When I let out a long sigh, my gaze fell on Xenovia.
Kiba and Xenovia had destroyed the Excalibur that was fused from four swords, yet the fragments of the original were safely retrieved. The thought left a sour taste in my mouth.
I looked her. "Was it really alright to hand over your Excalibur? More than that, was it okay for you to betray the Church so easily?"
Her lips curled into a bitter smile. "I had to return it. Unlike Durandal, Excalibur can have other chosen wielders. Keeping it would've been selfish. As for betraying the Church… it's not that simple." She tapped her fingers on her thigh, looking away for a moment before meeting my gaze again.
"When I spoke of God's absence, they fell silent. To them, I became an outsider. And the Church? The Church hates heresy. Even if it's their own Durandal wielder. They'll cut you off, throw you away."
She chuckled quietly at herself, though there was no warmth in the sound. I clenched my fists. Damn them. The Church, huh? Always so damn extreme.
Her eyes softened just a little as she continued. "Asia knows this feeling well. Cast aside by those she believed in, only because she was different. I suppose I'm walking the same path now."
I glanced toward Asia, who shifted uncomfortably in her seat. That wound in her heart had never fully healed, no matter how much she smiled.
Xenovia exhaled sharply, forcing a laugh. "Irina was lucky. She wasn't in the battle—her injuries kept her out of it. And so she never learned the truth. Her belief remains intact. But me? I couldn't keep my silence." Her hand gripped the edge of her skirt. "She has more faith than I do. If she discovered the truth… I don't know if she could endure it."
The more devout someone is, the deeper the wound when that faith shatters. What would Irina do if her entire life was rejected in an instant?
"She was so disappointed in me," Xenovia whispered. "Disappointed that I became a devil. I couldn't tell her why—not without crushing her. So it was… awkward, when we parted ways." Her eyes grew distant. "Perhaps, the next time we meet, we'll be enemies."
I stared at her, trying to piece together the fragments of her emotions. Loneliness. Bitterness. But under it, something softer—like regret.
Rias's voice cut through the silence. "All members are present. Then I'll explain."
We turned to her. The air shifted the moment she spoke, as if even the shadows leaned closer to listen.
"The Church has reached out to us devils," Rias said evenly. "Or rather, to the Maou directly. They claim they wish to make contact because of the reckless and dishonest actions of the fallen angels. They admitted fault for letting Balba escape in the past. They even issued an apology."
An apology from the Church? That was rarer than snow in summer.
Xenovia gave a long sigh. "This school is terrifying. Even the sister of a Maou is here."
Her eyes flicked to Rias.
The thought of Kokabiel and the destruction he caused clawed back into my head. Yet the damage he'd wrought—the gym, the grounds—all of it had been repaired in a single night. Devils. Their efficiency was frightening.
Rias's voice brought me back. "Azazel himself sent reports to both Heaven and Hell. He stated clearly that the theft of Excalibur was Kokabiel's action alone. None of the other leaders knew. He attempted to ignite another war. For that, he has been cast into Cocytus. Frozen for eternity."
Her words hung heavy in the room. A fitting end.
Then, as if summoned by my thoughts, her voice sharpened. "Though… the battle only ended thanks to Issei—and the intervention of the Vanishing Dragon."
The name struck like a hammer in my skull. The image of white armor tearing through the sky, flawless Balance Breaker gleaming, seared itself into my mind. Albion. My rival. My opposite. My… equal.
Compared to him, my Scale Mail was incomplete, unstable.
At my side, my gauntlet pulsed faintly, as if Ddraig himself understood my thoughts.
I whispered under my breath, "If I had been at my peak, I could've matched him. Kokabiel wouldn't have left me so drained." My heart twisted. "But I won't rely on that other side of me."
Rias continued, her eyes narrowing. "The leaders of Heaven, Hell, and Azazel will meet soon. Apparently, Azazel has something to propose. Perhaps even an apology… though I doubt he's sincere."
Her disgust was palpable. Every time she spoke of fallen angels, her voice took on that edge, that disdain. Her shoulders even lifted in that habitual shrug, as if she wanted to shake them off.
I couldn't help but wonder why. What history lingered between her and them that she would react so strongly? I don't remember anything relevant other than Akeno being a fallen angel. Maybe it could be an inheritance hate.
Still, I pushed the thought aside.
Rias's next words sent a ripple of shock through the room. "We were also invited to attend this meeting. Since we were directly involved in the incident, we'll be reporting in person."
Gasps filled the air. It was only natural. For us to stand among the highest representatives of angels, devils, and fallen alike? That was enough to rattle anyone.
I stayed silent. I wasn't shocked. Just… resigned. Whatever awaited us there, it would change everything.
Xenovia suddenly turned to Asia. Her expression tightened, her voice softer than before. "…Asia Argento. I owe you an apology. Since God doesn't exist, then neither did his love nor his help. I'm sorry. Strike me as much as you want. I deserve it."
Her head bowed, low and deep, the traditional Japanese way of begging forgiveness. Her voice didn't waver, but I couldn't tell if her heart was truly in those words.
Asia blinked, stunned. Then, slowly, she shook her head. "…No. I don't intend to do that."
Her voice was as gentle as sunlight through stained glass. She smiled—soft, radiant, saintly. "Xenovia-san, I'm happy with the life I have now. Even though I became a devil, I've met people who are important to me. I have a place I can call home. And I have people I love. That's enough."
Her smile warmed the entire room. It was the kind of smile that made you believe, even if you didn't want to.
Xenovia stared at her, lips parting in disbelief. I think, in that moment, something inside her cracked. Not in despair—something else. A longing, maybe. Or envy.
As for me… I looked at Asia and thought: even without God, maybe miracles still exist.
~~~
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