Azrael stood at the edge of the ruined academy grounds, his wings folded behind him. His daughter lingered at his side, the blood of the slain operatives still evaporating from her scythe. The night wind whispered through the shattered buildings, carrying with it the faint cries of the wounded.
"Father," she asked softly, "why do we allow humans to live in ignorance of us? They already chase after myths, build weapons against things they do not understand. Why not remind them of their place?"
Azrael's gaze lingered on the distant city lights, his expression unreadable.
"Because once, we did."
The girl's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
Azrael's tone grew heavy, as if carrying centuries of memory. "There was a time when angels walked among mortals freely. We were worshipped, feared, even loved. But man… man has always been a creature of hunger. They sought not our guidance, but our power. They dissected the miracles we gave them, turned blessings into weapons, and prayed only for dominion."
The girl tilted her head. "And Heaven…?"
Azrael's wings shifted, feathers rustling like blades in the dark. "Heaven realized that humans are not weak. No… they are dangerous. A mortal army does not need divinity to kill a god. All it needs is time, obsession, and the will to consume." His voice dropped lower, sharper. "That is why the Seraphim ordered silence. To hide. To let humans believe in myth instead of truth."
His daughter lowered her scythe, her lips tightening. "And now… they have seen us again."
"Yes," Azrael murmured, eyes narrowing. "And they will never stop until they own what they saw."
Far beneath the capital, in a hidden government facility, a council of generals and scientists studied the grainy footage captured from the drones. Azrael's wings filled the screen, his daughter's scythe cutting through elite operatives like paper.
One of the generals slammed his fist on the table. "You're telling me our best unit didn't even last ten seconds?!"
The lead scientist adjusted his glasses, unfazed. "Of course not. You cannot measure a myth in seconds, General. But what matters is—we have proof. Angels are real. Which means demons are real. Vampires are real. Every story mankind feared… was true."
On another screen, satellite images of the academy glowed. Soldiers highlighted scorch marks, bodies, faint energy signatures left behind by the battle with the Second Choir.
"These beings fight wars in the shadows," one officer muttered. "Right under our noses."
The scientist leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Which means there's only one question left for humanity. Do we remain prey in their world… or do we rise to control it?"
The room fell silent.
And in that silence, Project Eden was no longer just an idea. It was a mission.