A little girl knelt by her bedside, her small knees pressed against the cold wooden floor. Her hands were clasped so tightly that her knuckles were white, and her eyes were squeezed shut in a state of concentration.
She had been sick for as long as she could remember. The sterile smell of hospitals and the bitter taste of various medicines were what made up most of her childhood.
Her mother always told her that it wasn't her fault, that she had simply been born with a body too fragile for the world. Her mother insisted that she shouldn't carry the weight of her father's departure, though the girl knew the truth, he had looked at his broken daughter, decided the financial and emotional burden was too great, and walked away without looking back.
She felt a gnawing guilt every single day. She saw the exhaustion in her mother's eyes, the way the mounting hospital bills never seemed to shrink, only grow.
Her mother could have been free, she could have been living a life of travel, or career, or romance, or anything it was that adults do when they have nothing but time on their hands. Instead, she was tethered to a sickbed, counting pennies for treatments that only bought a few more days of survival.
So, the girl prayed. She didn't pray for toys or friends, she had no need for them like the other children she saw, or even a longer life. To her, a longer life like this was hell.
No. She prayed for the pain to stop. She prayed for her mother to finally smile a real smile. She prayed for a miracle.
For years, there had been no answer, as always, but for the past few days, something had changed.
Her breath came easier. The sharp, stabbing pain in her joints, the kind that usually made her cry a lot in her sleep as a little girl, had faded into a dull, manageable ache.
Her body felt lighter overall. She didn't know why, and she didn't dare tell her mother yet for fear of it being a cruel dream. But she kept praying, her voice a tiny, hopeful whisper in the dark room as the pain eased a little more.
The little girl didn't notice that she wasn't alone. Floating silently above her was a figure shrouded in light, invisible to mortal eyes.
The entity watched her for a long minute, eyes tracing the subtle glow that was around the girl. With a soft rustle of white wings, the figure vanished.
In a flash of blinding radiance, the angel reappeared in the celestial heights of Heaven.
"So?" Michael asked the moment the messenger landed. The Archangel stood overlooking the spires of the city, his expression uncharacteristically strained.
The angel dropped to one knee, voice thick with awe. "It is as you suspected, Lord Michael. Father's miracles… they are working again. I saw a child, I saw it with my own eyes. miracles."
Michael closed his eyes, his wings fluttering once. "I… I see. Thank you."
The angel hesitated, glancing up at the leader of the Heavens. "Lord Michael… does this mean… is He back? Has father returned?" he asked softly.
The question made Michael freeze. He looked out over the horizon.
"I… I really don't know," he whispered, the uncertainty weighing heavier than any mountain. If God was back, why hadn't he come home? And if he wasn't back, what was moving his hand?
He turned away and flew toward the heart of the Seventh Heaven, entering the chamber that housed the Heaven System. This was the core of their entire existence, the vast, metaphysical engine that managed the prayers, blessings, and sacred gears of the world and so much more.
"How is it?" Michael asked as he stepped into the hall of humming light.
Raphael stood at the center, his brow furrowed as he watched the streams of divine runes. "I don't really know what I'm looking at, Michael. I don't even know what I'm looking for."
Michael walked to his side, his hands trembling slightly. "The system is acting up. I've felt it for days, and I'm worried."
"'Acting up' is an understatement," Raphael noted, gesturing to a sector of runes that were glowing with a brilliance they hadn't seen in centuries. "Functions that have been dormant since the Great War are suddenly active. The empowerment for our warriors is active, and the miracle system is also working again. It's not at full capacity, not like when Father was here, but it's better than it has been in a thousand years."
Michael's gaze hardened. "That's the problem, Raphael. I have been controlling this system since Father's passing. I know every function, every action. Not once has it behaved like this. Then, suddenly, one day it just… starts fixing itself? It isn't normal."
"Are you sure something is wrong?" Raphael asked. "To me, it looks like a miraculous recovery."
"The system is the heart of our faction," Michael said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. "If someone has found a way to mess with it, to bypass my authority and manipulate the core, then they have Heaven in the palm of their hands. That thought alone sends shivers down my spine."
They spent hours scouring the logs, checking every seal, but they found nothing, nothing at all. No sign of the Fallen or the Devils, thank Father.
It was as if the system was simply deciding to be better of its own volition. Eventually, the two brothers left the room, Michael casting one last, suspicious look over his shoulder.
Seconds after they left, the room flared with bright light. The runes turned a violent, purple, and gold. A small beep echoed through the silent hall, and for a fleeting moment, a string of characters in any celestial language flickered across the main display, [Administrator Change: KENJI_TAKAHASHI]. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the light dimmed back to a soft gold, hiding its secrets once more.
The Underworld
The silence on the battlefield was heavy. Kenji stood in the center of the wasteland, his chest heaving as he held Ayaka. Aoi joined them seconds later, her small arms wrapping around his waist. He pulled both girls closer.
Around them, the Gremory peerage and the onlookers slowly approached. They walked as if he'd snap and explode on them, their eyes fixed on the man who had just dismantled two Satans with his bare hands. They saw the blood on his knuckles and the cold light in his eyes, and no one wanted that smoke.
Serafall Leviathan rushed toward Ajuka, her usual playful spark nowhere to be found. She caught him by the arm as he stumbled, his breathing ragged and shallow. Nearby, Sirzechs forced himself upright, leaning heavily on a protruding rock. Rias and the elder Gremorys rushed to Sirzechs' side, their faces masks of disbelief and grief at the sight of their son.
"Hang on," Serafall muttered, supporting Ajuka's weight. She looked at Sirzechs and tossed him a vial of Phoenix Tears before summoning another for the Green Satan.
She watched their wounds close, but her mind was elsewhere. She looked back at Kenji, who was currently occupied with his daughters.
'One human,' she thought, a cold shiver running down her spine. 'He did this to them. What happens if he ever truly becomes an enemy? What happens if he decides the Satans are bothering him?'
A while later, once the immediate tension had settled into a wary standoff, Serafall and the Devil Kings made their way toward the Takahashi family. Ayaka looked frustrated, her face stained with tears, while Aoi was whispering something to her father, when they heard her coming over. They stopped talking the moment the shadows of the devils fell over them.
Kenji shifted his stance instantly, his face frowning. He stepped in front of his girls.
"…That was," Serafall began, her voice somber, "…a bit much, don't you think? You nearly leveled the entire Gremory estate."
"They're still breathing, aren't they?" Kenji replied, his golden eyes locked onto hers with a flat, cold intensity. He didn't offer an apology, and he wasn't going to offer an explanation.
Serafall studied him. He was hurt, his shirt was matted with blood, and his skin was covered in deep bruises and abrasions, but he still looked far more functional than Sirzechs and Ajuka, who were still trembling from the lack of mana and strength.
Her fingers twitched. For a brief, dark second, she considered it. He was weakened. His magic was gone at the moment. Could she end it now and save the Underworld from this unpredictable variable?
Then she saw his eyes. Even injured, they held a blank focus that made her instincts scream. It was an absolute lack of fear. If you move, you die.
"Yes, well… that wasn't from lack of trying, I assume," she said, masking her thoughts behind a raised brow. "Did you really have to attack them with such intent to kill?"
"Did they have to shield Azazel from me?" Kenji countered. "They stepped into the middle of my battle. They chose to shield him. Not the other way around. I didn't come here for them."
"You came into Gremory territory to attack a guest under their protection!" Serafall snapped back, her own pride as a leader flaring up.
"A guest I found standing over my injured daughter," Kenji growled, the sound vibrating in his chest. "Kidnapped daughters, in fact."
"We weren't kidnapped!" Ayaka and Aoi yelled in unison, but Kenji ignored them entirely, his focus solely on the short stack devil.
"So you just attacked," Serafall asked, baffled by his stubbornness.
Kenji stepped closer, his presence expanding until it felt like he was looming over all of them. "Would you have done differently? If you walked into my house uninvited and saw me hovering over an injured Sona with my hand reaching for her? Would you have waited for an explanation, Serafall? Or would you have frozen the city of Kyoto to the bedrock before I could say a word?"
Serafall flinched. The image hit home. She knew exactly what she would have done, she would have been ten times more destructive. "…That's different," she muttered, though her conviction was gone.
"It's not. My family is my world. If you threaten them, you face the end of yours."
"Are you really going to hold a grudge over a simple visit?" A voice rang out from the side, irritating and overly casual.
Azazel was limping toward them, his Balance Breaker armor gone, leaving him in tattered, blood-stained clothes. Behind him stood Baraqiel and Penemue, both of whom were glaring at Kenji with undisguised hostility, their hands on their weapons.
The moment he saw the crow, Kenji let go of his daughters and started walking forward, a low, guttural growl starting in his throat. Serafall, Penemue, and Baraqiel immediately moved to block his path, forming a wall between the human and the Fallen leader.
"Enough!" Serafall shouted.
"Move out of my way," Kenji said, his voice dropping.
Sirzechs and Ajuka moved up as well, flanking Kenji from the sides, though their movements were still stiff. "Come on, man," Azazel said, spreading his hands in a mocking gesture of peace. "You're out of magic, you're exhausted, and you're bleeding from a dozen places. Why don't we just end this here while you can still walk?"
Kenji looked at the gathered leaders. Was that what they thought, all thinking they had him cornered because he looked "drained" Did they think his lack of mana meant he was out of options? Did they think he was limited by the same rules of recovery they were?
He reached into his mind, accessing the Multiversal Shop. He didn't hesitate. He spent the points and purchased an S-Rank Healing Potion.
To the onlookers, he simply reached into the air and summoned a vial of shimmering, crystalline liquid that glowed with a light more intense than a Phoenix Tear. He uncorked it and poured it over his head.
In an instant, the wounds vanished. His skin knit back together without a single scar, his stamina refilled to the brim, and his presence surged. Unlike Phoenix Tears, which only heal flesh, this restored his very mana and stamina. He looked like he had just woken up from a full night's rest.
"Move," he repeated.
Serafall felt a lump in her throat. He was back at a hundred percent, and she knew that if he drew that sword again, the brawl would start all over, and this time, her fellow kings might not get up.
"Dad, stop!" Ayaka shouted, grabbing his arm again, her voice cracking.
"Not until Azazel is dead," Kenji said, his tone devoid of any room for negotiation. "He's a cancer that keeps growing near my family."
Azazel backed up a step, his smile finally faltering as he realized Kenji wasn't bluffing. "Come on, man, it was just a joke, a bit of training for the girls."
"A joke?" Kenji's voice exploded into a roar that sent a shockwave through the dirt. "You walk into my home uninvited! You use magic on my wife, you drag your political problems to my doorstep by moving your summit meeting near my house! And then you send dozens of Fallen into my territory? You expect me to sing praises of you after that?"
He took a sharp step forward, and the earth actually groaned under the weight of his intent.
Serafall took a deep breath, steeling herself. She couldn't let him kill Azazel, the fallout would destroy the peace they worked so hard for. "If you kill him here, it becomes an all-out war between factions. I can't allow that, Kenji."
Kenji looked at her, his eyes glowing gold, not caring one bit.
"You might be strong," Serafall said, her voice trembling but firm. "But can you go to war with the Fallen and the Devils at once? And even if you can survive… can they?" She gestured pointedly at Ayaka and Aoi. "Do you want them to live the rest of their lives looking over their shoulder."
"…Are you threatening my children?" he asked softly, a sound more terrifying than his roar.
"I'm telling you the reality," Serafall replied. "If war starts, everyone you love is a target. Is his life worth theirs?"
Kenji stopped. His gaze drifted to his daughters. He saw the fear in Aoi's eyes at the possibility. The silence stretched for a long, agonizing minute.
Kenji glared at her, his shadow stretching out across the rubble like a looming monster. Finally, he raised his right hand. A sheath appeared in a burst of light. The devils tensed, ready for one last clash.
He raised his left hand, and the sword Yamato, which had been anchored in the ground, burst from the earth and flew into his grip like a loyal hound. He cleaned the blade with one sharp motion before sliding it into the sheath with a decisive, heavy click.
The sword vanished into his inventory.
Instantly, the LAW domain lifted. Magic flooded back into the area like a rushing tide, making the air feel vibrant again. The devils and fallen gasped as their internal mana began to flow, and the sense of absolute vulnerability finally faded.
The battle was over, but as Kenji turned his back on the leaders of the Underworld to walk toward his family, everyone knew that the fault lines had already been drawn, and the world would never be the same.
'One day. one day, Azazel,' he thought to himself.
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