That night, the scene inside Kuoh Academy looked like something torn from another world.
The dark buildings were lit by sacred seals and faintly glowing wards, where the auras of devils, angels, fallen, and Shinigami intertwined in a strange, volatile mix of energy.
The air was thick and charged, pulsing with a power unbearable to human eyes, while remnants of conflicting spiritual energy danced through the atmosphere, circling the academy as if waiting for the moment of explosion.
At the center of the grand hall stood a massive round table of black crystal, surrounded by ornate chairs engraved with the symbols of each faction.
Across the walls, barrier spells pulsed faintly—preventing any leakage of power or spatial interference.
The atmosphere was a fusion of tension and restrained respect, as though everyone present understood that a single wrong move could ignite a war impossible to stop.
Ren stood silently behind Suì-Fēng, watching without expression.
Her arms were crossed, her cold face betraying no hint of emotion. The bluish lights reflected in her golden eyes as she stared unwaveringly at the three faction leaders before her.
Ren's mind, meanwhile, was operating quietly in the background—tracking every movement, every glance, every ripple of energy in the room, like a living surveillance device.
"So… after all this work, I'm just here to stand behind her like a silent shadow?"
He muttered inwardly with icy detachment, before shifting his gaze toward the others.
To the left of the table sat Sirzechs Lucifer. His calm features did nothing to hide the aura of authority that radiated from his presence. That familiar smile of his concealed sharp political intellect.
Behind him stood Rias Gremory, her crimson hair gleaming like demon fire, her face solemn. Beside her was Sona Sitri, her cool gaze quietly analyzing every possible outcome in the room.
On the opposite side lounged Azazel, the leader of the fallen angels, dressed casually as always, leaning lazily on his chair with eyes glinting in mischievous cunning.
Behind him stood Yuma Amano, whose aura had grown noticeably more mature since their last encounter, and beside her Kalawarna, her mysterious smile a mix of allure and disdain.
To the right sat Archangel Michael, embodiment of heavenly purity. His mere presence seemed to lighten the air, and his voice carried a calm serenity that could not be faked.
Behind him stood Irina, cheerful and confident, while Xenovia remained in a battle-ready stance even in stillness—poised to strike down anyone in an instant.
And finally—the Shinigami side.
Suì-Fēng represented them with her usual iron composure, the kind of woman who could make the air freeze when she moved.
Behind her, Ren stood in utter silence—her personal shadow. His presence there was no coincidence; it was the result of an entire month of covert operations—purging dangerous sites and eliminating every threat that could disrupt this conference before it began.
But what drew everyone's attention wasn't any of the four faction leaders.
It was the two figures seated slightly apart from the main table—symbols of both balance and chaos:
Sekiryūtei, the Red Dragon Emperor's host. Although the Emperor himself was known as the Red Dragon of Domination, his current vessel was nothing but a brainless fool ruled by lust.
Beside him sat Hakuryūkō, with silver hair and piercing eyes of the same shade, wearing a faintly mocking smile filled with confidence and superiority—perfectly befitting the host of the White Dragon of Supremacy.
Neither of them belonged fully to any faction, and so they had been invited as independent powers. Their presence carried a clear message:
"If anything happens, no one will take responsibility for them."
Ren gave them a passing glance before returning his gaze to the table.
The energy in the hall flickered for an instant, as though the world itself held its breath.
Then Michael's calm voice rose, filled with sacred authority:
"Let us begin, then… the peace conference between the four factions."
"The Heaven faction first wishes to express its gratitude to the Shinigami faction for handling the Stray Exorcist incidents and even recovering three of the Excalibur blades."
Michael's words were sincere—untainted by politics, spoken from genuine feeling.
"The Fallen Angels share that sentiment as well, for your swift action against the rebel Kokabiel, who sought to reignite the Great War."
Azazel added with rare seriousness, his usual lazy grin nowhere to be seen.
A heavy silence filled the room, as if Azazel's words had opened the way for the meeting's first genuine breath.
Sirzechs nodded slowly, his calm tone carrying both respect and solemnity:
"We too owe our thanks to the Shinigami. Without their timely intervention, the Devils' losses in Kuoh Town would have been disastrous… and we might not be sitting here today."
A soft murmur spread among the seats. The charged aura around the table began to ease slightly—but Ren could feel it clearly: that calm was nothing but a façade.
Behind those diplomatic smiles, every word was weighed, and every movement watched with lethal precision.
Suì-Fēng rose slowly—her motion alone enough to silence the room.
Her gaze swept over the assembly with unflinching resolve, and when she spoke, her voice was low but firm, carrying a tone that left no room for argument:
"Eliminating the rebels was not a favor. It was a duty.
The purpose of the Gotei 13 is to maintain balance among the three realms—not to protect any single faction.
Nevertheless, we appreciate your words."
She spoke as if delivering a military report—void of emotion, yet her presence alone commanded reverence. Her strength didn't come from overwhelming aura, but from a quiet, crushing pressure that demanded attention.
At that moment, Ren noticed several glances directed briefly toward him—perhaps realizing that he was the one who had actually carried out those missions they were praising.
But he didn't so much as twitch. He remained standing behind Suì-Fēng, his posture straight, his face blank—showing no interest in anything being said.
Even Azazel, ever the trickster, gave him a sidelong glance and murmured:
"So this is the boy who took down Freed and Kokabiel… not bad at all."
Sirzechs smiled faintly and replied:
"Power like that in the hands of the Shinigami faction could shift many balances… if they ever chose to act."
In the back, Ren's eyes narrowed slightly as a calm voice echoed within him:
"So that's it… just a chess piece to them."
He showed no reaction outwardly, but the familiar disgust stirred within—disgust toward politics and toward those polite words dripping with hidden ambition.
'My worries were justified…' thought Sirzechs gloomily, maintaining his mask of serenity before the others.
'If he awakens his latent magical power, he'll become a real problem… Unfortunately, dealing with him won't be easy—especially with Gotei 13's protection and, worse yet, the trace of Amaterasu's Divine Protection I can sense upon him.'
"…"
Sensing the ill intent directed his way, Ren instinctively turned toward the source—only to find Sirzechs smiling gently at him, like an older brother watching over a younger one.
That smile—so full of false warmth—made something twist deep inside Ren.
A wave of disgust coursed through him from head to toe.
...
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