The imposing trees, bloodstained grass, and endless sky had all faded into nothingness.

Chekhov was standing on thin air in a fully dim-lit environment. All that he could distinguish was the outline of a giant, black sphere in front of him. It was nearly the size of a house.

‘This is the first time I can truly discern what my soul looks like.’

Chekhov held his arm out, reaching toward his soul. The black sphere rippled for a moment as his hand passed right through.

‘I can’t interact with anything…’ Chekhov pondered.

He strolled around his soul in a circle, taking note of everything that came into his vision.

The peripheries of this domain seemed to spread far into the void with no means to an end. Barring the lack of dark energy in his surroundings, this place was very resemblant to the Cosmic Abyss.

As Chekhov made his way to the other side, he noticed another spherical object that was in proximity of his soul. Although the two giant spheres were almost touching, he could also discern that they were both separate units.

‘Is this my split soul? Raynare should be at the opposite side of Kuoh Town, yet her soul is next to mine in this domain. Space is clearly distorted here; I wouldn’t be surprised if time flows unnaturally as well.’

After taking a moment to organize his ideas, Chekhov loosely held his palm out. A golden ring silently materialized on his finger. Its embedded black diamond seemed to momentarily glow for a second, before Chekhov’s vision was blinded by an intense white light.

As a wide array of colors began to reappear, Chekhov found himself back in his room, sitting at his L-shaped wooden desk. This time, he had been able to preserve his memories.

Through these experiences, Chekhov had surmised that his Sacred Gear’s ability was to connect the “tangible world” to the “soul world”. Nevertheless, as his circle of knowledge continued to enlarge, the circumference of the unknown also lengthened even further.

‘My Sacred Gear can transfer my consciousness into my soul’s domain. I wonder, is it possible to transfer physical objects as well?’

As Chekhov stood up, he suddenly felt an unusual featheriness. He felt as if his body was more flexible and agile. His cognitive senses had also substantially increased. Although the house was silent, he could pick up on vibrations that he would have normally been oblivious to, such as the low hum of a refrigerator and the rustling of the nearby trees.

Chekhov’s soul had recently undergone a deep metamorphosis. His dark energy had become more refined, mutating his physical body. It had fused with and reinforced his bones, skin, flesh, and nerves, heightening his durability, agility, and basic perception.

Prominently, his appearance had also remained the same. Looking into the mirror, Chekhov had retained his sweet caramel eyes and his smooth white skin.

At this moment, a two-chime doorbell sounded, interrupting his train of thoughts.

Chekhov casually walked into the foyer. He opened the front door with a gentle smile, noticing a brown-haired girl shyly standing on the front porch. Her hair was styled into a high ponytail held by a cute, pink ribbon.

“Hey, Miwa!” Chekhov cordially greeted her, “What can I do for you?”

As Miwa met his warm gaze, she felt a gentle snugness wrap around her heart. There was something peculiar, but also alluring, about Chekhov’s sweet caramel eyes.

“I was wondering if I could join you for dinner.” Miwa’s eyes sparkled with a hopeful expression, “Last weekend, you said that I could come over at any time.”

“There’s no problem in that,” Chekhov answered in a suave voice. “You can definitely join us for dinner.”

He held out his hand and gave her an endearing smile, “In fact, I was just about to prepare my special sushi recipe. Do you want to help me out?”

Miwa beamed in excitement. “Yes, I do!”

With beady eyes, she softly grasped his hand and stepped through the front door.

‘Now is a good opportunity to tend my crops.’

Chekhov reached for the doorknob and thought, ‘This hardworking honeybee is the perfect candidate to help spread my soul fragments.’

However, at this moment, Chekhov’s arm suddenly froze in place. He subtly twitched his head as if he had noticed something very abnormal. But before anyone could notice, his arm calmly resumed its motion, gently shutting the door with a smile.

A couple of houses away, a short, white-haired girl was scribbling down notes into a paperback journal.

“…6:30 PM, Miwa Tsuchiya.”

She was laying down flat on a gable rooftop; her stomach was slightly slanted upward on the ceramic white tiles. She held up a set of binoculars to her eyes while slowly mumbling to herself.

“…No other signs of activity.”

“…Concluding this report.”

Mrrrrrr.

A low growl sounded from the white-haired girl’s lower body. She precipitously stood up with a blank expression, staring at her stomach.

“…Hungry.” She muttered.

She tilted her head upward toward the horizon, the evening rays illuminating her black, cat-shaped hair clips. Without doubt, this was the peak low-class Devil, Koneko Toujou.

A pair of black, bat-like wings quickly grew from her lats, lifting Koneko into the air and creating a small whirlwind in the process.

“…Sushi before heading back.”

. . . . .

Dusk had fallen, and the busy streets of Kuoh Town had quieted down.

A small, black feather slowly floated down from the sky, landing on a lonely sidewalk. As soon as it touched the cold, gray cement, the feather shimmered in a purple light and mysteriously vanished into thin air.

If one would listen closely, one could hear the rapid fluttering of wingbeats.

Flap, flap, flap.

The thin, black feathers continued to fall at an increasing frequency. Their source seemed to be from a shadowy male figure who was soaring through the air at an expeditious pace.

The man adeptly veered around tall buildings and trees, eventually entering a large forest area. After five more minutes of flight, he started slowly descending.

Crunch.

The man had landed in a small, church courtyard that was littered with dry leaves. The moonlit shadow of his heavy trench coat and fedora could be seen across the dilapidated, brick walls.

He briskly stepped inside the building and made his way across its nave, entering a downward spiral staircase. The man followed along a dim-lit underground tunnel for a few minutes, until he stopped in front of an arched wooden door.

From outside the room, he could hear an angry female voice muttering to herself. With a short sigh, he twisted the brass handle and opened the door with a creak.

“Dohnaseek, you’re late.” A tall woman donned in a red, skin-tight dress snapped at him. She had long, navy blue hair that covered her right eye.

“You’re not as late as Raynare, but still late,” the woman continued.

“My apologies, Kalawarna.” The man formally removed his fedora and seated himself at a long conference table.

The room’s tenebrous enclosure was surrounded by grimy, clay walls. Its only source of light was from an old-fashioned chandelier, dangling from the ceiling by a metal mounting strap.

“Hmph!” The blue-haired woman, Kalawarna, complained with an irritated expression, “Raynare has been getting more and more arrogant these past few weeks.”

She scowled, “Just because she’s a little bit stronger than us doesn’t mean she can look down on us like this!”

“Certainly,” Dohnaseek rested his arms on the table as he glanced around the meeting room. “Raynare has quite some explaining to do.”

“Booooring. When’s this meeting going to be over?” A short, blonde girl spoke out with a yawn. Her head was propped up in her hands with half closed eyes.

“Please just shut up, Mittelt. We need to get some answers from Raynare today.” Kalawarna pursed her lips.

The blonde girl ignored her, curling her finger along the sides of her hair with a disinterested expression.

At this moment, the chamber door abruptly creaked open. A young lady with violet eyes entered the room.

She calmly stepped forward, seating herself at the leading chair of the table.

Kalawarna subconsciously winced as she met Raynare’s indifferent glare. Her violet eyes were radiating an intimidating atmosphere that she had never felt before.

However, this didn’t stop Kalawarna from impeaching her. She lowered her eyebrows and expressed a frown as she spoke.

“Miss Raynare. You should know precisely why we’re here. You’ve been too overbearing recently.”

“You also can’t go around changing our entire schedule at the last minute.” Dohnaseek chimed in with a stern look, “At the minimum, you need to give us some explanation.”

Raynare didn’t back down. She coldly spoke with an arrogant sneer as if she didn’t put them in her eyes.

“Any intelligent person would follow my orders, no questions asked.”

SLAM!

Kalawarna stood up from her chair and aggressively struck her fist down on the table. The vibrations spread throughout the entire room, causing the chandelier to oscillate very slowly.

“You’re forgetting that we’re all low-class Fallen Angels!” She ground her teeth as she retorted, “Just because you’re at the peak of the low-class realm doesn’t mean that you can haughtily push us around like this!”

“Is that so?” Raynare replied.

Veins of anger were forming Kalawarna’s forehead. Just as she was about to indignantly scowl back, Raynare’s arrogant voice broke the pent-up atmosphere.

“Hmph! Come at me with your full strength. If you can force me to use my Holy Power, I’ll yield.”

Hearing this, all the other Fallen Angels were greatly taken aback. Mittelt displayed an interested smile while Dohnaseek quietly watched from the side.

Kalawarna curled her lips into a sneer. ‘This b*tch has really gone insane. Today, I’ll wipe that relaxed look off your face.’

She raised up her arm as yellow particles started gathering between her fingers. A metallic cling sounded as a bright yellow spear swiftly materialized into her hands.

Kalawarna promptly launched herself upward and unfolded her black, feathered wings. She suddenly performed a powerful wingbeat that catapulted herself downward, her spear piercing toward Raynare’s chest.

Raynare’s haughty demeanor didn’t change. She raised her arm upward, directly into the trajectory of the yellow spear.

‘Hmph! That sadomasochism fetish has made you mad as a hatter.’ Kalawarna snorted. ‘I’ll teach you a harsh lesson.’

However, the scene that she was expecting never happened. Instead of the spear forcefully ripping through Raynare’s slender arm, it had come to an abrupt stop. The tip of the spear had also been roughly fragmented when it collided with Raynare’s firm hands.

‘Damn it!’ Kalawarna swore as her eyes froze wide open. ‘What just happened!’

While trying to wrap her head around what had transpired, she noticed that Raynare’s eyes were emitting an abyssal-black radiance.

At this instant, Raynare jerked her wrist, causing the yellow spear to snap in two. She simultaneously leaped forward and sent a brutal fist into Kalawarna’s abdomen.

The impact produced a powerful, resounding shockwave, causing the overhead chandelier to intensely shake. Its rusty iron strap seemed like it was about to snap at any moment.

Kalawarna coughed out a mouthful of blood as she forcefully flew backward, colliding into the stiff, clay wall.

Crash!

A small human-shaped crater was indented against the wall, keeping her body from sinking into the ground. A substantial clump of dust was also scattered into the air, obscuring everyone’s vision.

However, before the dust could settle, Raynare appeared in front of Kalawarna again. The first thing Kalawarna could discern was a delicate palm reaching out toward her face.

Raynare’s small fingers gripped tightly onto the sides of her cheeks, her fingernails digging securely into her flesh. She violently pried Kalawarna’s body out of the wall. Then, with a swift motion, she bent down and smashed Kalawarna’s skull into the ground.

Crack!

The wooden floor tore open, its sharp splinters piercing into Kalawarna’s skin. Her blood splattered in a circular pattern and her head was buried into a small pit.

As the dust settled, Raynare calmly walked toward the meeting table. She picked up a velvety linen handkerchief, casually wiping the blood from the sides of her fingers.

“…Hey, Miss Raynare.” Dohnaseek’s eyebrows were raised in shock. “Don’t you think that was a bit too harsh?”

“Hehe,” Mittelt’s eyes flashed in excitement as she exclaimed, “that was awesome! Miss Raynare, you’ve managed to break into the mid-class realm?”

Raynare didn’t reply. Instead, she exaggeratedly snorted and pompously remarked, “Like I have said before, any intelligent person will follow my orders, no questions asked.”

She then flicked her hand, motioning toward Kalawarna’s unconscious body. “She’ll recover by Friday. That’s all we need her for.”

Dohnaseek formally bowed and responded, “I see. In that case, I’ll put my utmost faith in your plans.”

As Raynare walked out of the conference room, her abyssal-black eyes reverted into their usual violet color. Her arrogant expression also reverted to a calm demeanor.

‘Sometimes, leading the black-spotted termites can be a precarious task. The most efficient way to line them up in front of an anthill is through a guise of confidence and arrogance.’

. . . . .

A beautiful girl with crimson hair gazed out of an open window, admiring the stellar night view. She rested her arms on the windowsill with a transparent cup of water in her hand.

Squeak.

Her door slowly creaked open. A petite white-haired girl entered the room while holding a thin, plastic folder underneath her arm.

“…Today’s report.” The girl said in a dull voice.

She arranged a small assortment of papers one-by-one on a wooden desk.

A dark-haired girl who was standing by the desk started to pick up a few of the papers, quickly skimming through them.

Rias turned around and spoke with a pleasant smile. “Thank you, Koneko. Did you find any interesting information about Chekhov?”

“…No.” Koneko curtly responded, “But I don’t think he is a simple guy.”

Hearing this, a young blond man stepped forward and chimed in. “I agree, I think his personality is deeper than it appears.”

The room went silent for a moment, until Akeno’s pink, supple lips curved into a coy smile.

“All it’ll take is a bit of seduction to get him to open up to us.”

“You won’t be able to seduce him.” Kiba rubbed his chin in deep thought, “I’ve monitored him throughout the entire school day. He was asked out by multiple girls, but he declined every single one of them without flinching.”

Akeno didn’t take him seriously. “Kiba, you’re really looking down on us women.”

She tilted her head toward Koneko, looking for her opinion.

“…Kiba is right,” Koneko flatly said, “Chekhov has good looks, but he rejects every girl.”

“…He’s only interested in Miwa Tsuchiya.”

Silence filled the room once again as Rias slightly wrinkled her brow and took a seat.

“Sooner or later, we’ll get him to open up to us.” She calmly took a few sips of water, and then placed her transparent cup at the center of her desk.

“Anyway,” Rias abruptly changed the topic, “I have an important question for everyone.”

She pointed at her cup of water and continued, “Is this cup half empty or half full?”

“Huh...?”

Kiba and Akeno looked at each other with confused expressions.

“…Half empty.” Koneko ignored them and replied with a dull look.

After taking a moment to think, Kiba and Akeno replied with their own answers.

“It’s half full,” they both said.

Rias leaned on her hand with a smile.

“Well, there isn’t any right or wrong answer to this question.” She said, “This is a test for your emotional perspective and outlook on life.”

“Hmm?” Akeno showed a confused expression, “Can you please explain?”

“I was just getting to that.” Rias lightly chuckled.

“An optimist sees the positive side of life, proclaiming that the glass is half full. Conversely, a pessimist who prepares for the worst would say that the glass is half empty. An extreme optimist could also reason that the glass is completely full of atoms and air. An extreme pessimist may argue that the glass is completely empty because atoms are 99.99% empty space.”

“Ugh… I didn’t understand any of that,” Akeno commented with a dazed expression while rubbing her forehead.

“No worries,” Rias amicably said, “human psychology isn’t everyone’s strong suit.”

Rias tilted her chin down and flipped through Koneko’s report, gazing at the photo of a black-haired young man.

‘Chekhov, I wonder how you’ll approach this question.’

. . . . .

Unknown location on Earth.

A tall and snowy mountain range spanned far and wide across hundreds of kilometers.

Deep within this bone-white ecoregion, a particular mountain stood out among the rest. It was noticeably steeper and sharper than the others, also accommodating a double peak that was almost shaped like a claw.

Suddenly, a golden, circular light appeared on the side of this mountain.

An elderly man dressed in a luxurious, golden-red robe had mysteriously stepped out of thin air, standing on top of a leeward cliff. He had a long mustache that started below his nose and stretched downward, passing the corners of his mouth.

Rumble, rumble.

At this moment, an enormous wall of snow came crashing down. Weighing over thousands of tons, this mini avalanche would normally be able to crush everything in its path.

The elderly man paid no mind. Just the avalanche was about to bury him, a powerful array of golden seals instantly formed above his head. They all simultaneously shot upward, vaporizing every bit of snow in a flash.

Rather than heeding the harsh conditions of the environment, the elderly man seemed to be concerned about something else. With a focused gaze, he placed his wrinkled palm along the side of a mountain wall and started forming an intricate seal. In contrast to the previous seals, this one was radiating a divine aura. Some would say that this aura was indicative of the vast, limitless power of a god.

The mountain’s strange inner mechanisms started to twist and turn, producing several clicks in the process. A narrow, circular tunnel gradually emerged, stretching deep into the side of the mountain.

The elderly man calmly stepped forward, steadily pacing into the tunnel. Unfamiliar markings with powerful auras were imprinted along the sides of the walls. Although the area was poorly lit, he was able to navigate without any issue.

As he approached the end of the tunnel, a complex web of labyrinthine linings could be seen. However, one of the central patterns had recently been torn apart into a mess.

“Impossible, impossible, impossible,” he rambled in a raspy voice.

The elderly man knitted his eyebrows. Beads of sweat had started to trickle down his face.

“Every being with cognition should be shackled by the unbreakable laws of nature. Even beyond the level of a god, it is simply not possible to achieve a state of complete tranquility with the universe.”

“Who… just who is this outrageous monster!”