Chapter 18: Chapter 17: Revealing the True Colors of Crimson (2)

Taiheiyo Forest, Japan.

A giant burst of white light suddenly illuminated the pitch-darkness of the forest air.

Crunch!

Two figures of a man and woman had landed on a patch of fallen leaves and twigs.

“Haha,” Dohnaseek adjusted his fedora with a relieved laugh. “It worked.”

Meanwhile, Kalewarna was glancing from side to side, seemingly searching for someone.

"Where's Mittelt?" Her brow was furrowed, and her mouth was set in a tense line.

Dohnaseek slightly frowned, noticing that his acquaintance was missing.

“It seems like Mittelt didn’t make it,” he responded with a flinty expression, “her escape channel must have gotten interrupted at the last moment.”

“As much as I hate that noisy little brat,” Kalewarna’s eyes showed a tinge of regret, “we’re all Fallen Angels in the end. Feasibly, she’ll be taken captive and we can request for a prisoner exchange.”

Hack, hack!

Kalewarna leaned over to the side. She winced in pain and coughed out a small conglomeration of blood and saliva.

“Anyway, let’s keep moving,” she continued in a raspy voice, “we’ll regroup with Raynare and make a resolution from there.”

“We should hasten up,” Donhaseek’s feathered wings emerged from his back. “Raynare had instructed us to head 10 kilometers northeast after the teleportation sequence.”

Whoosh!

With a gust of wind, he swiftly took to the air above the trees. Kalewarna unraveled her wings and followed suit.

Notably, their flight speed was slower than usual. Their forced teleportation procedure had clearly drained a vast amount of their Holy Power.

After soaring for about 15 minutes, the two Fallen Angels were able to discern an area of open space in the forest. As they hovered closer, a straw cottage came into view.

Thud.

They both landed on the cottage’s porch and nudged the main door open.

The interior was gloomy — it was almost pitch-black. Still, from the moonlight’s faint radiance, one could discern the outline of a girl with glowing violet eyes.

She was creepily standing still, motionless. Her hands were tucked into her jacket pockets.

“It's not too bad, considering that the wolves were only able to pilfer one of our lambs,” the girl’s soft voice resounded through the air.

“What?” Dohnaseek questioned with an apparent frown, “Which lambs are you talking about?”

Upon closer inspection, a young man with a strange mask was seen calmly sitting at a table behind Raynare. Everything seemed especially abnormal — from the eerie atmosphere of the cottage to the manner in which Raynare was speaking.

“Truth be told, I never expected even one lamb to be returned to us unharmed,” she coldly commented, ignoring Dohnaseek’s words.

At this point, Raynare's violet irises had gradated to black, blending in with the dimly lit atmosphere of the cottage.

“Hey, uh, Raynare…” Kalewarna began speaking, “We just came back from—”

All of a sudden, Raynare lashed out at full speed.

Dohnaseek and Kalewarna were taken off guard; they didn’t even have enough time to raise their arms in self-defence.

Crack! Crack!

Before even a second had passed by, Raynare had delivered two head concussions in quick succession. Both Dohnaseek and Kalewarna slumped to the ground with a thud, evidently unconscious.

“Now that the livestock has been herded,” Raynare swept the Fallen Angels off to the side as she spoke, “may I continue with my theory of Soul Dilution?”

“Yes, go ahead,” Chekhov curtly stated.

“In simple terms, Soul Dilution is the abstract process of mixing one soul within another soul—”

Raynare brought a chair over in front of Chekhov and continuously spoke for five minutes.

“—and so, these ‘Parasite Souls’ and ‘Impure Split Souls’ are the two new soul classifications to our system.”

“Interesting,” Chekhov intertwined his fingers and rested his chin on them. “These Parasite Souls may help resolve one of the roadblocks I’ve encountered.”

“Which complication did you run into?” asked Raynare curiously.

“It was precisely the yellow lemon cake that you had gifted me earlier,” Chekhov replied.

“I was able to devour her flesh body and a miniature portion of her soul before my energy sphere shattered. Accordingly, if it requires a tremendous amount of force to devour only a rare-class Sacred Gear, then devouring a Longinus will be nigh-impossible,” he explained.

Tilting her head to the side, Raynare slightly squinted her eyes in deep thought.

“It makes sense that Sacred Gears, which reside within the soul, provide a hefty layer of protection to it. A Parasite Soul should indeed do the trick, by corroding the Sacred Gear’s protection in advance.”

“Of course, this is only in theory,” Chekhov added, “but fortunately, I can test my inquiry on this yellow banana cake that you’ve purchased for me.”

Glancing to the side, an unconscious young blond man could be seen at the corner of the nearly pitch-black room. He was restrained face-first on the floor by a plethora of Holy Seals.

“Do you need any help with the experimentation?” Raynare asked.

“No,” Chekhov leaned forward and lifted a syringe off the table.

“Your last few days are crucial — you should take advantage of your identity. You can run amok in Kuisui Town and feast on as many fish as reasonably possible before we re-unify.”

“Well,” Raynare stood up and put her hood on. “In that case, our time’s a-wastin.”

She calmly walked outside, looking up at the beautiful night sky. Although the air was moist and humid, the rain had finally stopped, and the clouds were beginning to clear.

“Sunday, Taiheiyo Forest, northwest border,” she stated as she leapt into the air.

Her wings unraveled, and she swiftly ascended the skies.

. . . . .

Drip, drip, drip.

Water was dripping slowly from an underground ceiling, leaving small puddles on the ground. It was a murky brown color, hinting at the dirt and grime that had accumulated on the old, dilapidated ceiling.

A crimson-haired girl was standing in one of these puddles. She was grimly staring at a towering heap of rubble.

“Rias…” Akeno’s soft, pleasant voice called out from behind.

“Shut up!” Rias fiercely snapped back at Akeno through gritted teeth.

Her raging Demonic Aura revealed a pair of eyes that were lit ablaze with anger. If one were to observe closely, her entire body seemed tense and ready to lash out at any moment.

After a few seconds of silence, Akeno spoke again.

“What happened to that girl we were supposed to rescue?”

“I don't give a damn about that B*TCH SL*T of a nun!” Rias turbulently exclaimed, veins popping from her forehead.

She suddenly lashed out with her fist at the concrete wall next to her.

BANG!

From the deafening explosion, debris and rubble were scattered everywhere. For the next few minutes, tiny specks of white power could be seen drifting around the room.

A colossal hole, measuring 10 meters in diameter, was left in the wall. Rias’ bare fist had punctured a solid stone surface with immense force, leaving a jagged and rough edge around the opening.

Rias stood in place, taking deep breaths for a while as her temper diminished.

Eventually, she spoke out with dead eyes and a monotonous voice,

“I thought that this would be an easy mission with easy rewards, but now Koneko and Kiba are gone. They are likely dead. The only traces of the enemy are from this dense Fallen Angel aura, and the prime suspect is still Raynare.”

“Raynare? Isn’t she a low-class Fallen Angel nobody?” asked Akeno with a frown.

“I’m befuddled about this as well,” replied Rias with a creased forehead, “she must have had some form of backup.”

“So, what are we going to do now?”

Rias lowered her head and began to rub her temple with her fingertips, lost in thought for several minutes.

“I have a few ideas,” Rias suddenly spoke out, “but they cannot be shared with anyone else. You’re the only one I can trust now.”

“Rias…” Akeno adoringly stared at her with a dimpled grin, “I will always be by your side until the very end of my life.”

“Good,” Rias’s eyes flashed as she thought about a particular Sacred Gear wielder. “Firstly, I want to start rebuilding my peerage. We won’t be taking things slow anymore…”

. . . . .

Kuoh Town, Japan.

At long last, it was a relaxing Friday. The students of Kuoh Academy were eagerly anticipating their annual school carnival — the Opening Extravaganza.

As the sun began to rise, the campus was abuzz with excitement. Some students were running around, putting the final touches on their respective stalls, while others were busy making sure everything was in order. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter and raucous chatter as people milled about, checking out the various stalls and games.

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One food stand stood out among the rest. It was adorned with bright, festive flags and streamers, and the smell of savory grilled salmon wafted through the air, making many mouths water.

Two students at the counter — both wearing a toque and apron — were preparing for a busy day by restocking supplies.

“Um,” a feminine voice quietly squeaked.

A brown-haired girl timidly tilted her head upward and glanced at her surroundings. Only a small group of students were conversing nearby, and there was no one waiting in line.

An anxious smile began to form on her lips as she spoke to the handsome young man beside her, “Hey, Chekhov, I was wondering if…”

“Yes, Miwa? Are there any issues?” Chekhov turned around and warmly smiled back.

Miwa had the urge to reach out and intertwine her fingers with Chekhov’s. But hearing his dense response, she was hesitant.

“We’ve been seeing each other for a while…” she shyly started. “So, I thought we could maybe—”

“One LARGE plate of battered onion rings please!” A loud and obnoxious voice brazenly interrupted her. “Do you guys have any American cuisine here? Preferably any greasy burgers or fries?”

A chubby, pale-skinned freshman with a yellow t-shirt had walked up to the countertop. He had freckles on the sides of his cheeks, and he held an amiable, toothy smile.

Chekhov turned to the round-bellied student, keeping his cordial smile.

“Sorry, we mainly serve Japanese dishes and seafood. May I interest you in my homemade sushi?”

Hearing this, the freshman held a slight frown. He was about to decline, until a tantalizing scent caressed the tip of his nose. This aroma was rich and complex; it was made up of several layers of odors and flavors that made one want to forget all manners and instead chow down food ravenously.

“Dude,” he rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “I want whatever that smell is.”

“That’s great!” Chekhov laughed, “The aroma is from my homemade sushi. I genuinely appreciate your compliments.”

Chekhov handed the chubby freshman a large plate of sushi with a smile.

Snagging the plate with both hands, the freshman greedily licked his lips and slammed a banknote on the countertop.

“Have a good day, sir,” Chekhov courteously responded as the freshman waddled away.

Miwa pursed her lips and took a deep breath. Now that the line was empty again, she wanted to try her luck a second time.

As soon as she opened her mouth — she was interrupted yet again.

“CHEKHOOOVV!” A loud, high-pitched voice shouted from far away. “There you are!”

A girl with dark purple hair was smiling and waving as she ran towards Chekhov. As she got closer, it became apparent that she was wearing black calf-length socks and had an orange ribbon in her hair.

“Hey, Akeno, how’s it going?” Chekhov casually asked.

“Actually, I’m in a hurry,” Akeno swiftly replied, “I need you to come with me now. It’s for a very important meeting with Miss Rias.”

Hearing this, Miwa’s expression darkened. She fixed Akeno with an intense glare — clearly, she wanted her to back off.

“Before I go, I need Miwa’s consent.”

Chekhov smiled and turned to Miwa with an expectant look, “Is it alright if I step out for a while? I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

Miwa’s lips tensed and curved into a forced smile.

“T-that’s totally fine!” she stammered, “I can handle the register for you, just take your time.”

“Perfect!” Akeno hurriedly responded and clasped her hands together. “Then, let’s get going.”

She was about to grab Chekhov's wrist and forcibly drag him away, but then their eyes met. A strange sensation surged through her soul, reminding her of their first meeting. It was that same uncanny spark that flickered like a candle and extinguished into nothingness.

Shuddering, Akeno kept her hands to herself and waited for Chekhov to step out on his own.

“Hmph!” As they both walked away, Miwa crossed her arms over her chest. She glared at Akeno's back with displeasure and jealousy.

“I know what exactly you’re trying to do, Akeno,” Miwa quietly and irritably muttered to herself.

However, she was oblivious that Akeno was in a harsher state of discomfort.

Whenever Akeno thought about Chekhov’s caramel eyes, she felt a sense of worthlessness. It was as if he had subtly conveyed to her that her beauty, status, and power were never important to him.

Evidently, their first meeting had shone light on the insecurities that hid deep within her soul.

Chekhov courteously followed behind Akeno until they reached Rias’ private office. Neither of them uttered a single word along the way.

Upon entering the room, an elegant crimson-haired lady was seen sitting at her desk with a somber expression. Akeno respectfully bowed and left the room without saying a word.

“Chekhov,” Rias motioned to the chair in front of her, “please take a seat.”

Despite the heavy atmosphere in the room, Chekhov sat down with a smile.

“Good morning, Rias.”

“It’s a little early,” she sighed, “but I think it’s time that I tell you the truth.”

“Hm?” Chekhov curiously raised his eyebrows.

“These past few days…” Rias continued, “have you noticed the disappearance of Kiba and Koneko?”

“Well, yes,” Chekhov raised a finger to his chin, “I also thought it was strange that no one else even remembers them.”

“Verily,” Rias solemnly stared at him, “the truth is — they were both killed in action.”

Chekhov immediately furrowed his brow. “What are you saying?”

Rias sighed again. “You should get yourself comfy. This will require a large explanation.”

With a regretful expression, she reiterated her words with more detail.

In a tense and lengthy discussion, she started to describe the hidden truths behind the world and what the Occult Research Club really was.

At first, Chekhov was completely disbelieving and skeptical. However, as Rias provided more and more information and evidence, his expression started to gradually go through a cycle of denial, shock, and acceptance.

Flap.

A pair of black, bat-like wings unwinded from Rias’ back.

“Koneko, Kiba, Akeno, and me — we were all Devils,” she uttered. “For the sake of Koneko and Kiba, I want you to join my peerage.”

Chekhov’s eyes were wide open and bloodshot; his face was conflicted with various emotions. He tilted his head down as tears flowed down his cheeks.

He sat there, motionless, without a response.

“Take your time,” Rias warmly comforted him. “You can sit here for as long as you need. This is a lot to take in.”

After fifteen minutes of dead silence, Chekhov’s lips finally moved.

“C-can I please go home?” He raised his head and faced Rias, “I don’t want to make a decision about losing my humanity yet.”

Rias reassured him with a gentle smile, “No issues, Chekhov, I’ll send someone to take your place at the carnival.”

Chekhov somberly stood up. His arms were visibly quivering and trembling.

“Just know that I’ll always be here, if you need any help or someone to talk to,” Rias’ voice sounded as he stepped out the door.

When she sensed that Chekhov was gone, her expression instantaneously stiffened.

‘Hmph, Chekhov, you only belong to me and no one else. It might take a while, but I’ll eventually get you to become a Devil. Hopefully, I won’t have to use any underhanded methods…’

Although Chekhov had joined the Occult Research Club in name, Rias wasn’t satisfied until she could claim full ownership of him. She couldn’t truly order him to do anything until he had agreed to become a Reincarnated Devil under her peerage.

Creak.

At this moment, the wooden door was gently pushed open. Akeno entered the room and bowed.

“I see that you weren’t able to coerce him,” she commented. “Maybe we can do it by force?”

“No, that is too extreme,” Rias firmly stated. “If he develops any strong hatred or grudge against me, he might disobey me to the extent that his Demonic Power kills him. Besides, the servants of my peerage are like family.”

“Then what’s the plan?” asked Akeno. “We know he doesn't respond to my seduction. Neither does he have any records of past trauma nor financial trouble.”

“We’ll eventually figure something out,” said Rias. “He hasn’t formally rejected us yet. He just needs more time to decide, and I need you to patch up your shaky relationship between him.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Akeno hurriedly changed the topic as she slid a folder across her desk, “By the way, Rias, what do you think of this student?”

Opening the folder, it contained a photo of a young man with puffy and spiky brown hair. This bizarre hairstyle could only belong to that of Issei Hyoudou.

“He has a promising Sacred Gear aura, and he can easily be made to be loyal to us,” Akeno muttered, wearing a slight frown, “but I don’t really like his vibe.”

“You’re not wrong,” Rias responded with a sigh. “But he is an ignominious pervert. Not to mention that he's unattractive, indolent, fatuous, dim-witted, and frankly — he’s a complete degenerate.”

“That bad?” said Akeno, rubbing the back of her neck and smiling awkwardly.

Glancing out of a nearby window, Rias pondered for a while.

“If it were last week, maybe I would have been excited to jump on him. But after Koneko’s and Kiba’s deaths, I feel like I’ve developed a sense of self-awareness. Perhaps, the cruelty and harshness of the world can bring out the true nature of a person — whether it’s for the better or for the worse.”

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