"War doesn't begin when the first blade strikes. It begins the moment you realize peace is no longer an option." — Kaito
Shelter – The Forgotten Compound
There was a strange stillness inside the compound.
No drills. No weapons clashing. No orders barked through grit and adrenaline.
Just silence.
Heavy, weighted silence.
It had been three days since the rejection by Heaven.
Lysaria still slept, her condition stabilized by divine wards Eve personally reinforced. But her absence echoed like an unhealed wound.
The rest of us were preparing—not with noise, but with something more dangerous:
Focus.
The forge glowed dimly in the belly of the compound. A low hum vibrated through the walls as Rias pounded metal on obsidian anvils.
The demigod twins worked in perfect synchronicity, engraving layers of divine resistance runes on new gear. Arcane smoke curled around their bodies like tethered spirits.
I stood at my workbench, Kagetsura laid bare before me.
Its obsidian core throbbed faintly. Still tasting divine blood. Still demanding more.
"Not yet," I murmured, wiping the blade with soul-thread cloth. "You'll feast soon."
I wrapped the hilt with synthetic bone leather, then pressed a finger against the sigil embedded just above the guard.
It pulsed once—deep red—and vanished beneath my skin.
I sheathed the blade slowly.
And left.
Tokyo Expressway – 1:14 AM
I needed air.
Not the kind in bunkers. Not the scent of soot, or steel, or regret.
I needed the world. Just for a while.
The Yamaha R6 purred beneath me as I opened the throttle and shot down the dimly lit highway that stretched like a serpentine nerve through the skeleton of old Japan.
300 km/h.
The speedometer blurred.
Street signs vanished into streaks.
The wind tore at me, begging me to let go. But my grip never loosened.
A tunnel approached—full black. I cut my headlights.
Darkness swallowed me whole.
And still, I rode.
When I exited the other side of the tunnel, a small crowd stood beside a resting spot. College students in modified cars. Drift boys and racer girls. Neon hoodies. Blurred music.
One of them spotted me. My bike. The black armor. The unblinking aura.
"Yo!" one guy yelled. "Who the hell—"
Too late.
I passed like death with headlights.
A blur. A phantom.
They only saw my red-tainted tail light cutting through mist.
I pulled into a rundown highway fuel station. The machine flickered as I approached.
The old clerk behind the glass looked up, startled by the noise.
"Late night?"
I didn't respond. Just filled the tank.
He noticed the blade strapped across my back. The red-rimmed eyes.
He didn't ask questions after that.
Sometimes, silence buys safety.
The bike rested beside me as I leaned against the guardrail on the cliffside highway overlooking the lights of Tokyo.
It looked peaceful down there. Fragile.
Fake.
"Everything's too quiet," I whispered.
I pulled out the charm Lysaria once gave me. A moonstone wrapped in sigil thread.
Still glowing.
Still warm.
I closed my eyes and thought of her—of her smile, her rage, her tears.
I wondered if gods dreamed.
And if they did, what nightmares haunted them.
By the time I returned, dawn was just beginning to drip orange light over the shattered world.
Inside the compound, everyone was already gathered.
Maps. Weapons. Schematics. Energy readings.
Around the round war table, the rebellion's strongest were seated:
Eve, cold and composed.
Rias, silent but burning with tension.
The demigod twins, one tapping their finger nervously, the other reading rune overlays.
I took my seat last.
Eve spoke first.
"We've tracked Vermund's next strike to the Valley of Lamentation—an ancient battlefield twisted into a divine forge. He's drawing sigils in blood. Prepping weapons. Rituals. A possible attempt at god-forging."
"What's the timetable?" I asked.
"Less than 72 hours. After that, the sky won't belong to mortals anymore."
"And the gods?"
Eve shook her head. "Silent. Watching."
Of course they were.
I looked at the map.
One valley. Dozens of ley line ruptures. Multiple entrances.
Trap heaven.
"You all know what this means," Eve said.
Rias slammed his fist into his palm. "This time… no mercy."
The twins nodded.
I stood.
"Kagetsura's ready," I said. "So am I."
Eve's eyes flicked to me. "You sure?"
"No," I admitted. "But I'll go anyway."
After the meeting, I checked on Lysaria.
She was still resting.
Still glowing faintly.
I sat beside her and whispered:
"They rejected us. I didn't."
Her fingers twitched.
I took her hand.
"Rest up. I'll handle this part."
That night, we gathered again. Final plans. Last rites. Tactical formations.
Each of us left the table carrying something heavier than steel.
A promise.
A memory.
A final breath of silence before the scream of war.
I looked at each of them.
And I knew—
Tomorrow, the sky would burn.