The abandoned church loomed over Kaien Akagiri like a monument to the choice he was about to make.
The warped wooden doors creaked in the wind, their foreboding presence urging him to turn back. He stared at them for a long moment, his thoughts swirling.
This was it. Once he walked through those doors, there would be no going back.
His betrayal of Rias and the Occult Research Club wasn't something he took lightly. He liked them. He really did. But the cold truth was this: it was either them or him.
Survival didn't leave room for sentimentality.
He closed his eyes, steadying his nerves. The last few days had been a whirlwind of preparation.
Training with Kiba, refining his magecraft and watching the church through the eyes of his familiars.
Every exorcist, every routine, every strength and weakness had been catalogued. He knew the risks, but this was his best shot.
Kaien tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword at his side—a gift from Kiba, an unnamed demonic blade he'd created using his sacred gear sword birth.
He drew a deep breath, then pushed the door open.
The creaking echoed through the empty halls, and Kaien stepped inside, his footsteps ringing hollow against the stone floor.
"Hello?" he called, his voice breaking the eerie silence.
For a moment, there was no response. Then, hurried footsteps echoed from deeper within the building.
A man in a tattered church robe rounded the corner, his hand resting on the hilt of a blade at his side.
His narrowed eyes fixed on Kaien. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
Kaien raised his hands, palms open, in a gesture of peace. A disarming smile crept onto his face. "Relax. I'm here to see Raynare."
The man's tense posture eased almost immediately, and he chuckled. "Ah, a new recruit then?"
"Something like that," Kaien replied nonchalantly.
The man waved him forward, his earlier hostility completely gone. "Follow me. But a word of advice—show respect. Lady Raynare doesn't tolerate insolence. I've seen what happens to those who cross her, and I'd rather not end up like them."
"Thanks for the warning," Kaien said, falling into step behind the man.
They walked through the dimly lit halls of the church, descending into the basement through a hidden passage.
The air grew heavier as they went, and Kaien's eyes flicked over the dozens of exorcists stationed throughout the church.
It was an impressive force—a miniature army ready to wreak havoc. Kaien suppressed the urge to whistle.
The man stopped outside a door at the end of the passage and knocked twice. "Lady Raynare, I've brought another recruit to see you."
A melodic, commanding voice responded from the other side. "Enter."
The man opened the door and gestured for Kaien to step inside. "Good luck. And remember—respect."
Kaien nodded and walked through the doorway, his senses immediately picking up on the change in atmosphere.
The room was sparsely furnished, with a table at its centre and a few scattered chairs.
Around the table stood four figures, their dark wings marking them as fallen angels.
Raynare stood at the head of the group, her presence commanding even without speaking.
Her sharp eyes locked onto Kaien the moment he stepped inside, and the other three—Dohnaseek, Mittelt, and Kalawarner—watched him with thinly veiled suspicion.
Kaien met their gazes without flinching.
Raynare stepped forward, her voice cutting through the tension. "Exorcist—"
"Magician," Kaien interrupted with a casual smile. "Or magus, if you prefer."
Her eyes narrowed at the interruption. "What did you say?"
"I said I'm a magician," Kaien repeated, his tone unfazed. "And I came here to speak with you. The guy up front was nice enough to bring me in."
"And tell me, magician," she said, her voice laced with irritation, "what's stopping me from killing you where you stand?"
Kaien shrugged. "Well, other than you not being able to, I've also got a proposal. One that I think is in our mutual interest."
Raynare scoffed, her wings flaring slightly, a smirk tugging at her lips. "And pray tell, why would I entertain anything from a mortal like you?" Her tone dripped with disdain.
"Because if you don't," Kaien said, his smile never wavering, "you're all going to die."
The room fell silent.
Dohnaseek's laughter broke the tension. "Arrogant human! Enough of this nonsense. Lady Raynare, let me handle this fool."
Raynare didn't respond, which Dohnaseek took as permission.
With a flourish, he summoned a light spear and hurled it at Kaien.
Kaien sighed, his mind flashing to his trigger—a spark, flicking to life, growing into a roaring bonfire. His magic circuits ignited, and a plume of dark fire erupted around him.
The flames were no ordinary fire; they embodied the despair of those abandoned by God, the searing torment of hell, and the unyielding emptiness of the void.
Born from a Magic Crest Kaien had come into possession of, these soul-burning flames once belonged to Edmond Dantès, the legendary Count of Monte Cristo.
With the Crest, Kaien could conjure their destructive power, a force said to rival the might of magic from the Age of Gods.
Their potency was unparalleled. These flames could tear through the strongest magical barriers, consuming not just flesh but the very essence of a soul.
Regeneration? Resurrection? They were meaningless before the relentless fury of these flames, which allowed no second chances for those caught in their wrath.
The light spear collided with the flames, dissipating before it could reach him.
Kaien drew his sword, the black-and-purple flames of his crest igniting along its blade.
Dohnaseek sneered. "Filthy human. Do you really think you can stand against a fallen angel?"
"I'd say I'm doing pretty well," Kaien quipped, deflecting another spear with a swing of his blade with some effort.
Of course, he was posturing. Naturally, as a regular human, his physical abilities shouldn't have been able to compete with that of a fallen angel like Dohnaseek.
The solution to this of course was reinforcement magecraft which allowed him to strengthen himself to levels near that of a weak servant.
It had to be said that even the weakest of servants are at least 10 times stronger than the average man.
The downside to this, however, was that continuous reinforcement put a lot of strain on his circuits.
As a genius magus, his circuit count and quality far exceeded that of a low-class magus like Emiya Shirou and even that of Tohsaka Rin.
The battle continued as the black flames on his sword crackled as they met Dohnaseek's attacks.
The fallen angels watching from the sidelines murmured among themselves, their eyes narrowing at the unnatural black flames dancing around Kaien.
"Those flames..." Kalawarner muttered arms crossed. "is it a sacred gear?"
"They burn like holy fire," Mittelt noted, her tone uneasy. "But that shouldn't be possible. The only sacred gear with those properties is the Longinus Incinerate Anthem.
Raynare's gaze darkened, her fingers twitching slightly as she considered the possibility. Then, she shook her head. "No. If he had a Sacred Gear, the device would have detected him from the start."
"Then what the hell is he using?" Dohnaseek hissed.
With a roar, he launched a multiple barrage of light spears, surrounding Kaien with deadly projectiles, too many to dodge.
Kaien's eyes widened in surprise as he gritted his teeth, deflecting as many as he could, but a few slipped through, piercing his shoulder and side. He stumbled one knee to the ground, blood dripping onto the stone floor.
Dohnaseek smirked. "Foolish human. You're finished."
But before he could revel in his victory, Kaien's voice rang out, calm and unbothered.
"Not bad, I honestly didn't expect you to push me this far," Kaien said, his form flickering and appearing unscathed.
Dohnaseek's eyes widened. "How…? What kind of sorcery is this?"
Kaien's eyes glowed a faint iridescent purple. "Not sorcery. Just a little lie."
His words were confident, but the strain on his face betrayed the toll it had taken.
Kaien wasn't lying when he said he hadn't expected Dohnaseek to push him this far.
His hand brushed the corner of his glowing, iridescent eye as he steadied himself, the faint strain rippling through his body like an old ache.
So, this is what it's come to.
The iridescent purple glow of his Mystic Eyes of Fantasy burned faintly in the dim light of the church.
Kaien didn't rely on them often—too risky, too draining—but now? Now, he had no choice. They were the only reason he was still standing.
His left eye throbbed faintly, the strain like a vice pressing against his temples. The Rejection. That's what had saved him.
Dohnaseek's light spear had pierced him—he'd felt it, the searing pain as it tore through his body.
But in the split second between life and death, his eye had flared to life, its power rewriting the outcome.
The left eye didn't create, it erased. It denied reality itself, taking a singular truth—I've been impaled—and rewriting it into a lie: It never happened.
It worked, but not without cost. The strain of rejecting such a fundamental truth weighed on him like a mountain, his circuits burning from the effort.
Kaien liked to think of his left eye's power in terms of probabilities. The likelihood of surviving something directly influenced how much strain the eye placed on him.
Surviving Dohnaseek's light spear? Fine, if barely. Surviving Sirzechs Lucifer's rays of destruction? Impossible.
The closer he got to rejecting something fundamentally unavoidable, the closer he came to burning himself out completely.
He gritted his teeth, still feeling the lingering ache in his circuits. This wasn't something he could use freely—not unless I want to kill myself in the process.
But the left eye was only half of the equation.
Kaien's right eye, known as the Lie, glowed faintly. While his left eye had the power to erase truths, his right eye could create them. It could transform a falsehood—a fleeting rumour or a whispered deception—into reality.
Magecraft, at its core, is the artificial reenactment of mysteries, phenomena that were once possible only by inhuman beings, during the age of gods.
A magus uses magical energy to "deceive" the world into temporarily accepting these phenomena as real, rewriting natural laws to create effects like fireballs, barriers, or healing.
Kaien's right eye amplified this inherent deception. His spells could achieve qualitatively stronger results by reinforcing the "lie" behind magecraft.
A simple flame could become a roaring inferno; a minor illusion could turn into a convincing falsehood. The world bent more easily to his will when his right eye was in play.
This synergy made the right eye invaluable in combat, where every edge mattered.
Kaien had even theorised that illusion magic, which was already a form of deception, would pair particularly well with his eyes.
If he could master illusion magic, he might one day create falsehoods so convincing they transcended illusion entirely, becoming tangible and indistinguishable from reality.
Reality Manipulation
But for now, that was out of reach.
The strain of using his eyes was immense, draining both his magical energy and physical stamina. He couldn't rely on them freely—every use had to be timed, deliberate, and worth the cost.
Still, it was a power that made him uniquely dangerous. Most magi worked within the constraints of what the world allowed, but Kaien's eyes twisted that balance in his favour, letting him bend even the fundamental rules of magecraft to his will.
I'll master them eventually, Kaien thought, his hands curling into fists. But right now, I have to survive.
Kaien's circuits strained under the weight of his magic, and his eyes burned with a searing pain.
The cost of rejecting that attack had been greater than he anticipated. He grit his teeth, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.
He wouldn't be able to do it again—not without pushing himself past his limit.
He couldn't help but smirk bitterly, his voice cutting through the tense air like a blade.
"This… this is what it takes for a human to stand on equal ground with monsters like you," he said, bitterly.
"We have to wield the power of relics, burn our souls, and gamble everything just to survive—while beings like you are born into it."
"Tch, It doesn't matter if you can revive, I'll kill you as many times as it takes" Dohnaseek growled, summoning another spear.
Kaien narrowed his eyes, He couldn't keep playing the long game; this fight had begun to drag on, and he hadn't even gotten to why he'd come here.
It's all or nothing
He clenched his hand, and the black flames roared to life around him, dancing like shadows fueled by his determination. The air around him crackled with raw power.
The flames surged, gathering into a concentrated point in his raised hand, their intensity consuming the room in an oppressive heat.
He locked eyes with Dohnaseek, his tone dropping to a low, commanding growl.
"Burn."
The flames erupted forward like a tidal wave of black fire, roaring as they surged toward the fallen angel engulfing Dohnaseek's spear and making quick work of it before attacking the man himself.
The fallen angel screamed, the ghostly fire eating away at his form.
"Enough!" Raynare's voice rang out sharply, a light spear cutting through the air and narrowly missing Kaien's head.
The black flames surrounding him flickered and extinguished, leaving the room heavy with the stench of burned ozone and charred air.
Dohnaseek crumpled to the ground, panting, his body trembling from the aftermath of Kaien's attack.
Kaien straightened; his breath was steady, but his circuits were aching. He dismissed the fire not out of mercy but because he believed he had proven his point.
Good, he thought. This should be enough to show her I'm worth working with.
Kaien turned toward Raynare, ready to speak. "It seems—"
But she cut him off, stepping forward with a commanding presence, her dark wings unfurling like a predator preparing to strike.
The suffocating weight of her aura pressed down on him, and he faltered for a split second.
"I was willing to entertain your little charade earlier," she began lightly, as her tone slowly dropped.
"But you've proven yourself too dangerous, magician," Her eyes glinted with calculated malice, freezing Kaien mid-thought.
Kaien's confidence faltered, his smirk wavering. Her words raised a flicker of hope in him. "Then surely—"
"You're a threat," Raynare continued, her voice sharp enough to cut through his sentence. "And threats must be eliminated."
Kaien frowned, confusion flashing. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She was power-hungry; his display should've been enough to sway her.
And yet, her words were clear.
"If you must blame anyone," she added, her expression cold and unyielding, "blame fate for leading you here."
His fingers twitched at his sides, curling into fists. "Is that so?" Kaien asked, forcing a smirk to mask his frustration.
His body ached, his circuits strained, but he wouldn't show weakness. "Then why don't you come and try?"
Raynare's expression remained impassive, her lips curling into a faint smirk of her own.
Kaien prepared himself for her next move, ready to fight her directly if it came to that. Perhaps a show of strength against her personally would finally validate his worth in her eyes.
But instead of charging him, Raynare raised her hand and snapped her fingers.
"Kill him," she commanded, her voice laced with authority.
Kaien's smirk fell, replaced by wide-eyed confusion as the other fallen angels surged toward him, their movements sharp and coordinated.
Wait, what?! he thought, his mind racing. She's not going to fight me herself? She's… really trying to kill me?
The realisation hit him like a physical blow. He barely managed to raise his blade in time to block an incoming light spear, the impact sending a jolt through his arms.
"I didn't sign up for this," he muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth as the next attack came hurtling toward him.
He shifted his stance, his sword meeting the glowing weapon in a shower of sparks. The impact jarred his arm, forcing him to slide back a step.
Another spear followed, and then another.
Kalawarner swooped in from his left, her wings allowing her graceful and precise movement through the air.
Her light spear slashed through the air, aimed straight for his ribs. Kaien twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the attack, but before he could retaliate, Mittelt came from above.
"Damn it," he muttered, raising his sword just in time to block the strike.
The force of the blow drove him to one knee, and he barely had time to react as Dohnaseek lunged from the right, his spear glowing with a menacing intensity.
Kaien threw himself to the side, rolling to avoid the attack, but the edge of the spear still grazed his arm, leaving a searing burn in its wake.
"Three against one," Kaien said, his voice tight with effort. "Not exactly fair, is it?"
Mittelt landed a few feet away, a mocking grin on her face. "Fair? You're the one who came here alone, magician. What did you expect?"
"Something a little less… desperate," Kaien replied, blocking another strike from Kalawarner.
His blade hummed with black flames, but every time he tried to go on the offensive, one of the others was there to cut him off.
Internally, Kaien frowned. This wasn't how he'd expected the fight to go.
Everything he'd gathered about Raynare painted her as a power-hungry opportunist—someone who would leap at the chance to gain an advantage, no matter the source.
Sure, he'd been expecting a fight—an obligatory test of strength, a bit of posturing to see if he was worth her time.
But all this?
He parried another light spear, gritting his teeth as the force of the impact reverberated through his arms.
His flames flickered along the blade, potent but rudimentary compared to the sheer coordination of the fallen angels.
Kaien had fought plenty of stray devils during his time in Kuoh. They were strong, sure, but unorganised and often reckless, their strength dulled by madness or lack of experience.
Against those kinds of foes, his tactics and magic had always been more than enough.
But the fallen were nothing like stray devils.
In the grand hierarchy of strength within the supernatural world, the power classification system was clear.
From Low-Class to Middle-Class, then High-Class, Ultimate-Class, and finally Special-Class—the tiers defined the limits of one's abilities.
Of course, there were tiers above this, but after Special-Class, it became hard to categorise just how powerful a being was.
Kaien knew this well. He wasn't delusional enough to think of himself as anything but Low-Class at best.
The stray devils he'd taken care of in Kuoh could also be classified as Low-Class.
The fallen angels he faced now were no different. With only a single pair of black wings each, they too belonged firmly in the Low-Class category.
And yet…
Kaien gritted his teeth as another light spear came hurtling toward him.
He sidestepped at the last moment, the glowing weapon narrowly missing him and embedding itself in the wall behind him.
Why does it feel like the gap is this wide?
Sure, he'd anticipated the fallen to be stronger—trained, coordinated, and a notch above the mindless ferocity of the strays.
Raynare, maybe, he'd thought would be a bit stronger than the rest, given her position of authority. But even then, he'd assumed he'd be able to hold his own.
Logically, he should've been able to keep up. His abilities, while far from polished, were enough to take down stray devils with relative ease.
The fallen angels were supposed to be in the same league.
He was wrong.
They weren't just stronger. They were faster, smarter, and deadlier than anything he'd faced before.
The problem wasn't just their individual strength. It was their synergy. They worked like a well-oiled machine, their attacks flowing seamlessly into one another, leaving him no room to counter.
Kalawarner attacked from his left, her light spear once again cutting towards him. Kaien parried, the impact reverberating through his arm.
Before he could recover, Mittelt was already above him, her weapon descending in a blur of light. he barely managed to roll to the side, the light grazing his arm and leaving a shallow burn.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, his frustration growing with each passing moment. However, there was still no time to rest as Dohnaseek was already charging straight at him.
Kaien managed to deflect the strike, but the force sent him stumbling backwards, his back slamming against the cold stone wall.
"They're only Low-Class," he muttered under his breath, frustration lacing his tone.
He'd underestimated them. He could admit that now.
The show had made them seem weak, almost inconsequential. And in the grand scheme of things, they probably were.
But reality had a way of humbling expectations.
A hundred years of experience as a low-class combatant still far outweighed his mere months of practice.
Even as Low-Class beings, they outclassed him in nearly every way.
Low-class, huh? he thought bitterly, blood dripping from a shallow wound on his arm.
If this is Low-Class, I'd hate to see what High-Class looks like.
Another barrage of light spears forced him to dodge again, his movements growing more sluggish with every passing moment.
Raynare laughed from her perch, her voice dripping with contempt. "What's the matter, magician? Not so confident now, are you?"
Kaien glared up at her, his breathing ragged, but he couldn't offer a retort. Because, as much as he hated to admit it, she was right.
He couldn't keep fighting like this. His body was already screaming in protest, his arms trembling from the strain of every parry and dodge.
Even if he somehow managed to push through the pain, his magic circuits wouldn't last. They were nearing their limit.
In the end, it always comes down to strength.
This world didn't care about effort or ambition. Strength was what mattered—what defined your place in the hierarchy.
And strength wasn't something you could just earn through sheer will. It was a gift, handed out by God or fate or whatever cosmic force decided who got to sit at the top.
You either had a sacred gear, the blood of devils, angels, or dragons flowing through your veins—or you were human. And humans? They were prey.
Kaien clenched his teeth, the truth of it stinging more than any wound.
This is why I'm here. Why I had to make this deal.
He was in this position because he wasn't strong enough. Because no matter how much he studied, how much he prepared, he was still human. Weak. Mortal.
And if he wanted to survive—no, if he wanted to rise above this pitiful existence—then something had to change.
He would change.
"Laugh while you can," Kaien muttered, his voice low, the fire in his eyes refusing to dim. "This isn't over."
But even as he fought to keep up, a small part of him couldn't help but wonder:
What went wrong?
Everything he'd said and shown so far should've been plenty to at least get Raynare entertaining the idea of working with him.
The raw destructive power of his flames, his mystic eyes—hell, even the knowledge he'd dangled as bait. It should have been enough.
But it wasn't.
And with the way things were going, Kaien couldn't deny the possibility creeping into the back of his mind.
He might actually end up dead.
His grip on his sword tightened, and he forced the thought away.
Not yet.
He wasn't done yet.
There had to be something—some card he hadn't played yet, some edge he could exploit.
The three fallen angels advanced again, their spears glowing ominously as they prepared to finish the fight. Kaien's breaths came in ragged gasps, his body screaming in protest with every movement.
"You know," he baited, "for all your talk about strength, you sure need a lot of backup to handle one human."
Kalawarner sneered. "Keep talking, magician. Let's see if that mouth can save you now."
The three of them attacked in unison, their spears descending like a storm of light.
Kaien braced himself, raising his sword to meet the onslaught. Sparks flew as he parried one spear, then another, his movements fueled by sheer willpower.
But the strain was catching up to him. His flames faltered, and a spear slipped through his guard, piercing his side.
Kaien stumbled, blood staining his shirt as he dropped to one knee.
Raynare Floated down as she stepped forward, her smirk triumphant as she looked down at him.
"It's over, magician," Raynare declared, her voice filled with finality.
Her light spear hovered inches from his chest, glowing with the promise of death. "You fought well, but this is the end."
Kaien's hand clenched tighter around the hilt of his sword, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind.
His strength was fading; his vision blurred from the pain that wracked his body. Blood pooled beneath him, sticky and warm, the cold grip of mortality pressing down on him.
But he wasn't ready to give up. He didn't want to die.
Not now.
Not ever.
His hand slipped into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the crimson vial hidden within.
The warmth it radiated was unnatural, like a heartbeat thrumming against his fingertips. It felt alive, as if waiting for this exact moment.
Another light spear shot forward, this time piercing his thigh. Kaien collapsed to his knees, the searing pain nearly robbing him of consciousness.
Raynare stood over him, triumphant, her black wings spreading wide as she sneered down at him. "Any last words, magician?"
Kaien's breaths came in ragged gasps, each one more painful than the last. His vision wavered, but his mind, sharp as ever, held steady.
"Why…" Raynare tilted her head, her smirk widening. "Why do you keep resisting? You've already lost. Delaying the inevitable won't change a thing."
Kaien chuckled bitterly, the sound more akin to a pained rasp. "Why?" He raised his head slightly, meeting her gaze with a defiant glare.
"Because the way I am now, I can't win. You're right. I'm nothing compared to you."
His voice grew steadier as he spoke, anger and frustration bubbling to the surface.
"That's the difference, isn't it?"
"Between us humans and all of you monsters… there's a gap so vast it might as well be a law of the world."
"You're born with strength, with power—things we can only dream of. I have to claw and scrape just to survive while you all… you all sit at the top, handed everything."
His fingers curled tighter around the vial in his pocket as he continued, his voice taking on an edge.
"We don't get wings, or devil blood, or immortality, and the few of us lucky enough to be born with sacred gears are quickly snatched up by you factions. We get a short life filled with struggle while beings like you look down on us from above. And the gap just keeps getting wider."
Raynare stared at him for a moment, her smirk fading ever so slightly. Her expression hardened as she raised her spear higher, ready to end it.
"Blame fate for the hand you've been dealt," she said coldly. "It's not my fault you were born weak. This is just the natural order of things."
Kaien let out a dry laugh, a mix of bitterness and defiance. "Fate?" he spat, his voice laced with venom.
"Sure, let's blame fate." Kaien scoffed. "But fate and I were never on the same side. I wasn't supposed to exist—so why should I play by its rules?"
He paused, his breathing ragged as he pulled the crimson vial from his pocket, its contents swirling violently as if reflecting his emotions.
He stared at it for a moment before turning his gaze back to Raynare, a manic grin spreading across his face.
"You want me to blame fate? Fine," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "But if this is what it takes to even the playing field… then I'll gladly accept it. Watch closely, Raynare."
Before anyone could react, Kaien plunged the vial into his chest. The room seemed to still for a moment, the air thick with tension as the crimson liquid coursed through him.
Raynare's eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of unease breaking through her confident demeanour. "What are you—"
Kaien's laughter interrupted her, unhinged and triumphant, as his body began to tremble.
"If my humanity is the thing holding me back," he said through gritted teeth, "then I'll reject it."