"Ninety-seven… ninety-eight… ninety-niiiiiine… ONE HUNDRED…"
Gerard collapsed onto the stone floor of the Colosseum, gasping like a fish out of water. He was soaked in sweat, his muscles burning like fire.
Aries, the Angel of War, stood towering over him. Her bright red hair swayed in the heavenly wind, and despite her thick, muscular build and militant attire, there was no denying she was beautiful.
She smirked down at him. "That was just your second set. You still have eight more to go."
Gerard rolled over, clutching his stomach. "I don't think I can do this anymore…"
"This is Heaven," she said. "We don't care what you think."
Heaven itself had no concept of day or night. It was a realm beyond time, space, or logic. There was no sleep, no sickness, no death—except in restricted places like the Colosseum, where rules could be bent for trials, training, or punishment. It was the only place in Heaven where pain was allowed… and Gerard was feeling every bit of it.
To simulate time for his training, Travel, the angel of movement and portals, had synced the Colosseum to the same temporal axis as Paradis. That meant: wake up at "dawn," train until "dusk," cry yourself to "sleep," repeat.
"I really can't…" Gerard whimpered.
WHIP!
A leather lash cracked across his back.
"I told you to call me Sensei!" Aries barked.
Gerard groaned. "I know, I know… I'm just too tired to care…"
"You don't have a reason to fight," she said, pacing. "No fire in you. No purpose. You're shallow."
"I do have motivation!" Gerard sat up shakily. "I wanna be stronger than Michael! Like a super-cool hero!"
Aries blinked, then frowned. "That's not a real goal, you idiot!"
WHIP! WHIP! WHIP!
"Ow! Come on!"
"Maybe if you understood your heritage…" she muttered, crossing her arms.
"Yes please, Sensei," Gerard said quickly, wincing. "Tell me everything. Everyone else seems to know more about me than I do."
She clicked her tongue. "I figured that lazy idiot Michael would've told you by now."
She took a breath. "You're not just a Nephilim. You're something… different. Your blood isn't just demon and angel—it's archangel. We don't know which one yet, but it's in there."
Gerard stared at his hand in awe. "So I really am overpowered."
"You can be," she admitted. "But right now you're weak. You don't even know how to use your abilities."
"Wait—some of it's passive, right?" he asked. "Like when I tanked Wind's big attack without a scratch?"
"Exactly. That's your archangel blood," she said. "It makes you immune to elemental attacks. Most demons too."
"Wait, seriously? That's kind of cheating, isn't it?"
Aries smirked. "Tell that to Beelzebub."
Gerard's face darkened.
"Right," he muttered. "He… still hurt me."
"He was originally an angel," she explained. "Which means his powers still interact with your divine blood."
She folded her arms. "That's why we're doing this. We build your body first. Then we awaken your abilities."
She didn't say it out loud, but she had already seen something—in the fight with Wind. That sword Gerard had thrown… it shouldn't have been able to pierce an elemental, not with a random toss. Unless...
He redirected it. Amplified it. Or copied my power... she thought. If that was true, the boy's potential was terrifying.
---
Meanwhile – The Wreckage of Haganai City
"Damn that girly boy," Dante muttered under his breath. He sped through the sky, eyes locked on the destruction below. "If he knew Beelzebub was going to escape, he could've told me earlier. Now look at this mess…"
He landed near the ruins of Haganai. The barrier surrounding the city flickered with unstable light, humming like a dying engine.
Dante reached out, placing a hand on the forcefield. "This is a serious barrier. I could break it… but that'd take effort."
He frowned, closing his eyes and trying to sense the city's life force. But—nothing.
"They're all dead…" he muttered. "Beelzebub… you bastard…"
"Uhm… sir?"
He turned.
A boy stood beside him, no older than six. Dirty robes, messy hair, eyes full of worry.
"My friend lives inside," the boy said softly. "I've been gone a week… and I can't feel her. I keep calling but… she won't answer…"
Dante looked at the kid for a long time. He wanted to lie. He wanted to say something comforting.
But…
"I'm sorry, kid," Dante said. "Your friend… she's probably already gone."
The boy blinked, stunned. "…Gone?"
Then something in his voice shifted.
"She should be in the mountains right now… she was waiting for me to come back. Who…"
He clenched his fists.
"…Who did this?"
Dante raised an eyebrow.
The boy's expression had changed completely. No more tears. Only stillness. Resolve.
"Who killed her?" the boy asked again, voice low and unwavering.
Dante stared at him. "…What's your name, kid?"
"…Raphael," the boy answered.
Dante's eyes narrowed. That name. He hadn't heard it in a while.
"…Alright then, Raphael," Dante said. "I'll help you get your revenge."
He smiled faintly.
"…On Beelzebub."