dead center, and burned the towering tree to ash in seconds.
Motohama stared at the blackened patch of earth where a giant tree had stood moments ago.
A slow breath escaped him as he muttered "Well, it seems we've to established some of restraint is going to be important"
The tiny flame flickered above his fingertip as if pleased with itself.
- - -
The Occult Research Club room was awash in warm lamplight, yet the moment between Rias Gremory and Sona Sitri remained present with unspoken concerns.
Rias sat with one leg crossed, arms folded beneath her chest, projecting the calm confidence expected of a Gremory heiress. She looked patient at first glance, but anyone who knew her well would recognize that patience was running thin.
Across from her, Sona sat with her usual composure, teacup in hand. To most people, they were rivals. That part was true. What outsiders rarely saw was the trust beneath it all, forged through years of shared responsibilities, disagreements, and mutual respect.
Rias frowned faintly "The Church exorcists have already approached Motohama. If they believe they can pressure him, now, into cooperation, they're wasting their time. If they continue trying anyway, matters could become unnecessarily complicated"
Sona pushed her glasses into place and regarded Rias over the rim of her teacup. The look alone suggested she had already reached a conclusion.
"Rias. Of all people, you should know that Motohama rarely involves himself in anything unless he sees a reason to do so," Sona said, setting her teacup down with deliberate care "I believe your attention would be better spent on your Knight. Kiba is still searching for the Excaliburs, and his grief is beginning to cloud his judgment"
The words were delivered without judgment, making them all the harder to argue against. Rias exhaled quietly and lowered her eyes. Lately, Yuuto smiled as though it were a responsibility.
"Yuuto's hatred for those swords is a wound I cannot heal for him. If I cannot convince my own Knight to step back from the edge, what hope do I have of directing Motohama's actions?" Rias sighed, caressing her head helplessly.
A faint smile tugged at her lips "The frustrating part is that Motohama actually pays attention. He considers every warning carefully, then does whatever he was planning to do in the first place"
Sona set her cup down, agreeing to it with a simple nod, before she decided to take the conversation to the more important concerns.
"Then our attention should return to Kokabiel"
The name alone seemed to add unsettling silence the room. One of the old leaders of the Fallen Angels did not enter a devil's territory without purpose, especially not while stolen Excaliburs were moving through Kuoh.
"The Hero Faction has secured both Excaliburs. Kokabiel cooperated with them during the ambush on Motohama, which suggests their interests aligned at the time" Sona's gaze narrowed slightly "Now the situation has changed. The Excaliburs have been obtained by that faction and their objective has been fulfilled as well, which leaves us with a more concerning question"
She paused, and looked in the eye of Gremory heiress.
"What does Kokabiel intend to do next?"
Rias's eyes widened. For a moment, neither she nor Sona spoke. The pieces slid together in her mind with alarming ease. If Kokabiel intended to ignite a conflict, then attacking the heirs of Gremory and Sitri would accomplish exactly that.
"We should inform Motohama before he finds himself involved without understanding the full situation-"
"Fufufu... and here I was beginning to wonder when you would figure it out" The voice sounded almost pleased "You young devils always assume there will be time to prepare. What a wonderfully persistent illusion"
Kokabiel lounged in Rias's chair behind the desk.
One leg rested over the other as though he were the owner of the room rather than an intruder. Long black hair spilled over his shoulders, with an amused smile across his face. His red eyes moved between Rias and Sona with open amusement, as if their alarm was the most entertaining thing he had seen all day.
Both heiresses were on their feet in an instant.
"You are trespassing in my territory, Kokabiel" Rias's eyes narrowed as she faced the Fallen Angel.
Sona adjusted her glasses and regarded him calmly "Clarify your intentions, Kokabiel. Until you do, we have no choice but to regard your presence as hostile" Sona adjusted her glasses and regarded him calmly
"The heiresses of Gremory and Sitri. Do you have any idea how much blood ambitious men once spilled for opportunities like this?" He shook his head in mock disbelief "Yet here you are, gathered together, discussing how to preserve peace as though it were something permanent"
His smile widened, as he opened his arms wide "That is what I find most infuriating about your generation. You treat peace as the natural state of the world, when it's merely the silence between wars" His eyes gleamed in malovalence "And silence, after a few centuries, becomes unbearably dull"
Both of them tensed as he clenched his fist, exuding an overwhelming blood thirst.
"For centuries, your leaders have buried the embers of the Great War beneath treaties and diplomacy" Kokabiel leaned back comfortably in the chair "I merely intend to see whether the fire is truly dead." His eyes lingered on Rias and Sona. "Personally, I suspect it only needs a spark"
Rias's aura flared instinctively, a silent challenge hanging in the air between them. Beside her, Sona adjusted her stance ever so slightly, already considering every possible response. Friendship, concern, and conversation faded into the background.
At this moment, they stood not as students, but as the heirs of Gremory and Sitri before an enemy who wanted the world bleeding once more.
On the bright side, they no longer needed to wonder what Kokabiel was planning to do.
. . .
Meanwhile, far from the Occult Club room, Motohama stood in the middle of the destruction he had created, purple fire curling around his right arm.
The flames obeyed better than they should have.
When he summoned Chastiefol, the holy fire curled around the spearhead without so much as scorching the metal. When he drew Cross Tail's wires, violet flames raced along their length, tracing every strand without damaging them. The distinction should not have been possible. Fire burned. That was its nature. Yet this flame ignored whatever he wished to preserve and consumed only what he willed destroyed.
Motohama flexed his hand as the fire coiled around his fingers, as if it understood not in words, but in his intent.
He could not communicate with it, not yet. Even so, the longer he used it, the harder it became to shake the feeling that something within the flame was quietly observing him in return.
"Why am I not surprised? I should've-"
His body moved on his own before his thoughts caught up. Chastiefol appeared in his hand as steel crashed against it with enough force to jar his arm.
CLANG!
The attacker was a man in his thirties wielding an oversized blade, its center hollowed by a diamond-shaped gap and its edges lined with multiple spikes. Motohama pushed him away, but the man vanished the instant their weapons separated. A sharp hiss cut through the air. Motohama leaned back as a blade swept past his chest, missing by inches. The strike would have carved him open. Ash scattered beneath his feet as he launched himself forward and matched the man's burst of speed.
The attacker's grin stretched wider "Good! You can follow me! Most pigs just stand there and bleed when I move! Let's see if you can squeal, too!"
Branches rustled behind him, and an elderly priest stepped from the trees. He was short, bespectacled, gray-haired, and neat in a way that made the forest look dirty for touching him. A mustache framed his thin smile, and black eyes studied Motohama like a specimen pinned under glass. Motohama's jaw tightened before his face settled into a cold smile. He knew that face. Valper Galilei. The butcher behind Kiba's nightmare.
Branches rustled behind the man, and an elderly priest stepped from the trees. He was short, bespectacled, and impeccably groomed, his gray hair neatly combed despite the forest around him. A thin mustache framed a faint smile, while dark eyes regarded Motohama with the detached curiosity of a scholar examining a specimen rather than a person.
There was nothing outwardly threatening about him. If anything, he looked more suited to a lecture hall than a battlefield.
Motohama's grip tightened around the spear upon recognition of this old man.
'Valper Galilei. The architect of the Holy Sword Project'
Valper folded his hands within his sleeves, his expression composed and utterly devoid of warmth "Impressive reflexes" he remarked, as though evaluating a successful experiment "Kokabiel-sama has expressed an interest in you, young man. Your anomalous abilities have not gone unnoticed"
His gaze lingered on Motohama for a moment before he continued "However, should you wish to accept his invitation, there is a condition. The Excaliburs currently in your possession must be surrendered. Their resonance is of considerable interest to me" A faint smile touched his lips "I trust you understand the importance of contributing to scientific progress."
"You got the wrong person, old man. Try asking someone who does" Motohama rested Chastiefol on his shoulder and regarded the priest with mild amusement "Or check under your couch cushions. You never know what turns up there"
Valper's smile darkened, as though Motohama had just suggested that his research belonged in the fiction section.
"Please refrain from insulting my intelligence, young man" Valper said, his smile thinning. "We are already aware that the Hero Faction entrusted the Excaliburs to you. Their leader was kind enough to confirm the arrangement personally"
"You joined their organization, and the swords were transferred into your possession shortly thereafter" His gaze sharpened behind the lenses "You may continue denying it if you wish, but facts remain facts regardless of personal preference"
Apparently, the man had been handing out Motohama's name like festival flyers.
Motohama sighed "You know, somewhere out there, Cao Cao is probably very proud of himself." He pointed Chastiefol at Valper "The man has an amazing talent for turning his problems into other people's problems"
"Who cares about the damn swords right now?!" the swordsman yelled, licking his lips as he pointed his massive blade at Motohama. "I just want to see how you squeal when I chop you off with my blade!"
The spear spun once in his hand before coming to a stop, its point aimed squarely at the two men.
Valper observed him with unsettling patience. The old priest looked less interested in winning than in seeing what happened next. Motohama filed the thought away. The clearing gave them room to fight, but Kuoh waited beyond it, crowded with people who would never know how close they stood to the edge of someone else's war.
Violet flames traced the length of Chastiefol as Motohama regarded the swordsman for a moment before turning his attention to Valper. One wanted a fight. The other wanted results. But, neither seemed to be aware that the outcome had never been in their hands.
"You're awfully relaxed for someone who is about to die!" The swordsman approached Motohama, bringing out the other pointed sword in his hand with a maniac grin on his face.
"It's fine"
Motohama's smile widened slightly as purple fire curled around Chastiefol's edge, and at the same time, the familiar chime of a new quest notification rang out in his mind.
"After all, you're weak"
. . .
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