The old abandoned abbey slept among the French hills, devoured by ivy and silence.
A place forgotten by maps — deliberately.
A safe place.
Jeanne stood at the center of the collapsed nave.
A massive wooden table — ancient, carved with faded runes — had been set there, as it once had been long ago.
One by one, the presences arrived.
Hercules was leaning against a pillar, arms crossed.
Solid.Immovable.
Levian was the first to arrive, his coat still soaked with the smell of hospital antiseptic.
He set his medical bag on the ground before even saying hello.
— Sorry I'm late.
— You're here, Jeanne replied. That's all that matters.
— Yo, Hercules. How's it going?
— Could be worse. The others won't be long. Take a seat wherever you want.
Levian took one of the many stone seats that made up the old structure, glancing back and forth between Jeanne and Hercules.
Hercules noticed.
— Is there a problem? he whispered
— Did you tell her what you know?
— Are you serious? You think this is the time?
— You've lived together for thirty years and you still haven't told her. Honestly, that's pathetic. shakes his head
— I know what you mean, but I… I don't think— I know her. She'll refuse.
— Fine. If you want to keep living like this, that's your choice…
A subtle vibration rippled through the air.
Jeanne glanced in the direction of Hercules and Levian. They thought she had overheard them — but before either could react, they felt a hand rest on their shoulders.
They jumped.
Anansi was standing beside them, a tired smile on his lips.
Anansi: Long time no see. How've you been?
Hercules and Levian: Honestly, your habit of appearing out of nowhere hasn't been missed.
Jeanne let out a small laugh.
Jeanne: Oh, come on. After centuries together, it's your fault if you still can't sense him. I remind you that everyone else can detect him just fine.
Hercules: If you know our situation so well, why don't you just appear in front of us instead of startling us?
Levian nodded in agreement.
Anansi: Because it's more fun.
Hercules and Levian gritted their teeth — then smiled.
Hercules: Still, I'm really happy to see you again, my old friend.
Hercules pulled Anansi into a hug.
Levian: Same here. I'm glad you're back.
They embraced.
Hercules: But now that I look at you more closely… grinning Hey, Levian, do you see it?
Levian: Yeah… now that you mention it, I see it too.
Anansi felt his scalp prickle — or rather, the remnants of it.
Hercules and Levian: Looks like baldness finally got the better of you.
Anansi: You bastards.
Hercules and Levian: HAHAHAHA!
Jeanne was laughing too — discreetly.
Anansi sighed.
Anansi: I'll leave you to your fascinating conversation. I'll go talk with Jeanne.
He joined Jeanne at her seat, and they began talking quietly.
Hercules and Levian worried that Anansi might have overheard their earlier conversation, but convinced themselves he wouldn't say anything.
After a moment—
A silhouette materialized near a shattered window.
Ayris.
She hadn't changed… and yet she had.
Less fire.
More weight in her eyes.
Jeanne stepped forward and hugged her briefly.
— You didn't have to come.
— I know, Ayris replied softly. That's why I did.
The others greeted her in their own ways, careful not to hurt her in any way, not to be rough.
Levian ended his conversation with Hercules and went to speak with Ayris.
In truth, aside from Hercules and Jeanne, all the other Nephilim had already felt the weight of grief from losing a spouse. But that pain never became easier — the more you live with it, the more it eats at you.
Levian himself had lost his wife eleven years ago. He had had time to grieve.
She had lost hers barely a month ago.
He did what he could to lift her spirits.
The nave slowly grew calm again.
Ayris was seated now, Levian facing her.
He didn't speak loudly.
He wasn't trying to erase the pain — only to keep it from becoming an abyss.
— You know… he said softly, it's never something you get used to.
Ayris nodded.
— I wish time would teach me how to endure it.
— Time doesn't teach that, Levian replied.
— It only teaches you how to keep going anyway.
She took a deep breath.
— Thank you.
He smiled, without pushing further.
After a while, a sharp sound suddenly echoed outside. Then another.
Fast. Erratic.
Hercules slightly raised his head.
— …What the hell is that?
Jeanne frowned.
— What? That should be them.
The others:
— Who?
Jeanne:
— Uh… Wukong and Sigurd said they'd come by motorcycle.
Anansi:
— I'm no expert, but that doesn't sound like a motorcycle.
Hercules:
— Heads up. It's coming.
The noise grew louder and louder, and the already broken door of the abbey nearly flew apart from the impact.
A figure slid in across a stone, spun on itself, and stopped in the center of the nave with almost insulting ease.
— Tadaa—
Sigurd appeared just behind him, seemingly unconscious.
Sigurd remained motionless for a second.
Then he inhaled sharply, like someone waking from a nightmare.
His fingers clenched against the cold stone floor.
— …
— …
— WU—KOOOOONG.
His voice echoed through the nave, deep, filled with a near-primitive rage.
Wukong was already on his feet, casually leaning against a collapsed wall, staff resting on his shoulder, a wide grin on his face.
— Oh. He's awake. Faster than last time.
Sigurd jumped to his feet, eyes burning with fury.
— YOU ARE FUCKING SICK.
Hercules:
— Uh… what happened?
Sigurd:
— Everything was fine until we got chased by a whole fucking Yakuza army. I don't know all the details, but from what I understood, Wukong lost a poker game to their boss… then promised he'd fuck the guy's mother.
Anansi:
— No. Don't tell me that.
Sigurd:
— Yes. This bastard actually fucked the Yakuza boss's mother, and now the guy wants him dead. But that's not even the worst part — this dog used his power to boost the bike's speed to 750 km/h. He drove the entire trip the wrong way.
Wukong:
— Oh, come on. Nobody got hurt.
Wukong received a murderous glare from Jeanne.
He wisely shut the fuck up.
Sigurd:
— And now the Chinese government is actively hunting him. The number of cops, the military — they even fired missiles. Fucking missiles. They know you're a Nephilim if they're throwing that kind of shit at you while you're on a bike.
The others wanted answers too. After all, they had sworn never to reveal their existence to the world.
If Wukong had broken that oath in any way… Jeanne would do something very serious.
Wukong:
— Relax. I just did some really shady shit. They don't know what I am.
Ayris:
— How did you get out of that?
Sigurd:
— This bastard knows I'm shit at magic. He could've teleported us here from the start.
Ayris:
— So if you're here, he did teleport you, but
Sigurd:
— Yeah, I know what you're going to say. He teleported us here all right — from four kilometers up, using a rock as a fucking surfboard.
Levian:
— What a bastard.
A few hours later
A blue portal materialized, and Mulan stepped out, expecting to find her friends in a warm atmosphere.
She froze for half a second.
The scene before her was anything but warm.
Wukong was tightly bound to a collapsed column, gagged, covered in bruises.
Achilles had just sheathed his blade, his expression perfectly calm — too calm.
— …What the fuck is this?
Achilles shrugged.
— He was still breathing when I started.
— He's still breathing now.
— Everything's under control.
Wukong tried to protest. A muffled, indignant sound.
Anansi placed a hand on Mulan's shoulder.
— Let's just say… a lot happened.
Mulan looked at Wukong, then at Sigurd, still seated.
— …I won't ask questions, she concluded.
Jeanne:
— All right. It's time. Take your seats. The meeting starts now.
Ayris:
— But we're not all here.
Hercules:
— Unfortunately, the others won't be able to come. Some didn't even call.
Everyone present nodded. They had known from the beginning they might not all be there — but it still hurt.
Jeanne:
— We know what 469 can do. The real problem is 001.
Hercules:
— We'll have to fight as a perfectly coordinated team. Make sure everyone stays safe throughout the battle.
Jeanne:
— This isn't the first time we've fought together. Everyone, take your roles back.
— All right… it's time to move.