The night was quiet again, but the air still shimmered faintly with leftover divine energy.
Azrael stood on the cracked rooftop, his wings slowly retracting into light, eyes dimming from gold to silver-blue.
Faith hovered a few steps away, arms crossed. "You went too far again."
He didn't respond immediately. His gaze was fixed on the city lights below, endless and flickering — like mortals trying to mimic the stars.
"I held back," Azrael murmured.
Faith arched an eyebrow. "You burned through three buildings' worth of air pressure."
He turned his head slightly. "Keal fought like a being touched by higher realms. That wasn't mortal technique."
Faith's expression darkened. "Fragments of divinity attract each other. You'll see more like him soon."
Azrael's jaw clenched. "Good. I'll take their fragments… one by one."
Before Faith could reply, the rooftop door creaked open — and out stepped Mira, holding a broom like a sword.
"AZRAEL!"
Her voice could have split thunder.
Azrael turned slowly, genuinely confused. "Yes?"
"Do you have any idea what I just saw from my kitchen window?!"
Faith whispered telepathically, amused. "You're in trouble."
Mira's slippers slapped across the rooftop as she stomped forward, eyes wide. "The sky—was glowing. The roof was shaking. My plants caught fire. And you—" she jabbed the broom toward him—"you were floating with wings!"
Azrael looked at her like a child caught stealing divine cookies. "…Meditation accident."
"Don't lie to me!" she snapped. "Meditation doesn't involve explosions!"
Faith nearly burst out laughing, quickly disguising it as a cough.
Azrael sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I… may have used a little too much divine energy."
Mira blinked. "Di—what?"
The word divine hung heavy in the air, too absurd to fit the modern world around them.
"Look," she said finally, voice trembling, "I don't know what you are, or what weird religion this is, but you can't let anyone see that. People will freak out. The government, the news, the neighbors—this whole building will be swarming with cameras."
Azrael looked genuinely curious. "So… I should hide my light?"
"Yes!" she said sharply. Then, a beat later, softer: "And maybe… fix my roof first."
He raised a hand, light swirling. The debris lifted — tiles floating like feathers. Mira gasped, stumbling back.
Faith whispered dryly, "Careful. Last time you flipped the roof."
Azrael concentrated — this time slower, calmer. The light dimmed, the tiles returned to place, fitting perfectly.
Mira stood frozen. "That's… impossible."
Azrael gave a faint smile. "Nothing is impossible. Only forgotten."
For a long moment, she just stared at him — not with fear, but quiet wonder. Then she spoke softly, "You should never show that again. Not to anyone. Promise me."
He tilted his head. "Humans make many promises they don't keep."
"Then learn to keep this one," she said, her voice trembling. "Because if the world finds out what you are, it won't worship you — it'll destroy you."
That silence between them lingered.
And for the first time, Azrael looked… uncertain.
[🔔 System Notification: Emotional Disturbance Detected.]
["Divine User experiencing human guilt — rare development."]
Azrael groaned quietly. "You again."
["Still here. Monitoring your decay—or evolution—depending on how you define it."]
Faith, hearing the faint echo of the System's voice through their link, smirked. "I was beginning to think your little companion abandoned you."
["Abandon? Hardly. I simply calculate in silence."]
"Calculate what?" Azrael muttered.
["How long it will take before you accidentally smite a landlord."]
Faith burst into telepathic laughter. Even Mira blinked, sensing his irritation.
As the night settled, Faith turned serious again. "You can't keep walking around like this, Azrael. Every fragment of power you use calls out to other beings. You need to blend in."
"How?" he asked.
Her eyes glowed faintly. "By becoming something this world won't notice."
Light shimmered around her form, twisting — until a black cat stood on the railing, silver eyes gleaming.
Azrael stared. "You… turned into a lesser creature."
"A disguise," her voice echoed in his mind, amused. "One that can watch without being watched."
Mira looked at the cat, sighing. "You're keeping it?"
Azrael nodded solemnly. "She's my companion."
"Of course she is," Mira muttered, walking back downstairs. "Winged man, talking cat, glowing roof. I need a vacation."
Faith flicked her tail. "She's stronger than she looks."
Azrael glanced toward the door. "She warned me not to reveal myself. I think she's right."
"So you'll listen to a mortal?"
He looked out across the sleeping city, its lights reflecting in his eyes like faint stars.
"She may understand this world better than any god."
Elsewhere — A New Stirring
Deep underground, in an abandoned subway station, the glow of runes lit up cracked walls.
A man knelt before a floating metal ring, its edges humming with ancient energy.
"The Ring of Kronos…" he whispered. "Finally awake."
Around him, shadows whispered — other presences stirring.
The first divine fragment had awakened.
And above, in a small apartment with a half-fixed roof, a fallen angel was about to be dragged deeper into the war of forgotten gods.