Story idea belongs to Sociopathic-Antichrist.

No!

He snarled and breathed more crystalline fire from his maw at his adversary. But the Undead was nimble on his two legs. The stream of white and blue flames were easily avoided despite his heavy armor and weaponry. A normal human would have been nothing but a clunk of metal, slow, easy prey. But the Undead were not as limited as their living compatriots. The Undead warrior was able to roll and bounce back to his feet as though the sheets of steel were as light as sheets of cotton.

And with his inhuman strength, he brought his sword around to destroy the tide of crystals blocking his path. The sword must have been enchanted in such devilry to be able to slice Seath's mysteries in half. A path was cleared. The Undead sped past with feet moving far too swiftly than what should have been possible.

His sword met the dragon's hide. Seath snarled in pain. Mortal blades should not have harmed him. Even as his Primordial Crystal had been shattered by this heathen, the sting of a mortal blade should have meant nothing. A thin cut would have healed even if he was not born with a dragon's scales of immortality. His durability as a dragon would have endured, would have sealed the wound shut if it had spliced through— which it did.

He recognized the enchantments on the sword. It was… Dark. A fowl presence that had eluded his research for a great deal of time. He knew well what it was. Those damnable rebels during Gwyn's rule had found an ancient source older than the Lord of Sunlight himself. They had used it to slay many of the gods and those blessed by the light.

Seath was no exception.

The wound would not shut. The miniscule cut that could have easily excused as a scratch had become a thorn rich with poisons.

The blind dragon turned this pain into power as he breathed a miasma of crystalized air. A mist of diamond dust soaked into the ground with its magic working immediately within his valley. Spikes of crystals sprouted like spears as soon as each speck of dust landed.

The Undead was impaled here and there and knocked off his feet despite his best efforts to scurry away. He had been close, but Seath had spread his miasma in every direction. However, such mortal wounds meant little to one who had long been dead. So long as his limbs could still move, the Undead could continue to fight.

Torn and shredded muscles that should not have been able to move flowed with a grace only a barbarian that was man could fail to mimic as the gods'. But there was a brutal beauty in his swings as the sword chopped away the next forest of crystals and clearing yet another path towards the dragon. Seath unleashed a more focused blast of crystalline fire; the Undead brought his shield up and continued to charge.

The currents should have torn his shield asunder. Crystal was vastly more dense than any form of steel. And there was also a significant difference in both properties' potency. Seath's crystals were created through the powers of Sorcery— to turn the powers of the souls into a manifestation. Soul crystals were tremendously greater than any crystal grown through the forces of the planet. A soul crystal could tear through mundane diamond in the same manner a blade carved through flesh. There would be some resistance, but still easily achievable.

Steel, however, was a manmade material with no finesse in its construction. Raw earthly materials would be melted down through mundane flames, reconstructed, and hardened into what these humans called steel. The giants and the servants of the gods were able to produce more spectacular pieces of metal, but they were still so… earthbound. Nothing like the miracles or mysteries the gods could create.

So then, why was this Undead able to resist his crystal fire? His steel shield raised just above his head, his body tucked low, the Undead braced himself against the might of the blast. His knees buckled, his arms nearly gave out, but his shield kept raised. The mortal steel held against the penetrating magnificence of a crystal soul geyser.

Impossible!

With a roar only the likes a human could make, the Undead began to progress forward despite the oppressive force pushing him back. One foot at a time, he moved forward. Two steps, and he was able to turn his buckling into a pace. That crawling walk turned into a light job.

Impossible!

The Occult blade was brought around once more. It carved into Seath's hide thrice before the dragon brought his hand around to smack the Undead away. His steel did nothing against his pale hide, but that damnable blade nicked him. He cursed himself for his carelessness, for underestimating this abomination, and for being resorted to such barbaric methods of using physical force. Seath was a researcher of Sorcery! His spells were on par to Gwyn's magnificence!

The Undead, ever as nimbly as always, bounced back onto his feet. He would not dare the direct attack again. His feet took him around towards Seath's flank, to where his blind spot would be.

What a foolish Undead. Seath was blind. There was no such thing when he could focus on his scent and the frequency of his soul.

Seath brought his head around like a whip and breathed another trail of crystal fire in pursuit of the Undead. Spikes of crystals pierced through the grounds and continued to follow the Undead even as Seath had stopped breathing. More pierced him. The force and amount of crystals barraging his animated corpse could not impale him like how Seath wanted. It shoved him high into the air to splatter back down onto the floor.

The Undead would not give up. But there was little he could do when his arm was now useless and his body bend in half. False blood oozed out of gaping wounds. What vitality he possessed was leaking and he would stop moving. Then, Seath would destroy every trace of his body so he would never come back.

Quickly, without allowing Seath the chance to take his final strike, the Undead reached for his pouch with his only available hand and took a swig from a green flask. The rich scent of sunlight struck Seath enough to give him pause. How?! This damnable creature had a source of sunlight?!

Before he could begin to ponder any possibilities or push them aside to act, the Undead was up on his feet once more and moving swiftly across the field.

Seath roared in outrage. The Undead had healed his self! His body was back in the same condition as it had been before the battle! Now he could not allow this one to live. He should have had him killed as soon as he sensed him roaming around in his library. They had met, this Undead had tried in vain to slay him, and Seath had rewarded his attempt with imprisonment for future experimentation. But the Undead had escaped, had somehow found his way through the backways of his labyrinth, and had SOMEHOW found his way to the heart of Seath's immortality.

He would not forgive this one. He needed to be destroyed. Seath needed to strike him with something mighty enough to obliterate his body completely. Nothing must remain else give him the chance to rejuvenate his self.

Seath roared and unleashed a torrent of power from every pore on his body. As a dragon without scales, his body was closer to flesh than of true reptilian hide. Vapors of diamond dust escaped out of every corner of his body, thickening the air to form an impenetrable wall. It would prevent the Undead from advancing, would strike at him as each speck of dust landed on the ground to sprout into crystal spears, and would keep him at bay until Seath could prepare his ultimate spell.

Only, the Undead did not seem willing to comply with this plan.

He continued to charge forward, his steps moving sideways deeper into his flank but never keeping his eyes off of Seath. He was a half-circle in when he raised his shield and dove directly into the mist.

He was bombarded with the wall of crystal mist and with the geysers of crystals rising from the diamond soil. His armor shred, his flesh torn, his shield bending, his blade chipping— and yet he continued to drive himself forward.

He leapt, a leap that should not have been possibly with his ruined body and heavy weight, and brought his sword down.

Seath's tail was sliced off.

Pain unlike any other met Seath. When he had betrayed his brethren and had faced them in combat, wounds were exchanged. Seath had lost limbs and organs as much as his 'superior' kin had. But Seath could grow them back with his mysteries.

That damnable blade, however, prevented Seath from healing his tail. Blood gushed out in alarming rates, forming a small river of shimmering red ooze.

Seath, desperate, breathed his crystal craft directly onto the wound of his tail. His craft penetrated his own flesh but sealed the wound.

That moment to lick his wounds gave the Undead the chance to carve his blade further into Seath's hide. He plunged his blade into his side as deep as the hilt and began to run along his waist before ripping it out, but not before twisting the blade to tear out as much flesh as possible. He would have ran the whole way across if he had the time before avoiding any retaliation Seath would render.

Seath could not. His heart was racing with panic. He was bleeding and the wound on his tail crippled him unlike any other. The only one capable of bringing him down this far had been the Ancient Dragon King, and that had been a battle where all four Great Ones stood together. But now, this three mail tall two-legged insect was weakening him. This was no battle of magnificence. This was not a battle where a grand hero brought elegant strokes of his sword against a dragon of equal grace.

He believed, if ever, Seath would die in a glorious battle that would make the world quake in the beauty of his spellcraft. Instead, he was rendered to nothing more than attempting to sway away a small fly that was drinking his blood. A fly he could not catch despite his titanic prowess. The Undead was making him bleed, of course, but such wounds were hardly anything.

It was because they continued to bleed that he was dying. Dying. It made his heart race faster, and it made the blood gush out faster.

Rage overcame Seath. He will not fall before the likes of a lowly, corrupt, insignificant Undead!

He roared, his head lifted up towards the endless sky of his crystal valley and roared every breath of air his lungs would allow. His soul cried out in rage.

An explosion of crystals in every direction was the result.

Spikes, missiles, ballistics, and spears of crystals flew everywhere. From the ground, from the air, from the heavens, and from Seath's body. It tore apart their surroundings, brought walls crumbling down, threatened to cave them both.

If he could destroy the Undead, he would be satisfied. Outraged by this outcome, but satisfied knowing his foe would fall with him.

It would not come to be.

The Undead, impossibly, moved through the storm of crystal. His feet carried him forward, swept him back when a spike pierced through the ground he would have stepped upon, spun him around when crystal rained upon him, slid him over and under when a spear was launched at his torso. He saw a path, saw a pattern that should not have been there, and followed the trail like a man gifted with prophetic attributes.

The Undead leapt, higher than ever before. He abandoned his shield to bring both hands around the hilt of his weapon.

There, time stopped just enough for Seath to regain a fragment of consciousness against his madness. There, Seath could see the blade. A blade of the Dark Wraiths. This Undead was an agent of the Dark, the Abyss Gwyn and countless others before him had failed to suppress.

The blade plunged deep into Seath's chest and tore apart one of his heart chambers.

Seath let loose one last howl. A howl, no longer a roar. It was a song of outrage with a soft note of sorrow and… acceptance. Yes, cold acceptance.

Seath was going to die. His research into immortality would go unfinished.

As the darkness began to claim his life, in this miniscule moment of sanity, he wondered how things would have turned out if he had been born with the Everlasting Scales like his brothers before him.

The moment passed. The madness returned. But it would not help him in this endeavor.

Seath the Scaleless was slain.

*Scene*

His body was destroyed, but his soul lived on. Countless generations had come and gone. Kingdoms had risen and fallen. Light and Dark continued to battle in a never ending crescendo. One managed to end the cycle. But the cycle returned when another began it all over again.

It mattered little to Seath. All he cared about was how to regain his vessel and to finish his research for immortality. His soul lived on. Great Ones always lived on no matter how many civilizations came and went. No matter how many times the world was destroyed and created anew, the Great Ones were always there. Sometimes Seath would be back in a new vessel, sometimes he would sleep. But always he would have an influence on the world.

This new generation made no difference. His soul continued to transfer from vessel to vessel. Some would find him in ruins long forgotten, some would find his research and then draw his soul towards them, or some would simply be born with him residing within them.

Always, no matter who it was, the lowly humans who bore his power were mad.

They called him a Sacred Gear. The Moonlight Paledrake. Such fools. The creatures who resided in this generation knew nothing. Simply because the Great Ones' current forms resembled the creations of this… God of the Bible did not mean they were a part of his system. They were merely riding with it in discretion. Hiding in plain sight, if one would will.

Still, there was a matter of compatibility that had to be followed. Seath's soul was potent, of course. No matter how great the vessel was, Seath's presence alone could influence him or her. A vessel who had no madness within them would immediately be swept away in the currents and be rendered a bumbling mess, no matter how great the will. And those already born with the madness had… a tolerance, one might say. But eventually the madness would grow until they were, like the others, reduced to vegetables.

Or savage beasts. Many cities throughout all of history were crystalized.

But there were few, oh so rare few who shone as brilliantly as Gwyn's Sun, who were so deep in madness they could not be affected by Seath's influence. And, ever more rare, a small number of those who had used Seath's madness to improve their own. Kings, gods, and god-kings they called themselves.

Truly, only the most insane and willful of vessels could wield Seath's power to its full glory.

*Scene*

"BOOBS!"

Hyoudou Issei was, impossibly, the next vessel the system had chosen. To call Issei a genius of any sort was far from laughable— it was an outright insult towards any of those who had a smidgeon of intelligence. His intelligence was on par to a rodent. No, at least the rodent could learn something after a few mistakes. Hyoudou Issei, however, never learned.

Take for example his daily exercise of peeping on girls. They always caught him. They always punished him not with law enforcement but with beatings. Some rendered him hospitalized while some had nearly killed him. Yet, despite all this, he continued this rite.

If there was any aspect of madness within the boy, it would have to be for his deep obsession for specific body parts of women. He loved women dubiously and sought them out like a starved man for sustenance. His drive knew no limits, obstacles were mere puzzles he needed to overcome, and his focus honed in immeasurable quantities when specifically a women's bosom was involved.

Still, there was nothing special about the boy. This vessel would be just another generation of idleness, one of the countless others Seath had to endure. The boy was a common human born of a common family with no impressive traits whatsoever. The boy would grow up in a mundane environment and would die a mundane death.

The way things were, there was no possibility of Issei being able to reach for Seath's power. The madness will claim him in due time and Seath's story would progress towards the next vessel.

Within his so-called 'prison', Seath curled up and began to sleep. He would wake again when a new vessel was chosen and evaluate whether this next being was worthy of his attention or not.

*Scene*

He will never admit it, but he had been wrong. Not entirely about Issei— the boy was still a child trying to fit a square box inside a circular hole— but about the circumstances.

Issei had died. Seath huffed at that at the minor notice ringing in his head about the conditions of his vessel. However, he did not pay attention to anything further as he went back into his slumber. When next he awoke, he would be in a new vessel, would sleep once more, and awaken again once the vessel was matured enough for him to evaluate.

But when next he awoke, it had been the following day.

His head lifted as he felt the familiar sensation. The boy, Hyoudou Issei, was alive and well. Changed, surely, and no longer human. He had a taint of brimstone within him similar to the fires of the Witch's children. Ah, the boy had become a Devil. How… unimpressive.

But what gained Seath's attention was what the boy was attempting. Within the clubroom, before his new master, Issei was mimicking a stance of those rubbish animations he frequently watched. A mortal who could turn soul energy— laughably called Ki in the show— into a bright blue beam. As if such a realization was possible but the idea was entertaining enough. However, the boy was not trying to produce the same effect. His master was telling him otherwise. She was attempting to teach the boy to reach for his source of power and call out his… Sacred Gear.

If he had any, Seath would raise a brow. Instead, he gave a slight snort and… indulged the boy in his attempts. A reward for his efforts to learn.

Seath permitted a small trickle of his power to flow through the boy. A tiny drop compared to the vast ocean of his Soul Memory. But it was enough to manifest something.

A gauntlet of white and crystal appeared on his left hand. A gauntlet? How unoriginal. Countless before him had manifested Seath's power into armor. Seath won't even bother to mention how many turned his power— he snorted— into a sword.

Well, it got the boy cheering in delight.

Seath watched for a moment longer before lowering his head once more for slumber.

*Scene*

He barely opened an eye when he felt his power being requested once more. The gesture of opening an eye was hardly effective as even in death Seath was blind. But, as though someone were watching him, he did so to prove the boy had alerted him but had hardly gained his attention.

With scantly a look, Seath surmised what was happening. The boy was standing in front of a blonde maiden, his arms spread in a sign of protection. Ah, he was smitten with this maiden. No, Seath opened his other eye when he felt something… different. Oh, the lust was still there, but there was something… more.

Issei stood, shouting such heroic monologues like countless others before him about protecting this Asia Argento. In doing so, he was trying to call upon Seath's power. Unlike real Sacred Gears, Seath had to accept the request. But he would not do so. There was no point.

As the boy was now, he would not be able to protect himself against the opposition. Floating with her black wings was a Fallen Angel. A meager peon compared to the Fallen Seraphim who could move the entire cosmos, but still a force above human standards. A drop of Seath's power could crush her, but it was the boy and his weak stature that would render it useless.

Seath cared little— better, he cared not for the machinations of heroics. Admirable the boy was for standing against something his fresh instincts as a Devil warned him of; the Fallen could crush him as easily as Seath could against her. Admirable, indeed, but foolish. Pride and honor was a pointless concept that had gotten many killed.

Pride and honor. The Everlasting Dragons had those qualities. Seath used those against them. They fell by their foolish arrogance, not because Gwyn and his allies were better.

A spear of light pierced through Issei. It was not fatal. The Fallen would toy with him.

Seath closed his eyes and returned to his slumber. Whether the boy lives or dies beyond this point was of no interest to him, as it had been before.

*Scene*

He huffed when next he was awoken. If he was going to be called upon frequently he might as well give in to the request. Not for the salvation of what deed the boy needed to fulfill, but to unleash the full force of the madness and kill the boy.

It was night. The boy and two of his compatriots were inside a looted House of God. The blonde swordsman, a Kiba Yuuto, was using a blade that devoured photonic light against a former servant of God. The white haired youngling, a Toujo Koneko, was offering support by throwing pillars, large plants of wood, and pews at the Exorcist whenever a chance arrived.

And his vessel stood in the back. Gritting his teeth as he tried to call upon his so-called Sacred Gear.

"Please," he begged. Begged! "Let me have some power. I need it to save Asia!"

Seath tuned him out afterwards. It was more rambling nonsense about heroism. The dragon huffed inside his domain. He wondered if he allowed this one request to go through would the boy stop or if his requests would grow exponentially. Would he ask for Seath's power whenever the chance arose or would the boy simply give up?

Or… better… what if he died in his adventure? A Devil cannot come back twice.

Seath gave him a drop of his power once more. Enough to manifest the— another snort— armor and some of its mysteries to spare. With the task done, Seath returned to his slumber and awaited for when his next vessel would be chosen.

*Scene*

"FINALLY!" Issei shouted as his Sacred Gear activated. He didn't know what he did different. Maybe it was due to his state of mind? His master had told him a Sacred Gear's power depends on the will and emotions of its wielder. So through a strong enough emotion could he summon it?

He didn't know. He didn't care. The only important fact was that the Sacred Gear was his to use!

Fortunately, or unfortunately (he didn't know), the battle against that sicko Freed Sellzen was over. The coward had run away as soon as he was cornered. But, whatever. They could progress forward.

The three of them took the hidden path underneath the altar and moved quickly through the underground tunnels. It didn't take long for them to come before a pair of giant stone doors. Koneko pushed him aside, cracked her knuckles, and broke the doors down with a single jab.

"A-Asia!" Issei gasped as soon as the dust cleared.

He knew next to nothing about magic. Several Exorcists had gathered in this large antechamber, chanting in some foreign tongue not even his Devil language could translate. But at the top of the ritual were two beings. The first he recognized as Amano Yuuma, or rather, the Fallen Angel Raynare. Her hand was pressed against the chest of the other person.

Asia hung at the center, bound by chains against a large cross. She was wriggling in pain, moaning, screaming, and crying. Issei might not be able to understand the intricacies of the ritual happening, but he knew just enough to figure out she was being hurt.

Half the Exorcists turned around and branded their weapons. Blades and guns of light activated and were aimed at the three Devils.

"Issei, go!" shouted Kiba. He raised his sword in preparation. "Koneko and I will make you and opening. Get to her while we do!"

He nodded and curled his armored fist. Kiba was the first to move. He sped down the pathway and slammed hard onto the first three Exorcists. He bounced back, quickly avoiding any attacks retaliating, and launched himself forward once more.

Koneko was next, who brought her arms up to block bullets of light with her Rook durability. The petite girl was a tank as she drove directly into a mass and sent everyone flying.

Issei used this chance to move. He followed Koneko closely, brought his arm up to block weapons of light whenever he could, and continued to move forward after his Devil friends. However, their progress slowed immediately as their sudden strike had lost its strength. They were becoming surrounded. Still, Koneko and Kiba assaulted the front to give Issei the chance to advance.

It was then did Issei realize he had no idea what his Sacred Gear could do. It was powerful, that much was certain. But it could shoot laser beams from his knuckles as much as it could spray confetti. Rias hadn't been able to identity his Sacred Gear and thus couldn't tell him what it could do. He didn't know how to activate its hidden ability either.

But he knew it was hard as hell. His knuckles were lined with the purist diamonds.

He brought his fist around towards an Exorcist who tried to get between Koneko and Kiba. Fist met jaw. Jaw shattered. Blood splattered. The Exorcist went down.

It was simplistic down to its base meaning. But it worked.

Issei broke free from the group and climbed the stairs, leaping at three or four at a time.

"You're too late!" laughed Raynare as she pulled her hand free. Asia's scream reached its peak. "The ritual is already done!"

The light faded. Asia stopped screaming. Her body slumped forward, only suspended by the chains.

Issei's heart dropped to his stomach.

Raynare laughed further as she raised the treasure in her hands. Asia's Sacred Gear rings of Twilight Healing was now in her palms, glowing with still-warm life-force formerly belonging to the blonde nun. She brought it close to her chest and the rings soaked through her clothes and flesh. In a matter of seconds, the rings reappeared on the appropriate fingers of each hand.

Raynare's laugh was blissful, drunk almost.

She snapped her fingers. The chains binding Asia disappeared and her body fell to the ground.

Issei slid on his knees to catch her before she hit the floor. He could at least do this much. The tears were already threating to come. He had failed. He couldn't save her. The best he could do was make sure her body wasn't further abused.

In her dying moments, Asia reached a hand up towards Issei's cheek. Her eyes were glazed; he doubted she could fully see him, if at all. She could only guess it was him. The tears began to fall as he grasped the hand.

She smiled, "Thank you… Ise…"

And then, her hand fell limp.

Raynare's laugh was the only sound echoing throughout the chamber. Even the fighting had stopped as the Devils below could not believe they had failed. The Exorcists did not care, they merely stopped because their opponents had. But this moment would pass. Without the same morale as before, the Devils will fall. It would be then a fight for survival.

Issei cried. He held Asia's body close and continued to sob. This girl, who had wanted nothing more than a friend, had died because her only friend could not save her. He could not save her.

Perhaps not. But he would at least avenge her.

"Asia, I'm sorry," he said not for his failure. But because he knew what he was about to do would make her sad.

He lowered Asia down and slowly rose back towards his feet. His body continued to shake in both rage and sorrow. But his eyes blazed in a fury he knew not where it had come from. He, but an average high school student, did not know what this feeling was. To have someone die in his arms had changed him. Someone he could have saved changed him.

Raynare laughed harder when she saw the look in his eyes. He was challenging her. He was trying to oppose something leagues above him!

Yes, he was. And if it was the last thing he would do, he was going to…

"I'm going to kill you," he did not so much as promise as he did state. It would be a fact.

A twisted smile grew on Raynare. She flicked a few strands of her hair behind her ear, flaunting the Twilight Healing rings for him to see. Even if he managed to put as much as a scratch on her, it will do nothing. She was now immortal.

"Please," she teased in a sweet voice it should have been adorable had it not belonged to her, "will you try for me?"

He yelled, ran forward, and raised his fist to smack her across the jaw.

She saw it coming. Her wings fluttered, lifted her off the floor, and easily avoided his obvious attack. In midair, she spun and brought her heel against his temple. He didn't know what hit him as his body flew off, crashed hard against the stairs, and tumbled uncontrollably down the steps.

"Issei!" Kiba had shouted. That shout initiated the next round of fighting. Kiba gritted his teeth as he blocked a blade of light and dodged just in time against another. However, his movements forced him away from the Pawn.

Koneko wasn't faring much better as she was being boxed in the same manner as Kiba. The Exorcists knew well how to fight Devils.

"Leave him," commanded Raynare as a small group of Exorcists started to move towards Issei. Her wings lowered her a few steps shy from his collapsed figure. "He's mine."

The Exorcists obeyed and went back into the fray of assaulting the other Devils.

Issei was bleeding from his cranium where her heel had landed, from his broken nose, and was sure there was a fracture on his right arm due to the fall. It hurt so much to move but he forced himself to get to his knees. He was seeing white as pain surged from his ribs. One or two were fractured as well.

Raynare put her heel to his head and pressed down. His face was slammed onto the ground by her inhuman strength. "What's wrong, Ise-kun~" she said in the same sweet voice. In the same voice of the lie that was Amano Yuuma. "Weren't you going to kill me? I was looking forward to that. Please don't disappoint me~"

She laughed in mockery and pressed her heel deeper. He began to grunt by the pressure. With just a tiny bit more force she could crush his skull.

His pain was becoming anger. His left hand dug into the stone floor as though it were made of sand. But what good was its durability and density if he could not be fast enough to hit her with it? He thought about using Promotion— he was more than deep enough in the enemy base to do it— but he wasn't sure if his body would be able to use it.

He felt so useless. He couldn't do much. He took out, what, two or three Exorcists? Raynare kicked him once and he was now at her mercy. This had been the third time they had faced and all three times she toppled over him. Becoming a Devil made no difference. Calling on his Sacred Gear changed nothing. He couldn't do anything.

"I'll kill you, Raynare," he said despite these thoughts. He rejected them. He didn't need an elaborate plan. Such a thing was beyond him. He wasn't smart enough to trick her with some words or a scheme. All he had was his battered body and his armored fist. And that's all he would need.

His hand dug deeper into the ground. As though complying with his wishes, the gauntlet began to glow.

Spikes of crystal shot from the ground around him. As though driven by his will, the spikes only sprouted just nigh from piercing his own flesh and only around Raynare. It had been swift enough and each tip sharp enough to stab into her. The leg she had on him was nearly severed, only hanging loosely by a single thin strip of meat. The rest of her body and her wings were pierced with the spikes. However, she was thrown back instead of being impaled.

Her face contorted in fury and pain. Her eyes glared absolute death at Issei and for what he had done. But she could not move. At least not yet. Twilight Healing activated and was in the process of closing her wounds. Her leg, the deepest wound on her body, was taking the longest to close. But with her prowess and supply of divine energy, Twilight Healing would work fast.

Issei used this moment to get back on his knees. He didn't know what he had done or how, but it had done something.

His only thought was to curl his gauntlet into a fist and slam it directly onto the ground with all his might. It had been childish, stupid even, as if the thing would work based on his desperation.

It did.

What was a small splash of energy the first time became a large eruption. Stakes and spears of jagged crystal formed out of the earth in all his surroundings. A wave swept through the room, obeying his command. Like a growing solidified beast, the wave of crystals pursued any enemy of Issei's and left his comrades unharmed. Crystals sprouted, pierced and impaled any and all the Exorcists within the room. Yet not one sprouted where Kiba and Koneko had been caught unawares.

Most of the sprouting had went after Raynare.

Seeing the wave come towards her, she took flight. The crystals, like a monster hungry to devour her, pursued her. The length of each spear grew to match the height of her ascension. She swerved away from its path, and the sprouting shifted towards her direction.

But, eventually, she gained enough distance for the sprouting to stop. She had avoided the worst of it.

"Raynare!"

Her head snapped towards Issei. He was on his feet, though barely. His body was hunched low as his hands were clasped together in open-palms. His torso was twisted so his arms were facing away from her.

She knew this stance. It was a notorious stance many children and otaku had mimicked. It was laughable, or would have been hadn't she just seen what his Sacred Gear could do.

"Dodge THIS!"

His body twisted forward. He thrust his palms forward. There was nothing in his hands.

Then, there was something.

A flash of white, a beam of crystalized flames streamed towards her far too fast for her to dodge. The current swept through her as miniscule specks of diamond dust grated against her flesh. Like an actual flame devouring her, the current of diamond dust tore through her flesh. Twilight Healing glowed, but it could not keep up with the currents. She was only prolonging something she could not stop. The shards of diamond ate away at her.

She opened her mouth to scream. No sound was made.

Her body disintegrated until nothing but a mist of blood remained. The rings of Twilight Healing had, in a miracle of itself, fallen to the ground.

Issei fell back to his knees, only to find he did not have the strength to at least do that. His body collapsed to the floor.

Or, it would have, if Kiba hadn't been quick enough to catch him. The damn handsome and his damn smile. Always needing to be the good guy no matter what. Whatever. Issei could tolerate his chivalry just for now.

He had won. He had killed Raynare.

So then… why… why did his victory feel so hollow?

Issei openly cried as Kiba, and then Koneko at his other side, lifted him up. He knew why his feelings were so unsatisfied. He had given to anger and had killed Raynare in cold blood. No, that wasn't it. He had done it because he was furious with himself. He didn't save Asia. He swore to protect her, had her stolen from her, and swore again to save her, only to have her die in his arms.

If he had learned to use his Sacred Gear sooner, things would have played out differently.

His fatigue would not let him think any further. His body slumped as consciousness left him.

Had he been awake just a little while longer, he would have seen his master and her Queen appear. Had he been awake for a few minutes longer…

He would have watched Asia be resurrected, come to his side, cry for him, and heal him personally.