Paradis – Dante's Palace
"What do you mean off the map?" Dante demanded, his voice sharp enough to cut stone.
The magic technician hunched over a scrying crystal, sweat running down his neck. "There… seems to be some magical interference in Haganai City, your holiness. All divinations are blocked."
Dante exhaled a frustrated sigh. "This is bad news. The old man upstairs was already looking for an excuse to finish us off—and this could be it." He turned toward the arched doorway, determination flickering in his silver eyes. "I'm going down there."
"No, sire—your holiness mustn't!" The technician straightened, voice cracking. "If your brother Vergil learns your location, it will mean all-out war!"
Dante hesitated. For a moment, the mask of the gentle ruler slipped, and uncertainty surfaced beneath his calm. He thought of Excalibur—its missing half—and the brother who would kill him to possess it.
"…If I don't, then the Flood may—"
"The Flood may come?" a soft, playful voice purred from nowhere.
Dante's head snapped up. "Who's there?"
The technician glanced around nervously. "Identify yourself at once—!"
A giggle echoed through the chamber. "Do not speak to me so casually, human. You never know what might happen."
The technician's head exploded in a spray of red mist.
Dante didn't even flinch. He simply sighed. "Tch. Lucifer. That one was my favorite."
A slender figure materialized in the air, twirling like a ballerina. Short, impossibly feminine, clad in a frilly black and purple idol costume, he landed gracefully in the blood. "Ooooopies—my baaaad," Lucifer sang. "Anyway, I'm here on urgent business."
"Urgent?" Dante arched a brow.
Lucifer spread his arms wide, glittering in the candlelight. "Beelly has escaped."
"Escaped?" Dante's eyes narrowed. "How? The gate required—"
"Nephilim blood?" Lucifer leaned closer, smiling. "Yes… but not just any nephilim. The child had to be born of an angel and a demon."
Dante made a face, pressing a hand to his mouth. "Ugh. Gross. But… who would even… with a demon?" He gagged dramatically. "They're so… sticky."
Lucifer smirked. "I think they're cute, Dante dear. In fact… I know I would. With them… and you too." He batted his long lashes, leaning closer.
"Woah there, Luci." Dante stepped back, hands raised. "I'm not attracted to men."
"You never know unless you try," Lucifer purred.
Dante's face hardened. "Why are you really here?"
Lucifer's eyes sharpened, the playfulness turning into something colder. "I'm assembling a team. A team of heroes to challenge God and end all this pointless suffering."
"You already tried that." Dante folded his arms. "And you lost."
"But this time," Lucifer whispered, "we have the nephilim child. Aren't you curious what he can do?"
"I don't have time for this." Dante turned, walking away from the corpse and the devil. "I need to deal with Haganai. And given what you've said…it must be Beelzebub."
Lucifer sighed dramatically. "Don't worry. I already sent someone to deal with him."
Dante paused. "Who?"
"It's a surprise~." Lucifer's smile glimmered in the dark.
---
Haganai City – After the Slaughter
"Wake up, little one," Beelzebub whispered.
The child stirred in his arms. She blinked up at the burning sky, her hair caked in soot. "Wh…what happened…?"
"A monster attacked," Beelzebub said softly, stroking her cheek with a claw. "It killed everyone. But I fought it and destroyed it. We're the only survivors."
Her lip trembled. "E-even… Mommy?"
His expression didn't flicker. "I tried to save her. But in her last moments, she begged me… to protect you."
Fat tears rolled down the girl's face. "I—I don't understand… Why?"
Beelzebub looked into her eyes, voice gentle as poison. "Because God sent that monster."
Her breath hitched. "God…?"
"Yes." He nodded solemnly. "And you and I… we are going to take everything away from Him."
The girl wiped her tears, confusion mingling with a child's raw hatred. "Then… teach me. Teach me to hurt Him."
Beelzebub's smile was slow and dreadful. "Of course."
---
Heaven – Michael's Chamber
Gerard's voice echoed off the towering marble walls. "So you're telling me the strongest angel in all of history… is my guardian angel?"
Michael sprawled across a colossal feather-stuffed couch, his long golden hair a tangled mess. "Yes."
"And you're going to protect me from any and all threats?"
"Yes," Michael droned, pulling a pillow over his face. "Now stop asking questions. I want to sleep."
Gerard hopped from foot to foot, excitement bubbling over. "Yesss! If this were a novel, this would be the part where I start my training arc and become super strong!"
Michael cracked one eye open. "To think you were sobbing half-dead only an hour ago."
A faint memory of agony flashed through Gerard's mind—his missing limbs, Beelzebub's laughter. He glanced down at his arms and legs, perfectly whole. Heal, the angel of health, had mended him completely—and somehow, he felt stronger than he'd ever been.
"So…" he said, clenching a fist, "when do we start training, Sir Michael?"
Michael sighed, rolling over. "Never."
"…Never?"
"I didn't bring you here to train." The archangel's voice grew suddenly bright, almost giddy. "You're here for your trial."
"…Trial?"
"Yes!" Michael leapt upright, a rare spark in his lazy eyes. "You're going to fight for your life against the Elementals."
"Wait—fight for my—like, my actual life?"
"Correct!" Michael declared, far too cheerful. "It's been so long since I've witnessed an execution—this is going to be fun!"
A new voice broke in, smug and nasal. "Certainly."
Before Gerard could react, the air around him warped. He felt himself moving—and not moving—like the universe itself was twisting.
When he blinked again, he stood in an arena of gleaming white stone.
A boy waited there—short, with bushy yellow hair, wearing gold-trimmed robes. His eyes were bright with cruel excitement.
"Here you go," the boy said, voice dripping disdain. "I'll get to see the Elementals in action again. And this time, they'll be tearing apart a dirty nephilim."
Gerard swallowed.