The silence in Arata's room wasn't peace; it was the tension of a bow about to snap. He gruntly ripped off his shirt, revealing a torso that was a silent testament to divine carnage. These weren't just scars; they were stigmata. The marks left by Mundus glowed a sickly violet in the moonlight, pulsing to the rhythm of his damaged heart.
"Master, your nervous system is like a tree struck by lightning. You're pushing an engine with frayed wires and melted pistons," Sora remarked, materializing on the desk. Her silver-girl form emitted an ethereal glow that revealed the deep fatigue on Arata's face.
"Shut up, Sora. A Sparda doesn't stop because it's out of fuel. It simply shifts gears," Arata growled, sitting down across from the solid wood table.
He pulled out the Destiny Diary. At that very instant, at four specific points in reality, space-time vibrated. Four women felt the heat in their hands as the books opened on their own:
Lilith Asami: In her Academy office, hiding the book under a stack of reports.
Rias Gremory: In the Occult Club, with the lights off, consumed by curiosity and guilt.
Grayfia Lucifuge: In the Underworld, protecting the diary as if it were proof of her greatest sin.
Serafall Leviathan: In her castle, having abandoned her "Magical Girl" persona. Her usually cheerful eyes were fixed on the ink that was beginning to flow. She was looking for a distraction, but what she found was tragedy.
The Off-Road Fault Log
Arata began to write. His handwriting was rapid, aggressive, an open wound on the paper.
"Current capabilities: Pathetic. My magical core is fragmented to 15%. In this world of 'mages' and 'blooded demons,' I'm a technical glitch. They have clean mana channels, energy highways. I'm a dumping ground. But I'm a jack-of-all-trades. If I don't have magic, I use inertia. If I don't have strength, I use gravity. My style isn't elegance, it's pure survival."
Lilith pressed her lips together as she read. Arata was using the laws of physics to compensate for what the magical world had taken from him.
"Mundus didn't just seal me away. That three-eyed bastard drove his holy-corrupted light spears through my shoulders, pinning me to the ground as his laughter echoed in my skull. He tried to 'empty' me. He forced his will into my mana channels to rip out my soul and leave my body an empty vessel. I felt my Sparda blood boil within my veins. He left internal scars that burn with every breath. Every time I try to cast a spell, those wounds bleed energy, feeding the seal that keeps me weak. I am a ruin, but from ruins, fortresses are built."
Serafall paled on her throne. She knew Mundus's power. "No one survives soul dismantling... no one except a Sparda," he whispered, feeling a pang of pity for the boy Sirzechs had presumed dead.
The Siege Plan: Step by Step
Arata drew a violent dividing line and began numbering his recovery strategy.
"Phase 1: Sora's Bypass.
I can't use my original channels; they're charred. I'll use Sora as an external organ. She'll filter the academy's energy and inject it directly into my nervous system. It hurts like a thousand red-hot needles are being driven into me, but I prefer agony to helplessness.
"Phase 2: The Lust Siphon (Lilith).
I need Lilith Asami's Lust Archive. It's the key to 'Synchronization.' If I can link my frequency to hers, I'll be able to locate the Yamato." I sense my uncle Vergil's sword weeping somewhere in the nearby space-time. Lilith is the master key, and I intend to turn it until the lock breaks.
"Phase 3: The Harvest of the Nobles. Tomorrow I will begin harvesting. Each time I defeat one of those arrogant nobles, Sora will absorb their excess residual energy and use it to patch the cracks in my Devil Trigger. By the time Sirzechs realizes I'm still alive, I won't be a wounded bastard anymore; I'll be his executioner."
Ambition and the Final Trauma
Arata dropped the quill, his fingers stiff.
"Sometimes, I can still smell the smoke from the fire where my mother died when I was four. I remember the cold of the street and how the Gremory family's magical carriages passed by me, ignoring the child who had the face of their Demon Lord. They called me a glitch. They called me trash. Tomorrow in Lilith's class, I'm going to prove to them that a glitch in the system is the only thing capable of collapsing all of reality. I'm not looking for their forgiveness. I just want them to know, when they die, that it was the child they abandoned who took the crown from them. I'm not a magician. I'm a consequence."
Arata slammed the journal shut.
"Master... writing that exhausts you more than fighting," Sora said, resting his ghostly head on his shoulder. "But it doesn't matter. If you want to burn the world down, I'll be the match."
"Just be ready for tomorrow, Sora. I won't be nice to anyone."
En los cuatro puntos del mundo, el silencio era absoluto. Lilith lloraba en silencio sobre el escritorio, debatiéndose entre su deber como profesora y su humanidad. Rias se preparaba para viajar a la academia a espaldas de su hermano. Grayfia estaba lista para traicionar a Sirzechs por el niño que no pudo salvar. Y Serafall... ella simplemente observaba el horizonte, dándose cuenta de que la tormenta que venía no respetaría ni a los Reyes Demonio.
Mientras tanto, en el Inframundo, Sirzechs Lucifer bebía vino con tranquilidad, totalmente ignorante de que el "error" de su pasado estaba afilando sus colmillos en la Academia Biblia.