3rd Person POV
The ORC clubhouse living room was lit only by the soft glow of a single floor lamp and the faint blue shimmer of Robin's mana-projected map hovering in the center of the room. The usual cushions and low table had been cleared away, leaving an open space where both peerages now sat in loose formation—Rias's group on one side, Sona's on the other, Nami leaning against the wall near the door with her arms crossed, expression sharp and focused.
Robin stood beside the projection, one hand resting lightly on the edge of the floating map. The map itself was a detailed, real-time overlay of Kuoh and its surrounding areas—forest, highways, coastline, residential zones—all marked with small, pulsing red dots representing the stray devils. Some dots clustered, some scattered, some moving in deliberate patterns that screamed misdirection.
Robin's voice was calm, measured, carrying the same quiet authority that had silenced entire rooms before.
"Last night, Nami received a priority contract from the Sitri Stray Hunting Agency. A group of stray devils—estimated twelve to fifteen—broke into a secure vault two days ago and stole a relic classified as 'high-risk containment breach potential.' The relic is a sealed demonic artifact capable of amplifying negative emotions into physical manifestations—rage storms, fear-induced paralysis fields, despair curses. In the wrong hands, it can turn a quiet suburb into a war zone in minutes."
She gestured to the map.
"The strays scattered immediately after the theft. Their movements are not random. Some are heading deeper into the forest—likely bait. Some are moving toward the nearest city outskirts—possible distraction or secondary target. A few are drifting toward the sea—another feint. The true carrier of the relic is almost certainly one of the smaller groups or a lone runner we haven't identified yet. The agency wants them all eliminated and the relic recovered before civilian casualties occur."
She let the silence linger just long enough for the gravity to settle.
"This will be a joint operation. Two peerages. One objective: locate, contain, eliminate the strays, secure the relic. No survivors among the thieves. The agency has authorized lethal force. Sirzechs and Serafall have been informed; they may observe remotely. They will not intervene unless civilian lives are directly threatened."
Robin's gaze moved between Rias and Sona—calm, expectant.
"I have already determined the optimal tactic based on my network data and today's positional assessments. But this is your operation. You two are the Kings. Rias—micro command. Sona—macro command. I want to hear your views. Your solution. How would you deploy the formation we built this week?"
Rias and Sona exchanged a single glance—quick, wordless, the kind that had grown easier after their internet café sessions.
Rias spoke first—voice steady, decisive. "We split the peerages into two task forces, but not evenly. One fast-response strike team for pursuit and elimination of the high-threat runners—the ones heading toward the city. That team needs speed, burst damage, and crowd control. Akeno, Kiba, Koneko, Tomoe. Akeno's lightning for area denial, Kiba and Tomoe for flanking and cleanup, Koneko for shock-and-awe burst to break any grouped resistance."
She pointed to the city-bound dots on the map. "I lead that team. Micro command on the ground—adapt to whatever they throw at us, prioritize civilian safety, eliminate fast."
Sona nodded—once, approving—then took over seamlessly. "The second team focuses on containment and relic recovery. Forest runners and sea drifters are likely diversions or decoys, but we can't ignore them. They could loop back or detonate the relic as a last resort. That team needs control, sustainability, and defensive layering. Myself, Tsubaki, Momo, Reya. Tsubaki anchors defense with Mirror Alive. Momo and Reya provide support—barriers, healing, mana amplification. I handle macro—terrain manipulation, predictive positioning, cutting off escape routes."
She traced a wide arc on the map—forest and coastline. "My team sweeps and contains. We force the strays into kill zones or toward Rias's strike team. If the relic carrier reveals itself, we converge."
Rias finished. "Communication stays open—mana pings every five minutes, visual signals if jammed. If one team locates the relic carrier, we signal and merge forces immediately. No lone heroics. No unnecessary risks."
Sona added the final piece. "Priorities: civilian safety first, relic recovery second, stray elimination third. If we have to choose, we sacrifice the kill to protect lives. The relic cannot be allowed to activate in a populated area." Silence followed—brief, heavy, approving.
Robin's smile was small but genuine. "Excellent," she said softly. "Your solution matches my own almost exactly. Fast strike team for pursuit, containment team for control and cleanup, convergence on confirmation of the relic. Rias leads micro, Sona leads macro. The only adjustment I would suggest is adding a fallback rendezvous point here—" she highlighted a small clearing near the forest edge—"in case mana communication is disrupted."
She let the map fade. "Prepare tonight. Rest well. Tomorrow at dusk we move. Full gear. No hesitation. No mercy."
[City's outskirts]
Rias's strike team moved through the suburban outskirts like shadows bleeding into the night.
The residential streets had thinned into quieter lanes—fewer lights, wider gaps between houses, patches of overgrown lots and empty playgrounds giving way to the dark fringe where city met forest. The air smelled of damp grass and distant exhaust, the kind of quiet that felt too heavy, too watchful.
Rias led from the front—low, fast, her crimson hair tied back tight. She raised a closed fist; the team halted instantly, dropping into a loose arc formation that curved upward toward the rooftops and treeline. Akeno and Kiba flanked her left and right, Koneko and Tsubasa took the rear anchors, Tomoe moved as floating support between the wings.
Night-vision contacts—enchanted lenses Robin had handed out earlier—turned the darkness into sharp monochrome green. Every silhouette, every heat signature, every flicker of movement stood out like neon against black velvet.
Rias's voice came low over the encrypted mana comms—Robin's network, untraceable, crystal-clear. "Eyes sharp. Robin says this group is the heaviest hitter. A-rank and above. They're either bait to draw us in while the relic carrier slips away… or they're carrying it themselves and planning to detonate in the city core. No assumptions. No rushing. We confirm the relic, we eliminate, we contain. Stay focused."
Akeno's naginata materialized in her hands—violet lightning already coiling along the crescent blade, low and hungry. "Got it, Buchou. I'm ready to light them up." Kiba's holy-demonic sword shimmered into existence—balanced, calm, ready.
Tomoe flexed her fingers—checking the compressed spells now tied to her handsigns. Flash on pinky. Grounding spike on ring. Barrier on thumb. She breathed out slowly, centering herself. Koneko and Tsubasa exchanged a single look. Then both released their gravity spells simultaneously.
The ground thrummed—once, deep, like a heartbeat under the earth. 1.5 tons of force vanished from each of them. Koneko's pupils dilated. Her small frame seemed to vibrate with sudden, explosive potential.
Tsubasa's legs—still trembling from the walk—snapped straight. Her stance lowered, shoulders rolling, a low growl escaping her throat as her Rook durability surged to meet the sudden freedom.
Rias flexed her hands—battle knuckles sliding over her fingers with a soft metallic click. Power of Destruction crackled along the edges—crimson-black energy licking like slow fire, controlled, lethal, ready to be unleashed in whatever shape the moment demanded.
She scanned the treeline again—night vision painting heat blooms in bright white. "Multiple signatures ahead. Clustered. Moving slow. They know we're coming." Akeno's grin turned feral. "Let them know." Rias raised her fist—then chopped it forward. "Arc formation. Advance. Eyes on the prize. No one dies tonight."
The team surged forward—silent, coordinated, unstoppable. Koneko and Tsubasa took point—two living battering rams, speed and durability ready to smash anything that stood in their way. Kiba and Tomoe flanked—blades drawn, spells primed, chaos waiting to be unleashed.
Akeno moved just behind Rias—lightning naginata humming, ready to turn the night into a storm. Rias herself—knuckles glowing, eyes sharp—led the center.
[Sona's side]
Sona's containment team moved with disciplined precision through the shadowed outskirts where the city began to thin into wilder land.
Sona herself floated high above—hovering effortlessly on a platform of compressed water mana that shimmered like liquid glass under the moonlight. From her vantage point, the landscape unfolded like a living map: scattered mana signatures pulsing in erratic patterns across forest, coast, and abandoned lots. Her glasses reflected faint blue light as she traced each dot with her eyes, fingers moving in subtle gestures to update the mental overlay she projected for her team.
She spoke into the encrypted comms—voice calm, authoritative, cutting through the night like a blade. "Patterns confirmed. Three primary clusters: forest decoys moving deeper, coastal runners attempting to vanish into the sea, and one small group circling toward the old industrial zone. The relic carrier is almost certainly the industrial group—smallest signature, highest mana density, deliberate misdirection. The others are bait."
She raised both hands—mana flowing outward in thin, invisible threads that wove themselves into a vast, dome-shaped cage. The barrier was massive—kilometers across—but perfectly controlled. It began to shrink slowly, inexorably, like a noose tightening around the scattered strays. Every time one tried to slip past the perimeter, the cage's edge flared faintly, pushing them back inward.
"Containment field active," Sona reported. "Shrinking rate: 200 meters per minute. They cannot escape without triggering the barrier alarm. Tsubaki, Momo, Reya—descend to the industrial zone. Trace the densest signature. Contain the relic the moment you confirm its location. Tsubaki, you take point on combat. Momo and Reya, support and containment spells only. Do not engage unless necessary."
Tsubaki's voice came back—steady, focused. "Understood. Descending now." The three dropped from Sona's platform in a controlled fall—mana cushions softening their landing on a cracked concrete rooftop overlooking the abandoned factories. Tsubaki hit the ground first—naginata already drawn, stance low and ready. Momo and Reya landed beside her—hands glowing with preparatory runes.
Momo closed her eyes—mana threads extending outward like invisible fingers, tracing the flow of demonic energy. "Signature strongest in the central warehouse," she whispered. "Multiple hostiles guarding it. At least five A-ranks. Relic mana is… unstable. They're trying to attune it."
Reya nodded—her own support magic already weaving a faint barrier around the trio. "Ready to contain on your mark, Tsubaki-senpai." Tsubaki's eyes narrowed—blade gleaming under moonlight. "Let's move."
They advanced—silent, coordinated—slipping from shadow to shadow toward the warehouse. Above, Sona continued to tighten the cage—watching every stray signature like a hawk, ready to redirect her team the instant the relic carrier revealed itself.
[Rias's side]
Rias's strike team advanced through the suburban fringe like a blade cutting through fog.
The streets had given way to a half-abandoned industrial park—cracked asphalt, rusted chain-link fences, skeletal warehouses looming under sodium lights. Robin's intel had been accurate: the largest concentration of A-rank-and-above strays was here, moving in a loose, aggressive wedge toward the city center. Their mana signatures burned bright white on night-vision contacts—too many, too coordinated, too confident.
They weren't running....They were baiting.
Rias raised a closed fist. The team froze instantly—Koneko and Tsubasa dropping into low crouches at the flanks, Kiba and Tomoe fanning out to cover the rear, Akeno stepping up beside Rias with her lightning naginata already humming in her grip.
Ahead—through the gaps between buildings—Rias counted at least nine strays visible. Horned. Scaled. Clawed. Some winged. All radiating the kind of raw, malevolent power that made the air taste like copper and ash. They moved with purpose, not panic—spreading out in a loose arc, clearly intending to draw the hunters into a kill zone while the relic carrier slipped away.
Rias's voice came over comms—low, decisive. "They want us to engage. They're stalling. We don't give them the satisfaction. We break through, not around. Akeno—lightning curtain on my mark. Koneko, Tsubasa—gravity burst on the center mass when the curtain drops. Kiba, Tomoe—flank left and right, cut off retreat. No mercy. No prisoners. Go for kills."
Akeno's grin was all teeth. "Ready, Buchou." Rias flexed her knuckles—Power of Destruction crackling around her fists like black-crimson embers. "Now." Akeno thrust her naginata skyward. Violet lightning erupted in a roaring curtain—ten meters high, thirty wide—arcing across the street like a wall of chained thunder. The strays recoiled instinctively, shielding their eyes, snarling.
Koneko and Tsubasa released their gravity spells in perfect sync. The ground thrummed. Two sonic booms rolled outward as 1.5 tons of force vanished from each girl.
Koneko launched first—white blur streaking straight into the heart of the enemy cluster. Her fist met the lead stray's chest with a sound like a cannon shot. The creature—scaled, bull-horned—was hurled backward into its companions, bones shattering on impact. Tsubasa followed—slower but unstoppable—crashing shoulder-first into another stray. The creature crumpled like tin foil against her Rook-class durability.
Akeno spun her naginata—lightning arcing outward in controlled lashes—catching two winged strays mid-leap and sending them crashing to the pavement in smoking heaps. Rias moved. Power of Destruction flared around her fists—shaping on the fly into twin crimson-black gauntlets, edges razor-thin. She darted between the chaos—ducking under a claw swipe, spinning past a blast of demonic fire—and drove a precise uppercut into a stray's jaw. The Power of Destruction detonated inward—contained, surgical—collapsing the creature's chest cavity without collateral splash.
Kiba and Tomoe flanked. Kiba's sword flashed—alchemical transmutation mid-swing turning the blade's edge into hardened light that severed a stray's arm clean at the shoulder. Tomoe followed—katana blurring in a classic iaijutsu draw. Her little finger twitched—flash spell triggering right in the face of a charging stray. The creature screamed, blinded. Tomoe's second blade opened its throat before it could recover.
The strays roared—furious, desperate—trying to regroup. Rias's voice cut through comms again—sharp, adaptive. "They're protecting something. Center mass—biggest signature. Koneko, Tsubasa—smash through. Akeno—ceiling collapse. Kiba, Tomoe—cut off flanks. Now!"
Koneko and Tsubasa charged simultaneously—two living siege engines. Koneko's fist cratered the pavement as she launched upward, twisting mid-air to slam both feet into the chest of the largest stray. Tsubasa followed—low tackle that sent another flying into a warehouse wall.
Akeno thrust her naginata skyward—lightning surging upward, then curving back down in a massive bolt that shattered the roof of the nearest building. Debris rained—concrete and rebar—forcing the strays to scatter.
Kiba and Tomoe moved like shadows—Kiba's sword carving through one flank while Tomoe's twin blades opened another. Rias darted through the chaos—Power of Destruction gauntlets reshaping into twin lances. She hurled them forward—crimson-black spears that pierced two strays at once, pinning them to the ground before detonating inward.
The center stray—the biggest, the one with the densest mana signature—roared and charged straight at Rias. She met it head-on. Knuckles met claws. Power of Destruction flared—contained, focused—exploding inward through the creature's chest.
It staggered—then collapsed, lifeless. Rias stood over it—breathing hard, gauntlets still smoking. The remaining strays faltered—leaderless, panicked. Akeno's lightning curtain tightened—electrocuting two more.
Koneko and Tsubasa crushed the last stragglers. Silence fell—broken only by crackling embers and distant sirens. Rias scanned the bodies—then knelt beside the largest stray. A faint, sickly purple glow emanated from a sealed box clutched in its claws. She lifted it carefully. "Relic secured."
She looked up at her team—bruised, bloodied, triumphant. "Casualties?" Kiba shook his head. "None." Tsubasa exhaled—still shaking from the gravity release. "Clean."
Akeno twirled her naginata once—lightning fading. "Beautiful work, Buchou." Rias stood—relic box in hand. But a voice from the comms causes her to distant herself from everyone else, a shout of urgent from Sona's side "Rias! Throw that box away—it's not the relic, it's a bomb!"
The words hit like a slap. Rias's mind snapped into overdrive. 'They're using the relic to fuel weapons?'
She looked down at the sealed box clutched in her hands. The faint purple glow she'd mistaken for the relic's aura was now pulsing erratically—violent, unstable. The container itself began to tremble, metal creaking under internal pressure. Tiny cracks spiderwebbed across its surface.
No time to second-guess. She acted. Rias thrust both palms forward. Crimson-black mana surged outward, wrapping the box in a perfect sphere of Power of Destruction—first layer tight, second layer thicker, third reinforcing the second, fourth and fifth poured on in rapid succession until the sphere was five layers deep, a glossy obsidian orb the size of a basketball hovering between her hands.
The explosion came a heartbeat later.
A muffled whump—contained, but ferocious. The sphere bucked violently in her grip, cracks of violet-white light stabbing outward like lightning trapped in glass. The pressure was immense—pushing, pushing, trying to tear her barriers apart from the inside. Rias felt it in her bones: raw demonic energy mixed with something darker, something twisted by the relic's influence. If this thing went off unchecked in a residential zone…
She gritted her teeth. Her fingers dug into the sphere's surface—mana channels flaring bright crimson down her arms. Muscles locked. Legs braced. She poured everything into holding the layers together—reinforcing the weakest points the instant they appeared, collapsing micro-fractures before they could propagate.
The sphere shuddered—once, twice—then began to stabilize. Rias didn't wait for full containment. She shifted her stance—knees bending slightly—and began the second phase.
Power of Destruction flowed inward now—not to destroy the sphere, but to eat the explosion itself. Thin tendrils of crimson-black energy seeped through the innermost layer, wrapping around the raging core of the bomb like roots invading soil. Slowly—agonizingly—she began to disintegrate the reaction.
The violet-white light inside flickered—dimmed—flickered again—then guttered out. The trembling stopped. The sphere went still—perfectly black, perfectly silent. Rias exhaled—long, ragged—and let the outer four layers dissolve one by one until only the innermost shell remained, no bigger than an apple, hovering above her palm. Inside it: nothing but inert ash and the faint scent of scorched ozone.
She closed her fist. The final shell crumbled to dust. The comms crackled. Sona's voice—tight, relieved. "…Rias?" Rias straightened—breathing hard, sweat beading on her brow—but her voice was steady when she replied. "Bomb neutralized. No detonation. No civilian casualties. Relic still missing."
Akeno let out a low whistle—naginata dissipating as she stepped closer. "That was too close, Buchou." Koneko's eyes wide with quiet awe. Rias looked at her team—Koneko and Tsubasa still radiating post-burst adrenaline, Kiba and Tomoe scanning the shadows for threats, Akeno watching her with fierce pride.
Then she spoke into the comms again—voice calm, commanding. "Team 2—status?" Sona's reply came almost immediately. "Containment holding. Forest and coastal groups are pinned. No confirmed relic signature yet. We're sweeping the decoy clusters now."
Rias nodded—even though Sona couldn't see it. "Copy. We're moving to rendezvous. Keep the cage tight. If they're desperate enough to use the relic as a bomb decoy, they're desperate enough to use the real thing." She looked at her team once more. "Let's go."
[Sona's side]
Tsubaki's naginata flashed one final time—steel slicing through the last stray devil's neck in a clean, silent arc. The body crumpled to the warehouse floor, demonic blood pooling black under the dim emergency lights. Momo and Reya flanked her—mana barriers flickering as they swept the perimeter for any hidden threats.
The warehouse was eerily quiet now. Too quiet.
Tsubaki's eyes narrowed. The strongest mana signature—the one they'd tracked through Sona's shrinking cage—pulsed from the massive double doors at the far end. It wasn't moving. It wasn't fighting back. It was simply… waiting.
She advanced—boots echoing softly on concrete—naginata held low but ready. Momo and Reya moved with her, step for synchronized step. Tsubaki reached the doors. With a slow push of her free hand, she forced them open. The sight inside stole the breath from all three of them. The warehouse was filled—floor to ceiling—with bombs.
Row upon row of sleek, matte-black cylinders, each one the size of a small car, connected by thin red wires that pulsed like veins. Digital timers glowed crimson on every device—counting down in perfect unison.
00:00:09...00:00:08...00:00:07
And the mana signature—the one they had chased—was coming from the bombs themselves. The relic's power had been siphoned, twisted, weaponized into fuel for this massive trap.
Momo reacted first. Her hands flew up—golden mana surging outward in a shimmering dome. The protection barrier snapped into place—thick, layered, reinforced with every containment spell she knew. It enveloped the three of them and the doorway in a glowing sphere.
Reya was already moving—her own hands tracing a rapid teleportation circle beneath their feet. The runes ignited—pale blue light spiraling upward. "Out—now!" The circle flared. Reality folded. They vanished.
A heartbeat later, the warehouse detonated. The explosion was apocalyptic—violet-black fire blooming outward in a perfect sphere, consuming the entire industrial block in a single, blinding flash. The shockwave rolled across the suburbs—windows shattering for kilometers, car alarms screaming, dust clouds rising like a mushroom without the stem.
Inside Sona's shrinking cage, the blast wave slammed against the barrier like a tidal wave. The dome shuddered—cracks spiderwebbing across its surface—then collapsed entirely under the strain. Sona—still hovering high above—felt the feedback through her mana link. Her eyes widened. "Containment breached."
She dropped—fast—toward the epicenter. On the ground, Momo, Reya, and Tsubaki materialized in a flash of teleportation light—safe, but only just. Momo's barrier had held long enough for Reya's spell to pull them out. They hit the dirt hard—rolling, coughing, ears ringing from the pressure wave.
Tsubaki pushed to her feet first—naginata already reforming in her hands. "Relic's gone," she rasped. "They used it to arm the bombs. This was never about holding the city. It was about wiping out whoever came to stop them." Momo staggered upright—hands shaking. "The carrier… they're already gone. This was a trap to kill us."
Reya touched her comms—voice urgent. "Team 1—Rias—this is Team 2. False relic. Bomb detonation. Industrial zone is gone. No carrier on site. They've escaped." Rias's voice came back—tight, controlled, but edged with fury. "Copy. We're sweeping the secondary clusters. Keep searching. They can't have gone far."
Sona's voice cut in—cold, furious. "All teams—regroup at secondary rendezvous. Full sweep. The relic is still active. We find it. We end this. Now."
[Rendezvous]
Both teams converged at the secondary rendezvous point—a shadowed clearing on the edge of the forest, far enough from residential streets that any remaining strays couldn't use civilians as shields. The air was thick with the scent of scorched earth and ozone, the distant wail of city sirens carrying on the wind.
Rias arrived first—her team moving in tight formation, relic-less box now nothing but ash in her palm. Sona's group landed seconds later, Tsubaki's naginata still drawn, Momo and Reya breathing hard from the teleport strain.
Robin was already waiting—standing perfectly still at the center of the clearing, her dark coat blending into the night. Her eyes glowed faintly as her network continued to feed her real-time data.
Rias stepped forward first, voice steady despite the adrenaline still humming in her veins. "Team 1 reporting. Industrial zone strays eliminated. Nine A-ranks and above. No relic on site. The box they were guarding was a bomb—relic-fueled. I contained and neutralized it. No civilian casualties."
Sona moved up beside her, glasses catching moonlight. "Team 2 confirming. Forest and coastal decoys pinned and eliminated. Twelve strays total. No relic carrier identified. The warehouse we tracked was rigged with multiple bombs—same signature as Rias's. The cage collapsed during detonation. We escaped intact."
Robin listened without interrupting, her expression unchanging. When they finished, she gave a single, small nod. "Understood. The relic is not in either cluster. It's still active—currently charging. That's why they forced the strays to pour its power into those bombs. They sacrificed their heavy hitters and most of their stock to buy time and escape."
She raised one hand—indigo mana projecting a new, smaller map into the air between them. This one showed only the central city area—high-density residential zones pulsing in soft red.
"The carrier is moving here," she said, highlighting a crowded district near the city center. "A high-population residential block—apartments, shopping streets, parks. They're heading straight into it. Two intentions: first, to accelerate the relic's charging cycle by feeding on mass negative emotions—fear, panic, chaos. Second, to use the citizens as cover. Scatter enough people, and any attack risks massive collateral. They're counting on us hesitating."
Nami stepped forward—arms still crossed, eyes narrowed. "So the bombs were never the main play. They were disposable. A way to burn the relic's power without using it directly—while the real carrier slipped through the cracks. Smart. Ruthless."
Robin nodded. "Exactly. The bombs were weapons meant to be sold—high-yield, relic-augmented explosives. Your teams just destroyed their entire inventory. They're furious, desperate, and cornered. That makes them dangerous."
She looked between Rias and Sona. "The carrier is one stray—high A-rank at minimum, possibly S-rank. They're moving fast, using back alleys and rooftops. My network has them tracked within a 200-meter radius, but they're deliberately weaving through crowds to slow pursuit. If they reach the central plaza and activate the relic under maximum stress… the emotional backlash could level several blocks."
Rias clenched her fists—Power of Destruction flickering briefly around her knuckles. "We stop them before they get there." Sona adjusted her glasses—voice cold and precise. "Agreed. Containment first. Evacuation second. Elimination third. We can't risk civilian lives."
Robin's map updated—showing the carrier's projected path in red, residential zones in orange danger gradients. "Strike team—Rias, Akeno, Kiba, Koneko, Tomoe—move to intercept and engage. Prioritize speed and precision. Draw the carrier out of populated areas if possible. Containment team—Sona, Tsubaki, Momo, Reya—shadow from above and behind. Cut off escape routes, prepare mass barriers, and be ready to contain the relic the moment it's exposed. Nami—coordinate intel flow. I'll keep the network locked on the carrier and feed you real-time updates."
She looked at each of them in turn—eyes steady, unyielding. "No hesitation. No mercy. The relic cannot activate in that district. You have fourteen minutes before the carrier reaches the plaza. Move."
Rias nodded once—sharp, commanding. "Team 1—on me. Full speed."
Sona mirrored her. "Team 2—shadow and contain. No stragglers."
The two peerages split—Rias's group vanishing forward in a burst of speed, Sona's ascending into the night sky on platforms of water and mana.
[Forest behind the city outskirts]
The forest behind the city outskirts had become something alive and wrong.
Where once there had been only the quiet rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl, now the air itself felt thick, oily, pressing down like wet cloth over the lungs. The trees—old pines and broad-leafed oaks—leaned inward at unnatural angles, branches twisted like arthritic fingers reaching for throats. Their bark had darkened to an almost bruised black, veins of sickly purple light pulsing just beneath the surface.
Animals had already begun to change. A fox that should have fled at the scent of humans now crouched on a fallen log, lips peeled back in a snarl far too wide for its skull, eyes glowing the same violet as the relic's corrupted aura. Birds no longer sang; they screeched—short, jagged cries that sounded like breaking glass. Deer moved in jerky, aggressive lunges instead of graceful bounds, antlers lowered like spears.
The deathly energy left by the bombs was spreading. Not fire. Not shrapnel. Pure, distilled negativity—rage, despair, terror—amplified by the relic's power and then violently released when the bombs detonated. The forest was drinking it in, becoming a living wound.
Nami and Robin appeared at the edge of the tainted zone without sound or flash. Nami's expression was grim—orange hair tied back tight, sleeves rolled up, a small satchel of enchanted tools slung across her chest. Robin stood beside her—coat open, long black hair stirring in the unnatural wind that carried whispers of pain and fury.
Robin spoke first, voice low. "The bombs didn't just destroy. They saturated the soil, the roots, the air. Every living thing here is being rewritten—aggression dialed to maximum, empathy suppressed. If this spreads to the city edge…"
Nami finished the thought. "…we'll have a riot zone instead of a forest. And the carrier will have all the negative emotion they need to finish charging the relic." They stepped forward together. The moment they crossed the invisible boundary, the forest reacted.
Branches snapped toward them like whips. Roots erupted from the earth—blackened, thorned, seeking ankles. The fox lunged—faster than any normal animal—teeth bared in a scream.
Robin raised one hand. A soft indigo pulse rippled outward—gentle, but absolute. The fox froze mid-leap, eyes glazing, then collapsed into a deep, dreamless sleep. The branches halted inches from their faces, trembling, then slowly withdrew.
Nami exhaled. "Nice trick." Robin's smile was small. "Only a temporary lull. We need to cleanse the root system." They moved deeper—Robin's mana forming a thin, protective corridor around them, keeping the worst of the hostility at bay.
Nami knelt at the first major tree—a massive pine whose needles had turned charcoal-black. She pressed both palms to the bark. A soft golden light—her own brand of efficiency magic—flowed outward, tracing the veins of corruption. "Negative emotion residue," she muttered. "It's like ink in water. The relic supercharged it, the bombs spread it. I can pull most of it out, but the deeper roots are saturated. We'll need to burn it at the source."
Robin nodded—already raising both hands. A second later, pale-blue vines of cleansing mana unfurled from her fingertips—sliding into the soil like roots seeking water. They followed the corrupted leyline threads downward, seeking the epicenters where the bombs had detonated.
Nami worked in tandem—her golden light acting as a solvent, loosening the grip of the negativity so Robin's vines could extract it cleanly. Wherever they passed, color slowly returned: bark lightening from bruised black to healthy brown, needles regaining green, the air thinning from choking oil to clean pine.
Animals that had been twisted began to still—eyes clearing, aggression draining away. The fox that had attacked earlier whimpered once, then curled into a tight, exhausted ball and slept. They moved methodically—tree to tree, root network to root network—until the forest began to breathe again.
Hours passed. The purple veins faded. The whispers stopped. When the last corrupted root was pulled free and dissolved into harmless light, Robin lowered her hands. The dome of cleansing mana collapsed gently. Silence—real silence—returned. No hostility. No rage. Just night wind moving through healthy leaves.
Nami wiped her brow—sweat-slick despite the cool air. "That's it," she said quietly. "Forest is clean. No residual spread." Robin nodded—once. "The carrier will feel it. They just lost their backup power source. They're weaker now. More desperate."
Nami's smirk returned—sharp, satisfied. "Good. Desperate people make mistakes." She looked up at the sky—stars beginning to appear through the canopy. "Let's get back. The others will need to know the relic's on borrowed time."
Robin offered a small, genuine smile. "Agreed." They vanished—teleportation circle flaring briefly beneath their feet.
[Residential area]
The residential district buzzed with late-evening life. Families strolled the wide pedestrian plaza—children laughing near the fountain, couples sharing ice cream under string lights, office workers cutting through on their way home. Street vendors called out, fairy lights twinkled between lampposts, and the air smelled of grilled skewers and roasted chestnuts. Innocent. Normal. Vulnerable.
Both peerages arrived at the same moment—silent, coordinated, shadows among the crowd. Rias and Sona met eyes across the plaza—wordless understanding passing between them in a single heartbeat.
Sona raised her hand—subtle, palm down—and her team moved.
Momo and Reya ascended to the second-floor balcony of a nearby café—using silent levitation spells to avoid attention. Once in position, they knelt behind the railing, mana lenses activating over their eyes. Their mission: spot the relic, identify the carrier, track every stray's movement, and prepare containment protocols the instant the artifact was exposed.
Tsubasa and Koneko took up protective positions directly beneath the balcony—low to the ground, blending into the crowd's edges. Tsubasa's stance was rooted, Rook durability already flaring subtly around her frame. Koneko crouched beside her, gravity spell re-applied at half strength so she could still move freely but retain explosive potential. They were the shield—if any stray tried to reach the Bishops or seize the relic back, they would become immovable walls.
Tomoe and Kiba slipped into the flow of people—silent, fluid, blades hidden but ready. Their role: surgical strikes. Speed and precision. If a stray revealed itself or the carrier hesitated, they would close the distance in seconds—disarm, disable, or eliminate without collateral.
Rias, Akeno, and Sona moved to the plaza's center—civilian clothes over combat gear, blending in while staying visible enough to draw attention if needed. Their priority: civilian safety. If the strays triggered anything reckless—panic spells, area attacks, suicide charges—the three of them would contain the damage, evacuate crowds, and neutralize threats before lives were lost.
They waited. The strays revealed themselves in pieces. A low growl from an alley—three horned figures stepping into the light, eyes glowing violet with relic corruption. Another group emerged near the fountain—scaled, clawed, mana already coiling around their hands in dark, crackling spheres. A winged stray perched on a lamppost—watching, waiting.
Mana signatures spiked—negative emotion amplifiers beginning to charge, feeding on the ambient cheer of the plaza. Children's laughter. Couples' murmured affection. The quiet joy of ordinary life. All of it would soon become fuel.
Rias's voice came over comms—low, urgent. "They're charging. We don't have time for observation. Sona—cage ready?"nSona—hovering just above the rooftops on a thin platform of water—nodded once. "Cage shrinking. Thirty seconds to full lockdown. Bishops—confirm relic signature." Momo's voice—tense but clear. "Central fountain area. Strongest pulse. One carrier—high A-rank, possibly S. They're holding it inside their chest cavity. They're going to detonate themselves if cornered."
Rias's eyes hardened. "Then we don't corner them. We extract. Tomoe, Kiba—flank and distract. Non-lethal if possible. Force the carrier to expose the relic. Tsubasa, Koneko—protect the Bishops. If they go for Momo or Reya, you are the wall. Akeno—lightning curtain on my mark. Contain the plaza. No one leaves until the relic is secured."
Sona's voice followed—calm, absolute. "Execute."
The plaza became a battlefield in slow motion. Tomoe and Kiba vanished—shadows among the crowd—moving toward the fountain from opposite sides. Akeno raised her naginata—violet lightning beginning to coil upward, ready to drop a curtain that would seal the entire square. Tsubasa and Koneko took positions directly under the balcony—backs to each other, eyes scanning every angle.
Momo and Reya—high above—channeled containment spells, golden and pale-blue runes already forming a tightening net over the fountain. Rias flexed her knuckles—Power of Destruction crackling around her fists, ready to shape into whatever tool the moment demanded.
Sona—above it all—tightened the cage. The strays sensed the shift.
Kiba and Tomoe exploded into motion the instant Rias gave the signal. They moved like twin shadows—silent, synchronized, blades already drawn. Kiba's holy-demonic sword gleamed with restrained crimson-white light; Tomoe's twin katana shimmered with the faint blue of her compressed spells.
They didn't shout. They didn't hesitate. They struck. Both Knights raised their free hands—little fingers twitching in perfect unison. Two flash spells detonated simultaneously—brilliant, pinpoint bursts of white light erupting right in front of the stray carrier's face. The creature—a gaunt, violet-veined abomination with the relic pulsing like a second heart in its open chest—screamed, claws flying up to shield blinded eyes.
Kiba was already there. His sword flashed in a clean horizontal arc—holy edge severing the stray's right arm at the shoulder. The limb hit the pavement with a wet thud, still clutching at nothing. Tomoe followed a heartbeat later—her twin blades crossing in a scissor motion. One katana sliced through the carrier's left wrist; the other opened a precise gash across its chest, just deep enough to expose the relic without destroying it.
The carrier staggered—roaring, mana surging wildly—but it was already too late. The relic—a fist-sized, obsidian-black orb veined with violet light—tumbled free, rolling across the plaza stones.
Momo and Reya were ready. From their second-floor balcony, golden and pale-blue mana threads shot downward—precise, surgical. The relic was caught mid-roll, wrapped in a double-layered containment sphere that snapped shut like a clamshell. The sphere lifted—smooth, controlled—rising back toward the Bishops.
Tsubasa and Koneko surged forward—forming an immediate protective wall between the relic and the remaining strays. Koneko's gravity release hummed faintly around her; Tsubasa's Rook durability flared like a living shield.
The carrier—now armless, bleeding black ichor—lunged after the relic in blind rage. Akeno's naginata swept down—violet lightning chaining across its path, forcing it to stagger back. Rias stepped in—knuckles glowing crimson-black. Power of Destruction flared—contained, focused—wrapping the carrier in a single, crushing sphere. It screamed once—then imploded inward, body collapsing into ash and silence.
The plaza fell still. Civilians—already panicking from the sudden flashes and clashes—were quickly calmed by subtle suggestion spells from Reya and Momo. No deaths. No major injuries. Just confusion and the faint smell of ozone.
Rias raised her fist—signal clear. "Relic secured. Carrier eliminated. Remaining strays—mop up. No survivors." The team moved—efficient, merciless. Kiba and Tomoe flanked the last scattering strays—blades flashing, spells triggering in silent handsigns. Koneko and Tsubasa crushed any who tried to flee toward the crowd.
Akeno's lightning curtain tightened—electrocuting the final two before they could cast another spell. Sona's voice came over comms—calm, final. "Containment complete. Relic in custody. All teams—regroup at primary extraction point. Clean sweep confirmed."
Rias exhaled—once, sharp—then looked at her team. No one was down. No civilians harmed. Relic contained. She met Sona's eyes across the plaza—both Kings nodding once in silent acknowledgment. Mission accomplished.
[TImeskip: Brought to you by chibi Koneko hissing at the relic]
The ORC clubhouse was quiet when they returned—moonlight spilling through the tall windows, casting long silver rectangles across the tatami floor. The faint scent of cedar incense still lingered from earlier training sessions, mixing with the metallic tang of spent mana and the distant city hum outside.
Robin was already waiting inside the main room, seated at the low table with a small wooden box in front of her. No dramatic lighting, no ceremony—just her usual calm, almost serene presence. The moment the two peerages filed in—bruised, dusty, adrenaline still fading from their veins—she rose smoothly to greet them. "Welcome back," she said softly. "Sit. You've earned this."
Rias and Sona led their teams to the cushions—everyone settling in loose semicircles around the table. No one spoke at first; the weight of the night still clung to them like smoke. Robin opened the box. Inside lay a neat stack of crisp bills—human-realm currency, large denomination, non-sequential. Enough to make even Nami's eyebrows lift slightly. "The bounty," Robin announced. "Sitri Stray Hunting Agency has already processed the payment. Full amount—split evenly between both peerages as joint contractors. This mission was filed and assigned as S-rank."
A ripple of surprise passed through the room. Sona adjusted her glasses. "S-rank…?" Robin nodded once. "Correct. The classification was based on four factors:
The number and rank of the strays involved—multiple A-ranks and at least one confirmed S-rank carrier. The corrupted nature of the relic itself—capable of weaponizing negative emotions on a mass scale. The high risk of exposing the supernatural world to commoners—had the relic detonated in the plaza, or if the bombs had gone off unchecked, the civilian death toll would have been catastrophic and impossible to cover up. The mission state when assigned—active pursuit, time-sensitive, high-chaos environment, multiple decoys and traps."
She looked around the circle—meeting each pair of eyes. "You faced an S-rank contract tonight. You contained a relic-fueled bomb array. You neutralized the carrier. You recovered the artifact without a single civilian casualty. That is not 'good work.' That is exceptional."
Rias exhaled slowly—pride and relief mingling in her expression. "We almost didn't make it in time," she admitted quietly. "If Sona hadn't spotted the bomb signature…" Sona shook her head once. "You neutralized it. My cage would have failed without your team's speed. We succeeded because we moved as one."
Robin's smile was small—genuine. "Precisely. The bounty reflects that. The agency has already flagged both peerages for priority contracts moving forward. They know what you're capable of now." She slid the box forward—half toward Rias, half toward Sona. "Divide it as you see fit. Use it for gear, training, whatever you need. But know this: tonight was not just a paycheck. It was proof. Proof that two peerages can operate as one seamless force. Proof that the training—Arto's regimen, the positional synergy, the joint drills—is working."
Akeno leaned forward—still flushed from combat—grinning despite the bruises. "So… we're officially badass now?" Robin's laugh was soft—rare and warm. "You were always badass. Tonight you proved you're also coordinated."
Koneko nods once—quiet pride. Tsubaki bowed her head slightly. "Thank you… for trusting us with this." Robin inclined her head in return. "Thank you for rising to it." She stood—gesturing toward the kitchen. "Eat. Rest. Heal. Wait, there are still this" She walked the semicircle slowly, handing one card to each person present—Rias first, then Sona, then every member of both peerages in turn. The cards were identical in design but personalized: each bore the recipient's full name in elegant silver script, a unique identification number beneath it, and—most strikingly—the official sigil of their respective clan's Stray Hunting Agency.
Rias's card carried the crimson Gremory crest. Sona's bore the sapphire Sitri emblem. The others followed suit—peerage members receiving the matching clan mark. Robin stepped back to the center once everyone held their card. "You are now officially active officers of the agencies," she announced, voice calm but carrying unmistakable weight. "Part-time, of course—your school and personal lives remain priority—but active nonetheless. This is a notch higher than the normal pacts you've handled so far—errands, flyer missions, C-rank and below."
She let that sink in. "From this moment forward, you can receive hunting pacts directly from the agencies—B-rank and above. These are real contracts: high-threat strays, rogue mages, sealed artifacts, containment breaches. The bounties are significantly higher. The recognition is public within agency circles. The danger is real."
A low murmur rippled through the group—surprise, pride, a touch of nerves. Robin continued without pause. "Pacts can be accepted individually or as a group—whatever suits your situation. But you must register properly before departing. Log the contract through the agency portal on your card. Report completion the same way. No unregistered hunts. No freelancing outside the system. The agencies track everything now."
She looked around the circle—meeting each pair of eyes. "This is trust. You've proven yourselves capable of S-rank work tonight. The agencies are responding in kind. Use this responsibly. The power comes with accountability." Silence followed—thick, reverent. Then Rias spoke—voice quiet but firm. "Thank you, Robin-sensei."
One by one, the others echoed her—soft "thank you"s, small bows, fingers tightening around their new cards like lifelines. Nami—leaning against the wall—flashed a sharp grin. "Guess we're official badasses now. Time to upgrade the gear budget."
Akeno laughed—light, delighted—already turning her card over in her fingers, admiring the sigil. Koneko sighed once—quiet pride. Sona simply nodded—serious, resolute—slipping her card into an inner pocket. Robin's smile softened—just a fraction. "Now go. Eat. Rest. Heal. Tomorrow we continue training. The next hunt may come sooner than you expect."
[Kitchen]
The kitchen of the clubhouse was alive with warmth and the rich, layered scents of home: miso simmering on low heat, grilled wagyu still sizzling on cast-iron plates, fresh-baked bread cooling on racks, pickled vegetables arranged in neat rows, mochi ice cream already softening in small porcelain bowls. Every surface was covered—tables, counters, even a rolling cart someone had dragged in from the pantry. It looked like a small feast prepared by people who knew exactly how much one man could eat after a week of leyline-powered fasting.
In the center of it all sat a simple digital clock—borrowed from the training room—its red numbers ticking down in steady silence.
00:07:42...00:07:41...00:07:40
Nami leaned against the counter, arms crossed, orange hair still damp from a quick shower after the mission. She tilted her head toward the clock when she noticed Rias staring at it. "That's for Arto," she said, answering the unspoken question. "We started it the night he went underground. Robin synced it with the mana fluctuations coming up from the basement—rough estimate of when the operational layer would finish. Looks like he's surfacing in seven minutes."
Rias exhaled—half relief, half anticipation—and brushed a stray lock of crimson hair behind her ear. "He won't decimate the table like last time," she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Not because he's suddenly polite… but because we already fed him down there. Every few days we lowered a box through the shaft. Akeno's preservation enchantment kept everything hot and fresh. Robin's nutrient-dense stew, my rice, your desserts… he never went hungry."
Akeno, wiping her hands on a dish towel, laughed softly. "He still grumbled in comms every time we sent mochi instead of steak. Said 'sugar is not fuel.' But he ate it anyway." Robin—quietly arranging extra bowls—added without looking up: "He never refused a single delivery. That was his way of saying thank you."
Nami snorted, pushing off the counter to grab a pair of tongs and flip a piece of wagyu that didn't need flipping. "Man spends a week turning himself into a living power grid, builds a reality-bending training facility from scratch, and still complains about dessert ratios. Classic Arto."
She glanced at the clock again.
00:04:19
The four women shared a look—silent, warm, a little nervous in the best way. Not because they doubted he'd come back whole. They knew he would. But because tonight, for the first time in a week, they'd get to see him face-to-face… and tell him everything.
The mission. The relic. The bombs. The S-rank bounty cards now tucked safely in their pockets. The way two peerages had moved as one. Rias picked up a small plate—already prepared with his favorites: a perfect portion of grilled ribeye, rice shaped into a small mountain, a side of tamagoyaki, a few slices of lotus root simmered in dashi, and—because Nami insisted—one mochi ice cream on the side "for morale."
She set it at the head of the table—his usual spot. "He's going to want to hear every detail," she said softly. "The good. The close calls. The way we didn't hesitate." Akeno slid into the chair beside his—stealing a piece of shrimp from one of the platters. "And the way we won," she added, voice warm. "He'll pretend to be all stoic about it, but I know that little smile he gets when he's proud."
Nami pulled out her phone—checking the timer one last time.
00:02:58
She pocketed it again and leaned back against the counter. "Three minutes. Better get the good tea brewing. He's going to be starving for real conversation as much as food." Robin moved to the kettle—already prepared—her smile quiet, almost tender. "He will be tired," she said. "But he will be happy. And he will want to know everything."
The clock kept counting.
00:01:42...00:01:41...00:01:40
[TImeskip: Brought to you by chibi Arto emerging from the ground]
The digital clock on the kitchen counter finally blinked to 00:00:00. A soft, resonant click echoed from below—followed by the low groan of the basement door swinging open on perfectly balanced hinges. Arto stepped into the light.
He looked… remarkably composed for someone who had spent seven days underground forging an entire reality layer from raw leyline power and intent. His black yukata was only faintly dusted with stone grit at the hems—no sweat stains, no grime caked under his nails, no hollow-eyed exhaustion. His hair was still neatly tied back, face clean-shaven, skin carrying only the healthy flush of someone who had just finished a long but satisfying workout. The preservation and self-cleaning spell Rias had layered into the basement shaft had done its job flawlessly: every particle of dust, every bead of sweat, every trace of fatigue had been gently scrubbed away before he even reached the top step.
He paused in the doorway—taking in the sight of the kitchen. Tables groaning under mountains of food: steaming hot pots of miso and sukiyaki, platters of perfectly seared wagyu, chilled sashimi arranged like jewels, fresh tamagoyaki, pickled vegetables glistening in their bowls, mochi ice cream already softening in their little dishes, and—because Nami insisted—a towering stack of strawberry shortcake slices "for morale."
Rias, Akeno, Robin, and Nami stood waiting—clustered around the head of the table, each wearing the same mixture of relief, pride, and barely-contained excitement. Rias moved first. She crossed the room in three quick strides and threw her arms around his neck—burying her face against his shoulder with a muffled sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. "You're back," she whispered, voice thick. "You're really back."
Arto's arms came around her immediately—strong, steady, grounding. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. "I'm back," he murmured. "Missed you." Akeno slid in from the side—wrapping around both of them, cheek pressed to Arto's shoulder. "You smell like cedar and mana," she teased softly, though her voice cracked just a little. "And not at all like a man who lived in a hole for a week."
Robin approached last—slow, graceful—placing one gentle hand on Arto's arm. "Welcome home," she said simply, eyes warm. "The foundation is singing. I felt it settle yesterday. You've done something extraordinary." Nami stayed back a step—arms crossed, smirk firmly in place—but her eyes were suspiciously bright. "Took you long enough, boss," she drawled. "We were about to send a search party. Or start eating without you."
Arto looked at her over Rias's head—then at all of them. His gaze softened in a way it rarely did. "I smelled the food from three levels down," he said dryly. "You didn't have to preserve it. I could've lived off leyline mana another month."
Rias pulled back just enough to cup his face in both hands—thumbs brushing his cheekbones. "We wanted you to have real food. Real warmth. Real us waiting." Akeno tugged him gently toward the table. "Sit. Eat. Then tell us everything. And then you get to hear about our week."
Nami finally stepped forward—pushing a chair out with her foot. "And trust me," she said, voice lighter than usual, "we've got stories. S-rank bounty stories. Relic-bomb stories. Two-peerage-takedown stories. You're gonna want to sit down for this one."
Arto let himself be guided to the head of the table—Rias still holding his hand, Akeno sliding into the seat beside him, Robin taking her usual quiet spot across, Nami claiming the chair on his other side.
He looked at the spread—the food they'd prepared and preserved for him, the cards of their new officer status peeking from pockets, the faint bruises and proud smiles on every face.
Arto sat at the head of the long dining table in the ORC clubhouse's main room, the space transformed into a makeshift war council with maps, notes, and the faint glow of mana projections scattered across the surface. The air still carried the scent of the borscht and grilled meats Nami had reheated, but the mood was one of quiet triumph mixed with the sharp edge of readiness. Both peerages filled the chairs around him—Rias and her group on one side, Sona and hers on the other, Nami and Robin completing the circle.
He looked at each of them in turn—taking in the subtle changes: sharper eyes, steadier postures, faint new scars from training that had already begun to heal under Robin's care. They were not the same group he had left underground a week ago. "You all look…" Arto paused, choosing his words with care, "…better than last week. Stronger. Sharper. Now tell me about the S-rank mission you just took. I'm dying to hear."
Rias leaned forward first, her crimson hair catching the lamplight as she slid the relic—a fist-sized obsidian orb veined with now-dormant violet light—across the table to him.
"We didn't just take it," she said, voice steady with pride. "We earned it. Sitri Stray Hunting Agency assigned it directly after Robin's recommendation. Strays stole a relic from a vault—high-risk emotional amplifier. They scattered, rigged bomb decoys fueled by the relic's power. We split: my team pursued the heavy hitters in the industrial zone, Sona's contained the forest and coastal diversions."
Sona nodded—picking up seamlessly, glasses glinting. "Robin's intel was flawless. We pinned the decoys with a shrinking mana cage. Tsubaki, Momo, and Reya swept the warehouse—found the bombs. Relic power siphoned into explosives. Reya teleported us out before detonation."
Rias continued, eyes fierce. "My team hit the strays head-on—Akeno's lightning curtain, Koneko and Tsubasa's gravity bursts, Kiba and Tomoe's flanks. I neutralized the fake relic bomb—contained and disintegrated the reaction. No civilian casualties."
Akeno grinned, twirling a chopstick like a miniature naginata. "It was beautiful, Arto. We moved like one mind." Koneko nodded—quiet pride. "Tsubasa tanked everything. Good wall." Tsubasa bowed her head slightly—grateful. Kiba added, "Tomoe's handsigns worked perfectly. Flash spells blinded them clean." Tomoe flushed faintly but nodded.
Robin—sitting beside Nami—spoke next, her voice calm and precise. "The mission was S-rank: high-threat strays, relic corruption, civilian exposure risk, layered traps. Bounty paid in full—human currency, split evenly. And they are now officers of Stray Hunting Agencies."
Arto leaned back in his chair, the faint creak of wood the only sound for a moment as he absorbed Robin's words. His eyes—usually so steady—widened just a fraction, a rare flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face. "Woah," he said quietly, almost to himself. "That sounds… cool. S-rank. Officers of the Stray Hunting Agencies. Maybe I should register as one when I complete the Simulation Room."
He let out a short, tired laugh—more breath than sound—and rubbed the back of his neck. "But aside from that… hearing your achievement makes me happy. Really happy. That means you've been training well this past week. Hard. Smart. No slacking. Which means we don't need any more tests this week. You can spend your Sunday resting—properly. Recover. Eat. Sleep. Be normal teenagers for a day before we ramp up again on Monday."
A ripple of visible relief passed through the room. Akeno let out a dramatic sigh and flopped backward against the couch cushions. Kiba's shoulders dropped a fraction. Even Sona allowed herself a small, almost imperceptible exhale.
Arto's gaze softened as he looked around at them—all of them—bruised but unbroken, stronger than when he'd gone underground. "As for me," he continued, voice dropping back to its usual calm, matter-of-fact tone, "I'll sleep today—properly, for once—and go back underground tomorrow afternoon. I've only completed half of the operational layer. Still need to finish the Git system for sector version control, the dream-projecting mechanics for Sector 1 with the Mirror as anchor, and the AI assistant core. Integration testing after that. Three more weeks—maybe a little less if everything aligns."
He paused—meeting each set of eyes again. "I hope when I come back next week… you're all better. Not just stronger. Better. More coordinated. More trusting. More dangerous together than you ever were apart." Rias reached across the table and covered his hand with hers—thumb brushing over his knuckles. "We will be," she said softly. "We promise."
Akeno leaned in from his other side, resting her chin on his shoulder. "And when you surface next week… we'll have stories. And maybe a few new scars to show off." Nami smirked—raising her glass of iced tea in a lazy toast. "To no more surprise tests this week. And to obscene progress in the next."
Robin lifted her own cup—small, serene smile. "To rest. And to readiness." The others joined—quiet clinks of cups and glasses, soft laughter, the simple sound of people who had fought together and won.
Arto raised his own glass last—water, nothing more. "To you," he said quietly. "All of you."
[Timeskip: Brought to you by 2 peerages enjoying their meals]
When the party is over, everyone is full and have gone back home, that leaves Arto, Rias, Akeno, Nami and Robin in the clubhouse. Rias, and Akeno have gone to take shower. Arto leans back at the couch in the living room. He asks Robin "Okay, let me ask you something, Robin, have you found the buyers for the relic Rias and others found?"
Robin sat down beside Arto on the couch, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed. She folded her hands in her lap, the faint silver-blue glow of her network still visible as thin threads dancing behind her irises for a moment before fading.
She exhaled softly—almost a sigh—before speaking.
"A fallen angel named Kokabiel,"