Brașov was quieter now. Not peaceful, just exhausted. Smoke still clung to the air, drifting between broken buildings like it didn't know where to go next.
Elmenhilde stood beside me, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the skyline.
"They will rebuild," she said. "Order will be restored."
I let out a low breath, not quite a laugh.
"Order?" I repeated. "Is that what you call this?"
Her eyes flicked to me, sharp. "Do not twist my words. What happened here is an anomaly."
"Right," I muttered. "Because cities getting torn apart, civilians dying, nobles arguing over territory… that's totally outside the norm."
Her jaw tightened. "The system exists to prevent chaos like this."
I turned to her fully now.
"Then it's doing a terrible job."
Silence.
She didn't look away, but I could see it—that split-second hesitation.
I pressed on.
"Tell me something, Elme. All that hierarchy you believe in… all that 'order.' Did it protect Brașov?"
Her lips parted slightly. No answer came.
"Did it protect the people down there?" I gestured vaguely toward the city. "Or was everyone too busy calculating losses and positioning for the next move?"
"That is—" she started, then stopped.
I didn't let her recover.
"Your nobles treat countries like game boards. Mine too. Humans, vampires—doesn't matter. Same mindset, different costumes."
Her eyes narrowed. "And your solution is what? Tear everything down?"
"No," I said flatly. "My solution is to stop pretending this system deserves loyalty."
That hit. I could tell.
For a moment, she said nothing. No sharp retort. No aristocratic dismissal. Just… thinking.
I exhaled slowly, looking back at the ruined skyline.
"Power doesn't come from titles," I added. "It comes from what you can actually protect."
Another pause.
When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter—controlled, but lacking its usual edge.
"…You speak as if you have already abandoned it."
I shrugged.
"Maybe I just never believed in it to begin with."
That was the end of it.
When I glanced at her, she wasn't looking at me anymore.
She was looking at the city.
And for the first time…
She didn't look certain.
Later that night, I summoned Nelu and took off into the distance.
Anger and sorrow burned through me, and I had one destination in mind.
Hungary.
I reached Budapest in under an hour.
I scanned the city until I found the headquarters of LaVey's party. The lights were still on.
So I fired.
One strike. Two.
Then I moved down the list—high-ranking party officials. Clean hits.
It took hours, but eventually, my aura scan picked it up.
An Oblivion facility. Deep in the forest. The place hummed with devil aura—experiments, body modifications.
I didn't hesitate.
I fired.
Then I leaned back and watched the smoke rise, debris collapsing in on LaVey's little guinea pigs as the whole place went up in flames.
It didn't feel good.
It didn't bring Grandma back.
But LaVey thinking he can just hit Brașov whenever he feels like it… while I'm supposed to sit still?
Yeah. No.
I realized I was wrong.
In the back of my head, I always thought Oblivion was insignificant… because LaVey never even tried to make it look like he cared.
To him, battles were experiments. How many people do I need to take over and hold a city? How much chaos is required to test the limits?
So he attacked Brașov with 7.000, killed my grandma, and risked a full-blown escalation with the vampires… all just so he could send 3.500 to Miercurea Ciuc and finish the job.
I wasn't even sure why I defended that city anymore.
So mine could get torn to pieces instead?
I'm half Hungarian. I don't hate the idea of autonomy.
What I hate is the way LaVey twists it—uses it as a pretext to carve out his own empire.
Somehow, they've secured all of Harghita and are heading toward Covasna. Momentum. LaVey's Szekely Republic—his grand little project.
Tepes says Oblivion is too entrenched in Harghita. Carmilla says Miercurea Ciuc is too Hungarian to belong with Romania.
Truth is… they'd rather preserve their forces for some stupid succession war.
Nobles.
They never change.
Both the King and the Queen assure me I'm always welcome in Romania. Always welcome at their courts.
Both want a pawn—someone to help them seize the throne without opposition. They're so desperate they'd recruit dhampirs now.
But the other nobles? The way they look at me… like I don't belong here, like I'm some scrap scraped off their shoe.
They fear me enough not to challenge me. That doesn't mean they like me.
And me? I'm just waiting for this stupid system to fracture itself from within.
True leaders exploit power vacuums.
Besides… I bet there are thousands of lower-ranked vampires hiding in this country, quietly oppressed by their so-called elites.
I'm curious—how long could the current regime really hold if that threat ever emerged?
One vampire lord in particular was eager to see me.
Lord Vladi. One of the few sane people in this mess. Yet even he had his flaws—he still couldn't fully accept his crossdressing son.
I didn't expect him to make the first move.
But there he was, standing at the front of my Bucharest apartment building, tall and composed as ever, shadows clinging to him like a cloak.
He gave a small, polite nod.
"Kokonoe… no, Mihai," he said, voice calm but firm. "May I have a moment of your time?"
I nodded.
Guess I'll humor him.
Vladi's gaze lingered on me, assessing, unflinching.
"You were… Rias Gremory's Rook, weren't you?" he asked.
I nodded. "Yeah. That's right."
He gave a quiet, approving hum. "I thought as much. Impressive. Even now, your presence carries the mark of someone who's seen far too much."
His eyes softened slightly, though his posture remained formal.
"And… Gasper," he continued, voice low, careful. "What has become of him? Is he well?"
I swallowed, the name hitting a chord I didn't expect I'd feel so sharply here.
"He's… surviving," I said cautiously. "Learning to handle things the only way he can. Like all of us, I guess."
I looked him in the eyes.
"Sometimes I wonder if seeing vampires as creatures utterly incapable of empathy is the right perspective," I sighed. "So far… I have more reasons to believe the former."
Vladi's expression remained calm, almost resigned, but his voice carried quiet authority.
"Empathy is a choice. One that most of our kind abandon because it is inconvenient, or dangerous, or… weak."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"But abandoning it does not make it impossible. And those who remember to wield it are the ones who endure. Perhaps you are one of them."
He gave a faint nod, eyes glinting with both judgment and rare approval.
"Do not lose yourself to the cold. Even in a world built on hunger and politics, a vampire capable of restraint… is a force no one can ignore."
"I have no interest in claiming land or chasing power," I said, voice low but steady. "My Romania… it's the one that the people in high councils treat like a footnote. The truth is, both worlds are two sides of the same coin: bleeding from old wounds, slowly dying out."
Vladi's gaze softened, though his posture remained impeccable, formal.
"Then perhaps you are wiser than most," he said quietly. "Those who chase power often forget what it is they are supposed to protect. A nation, a people… even a family. You see the rot, and you refuse to feed it."
He leaned back slightly, hands folded.
"Yet beware—turning your back on power does not stop the world from using it. The key is not to seek it blindly, but to wield it when necessary, with intent and restraint."
I looked him dead in the eye.
"When I met your son, I saw… a reflection of myself, in a way. Born to a Romanian father and a Hungarian mother, told I'm never good enough for either nation."
I let the words hang for a moment.
"The only reason I would ever project power… is to make sure no child ever has to go through that again."
Vladi's eyes darkened slightly, a shadow passing over his otherwise calm expression.
When I mentioned Gasper, it struck a nerve.
"Do not misunderstand me, Mihai," he began, voice quiet but firm. "I love my son, Gasper. Deeply. More than words could ever convey."
He paused, letting the weight of his confession settle between us.
"Yet… the world I inhabit—the court, the expectations, the whispers of other nobles—demanded a certain distance. Etiquette, reputation, appearances… they forced me into a position of cold formality, one that I never wished to occupy."
His gaze lingered, unflinching.
"Do not think that absence equals indifference. I have always watched over him, guided him… silently, as a father should when the world insists he hide his heart."
He exhaled softly, the faintest tension in his shoulders betraying the restraint behind his words.
"Love does not always wear the face we wish it to. Sometimes, it is duty first—and longing second."
I sighed.
"Yes… love is complicated. And yet, this system? It's slowly devouring itself from the inside.
I've seen the way the council looks at me—like I have no right to sit at the same table as them. Like the land that raised me is just a footnote in their stories."
I paused, searching for the words.
"In the end… I'm just fortunate enough to have been reborn in another country, with powers that let me actually matter."
Vladi regarded me with a steady, almost piercing gaze, as if weighing the truth behind my words.
"Fortune, Mihai… is never entirely random," he said, voice calm but deliberate. "You were given power, yes. But it is how you choose to wield it that defines you—not the circumstances of your birth."
He leaned forward slightly, hands folded.
"Do not mistake their disdain for a verdict on your worth. Those who understand strength… do not need permission to respect it. And you… already command it, whether they acknowledge it or not."
"Thank you for your kind words, milord," I replied, inclining my head slightly. "By the way… if you have a message for your son, I could convey it personally."
Vladi's expression softened almost immediately.
"Very well," he said calmly, voice measured. "Tell him… that I love him, and that despite appearances, I have always been proud of him. And… remind him to trust in his own strength, even when the world insists he cannot."
His eyes met mine, steady and unwavering.
"Do not falter, Mihai. Some truths are best carried by those who understand them."
Just like some nations.
Like Romania should be.
After Lord Vladi left, I made my way to check on Suzuka, who was currently undergoing treatment at Brașov Municipal Hospital.
Calea București stretched before me—one of the few areas that survived the siege mostly intact.
The vampires promised to rebuild the city quickly. I'd heard the same from the devils back in Nagano.
Truth be told, supernatural pantheons were no better than humans. Promises meant little when the blood of innocents already soaked the streets.
The difference is… I learned that in Nagano. My first clash with LaVey and his terrorist organization—250 civilians dead.
In Brașov? The number climbed to over 1.500.
All of it… just so LaVey could carve out his puppet republic on Romanian soil.
My own grandmother—the version of her that existed in this world—reduced to a statistic.
Another name on a list of casualties.
I pushed the door to her room open.
Suzuka lay on the bed, a little pale, but most of her wounds had already faded. A book rested in her hands—something in French.
Haruka was fast asleep right next to her, drooling slightly, like Suzuka's lap was the most comfortable pillow in the world.
Suzuka's face lit up the moment she saw me.
"Hey," I said softly. "You okay?"
Suzuka blinked, then gave a small, warm smile.
"I've been better," she admitted quietly, closing her book with a soft tap. "But I'm still here… so I suppose that counts as a win."
Her fingers brushed lightly through Haruka's hair, careful not to wake her.
"She refused to leave," Suzuka added, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Said she'd 'guard' me… and then fell asleep five minutes later."
Her eyes lifted back to mine, gentler now.
"…What about you, Kokonoe-kun?"
I sighed.
"Well, I just lost my grandma, so yeah… I've been better too."
She looked at me—really looked this time—like she was trying to read everything I wasn't saying.
"…Yeah," she whispered, voice soft, almost fragile. "I think I understand… at least a little."
Her gaze softened further, a quiet sadness settling in.
"I'm… really sorry for your loss, Kokonoe-kun."
Yeah. Don't mention it.
"Nothing I ever did was enough for her," I muttered, voice tight. "If I didn't come for a week… why didn't I come for a week? And if I came for just a day, she had to double-check her fridge. Surely someone stole food by now…"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
"Sorry. Just… took a little trip down memory lane."
Suzuka reached out, resting a hand lightly on mine.
"You can't blame yourself for that, Kokonoe-kun," she said softly. "She knew you cared… she always knew."
I shrugged.
"Well… people have all kinds of toxic ways of showing they care. She grew up in a barracks—what did you expect?"
Suzuka didn't flinch at the bitterness in my voice.
Most people did.
She just held my hand a little tighter, thumb brushing once across my knuckles — not pushing, not prying, just… there.
"That doesn't make it toxic," she said softly. "It just makes it human."
I huffed a breath that wasn't quite a laugh.
"Yeah. Human. That's one word for it."
Suzuka tilted her head, studying me with that quiet, perceptive calm she always had.
"She worried because she loved you," she murmured. "Even if she didn't always know how to show it gently."
I looked away, jaw tightening.
Suzuka's expression softened even more — not pity, never pity, just understanding.
"People who grow up in harsh places… they learn harsh ways to care," she said. "But that doesn't erase the love underneath."
Haruka shifted in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent before settling again. Suzuka brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, then looked back at me.
"You don't have to pretend it didn't hurt," she added quietly. "Losing someone like that… it leaves strange wounds."
I swallowed, throat tight.
"Yeah," I said. "It does."
And for once, I didn't try to hide it.
"Sorry I dragged you two into this mess…," I sighed. "Could've had a normal summer break and all."
She shook her head, a small, weary smile on her lips.
"You don't need to apologize, Kokonoe-kun," she said softly. "We chose to come. You weren't alone in this… and you didn't drag anyone—you just asked for help."
Her eyes lingered on mine, steady and understanding.
She didn't say anything else.
Just stayed there, hand on mine, while the city outside settled into a quiet, broken rhythm.
____________
[Koneko POV]
The training grounds in the Gremory territory were quiet.
The kind of quiet that only happened when Buchou pushed everyone hard enough that even Issei-senpai stopped complaining.
I sat on a flat rock at the edge of the clearing, my tail swaying slowly behind me. The sun was warm, but it didn't really register.
Senpai had chosen to stay in Romania for the summer break. He said he'd be fine.
He always said that.
Buchou was drilling Issei-senpai and Kiba-senpai on Balance Breaker timing again. Asia watched nearby, healing minor injuries with a worried expression. Akeno-san floated above them, arcs of lightning flickering lazily between her fingers.
Then Azazel-sensei appeared in a flash of golden light, hands in his pockets like he had nothing better to do.
"Bad news from Romania," he said. No preamble.
His usual grin wasn't there.
"Brașov took a hit. Oblivion deployed seven thousand troops. Red rain-type spell. Heavy civilian casualties… over fifteen hundred confirmed."
My heart skipped.
Brașov… that was Senpai's city.
The air shifted. Everyone stopped. Even the training ground felt heavier.
Buchou's voice cut through the silence, low and steady.
"They struck Kokonoe's home."
She didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to.
Azazel-sensei gave a small nod, exhaling through his nose.
"Yeah. And while he was busy dealing with that, LaVey's little pets moved on Miercurea Ciuc and took it clean," he said, tone casual—but his eyes weren't.
He glanced at all of us, expression sharpening slightly.
"At this point? This isn't a skirmish anymore. It's a full-blown war."
Buchou's gaze softened, thoughtful.
"Can't we… do something? Isn't there any way to help him?"
Azazel-sensei shook his head, calm as ever.
"Kokonoe's not just a free agent anymore," he said, voice flat. "He's a vampire. Tepes and Carmilla's faction… they want him under their control. I can only keep him safe if he avoids committing to a side."
He looked around at us, eyes sharp.
"Basically? He's walking into a war between vampires and Oblivion. You kids stay out of it."
He left us with that.
The room fell quiet.
Suddenly, Akeno-senpai's voice cut in, calm but firm, with that playful edge she always had.
"Azazel-sensei did say not to get involved," Akeno-senpai spoke, voice gentle, almost playful. "But he didn't say we couldn't check on him."
She smiled faintly.
"It would be rather cold of us to do nothing, don't you think?"
Buchou let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes.
"Akeno."
She tilted her head, smile still there—but her eyes were serious.
"I'm simply saying we should see him. That's all."
Without thinking, I stepped forward.
"…I'm going."
Gasper's tiny head peeked from his box, his voice quivering like always.
"M-me too… if M-Mihai is part of our world now… I-I want to see him."
I stayed still, tail flicking, noting how even with all the danger, they refused to just sit back.
Buchou closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling softly.
"…Fine," she said at last. "We'll go. But we are not getting involved. We check on him, and we leave. Understood?"
Akeno-senpai's smile widened, satisfied.
"Of course, Buchou~"
A magic circle flared beneath our feet, crimson and precise. The world folded—and then unfolded again.
Bucharest.
The apartment was quiet when we stepped inside. Too quiet.
He was there.
Senpai sat sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, posture loose—too loose. Like someone who didn't care enough to sit properly anymore.
The air around him felt… off. Heavy.
Like something had been taken and wasn't coming back.
From the kitchen, voices.
Yamamoto-san and Midorikawa-san stood by the counter, mid-conversation. They both turned when we appeared.
No one spoke at first.
I looked at him again.
Something was missing.
"Oh. What's with the whole squad? Worried about the kid?" he smirked.
It didn't reach his eyes.
No one laughed.
"Kokonoe, I'm sorry about—" Buchou began, but the words died the moment she met his gaze.
Senpai didn't answer.
He just reached for the remote and flicked the TV on.
The screen lit up with a breaking news banner.
"There has been an explosion at the Hungarian Unity Party headquarters in Budapest. Current reports confirm five dead and ten injured.
Party leader Gabor LaVey issued the following statement: 'This was a terrorist attack carried out by the Romanian secret services. I repeat—we are not involved in the Székely unrest. However, we stand firmly with our brothers and sisters against Bucharest's terror regime.'"
The room fell silent.
The weight in the air didn't lift.
It got heavier.
"…Kokonoe," Buchou spoke.
Her voice was calm—but heavy.
"That wasn't a coincidence, was it?"
Senpai met her gaze, expression flat.
"Well, my grandma died in their strike. That wasn't a coincidence either, was it?" he shot back.
Right.
Senpai had mentioned it before—that a version of his old life existed in this world.
If that was true…
Then the people he lost here weren't strangers.
They were his.
"I'm… sorry for your loss," Buchou said, her voice solemn.
Senpai exhaled quietly.
"…Thanks," he muttered. "Still… didn't expect you all to come just to check on me."
He gestured toward the couch.
"Sit. Make yourselves at home."
Then he turned and headed into the kitchen.
A few seconds later, he came back with two cups of coffee and two cups of tea, setting them down without a word.
His gaze shifted to me.
"Catch."
A couple of candy bars flew my way.
Senpai settled back onto the couch with us, and for a moment, the room was silent.
Gya-kun's small, hesitant voice broke through.
"U-um… s-still, I'm surprised you're… one of us now, Mihai. How does it… feel?"
I didn't move. I just watched.
Senpai ran a hand through his face, exasperated, then patted Gya-kun's head gently.
"Bro… I have a lot to say. But first, I'm sorry you had to grow up here. Genuinely."
He paused.
"All I can ask myself is 'ce pula mea e cu astia', I swear. They wield their outdated authority like it matters. They wield their power like it's not on the edge of collapse."
Gya-kun shifted uneasily, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve.
"U-uh… t-then… you mean… everything you've done… it doesn't really matter to them?" he stammered.
Senpai sighed.
"Did it ever?"
Buchou let out a dry chuckle.
"And you said I'm rich and spoiled," she teased, though there was no bite in it.
"They're arrogant and entitled, so congrats to them for the level up," he replied, voice flat, sarcasm dripping off every word.
Akeno-senpai tilted her head, a teasing smile playing on her lips.
"Oh? Is that the famous 'brooding Kokonoe-kun' sense of humor I've heard so much about?"
Kokonoe didn't even look at her, voice flat.
"Famous? Hardly. Overrated, more like."
Then his gaze shifted to Gya-kun.
"Oh, by the way, kid. I met your dad."
Buchou flinched. Akeno-senpai stiffened.
Gya-kun froze, eyes widening, small hands clenching at his sides.
"M-my… d-dad?" he stammered, voice barely above a whisper.
"He said he loves you. And that his duty as a vampire lord is still more important," Senpai replied flatly.
"And something about hoping you find your way."
Gya-kun's small frame froze completely, eyes wide and unblinking.
"H-he… he said that?" His voice trembled, barely audible.
"I… I… don't know what to feel…"
"Understandable," Senpai replied.
"Anyway," he continued. "I'll be back by fall… if LaVey somehow decides he's had enough of carving Transylvania like a pumpkin pie."
"I hope he won't succeed…" I murmured, my voice so faint it barely felt real.
I watched Senpai's eyes—no, felt them—ignite, a quiet blaze that sent a shiver down my spine. There was no hesitation in him. Just resolve.
"I'm gonna make sure he won't," he replied, just as softly.
But the weight behind those words… it was absolute.
In that moment, I understood.
This wasn't just determination.
He had already chosen his path.
No matter what stood in his way…
Senpai would protect his country—even if it meant destroying everything else.