When Akira and Kiba Yuuto returned to the Occult Research Club room, they weren't expecting company.

Waiting for them were two uninvited guests—both clad in white battle gear, both exuding divine pressure.

They were none other than the two Holy Sword wielders dispatched to Kuoh City: Xenovia Quarta and Irina Shidou.

But despite their holy mission, the atmosphere inside the room felt anything but peaceful.

"Hm? Who are you?" Xenovia asked sharply, narrowing her eyes.

As a natural-born Holy Sword wielder, her spiritual perception was razor sharp. She could sense faint traces of demonic energy clinging to Akira—but it was different. He wasn't a devil.

He was human.

"And who are you?" Akira replied calmly, hands in his pockets.

"Xenovia Quarta. I represent the Church."

"So it's really you..." he muttered under his breath.

Xenovia blinked. "Wait, you know who I am?"

"I've heard of you," Akira said matter-of-factly. "Xenovia Quarta. The current Holy Sword wielder of the Church... and more importantly—a natural-born Holy Sword user."

His words sent a ripple through the room.

Everyone—Rias, Akeno, Koneko—and even Kiba—turned with wide eyes, but no one spoke of it.

A natural-born Holy Sword user was exceedingly rare. Even among those with talent, most could only wield a Holy Sword with limited synchronization. But a true natural-born wielder? That was practically a myth.

Xenovia frowned. "Interesting... A human siding with devils knows quite a lot."

Her voice was cold, cautious.

Information about her status as a natural wielder was tightly guarded—even within the Church, only a handful were privy to it. For this young man, a stranger from the East, to know it so casually—it was more than unsettling.

Kiba, meanwhile, stood behind Akira, silent.

His expression had darkened the moment the two girls entered. His eyes locked onto the Holy Swords they carried, and his clenched fists trembled with suppressed rage.

But he held himself back.

Not out of mercy—but because of the man standing next to him.

Akira may have looked relaxed, even kind... but Kiba knew better.

This was the man who had once eradicated a Stray Devil without blinking. The one who humiliated Riser Phenex and left him broken. When Akira moved, it wasn't as a human.

It was as a predator.

"You're here because of Kokabiel, right?" Akira asked casually.

Xenovia flinched. "Even that you know?"

"Let's not waste time," he said, voice turning cold. "If it's just the two of you, going up against Kokabiel is suicide."

Xenovia's brows furrowed. "Are you underestimating us?"

"No. Just stating facts. If you want to die on some foolish holy mission, go ahead. But you're just pawns being thrown away."

"Take that back."

Her hand moved before the words even finished.

With a sharp motion, Xenovia unsheathed her sword—and in an instant, Durandal, the legendary Holy Sword of Destruction, gleamed in her grasp.

The atmosphere in the room shifted. The spiritual pressure it emitted was suffocating.

Rias flared her demonic power.

Akeno's hands crackled with divine lightning.

Koneko's aura sharpened as she channeled her Youki, readying her Senjutsu.

Kiba summoned a demonic sword in an instant, his gaze never leaving Xenovia's blade.

But the greatest pressure still came from Xenovia herself—standing in the center of it all, Durandal pulsing with raw power.

Beside her, Irina unsheathed her own sword—Excalibur Mimic—and stepped forward. Her expression was uneasy, but she matched her partner's stance nonetheless.

And yet, Akira—the target of all this killing intent—didn't even blink.

Instead, he smiled.

"Take my words back? Why?" His tone was calm. Provocative. "Everything I said is true. Kokabiel is a Fallen Angel of Maou-class power. One of the few surviving executives from the Great War. His strength and experience alone put him leagues above either of you."

"I don't care if I'm no match. I won't back down."

"Rushing into certain death with nothing but stubborn pride isn't courage—it's idiocy."

"...You bastard...!"

Xenovia's voice trembled with fury. She wanted to swing Durandal right then and there. She could. But…

She didn't.

Because somewhere deep down, she knew—he wasn't bluffing.

"You're angry because I'm right, aren't you?" Akira's voice cut through her like a knife. "You talk about faith, but your actions are nothing more than blind recklessness."

"Shut up!"

"Oh? And now you want to pick a fight with devils too? You've barely arrived and you're already turning your swords on everyone. Is the Church seriously trying to start another war?"

"You're human," Xenovia snapped. "Not a devil."

"That's true," he admitted. "But I'm also Rias Gremory's fiancé. Which makes me brother-in-law to Lucifer himself. Try to lay a finger on me, Holy Sword wielder... and let's see if the Church is ready to go to war with the entire Underworld."

His voice was cool.

Confident.

Deadly.

For a moment, it felt like time stopped.

Xenovia grit her teeth hard enough to draw blood. She wanted to strike. Every part of her screamed to do it.

But she couldn't.

The cost would be too high.

She glanced to her side—and saw Rias, still standing by Akira's side. Not stopping him. Not denying anything.

Her grip on Durandal tightened… then loosened.

With a frustrated growl, she lowered the blade.

Her glare stayed locked on Akira, filled with silent rage.

"Hmph. If you're not going to fight, then just leave. When Kokabiel slaughters you later, I'll be sure to pick up what's left of your corpses."

"I don't need your pity. Even if I die, I'll return to God's side."

Akira's expression soured.

"God again. You zealots never change. Blind devotion makes for poor decisions."

"...!"

Xenovia spun around with an angry huff, storming out of the room. Irina hesitated, clearly unsure about everything that just happened, but she gave a polite nod to Rias—and hurried after her partner.

Silence settled in their wake.

Kiba hadn't moved during the entire confrontation.

But his eyes had never left the blade in Xenovia's hands.

The desire to destroy it burned hotter than ever.

"You held yourself back. Not bad," Akira murmured.

Kiba gave a small nod. "Yeah."

But his face remained unreadable.

Rias watched him quietly, her heart a little heavier than before. Even though Yuuto had returned… Akira hadn't been able to heal the wound in his heart. Not yet.

His hatred for the Holy Swords hadn't gone anywhere.

"Akira…" she finally spoke, "what's really going on? How do you know about Kokabiel?"

Now that things had calmed down a little, the question hung heavily in the air.

Akira turned toward her.

"Azazel told me."

"Azazel...? The Governor of Grigori?!"

Everyone's heads snapped toward him.

That name was a bombshell in itself—not just because of who Azazel was, but the implications of him being here. And speaking to Akira.

More importantly, the lack of conflict suggested… the conversation hadn't been hostile.

Akeno, who had remained mostly silent, bit her lip.

Azazel.

She knew him.

Years ago, he had approached her. Offered her help. Tried to bridge the rift between her and her father, Baraqiel.

She rejected him.

But deep down, she knew Azazel had always been watching over her. Not for himself—but for her father's sake.

"Yeah," Akira continued. "Kokabiel's making his move. Azazel wants him out of the picture. No one, not even the other Fallen Angels, want a warmonger stirring up chaos again."

"What's he after?" Rias asked carefully.

"Think about it. What's in Kuoh City that would draw the attention of a Fallen Angel executive?"

Rias fell silent, eyes narrowing as she processed his words.

Then Akira looked at her.

And the realization hit her like a bolt of lightning.

"No way… don't tell me… he's after me?"

"Not just you," Akira said, voice flat. "You… and Sona Sitri."

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