Thud, thud, thud!

The blunt sound of a courtroom hammer resounded in Chekhov’s eardrums.

Looking downward, Chekhov noticed that he was inside a white-haired girl no older than the age of 10.

The girl was silently kneeling on a polished podium made of gray andesite. Her wrists were locked behind her back by a rectangular, wooden framework.

She slowly lifted her head, her eyes full of illness and exhaustion. Her sclera was tinged with a pasty yellow color, and her complexion was pale from malnutrition.

“Our prosecutor may proceed.” An old, gruff voice sounded from overtop.

“As you all know,” a man in a black suit pointed a finger at the girl, “this vile heathen has the blood of a murderer! She is a vicious threat to all Devils—”

The man continued furiously rambling for ten minutes.

“Does the defendant have anything to say?” The judge eventually spoke out with a solemn look.

The girl opened her mouth to respond, but she couldn’t utter a single word. She coughed hoarsely, the dryness in her throat causing her to wince in pain.

Bam!

A hand-sized pebble hurtled through the air, slamming into the girl’s head. A bloody mark and a deep bruise could be seen on the area of impact.

“Give me back my husband!” A woman’s voice shrieked from behind her, “You despicable witch!”

The white-haired girl strenuously gritted her teeth in pain. Her tears plashed to the ground, slowly wetting the gray podium.

The crowd incited an uproar. People started yelling and calling names while throwing stones and pellets at the girl.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The palm-sized stones repeatedly pounded on the girl’s body, fracturing her ribs and spine. She slumped to the ground, face-first.

She wheezed and then choked out blood. Her vision became hazy, and the sounds from the crowd started to muffle and dampen.

“Chekhov…” a pristine voice suddenly broke through the air.

Opening his eyes, Chekhov’s surroundings were suddenly filled with a burst of white light.

He found himself in a school cafeteria. It was filled with a cacophony of noises; students and faculty were chatting and laughing as they ate their meals.

‘It’s of no use. All of Koneko’s memories from that time are too hazy.’

Chekhov was seated at a round table in front of a cyan-haired girl. Her head was tilted slightly, and she stared at him with wide and curious eyes.

“Harumi, there’s no need to worry about Chekhov, he’s always like that,” another girl with green hair spoke out.

Glancing around, Chekhov noticed that Hana, Michio, and Miwa — the members of the Cooking Club — were also seated at the circular table.

“Sorry about that,” Chekhov awkwardly smiled at Harumi. “At times I just get too spaced out.”

“You’re too polite,” she replied. “I just wanted to thank you all on the behalf of the Women’s Kendo Club.”

“Well,” Chekhov lightly chuckled, “I’m always glad whenever I’m able to share my cooking.”

“Man, your seafood dishes are amazing!” Michio, the boy with glasses, suddenly exclaimed with a bright smile. “I’ve never tasted anything like it before.”

“Michio,” Hana chimed in excitedly, “you should have seen Miwa’s line up at lunch hours! It went all the way up to the basketball courts!”

Laughter and cheers arose from the table as they all started discussing the events from the Opening Extravaganza.

Chekhov silently spectated this with an amiable expression, but he was in deep thought.

Before devouring Koneko, Chekhov had taken her most valuable possession — her black, cat-shaped hair clip. In the original timeline, this hair clip secretly contained data on experiments to create an artificial Devil with supreme power.

However, this was currently an unusable resource to Chekhov. He didn’t have the knowledge or materials to make use of the data. There were also many missing or blurry parts from Koneko’s childhood memories, so he couldn’t find any extra information about the chip.

For all he knew, it could have been imbued with a tracking device or some sort of receptor. Being caught with it by any supernatural party was a dead end, and thus, Chekhov had buried it deep within Taiheiyo Forest where no one could find.

‘Koneko’s hair clip might eventually turn out to be a golden goose. However, at present, it is an ugly duckling that will viciously bite back.’

At this moment, Chekhov felt a warm and comforting weight on his right arm. He looked over to see Miwa, with her beautiful light brown hair, resting her head on his shoulder.

Chekhov gently smiled at her and asked, “How’s our online restaurant doing?”

“It's going really well,” Miwa replied, a proud and radiant look on her face. “You won’t believe that I worked all weekend and handled over 30 student orders!”

She pulled out a sheet of paper from her overflowing backpack and continued, “Here are the details—”

“Chekhov!” A high-pitched, yet familiar voice called out from a distance.

Through closer inspection, this familiar voice was from Akeno.

Miwa's expression turned sour again. Every time she saw Akeno, it seemed like she always interrupted her and Chekhov at the worst possible moment.

What annoyed her the most was Akeno's cheerful and innocent facade. She thought full well that Akeno was a sly and cunning fox who intentionally chose to disrupt them at the most inconvenient times.

“I came to deliver a message from President Rias,” Akeno uttered with a smile, “there's been a change of plans. We're going on a field trip today.”

“Oh? That’s a little unexpected,” Chekhov stood up and replied with a pondering expression.

“What!” Michio exclaimed in disbelief with a dramatic grimace, “You guys get to skip school!? That's totally not fair!”

“I’m sorry,” Akeno apologetically explained, “this event is only for the Occult Research Club, and as much as I’d like to, we can't allow others to join.”

“Come on, Chekhov, let's go now,” Akeno invited with a smile. Her hair fluttered as she started to walk away.

However, Chekhov hesitated, his eyebrows slightly furrowed with a look of uncertainty.

“Wait, Akeno, this doesn't feel right,” Chekhov uttered. He lowered his head and clenched his fists lightly.

“I can’t keep leaving my friends behind. I already feel guilty for leaving Miwa on Friday.”

Akeno froze in place, her expression betraying a hint of anxiety.

She felt uneasy speaking out against Chekhov, and also bore a subtle hostility toward him. Even so, she knew that it was important to clear the air between them as they would be working together in the future.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Hana abruptly spoke out, reassuring him, “we all understand how important the Occult Research Club is. You should definitely go.”

Turning back, Chekhov saw a group of students with cheerful, supportive expressions. Hana gave him a bright smile and held up her thumb.

“If that's how you all feel,” Chekhov’s lips turned into a relaxed smile.

“Then I’ll be more than happy to go,” he declared, leaving the cafeteria with Akeno.

As Chekhov left her sight, Miwa’s face transitioned to a dejected expression with curved eyebrows. She rested her elbows on the table and placed her chin in her palms.

Then Miwa took in a long breath and deeply sighed.

By this time, Chekhov and Akeno were strolling side-by-side along the outdoor pavements of Kuoh Academy.

As they walked together, the atmosphere was incredibly tense. Chekhov and Akeno both remained quiet, the only sounds being the faint hum of a lawnmower in the distance and the cheerful tweeting of birds.

Eventually, Akeno bitterly smiled and spoke out, “…I know it’s been a long while, and I still haven’t apologized to you about that day.”

“Hm?” Chekhov curiously asked, “What are you talking about?”

“I just wanted to say sorry,” Akeno struggled to finish her words, “about my inappropriate behavior when we first met…”

“Oh,” Chekhov placed his thumb underneath his chin, seemingly recollecting his memory. “That wasn’t a big deal. There’s no need to apologize for something that has already long been dealt with and buried.”

“Um…” Akeno suddenly halted her movements. “It’s been bothering me for a while, so I just wanted to tell you that I’m not who you think I am. I don’t know what got into me that day, and I didn’t mean to do what I did.”

She slowly lowered her head and bowed. “I deeply regret—”

"An important skill in life," Chekhov interrupted her with a meaningful smile, "is to be able to forget things and push them behind."

"But…"

Chekhov leisurely strolled past her, "Like I said before, instead of dwelling in the past, you must work for the future."

Akeno raised her head, her eyes widening and tearing up.

"So, y-you never hated me?" she uttered.

Chekov paused, turning his head around as he spoke.

“Hatred, enmity, bitterness — blindly following these principles will only hurt ourselves in the long run. Why should we be fixated on hurting ourselves? In the end, hatred is just an impulse that will drag us further away from our goals.”

At this very moment, the subtle traces of hostility in Akeno’s soul were gradually starting to fade away. She realized that Chekhov was never looking down on her to begin with.

She originally thought that her power, status, and beauty were not good enough to get his recognition, but that was not the case. Chekhov saw everyone in the same light regardless of who they were.

Akeno wiped away her tears, her eyes shining with admiration as she watched Chekhov’s slowly retreating figure.

“Wait up, Chekhov!” an appreciative smile grew on her face as she followed after him.

. . . . .

Sub-dimension, location unknown.

An extensive, sprawling area of land spanned over several million square kilometers. It was home to a diverse variety of small biomes, including frigid tundras, rocky mountain ranges, scorching deserts, verdant forests, and deep oceans. Moreover, this diverse terrain contained an array of wildlife and plant species, each uniquely adapted to their specific environment.

Nestled at the center of the sub-dimension was a lush valley. It was a veritable paradise, with colorful flowers blooming amongst the foliage and the air filled with the sweet scent of ripe fruit. The soil was rich and fertile, providing the perfect conditions for an abundance of plant life to thrive.

An elderly man in a golden-red robe could be seen sitting cross-legged at the very bottom of the valley, next to a tranquil lake. His hands were laid out along his legs in a meditating posture, giving off an aura of peacefulness and serenity.

As he opened his eyes, a thick, ethereal spiritual aura permeated the serene valley, enveloping everything in its presence and filling the air with a surreal energy.

However, despite the rich aura of his surroundings, the elderly man’s face showed slight signs of paleness and anxiety.

Cough!

He dryly coughed and wheezed while pounding his chest. A trickle of blood could be seen on the side of his cracked lips, just below his lengthy mustache.

With a hoarse voice, he rambled to himself, “Too much backlash... The opposition’s soul was covered in layers upon layers of barriers that I have never seen before.”

After taking deep breaths, the elderly man slowly made his way over to a nearby tree and picked off small, round fruit.

It was a rare emerald starfruit, known for its potent spiritual rejuvenation. It had a vibrant, jade green skin with a glossy finish, and was ripe enough to have a slightly fragrant scent, similar to a mixture of apples and pears.

Upon taking a bite of the fruit, the elderly man's complexion instantly brightened, and his aura shone with a more majestic radiance.

Despite this, the lines on his forehead and around his mouth were still pronounced, revealing clear dissatisfaction.

‘It’ll take me at least ten years before I can recover enough for a second triangulation attempt. Fortunately, I can tell that the opposition party is only a seedling, otherwise my intrusive spirit would have been immediately destroyed upon entry.’

Getting a slight headache, the elderly man sighed and gently kneaded his forehead in deep thought.

‘I should rest my mind and take a light stroll. This much mental burden is too unhealthy for my age.’

Despite simply walking, the elderly man moved at an incredible speed of over 600 km/h and crossed the entire valley in just minutes. To the naked eye, he was completely invisible, making no sound and causing no disturbance to the surrounding air as he moved.

The elderly man eventually came to a stop in front of a small lake surrounded by grassy shores. He sat on a tall, protruding stone, which provided him with a panoramic view of the peaceful body of water.

There seemed to be no movement, until a giant, 15-foot-long, vile serpent slithered out of the water.

The serpent’s scales were a deep, glossy black that shone in the bright, scorching sunlight. Its eyes glinted with a fiery, bloodthirsty aggression. As it slithered through the grass, its body left a deep furrow in its wake, and its forked tongue flicked out to taste the air.

The elderly man watched with a calm expression as the serpent slithered across the grassy shores and into a thick patch of foliage. There, it found a group of large black eggs with hard, leathery shells and coiled around them before settling down to sleep.

‘Truly a beautiful demonstration of nature — this Darkthorn serpent is bestowed with an exterior mass of pride and bloodlust, and also a gentle layer of compassion and sympathy for her children.’

However, as the old man began to contemplate deeply, his expression turned to a frown.

‘In the same respect, this Darkthorn serpent is also shackled to nature’s bidding. Her life is full of fickle highs and lows, ups and downs, laughing one day and crying another — she is unable to find her true peace among the turbulent chaos.’

As the man was lost in thought, a young boy wearing traditional tribal clothing stealthily approached the serpent. With a quiet snicker, he reached out and stole one of the giant eggs, taking care to avoid waking the sleeping beast.

Holding the egg carefully in his arms, the boy tiptoed away from the serpent. His eyes shone with greed as he gazed at the shiny exterior of the eggshell. As he walked, he couldn't help but focus all of his attention on his prize.

Snap!

A loud twig broke underneath his feet, immediately alarming the Darkthorn serpent. Its eyelids opened in an instant, and an intense hatred could be seen burning in its pupils. It let out a deafening roar, its body towering and writhing as it prepared to attack.

Turning around, the boy instantly fell backward, paralyzed in fear.

“Ahh!”

The boy’s panicked, tear-filled cry with a face full of snot and dirt awoke the elderly man from his thoughts.

“Hmph,” the elderly man snorted, “juniors these days only how to throw themselves at trouble.”

His figure flashed, teleporting in front of the boy in an instant.

Crack!

 

A golden light laced around his fingers as he grabbed the Darkthorn serpent’s neck and crushed it. Blood splattered all across the scene, staining the trembling child on the floor and the lonely eggs nearby.

‘Wait…’

The elderly man frowned, narrowing his eyebrows while staring at the serpent’s carcass.

‘This isn’t right at all. I should have saved the boy without killing the Darkthorn serpent.’

He slowly started to tread away from the scene without paying any regard to the boy who had wet his pants, trembling on the floor.

‘No… I am just a fly caught in the great web of nature. I can’t even sever my obsession of humans; let alone my obsession of living beings over the inanimate.’

The elderly man stopped at a lonely patch of grass, far away from the dead serpent. He raised his head up to the sky and madly laughed in acceptance.

‘Who am I to judge the Darkthorn serpent’s sentiments? In the end, we are both nature’s servants. Even if I break past the realm of gods, I would never be able to find my perfect state of tranquility.’

‘Which is why…’ His eyes narrowed and his wrinkled face turned grim.

‘One who utterly defies nature’s laws should not be allowed to exist! They are a threat to this world that must immediately be quenched!’

. . . . .

Gremory Headquarters, Japan.

In the open expanse of flat land, a grand mansion could be seen rising up towards the sky, its facade bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun.

Upon closer examination, it was clear that the mansion's exterior was made of gleaming white marble or brick, with grand columns and ornate details. The windows were also tall and elegant, with sparkling panes of glass that caught the sunlight.

One could guess that this luxurious residence would only belong to a very influential and powerful family.

Whirr, whirr.

The metallic sounds of a teleportation formation echoed through the grassy fields surrounding the mansion. In an instant, three figures wearing Kuoh Academy uniforms appeared on the perfectly cut, viridescent grass.

“Rias, you really weren’t exaggerating, after all,” Chekhov muttered.

His eyes were wide, and his mouth was agape as he beheld the stunning, magnificent glory of the giant mansion.

“You have yet to see our main household,” Rias said, taking a step forward and flipping her hair. “This is just one of our branches.”

As the three of them walked along the outer concourse towards the entrance, a handmaiden dressed in a black and white gown greeted them by opening the door with a polite smile.

“Welcome back, Lady Rias,” the handmaiden said, bowing deeply. “We have made our preparations for your arrival.”

“Thank you, but we won't be staying here for too long,” Rias replied, waving dismissively at the woman.

As they entered the luxurious main hall, Chekhov was greeted by rows of house servants standing to the side. The hall was also adorned with plush velvet curtains, intricately carved marble columns, and a sparkling chandelier hanging from the high ceiling.

Rias turned toward Chekhov and cocked her head with a curious expression. Placing her hands behind her back, she asked with a smile, “So, you said you wanted to visit our library?”

“Yes,” Chekhov nodded. “I would like to spend a day or two adjusting my knowledge of the supernatural world.”

Rias lightly chuckled and responded, “Our library is more extensive than you can imagine. I’m sure you won't be disappointed.”

“However,” she continued after a pause, “Akeno and I won’t be able to accompany you all the way. We now have some important business to attend to.”

Rias clapped her hands twice and an old butler stepped forward. The man was impeccably dressed in a suit and exuded a formal, dignified presence.

“Sir Chekhov, my first task will be to direct you to the library,” he bowed, “if you need anything during your stay, I will be happy to assist you.”

“Thank you, please lead the way,” Chekhov courteously replied.

He followed behind the butler, waving goodbye to Rias and Akeno with a gentle smile.

Akeno’s beaming voice sounded from behind him, “Don’t forget to meet up with us for dinner!”