So, I heard that there is a new Longinus in town."
Strada pulled his fist out of the abomination as he turned to the voice. The Vampire Lord - or the lower half of it that hadn't been vaporized by his holy fisting - fell to the ground, adding one more to the pile of dozens of corpses missing over half their bodies in the area. All of them were Vampires of course. Neither of the Exorcist duo on this light exercise were the kind to let the innocent victims come to harm.
"How do you think the higher-ups are going to react?"
The speaker was a youth, an effeminate boy in his early teens, with blonde, curly hair and effeminate looks. He was dressed in plain priestly clothes as was proper, yet they were well cared for and worn in a way that highlighted his looks. He was skinny as a stick in Strada's personal opinion, though that was normal in the modern priesthood. More importantly, the youth wasn't standing, instead of sitting in the air while eating an ice cream cone.
They were looks that completely clashed with the battlefield that the two of them were upon. However the hundreds of Vampires surrounding them that had been staked by pillars of earth, frozen into Vamp-sicles, set on fire, ground to dust, desiccated, and disposed of in other such manners bellied that appearance. While the youth was kind and gentle, his abilities and talents were meant for the battlefield.
"It is not our place to ask such questions, Father Dulio."
Strada in turn was a tall and well-muscled man. He might have been reaching retirement age - his trusted Durandal had already been put down, and Sister Xenovia was now training to become the next wielder of the Holy Sword - however, his body was still well-honed to perfection for worship God in the only way that he knew. By brutally murdering the Lord's enemies through his merciful Light.
"It is our place to carry out the Lord's wishes, whether it be bestowing judgment to his enemies or mercy to our fellow humans."
Dulio frowned and glared at his ice cream. "I don't think the children will appreciate the mapo tofu ice cream. Still, it would be a sin to throw away food." With the serious face of a martyr walking into a fight that he knew would kill him, but had to be fought for the greater good, Dulio proceeded to take another bite out of his mapo tofu ice cream.
Strada patiently waited for the boy to finish, Dulio's face turning red and sweaty, as tears threatened to fall out of his eyes. And yet, the boy did not desist, continuing to bite and lick at his ice cream no matter how the very name of it brought a shudder to Strada. Strada could only gaze proudly at the youth. True, his actions were utterly foolish and idiotic. Only a moron would have bought that ice cream to try out. Yet the principles behind his actions and how he stuck to them were worthy and just. Even so, he was glad that Dulio was finally done with the Devil-designed ice cream, even if Father Kotomine absolutely swore by its supposedly delicious flavor.
"So, you aren't worried about this new Longinus? The Devils already have three of the original ones - including one of the holy relics - and now they figured out how to make a new one?"
Strada shrugged.
"The Longinus merely brings a promise of potential, not an actual power. Unlike a Devil's natural potential, they do not grow stronger without both the training and the will. A Longinus in the hands of a Devil is less dangerous than in the hands of a human. They are a strong and long-lived race, but they are slothful. It is unlikely for them to make much of these tools. Chances are, the two Heavenly Dragons will trigger Juggernaut Drive in a Ratings Game and die. As for the Grail user, it is only a matter of time before she is driven insane. As for Sorin Bael, if he attempts to disrupt the balance of the world, he will die like all others who attempt to do so. And then, humanity will have another Longinus to its name."
Dulio frowned, floated into a standing position and stretched. "And if he tries to make more?"
"Why do you believe The Lord stopped at merely thirteen? The Biblical Factions are not the only Factions of power out there. If too many Longinus tier Sacred Gear are produced, the others will move to crush the Devils. Our enemies having an all-out war in Hell that devastates both sides without touching the human world, and leaves many more Longinus for humanity? It is all that I might have prayed for and more."
"I suppose." Dulio nodded with a weary sigh. He then waved his arms and fire, pure and white, flew out, incinerating all Vampire corpses around them. "Still, I can't help but worry. We weren't expecting anyone to start making Longinus tier Sacred Gear. Sure, maybe Ajuka or Azazel could have done it, but not some child we had never heard of. If he can surprise us like this, how else would he surprise us?"
Strada made a disappointed 'tsk' noise with his tongue as he turned, and started walking towards the captive and hypnotized victims that the vampires had acquired. The poor souls would be hypnotized to forget this, and the Church would ensure that they could go back to their lives. It was the only right thing to do.
"It is unbecoming of you, Father Dulio to make up excuses. That is not what truly bothers you, is it?"
"No."
Dulio growled, but he did not say anything, despite the minute that Strada gave him, as they put the victims to sleep. It was only once they had checked them all over for injuries and malignant spells that Strada picked up the conversation.
"His orphanage. It worries you."
Dulio nodded. "It isn't an orphanage. It is a cult to train loyal servants." Both of them carefully did not mention that that was an apt description of the Church's own orphanages. The only distinction was that they did so for the good cause of not dooming all of humanity to living, for the rest of eternity, in more miserable conditions than what those poor children were going through. Humanity was inherently weak after all, so even with the Lord's blessing, they had to grasp at whatever advantage that they could. "And in a cult, those who aren't loyal enough can be disposed of without anyone complaining."
"You are afraid that he is abusing those children." Strada summarizes. "Despite those children also being Devils."
"A person's species doesn't matter. Children are innocent." Dulio protested. "Devils aren't evil because they are born that way. They are so because evil is what they are taught. Until they are taught to be evil, they aren't, these children are just innocents who might be getting abused."
"Sorin Bael is a child as well." Strada pointed out, purely for the sake of argument.
"He also practices slavery, the trading of souls, and willingly bound the soul of one of the evilest Dragons in history to his own soul for the sake of power. Worst of all, he is an Apostate."
That made sense yes. Still, Strada did not reply immediately, instead of focusing on channeling the Lord's Light through the humans at his side. It was a slow and delicate process. He wasn't a Magician or born with a talent for the healing arts. However, the Light that he channeled could perform a poor mimicry of some of the Lord's lesser miracles, and he had been dedicating himself to mastering it for decades. Some minor rejuvenation, along with the necessary hypnotism was well within his abilities.
"Yes, the boy's sins are many as one would expect of his heritage." Strada agreed. "Yet we cannot reach him while he is in Hell. So what is it that you suggest?"
Dulio sighed. "I don't know. I was hoping you would have a suggestion."
"I do." Strada reached down, and grabbed four of the victims, carefully cradling them in his arms as a mother might her child. "Help me carry these people back to their homes."
The boy did not say a word of protest. Instead, the wind rose, and with it the sleeping people, each of them floating in the air as if on a soft bed. Dulio might have been labeled a genius, but he wasn't truly such. Rather, he was merely a dedicated youth, who took every opportunity to grow better with his Zenith Tempest. It was what gave Strada such hope. The amateurs and armchair generals may focus on the Devil who gained a Dragon-type Longinus, but if they asked him who would become the strongest child of the new generation, Strada would put his faith in this unassuming boy with the ability to command the weather across an entire country. Dulio was human after all, and while Devils started out stronger, that merely meant that humans worked harder to catch up and eventually overtake them.
"As for Sorin, have patience and believe in the Lord. If he continues making big waves, he will stumble and die, whether at our hands, or someone else's. If he does not, he will become forgotten. Just another footnote in history, a genius that quickly burned out having accomplished nothing."
And if not? Well, the last time a Devil got too influential, the Lord killed all four Great Satans.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So, what did your wife have to say about the boy?"
"A budding pervert without any ability. His father was always proudly saying how great his children would be when his wife was pregnant. Then, a few years after they were born, the bragging stopped. He never complained about Sorin, unlike the elder brother Sairaorg though, so that might be noteworthy."
Azazel paused, and put down his research notes on the latest lonely housewives to turn towards his friend. Shemhazai was sitting there with a serious look on his face, doing the paperwork that Azazel was supposed to be doing. Not that Azazel didn't do his own share of paperwork, but researching Sacred Gears and banging married women was much more interesting than balancing a budget. He wouldn't be able to get closer to Father by mastering that particular dark art. No, bureaucracy was far too evil and complex for even Father to try his hands at it. Although that might explain why Heaven had started to fall apart even while He was alive.
"The boy who figured out how to upgrade a Sacred Gear to Longinus levels is without any ability?" Azazel gave his friend a weird look at that. "Did you ask your wife while you were fucking her, and she thought that you wanted her to insult the other man to make you feel better? Because if you need your wife to insult a 10-year-old boy to feel confident, I can give you some coaching to get your skills up to par."
Shemhazai did not even bother to look away from the paperwork that he was working on as he snorted. "No, believe it or not, there is more to our relationship than sex and talking about Sacred Gears." Azazel could image that. Quite honestly, it sounded horrible. "She hasn't stepped foot in Devil territory since we married. All of her first-hand news is at least a year old. If the boy's achievements only started coming to light recently, then it is only natural that any rumors she heard about him were inaccurate. Also, my sex skills are quite fine, thank you very much. Unlike a certain someone, I am quite capable of creating a lasting and loving relationship with another person."
Azazel winced at that. It was true that he had mastered the art of getting into women's pants, but staying there in the long term - or better yet, knocking them up - was not something he had managed so far.
"I see. And did she have an opinion on the brat beyond that?"
"According to her, the boy is a traditionalist."
Azazel frowned, and then turned to stare meaningfully into his wine cup. Not that there was any great meaning to the action, but a lot of women had told him that he looked deep and manly when he did so. Mostly he just did this to appreciate his work. It was a five hundred years old golden cup, and one of his earliest attempts at recreating Sacred Gears. It was the oldest to have survived. Not that it did much, really. It was a cup that converted water poured into it into red wine from the time of Babylon. It also was a really fucking durable cup, with a minor self-repair spell build into it. Those two options allowed him to smash it into a wall whenever he was feeling particularly dramatic, and still enjoy his wine the next day.
"I don't see it." He said after a couple of minutes of appreciating his fine work and considering how one could improve it. "The boy's taste in modern Japanese media isn't very traditional."
"He is a Bael, and that family is as traditional as Devils can get while being part of the Hippy Satan Faction. The boy would have been raised with traditional values, and if you look at what he is achieving instead of how he is achieving it, you will see the point."
Shemhazai stopped, and put down the paper he had finished working on. Azazel glanced over, to note that it was the paperwork on optimizing the profit margins of Fallmart, their biggest financial business in the human world. It also served as a front for a lot of their more diabolical operations.
"First, he is collecting slaves, far beyond what the modern Peerage system would allow. He both has an orphanage to collect a large number of slaves - many of whom are sold off to others to improve his political position - and directly collects more interesting or skilled talents. He merely does so under names that would be acceptable in modern Devil society."
Azazel wasn't so sure about that. Their own orphanage scheme wasn't all that different from what Sorin was running. He wanted to say that it was different in that they weren't fucking their orphans, but he had far too many subordinates who were blatantly doing exactly that. They also ran various unethical experiments on their orphans, but honestly, that wasn't any worse than what Michael was allowing the Church to do, so apparently, Father would have been fine with such actions.
"Second, he is largely a sociopath who cares only about himself." Shemhazai continued. "As you own, sociopathy - unlike psychopathy - is a learned or trained trait. Sociopaths are also perfectly capable of being charming when necessary. Even so, they are largely defined by two main traits; the obsession with power, and the enjoyment of harming others. Sorin is merely different from the old Devils in that he has the sense to realize who is an acceptable target and direct his murder fetish in their direction. So, instead of bullying, torturing or killing some innocents who are too weak to raise a fuss, he directs his cruel intentions at bandits. This way, he gets praise and adulation for satisfying his murder boner instead of fear and dislike."
That, Azazel could not argue about. Going out to personally exterminate bandits attacking people who were nominally under your protection was a good thing. Taking your time killing said bandits so that you could reenact scenes from Star Wars and other movies on them, was just cruel. Maybe the boy's tendency to play with his food came from the catlike traits he inherited from his mother's family, but then everyone knew that cats were sociopaths so that would only reinforce Shemhazai's point.
"Lastly, are his dealings with Baraqiel. A trade with his enemy that was too sweet for Baraqiel to refuse? Exchanging a life for a life, or a soul for a soul? Making the deal in a civilian location as if they were friends making a simple exchange? Making Baraqiel brutally murder one of the children under his charge to fulfill his end of the bargain? All of those are the hallmarks of the deals that Devils used to strike before Father got tired of their shit."
Azazel threw back his cup and drank at that.
Damn it, Baraqiel.
That damn deal was something that kept coming up whenever they were discussing the latest news. Azazel was tired of considering it, but there was no dancing around the topic. No dancing around the delicate little fact that Baraqiel had flown into one of the orphanages where they were supposed to be protecting the children, torn the soul out of a fourteen years old child in front of his screaming sister and girlfriend, ripped the kid's arm off, and left, all without a word of explanation.
They were still dealing with figuring out how to clean up that mess. Sure, they had Baraqiel under what was essentially house arrest, only letting him out whenever someone needed a particularly blatant smiting, but forcing the man to spend his time with his wife and child was hardly a punishment. It wasn't like they could punish Baraqiel anymore than that though. Not only was Baraqiel far too valuable to the Fallen, but many of the leaders - as well as the rank and file - would violently object to punishing him for merely hurting a human. There had been too many witnesses to keep them all quiet though, and Azazel was loathe to just murder off the entire orphanage. It had taken far too much time and money to gather that many Sacred Gear users.
But if we don't do it, the other orphanages might find out about it.
As far as Devil plots went, it was quite clever in Azazel's experience. It was also very traditional as Shemhazai pointed out. The Devil asks for a price that is, on paper equal and fair, but in practice trades something you don't want as much for something you care a lot more for. Yet, after the trade is made, you learn of all the hidden costs to your action that you hadn't been expecting, leaving you worse off than before. It was indeed, quite clever. It also wasn't the sort of plan someone put together and pulled off in a couple of days.
"Do you believe he knew that Shuri was going to die?"
His friend frowned at the question. "We know that the Bael have some intelligence network that was able to locate three Longinus within half a year. On top of that, this network is so influential and well organized that none of our efforts to locate it have succeeded so far. If we suppose that this is because they have spies placed highly inside of our own intelligence networks, then it wouldn't be surprising that they managed to do so inside of other factions as well. If they also had spies in the Himejima faction, they could have both known of your mission for Baraqiel ahead of time, as well as of the Himejima plan to assassinate Shuri."
"And so, planned for the consequences of the assassination before the Himejima Clan finished planning out the assassination." Azazel concluded. "Thus acting on the information near instantly, while everyone else was reeling from shock."
If that was the case, that made it even more imperative that they locate this vast spy network. In both diplomacy and war, information had always been the king. In the modern world, it looked like the Bael Clan were the Great Kings of Information.
"Damn Zekram. How long had he been planning this? I thought he had been satisfied ever since his last plan led to the Civil War that ended in his descended the official ruler of Devils, and himself the most influential Devil in Hell."
"Perhaps his overwhelming success is the problem." His friend said casually, as he grabbed another stack of papers. It was the false backgrounds they were creating for some of their members so that they could join Disney's legal team and gain experience at corporate lawyering. "Zekram has always been ambitious, wanting more than what he already had. Now that he has consolidated his power in Hell as much as he can, perhaps he is trying to reach further to grasp more power?"
Azazel sighed. "I hope not. While he is more reasonable than my brother ever was, that just makes him harder to deal with in many ways. At least with Lucifer, you could always just stab him in the face."
Not that that had been a particularly effective strategy against his brother who had the most daddy issues in the entire family. Lucifer might have been greedy, ambitious and a complete asshole, but he was also tenacious and hard to kill. He had also been a coward without any shame, perfectly willing to hide behind Father's kilt when the two Heavenly Dragons did their mating ritual in the middle of the war.
"Yes, we shall have to be ever more thorough in our operational security, and information gathering if we wish to keep up with him." Shemhazai said, before handing a small mountain of papers that he had just finished working on, over to Azazel. "So on that note, go through this stack and double-check it. Also, I left in a few errors on purpose, so if you don't thoroughly look it through, I will know."
Azazel felt his eyes twitching as he looked at his friend. "You just want me to do more paperwork, don't you?"
Shemhazai's tone and facial expression were perfectly neutral as he replied. "I merely ask that you do your duty as the leader of the Fallen to protect us from the depredations of Zekram Bael."
Azazel continued to glare but Shemhazai ignored him, going back to his work. Eventually, he relented and looked at the stack in front of him. The first was their intelligence department's latest report on Sorin Bael. Apparently, the boy was asking Leviathan to help him open a series of hospitals in the human world in collaboration with Heaven.
Wait. What?
Azazel went back and reread the paper to make sure he had read it right. He had. The latest Bael Plot was for a series of hospitals, run jointly by Angels and Devils to be opened in Japan.
"What the fuck?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Accursed hellspawn!"
The Himejima elder yelled as he smashed a hand down on a wooden table. The table had been a relic from older times, having nobly served the clan for centuries. The resulting web of cracks spreading from where his hand struck had nearly ruined it, but no one around the table expressed any objections. They were all enraged at the 'brat', none willing to utter his ruinous name.
"What kind of Devil helps a Fallen Angel! Aren't they supposed to be pretending to be enemies?"
No one here truly believed that line of course. Yes, the so-called Three Great Factions might skirmish with one another, but as soon as an external force stepped in, they all presented a united front. They were more of a family with some personal issues that they liked to air than true enemies. It was a situation similar to the Hindu Pantheon. The two groups had divided up most of the world between themselves, ignoring the prior claims of those living there, and proceeded to ignore the going-on outside of their supposed territory until 'foreigners' - such as the original inhabitants - tried to intrude. And yet that did not make the situation any less frustrating.
"What happened to the strike team sent to eliminate her again?"
He demanded, turning to a different elder. The one in charge of the problem removal division of the Himejima clan. Calling it a black ops division wasn't entirely appropriate, as their operations were not hidden. The Himejima clan only operated within Japan, their rightful, ancestral lands which were theirs to defend by rights of blood and divine edict. There was no need to hide such actions.
Unfortunately - though unsurprisingly - the elder who was put on the spot cringed.
"Results did not meet our expectations. The strike was detected, and the team was hit by an attack that Baraqiel called 'The Baraqiel Special'. As far as our analysts can tell, it involved dropping lightning on them. A lot of lightning. We have a couple of survivors, but they have both been blinded for life and had their eardrums ruptured. While neither has become deaf, both are expected to be hard of hearing for the rest of their lives." He paused. "That was the good news."
The people around the room looked at one another in confusion. How could any of that qualify as good news? The elder that was speaking continued a few seconds later, answering their confusion.
"The bad news is that Baraqiel threw out enough lightning, to bore a hole into the ground. The displaced earth flew into the air, hot enough to melt and become lava. The Japanese government is now convinced that there is a small, previously undiscovered volcano located there, which had a minor eruption. We have had to send multiple agents experienced in brainwashing to ensure that geologists do not discover anything suspicious."
A shudder went through the room at that. The first time they managed to kill Shuri had been when they managed to work around her husband's schedule to strike at her when she was without his protection. Now that Baraqiel was more protective than ever, their only hope had been a Hail Mary plan that failed horribly. That stung their pride something fierce. It had taken them ten years after the abomination was born to find a sufficient opening. If they waited another ten years, the abomination might be powerful enough to fight off their forces.
"Damn that brat!" A different elder repeated the phrase that had started this conversation. "Even if we are able to slay the abomination, nothing is stopping him from just reviving her."
Yes, there was also that. Sephiroth Graal, the Holy Grail, an artifact capable of resurrecting the dead. The mere fact that foreign artefact or such religious significance was used on Japanese soil was a grave insult to their culture and persons. The purpose it had been used for made it even worse. So long as the Biblical Faction had it, and could safely use it, every successful strike made against them would be erased, while they would just accrue further losses.
"That brat needs to die." It wasn't clear who said it, but it did not matter. All of them were thinking about it. "So long as he lives, the abomination lives. If he is protecting the abomination, then he must be removed."
"We can't even reach him."
That was the reasonable counter that all of them had been thinking. Yet, even so, it set off a series of arguments and debates. None of them said anything the others did not already know. It was merely that the problem had no acceptable solution. So they kept going over it again and again, hoping that they would stumble upon something that none of them had thought about. Until eventually a solution was presented.
"We should strike against Devils in general. Recently the warlord of Kuoh was killed off, and now it is under the tyranny of Bael. We could send a message by reclaiming the territory."
There were nods at that. Yes, Kuoh could be reclaimed. If the Baels wanted it back, well it wasn't like humans had never come out on top in a Deal with the Devil. Perhaps they could wring out some concessions that would make up for the humiliation of tolerating the existence of the abomination?
Of course, decisions like this were easy to make. That still left the issue of logistics. With many of their young warriors dead, it was up to the elders to pick up the slack and get the job done. Even so, there would be many who were not sitting at this table who would have to be called out of retirement. Targets of attack would have to be decided as well.
Eventually, after some discussion, the meeting was called to a halt. Not that any of them got up. Instead, their assistants were called in. They were all wise and experienced men. They understood that while they were having a closed-off meeting, the world was still moving along. Events might have happened that they would have to react to quickly, and as a group. As such, their assistants would pass them papers with anything major or interesting that might have come up while they were meeting. Once all of them were satisfied that there were no emergencies, only then would they leave.
"Those pieces of scum!" / "How dare they!"
Multiple such shouts came from around the room before they all quieted down. Quickly papers were passed around, causing more shouts of anger, before they too were silenced by propriety.
"What do we do about this?" One voice asked.
"We must strike!"
"We can't! We can't strike at a hospital."
"Fuck it! It is a filthy foreigner hospital with their foreigner religion. It isn't even run by humans!"
"But the patients will be humans! The citizens we are meant to protect!"
"Humans selling their souls to Devils!"
Yes, the Devils - together with Angels - were planning to open hospitals in Japan, starting with Kuoh Town. If that experiment was a success, they would be opening new hospitals all across the nation, infusing the minds of the populace with their poisonous propaganda. That could not be allowed. Launching a military strike at a hospital, on the other hand, was liable to invite the kind of invitation that they would not survive without literal divine interference. Inaction wasn't permissible, but neither was a direct attack.
"We must make the hospital fail." One of them said, standing up. "We do not have to attack. No matter what delusions these foreign scum hold, this is our land. These are our people. We know their hearts. Their minds. Their beliefs. Their culture. We are the ones with influence over the laws. If we can't launch an assault on the hospital, we merely have to turn it into a financial failure."
"Yes." Another of them nodded, a grin on their face. "Devils and Angels working together? This must be nothing but an experiment. The second one in Kuoh and we all know how the first ended. The very first time the status quo was destabilized, the peace broke down, and hostilities resumed. This hospital is a threat if it succeeds. But if it fails? They will blame each other, and kill each other for us, without us having to lift a finger."
Hospitals were expensive to build and run after all. Complicated too, especially with all the laws out there. It certainly wasn't easy to make a profit with one, even without the government actively hostile to you. No, the fools would be made to fail, and when they did, when they tore themselves apart like the foreign animals that they were, the Himejima would sweep in and take back the land for glorious Nippon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"We have a letter from Serafall."
Michael let out a most manly cry of greeting when his sweet, innocent sister snuck upon him. Yes, it was slightly high pitched, but in some of the ancient Greek city-states the ability to maintain a high pitch even as an adult was considered a sign of manliness. Sure that was a long time ago, but as someone who had been alive and young at the time of those traditions, Michael was well within his right to keep some habits from back then. He had most certainly not been surprised by Gabriel.
"Hello dear brother."
Gabriel said with a kindly smile and pulled him into a hug. As Michael momentarily struggled for air, he sincerely hoped that she would not hug others in the same way. It would be unseemly to suffocate the faithful.
"Hello, sister." Michael said once Gabriel let go of him, straightened up and looking her in the eyes. "Is this letter expected to make more trouble for Father's system?"
Michael had been maintaining the System of Heaven ever since Father had died during the War. Unfortunately, Heaven did not come with an instruction manual. Nor were the self-repair and correction systems perfect. As time passed, new errors and bugs cropped up. The world changed, and it took everything Michael had to just try and keep up with it. It was imperfect though. Flaws formed. Innocents fell through cracks that became bigger year after year. Heaven grew less stable, and it was just a matter of time before they could no longer hide the death of Father from the other Pantheons. Not that Heaven's enemies would need to act. Even if no one attacked Heaven, Michael would be surprised if Heaven did not collapse in on itself in a thousand years.
An artificial afterlife is a Divine Construct. It is something that needs Divinity to be maintained. Despite how close my siblings and I are, despite how perfectly Father made us, we are not Divinity. Just imitations of it. Close enough to slow down the crumbling of Heaven, but not fix it.
The new breed of Satans did not appreciate just how vital Heaven's existence was to their own survival. The lie of Father's continued existence was why the Celtic or Norse Pantheons had not started a war to regain the territories Christianity had taken from them. Or why Hades hadn't left the Underworld to take back Hell for that matter. The peace that they enjoyed was supported by a lie that could only be maintained because Heaven continued to function. Unfortunately, while the current Satans were powerful fighters they were also essentially children. This wasn't a comment on their age; all four were centuries old, and yet behaved with the maturity Michael would expect from someone that was, at best, a few decades old. Miss Leviathan, their supposed diplomat was probably the worst of the lot, though Lucifer - the ruler of their race - gave her a run for her money. As such, Michael could not be blamed for feeling trepidation as to the contents of the letter might mean for the future.
"I don't think so." Gabriel shook her head, her lustrous hair wave through the air in a manner that Michael would have called deliberately seductive if it was done by literally anyone else. "They want to open a hospital."
Instantly, dread filled Michael at the idea of a hospital run by Devils of all things. Sure, it wasn't the worst thing he had heard of the last century even - humanity had a disturbing tendency to engage in evil with a great deal of flair and enthusiasm from time to time - but it was not something he wanted happening.
"So why are they informing us? Do they want us to leave the place alone?"
"No, silly." Gabriel shook her head, bouncing in place in a way that made Michael tilt his head up to keep eye contact. "They want us to help run the place."
Michael blinked. He checked to see that nothing was blocking his ears. Then he looked back upon his perfect memory to confirm what he had just heard. Yup, still the same ridiculous nonsense as before.
"They want Angels to help them with their human experiments?"
Gabriel tilted her head confused. "Why would they run human experiments? Hospitals exist to heal people, don't they? I don't think Devils are so ignorant as to mix those two up. Even if they did, I would expect them to ask for our human experimentation experts if they wanted to make use of them."
Michael sighed. "Dear sister, did the letter specify what they wanted us to help with the hospital?"
"Of course." Gabriel nodded, her smile somehow becoming even brighter. "They want our help with the PR, and as morality police."
"Morality police?" Michael asked, wondering if there was a function in the System of Heaven that he could use to check himself for brain damage.
"Yup. Apparently, the whole thing is Sorin Bael's idea, and he wants Angelic help to ensure everything is all perfectly moral."
Perhaps he could look for some super Advil while he was at it, to deal with this headache he was getting. "Sorin Bael?"
"Yup."
"You are saying that the Devil who willingly bound the Anti-Christ equivalent of a different pantheon - a Dragon so Evil and combat hungry that those desires literally altered his species - to his immortal soul, is now asking for help on morality from Heaven?"
"Yup. Isn't that wonderful?"
Wonderful wasn't the word that Michael would have chosen. Perhaps utterly fucking insane would have been more appropriate. He could not think of an appropriate analogy to describe how ridiculous this was, because they had long left all sense of sanity behind.
"Does the letter specify why he wants our help?"
"Of course, sweet brother."
Gabriel said, pulling out the letter. Michael was glad to see that it was printed on regular paper using ink, instead of, say, the skin of a newborn human baby using an alchemical concoction made from virgin blood and eyeballs. A part of him could not help but note that after that decade where Rizevim sent letters by carrier pigeon to the pope once a week informing him of his imminent demise, his standards with regards to proper letter etiquette had seriously fallen.
"Apparently Sorin Bael has learned some healing techniques, and he also has some subordinates who want to heal. So he wants to open a hospital where they heal humans. So long as the humans sign a contract acknowledging that they are making a monetary payment to the Devil Bael family in exchange for healing, it counts as him fulfilling a Devil contract. Since humans are not selling their souls, entering into contracts that would be considered socially or morally unacceptable between humans, or even aware that they are dealing with a Devil due to the wonders that are fine print on contracts, their eternal souls or place in Heaven are not threatened in any way. Sorin Bael gets money and fulfills contracts. Humans get better and cheaper healing than what they could get at other hospitals. Heaven gets to put its name on the hospital and use it as a way to spread the word and love of Father, and maybe convert a few more innocent lambs to his teachings. Everyone benefits, except the Japanese Youkai whose lands we are building the hospital on. But their opinion doesn't matter."
Michael could not contest that. Youkai were the creations and believers of a pagan religion. That inherently made them worse than even Devils, who at least originated from Father if one went back far enough. Though he hoped that his sister would not voice that opinion where the Youkai could hear. They might throw a fuss. Not that they could do anything to his sister but bleed to death in her general vicinity, but one might get a drop of its blood on her or something.
"So, essentially he has envisioned a system that results in everyone benefiting, so long as no one is corrupt, or starts doing something immoral. And so, he decided to ask Angels, who have proven to not give in to temptation, to handle those parts of the business?"
"Yup." Gabriel nodded. "Isn't it wonderful? A Devil wanting to do good?"
"Yes, that would be a wonderful thing."
Michael agreed. Not that he believed it. He would take a gamble on it of course. It was only right to do so, but that did not stop him from seeing this for the opportunity that it was. If Sorin was helping out in a hospital like this, that meant that he was vulnerable to an acute case of Light poisoning. He would not strike first, but the pieces would be in place. If Sorin's bargain turned out to be a lie, he would ensure that the supposedly prodigal child did not survive. And if it wasn't a lie? Well, Sorin wouldn't be the first Devil to come under the grace of Father. Such occasions were rare, but they did happen after all. And if he could bring the Holy Grail with him - and a wielder who had gained control of the holy artifact - than that was all the better.
"I say that we agree. Though let me read the letter just to be sure."
"Of course, here you go." Gabriel, ever cheerful, gave him the letter. "So, is there anything I can do to help?"
Michael nodded, quickly rattling off the name of a pair of Angels that she should collect. They were both weak - possessing only two wings - but that meant that they had survived for over three millennia, fighting in countless wars where both sides were full of titans that could crush them by snoring in their general vicinity. In all that time, their faith in and dedication to Father had never been broken. He could trust them to handle things. Of course, power had an appeal of its own, but he had just the right person for that.
"Also, send a message to young Dulio. He can represent the Exorcists in our initial diplomatic party."
After all, the boy had a way with children. Even if this was just an act, perhaps he could convince Sorin to switch sides?
AN: Last interlude. Next chapter will be start of Book 02
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