Angel bore witness to the entire ordeal between Denji and Kishibe. But calling it a battle would be too generous—it was an execution, plain and simple. Kishibe's blows came in a rapid flurry, a whirlwind that even Kobeni struggled to keep up with. The sounds of impact were like sharp cracks, breaking the air around them. Denji was hurled through the air like a human cannonball, his body contorted in a grotesque dance of involuntary submission. The trajectory felt like a twisted version of a belly flop, right up until he neared a cluster of white-crossed graves. At the very brink, Kishibe materialized behind him, intercepting Denji just before he could crash into the graves. Denji, for a fleeting moment, almost let out a word of thanks, but any breath left in him was snuffed out by Kishibe's powerful grip on his shoulders, pressing down like insurmountable weights, compressing his shoulder blades.
Denji's arms fell limply at his sides. "I think you're about done," the older man said, casually extending his hand as if greeting the sky. Kobeni gazed upward, her eyes catching a glint in the sky—thin, barely noticeable, but there. The Angel noticed her looking up and followed her gaze. Suddenly, the glint plummeted faster than a fired bullet, cleaving through the air and slicing the boy's left wing clean off.
Kishibe grumbled, "An Angel flies through the air, thinking it's the boss of the sky. Flying devils are the same—never thinking to look up." Kobeni shook, watching the small Angel cry out in pain as he fell. Kishibe changed his stance, left foot placed backward, legs half bent like he was preparing to sprint. He sprinted towards her, his feet barely touching the ground—four steps covered thirty feet of distance, and he made it in barely 2 seconds.
Kobeni tried to cover her face, raising her hands to block, but Kishibe's first kick swiped her legs out. She fell, and his other leg swung upwards, launching her into the air. She slammed into the falling Angel, redirecting his trajectory just in time to avoid landing on one of the grave crosses. Kobeni had the wind knocked out of her and could only wheeze, struggling to fill her strained lungs. She could hear Angel groaning some distance away.
Kishibe grabbed the falling knife out of the air right before it hit the dirt in front of him. Blood from the angel's wings now pattered against the ground around him like rain. He fetched a cigarette from his jacket, catching some of the blood raining from the sky using the flat end of the blade. The black knife caught fire immediately upon contact with the infernal liquid. The bored man simply raised the burning knife to the end of his cigarette before whipping around and throwing it, aiming at the attempting-to-be-stealthy Denji who was barely five feet away from Kishibe. The black blade pierced the fiend's thigh, making him fall to the ground, grumbling and trying to pull it out as it smoked in the open wound like embers in charcoal.
"You all are pathetic," Kishibe said. "Makima believes that you all have the capability of eliminating the gun devil, and yet you can't even fight a measly human. I've broken more of a sweat walking upstairs than fighting you."
His eyes focused on a rising Angel who managed to get to their feet and pulled off one of their gloves. From out of nowhere, the air and light seemed to bend around the Angel's hand in the shape of a rod. Soon, the sharpened tip of a spear manifested, and the wooden handle began to appear as if he was pulling it out from some invisible bag.
"I can still fight," Angel said, his hands adjusting to the spear. "This is 10 years," he whispered.
"Tsk," Kishibe replied, clicking his tongue in amusement. His cigarette, held between his middle and pointer finger, burned as he inhaled from it. He took it from his lips and put his hand like he was going to put the lit rod behind his ear.
Instead, before Angel could react, the cigarette was thrown. He managed to catch a glimpse of it flying towards him, attempting to cover his face, but it was too late. The burning end made contact with his eye, and the boy was blinded. He dropped the spear, and it vanished instantly.
Angel tried to open his other eye, attempting to see Kishibe as moisture gathered in it and tears fell. He felt his hair being pulled, and soon Kishibe's face came into view. The red hair of the boy was gathered in Kishibe's fist like a rope, holding the boy in place, forcing him to look up.
"I am your squad commander. When I speak, you listen," Kishibe stated sternly.
The old man used a small Swiss Army knife to cut the palm of his hand, letting the blood pool for a moment. He opened it and allowed a small trickle to fill the Angel's mouth. Within seconds, the wing of the fiend had grown back, and Kishibe moved over to Denji.
"Your attempted stealth approach was smart, I'll admit. But if you didn't want to fail, then you should have just been better," Kishibe said, his tone firm.
"What the heck does that even mean?" Denji strained to talk as his bones popped back into place and fused back into their normal, healthy positions.
"It means that a devil isn't going to give you the chance to make a plan or figure out its weakness. You've fought some, I'll admit, but anything bigger than some small-time nobodies would eat you and spit you out. Seen it happen to a thousand devil hunters," Kishibe explained.
He closed his palm, and Denji rose to his feet. "We are going to train every day. Maybe after a month, you'll be decent enough to guard or fight an old lady." Kishibe walked down a trail away from the trio, heading back towards civilization. The three guessed Denji went to grab an unconscious Kobeni, slinging the girl over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and following Kishibe. Denji noticed that Angel actually walked with them this time instead of hovering.
"Let's go get drinks." Kishibe said to the 3 of them not really asking more ordering than anything else.