"Alright, Xenovia. Let's see what Durandal can really do in your hands." Shuo leveled Excalibur at her, challenge clear in his eyes.
Xenovia's grip tightened, her expression flickering between determination and doubt. Deep down, she already knew the truth—she didn't stand a chance.
Still, pride wouldn't let her back down. Jaw set, she charged, Durandal blazing with holy power.
"Too slow," Shuo said calmly, sidestepping with almost lazy precision. "And your technique's lacking."
Xenovia pressed on, hunting for an opening, refusing to accept defeat. But every slash missed by a hair, Shuo always just out of reach. Worse yet, he wielded his sword one-handed, forcing her onto the defensive, her footing faltering under the relentless pressure.
"RAAAAH!" In a last desperate bid, Xenovia abandoned defense, pouring everything into a golden blade of pure holy energy. The attack ripped through the air, radiating waves so intense Rias and the others felt their hearts stutter.
But Shuo's answer was a single, effortless swing—her attack shattered, the energy dissipating harmlessly.
Then, without warning, power erupted from Shuo, dark crimson lightning crackling around him like a living storm. He moved—too fast to track—and with a single, magic-charged blow from Excalibur, Xenovia was sent flying. Durandal clattered to the ground, defeated.
Shuo let out a long sigh. "You've lost. Right now, you're not even a true Holy Sword wielder."
Xenovia stood frozen, eyes wide and hollow. "What…?"
"Two Holy Swords, but neither your skill nor your strength is worthy of the title. You're relying on Durandal as a crutch, not as a partner. You haven't earned its recognition. The last wielder could fell a Satan-class Devil with one strike. Can you say the same?"
Xenovia's shoulders slumped, pride giving way to harsh self-awareness. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not fit to be a Holy Sword wielder after all…"
She stared at Shuo, lost, unable to process how thoroughly she'd been outmatched. Even her prized sword couldn't close the gap.
Nearby, Yuuto Kiba and Irina's duel was drawing to a close. In the original timeline, Yuuto would have been outclassed by the Holy Sword, doomed to defeat. But after training with Shuo, the tables had turned—Irina's advantage was gone.
Moments later, Irina fell to Yuuto's Demonic Sword, her eyes vacant, face pale. Yuuto said nothing, simply sheathing his blade and joining Shuo.
Shuo clapped him on the shoulder. "Nicely done, Kiba."
Yuuto managed a grateful smile. "Thank you, Nangong-kun. Really."
Akeno watched the defeated Church duo, her smile gentle. "Looks like it's all over."
"Mm," Rias agreed, the tension fading.
…
Xenovia and Irina stepped forward, bowing deeply to Aisha and Yuuto. "We're sorry for what we said earlier. Please accept our apology."
Aisha waved her hands, flustered. "It's fine, really! No need for all that."
Yuuto's expression softened, the bitterness fading from his eyes.
Rias cleared her throat. "Let's get back to our negotiations."
She glanced at Xenovia and Irina, her voice calm. "There's no need to worry. This fight is between you and the Fallen Angels. As long as you don't threaten us, we won't interfere."
Xenovia nodded. "Understood."
Shuo looked at the two, his tone blunt but not unkind. "After today, you should realize just how outmatched you are. Facing Kokabiel is suicide. Are you really going to keep going?"
Everyone turned to the Church duo, waiting for their answer.
Xenovia met Irina's gaze, both faces shadowed by resignation. But Xenovia's resolve didn't waver. "Even if this mission kills us, we won't back down."
She slung Durandal over her shoulder, and together, she and Irina left the club in silence.
Rias watched them go, sympathy in her eyes. "The Church is ruthless, sending them after Kokabiel. It's a death sentence."
No one spoke. Yuuto's face was especially troubled—he hated the Church, but didn't want to see Xenovia and Irina sacrificed.
A moment later, Shuo turned to Yuuto, voice gentle. "Kiba-kun, you've seemed distant ever since you saw the Holy Swords. What's on your mind?"
Yuuto hesitated, wrestling with old wounds.
Rias spoke up, encouraging. "Kiba, I was saved by Shuo, too. Trust him."
Yuuto looked at her, surprised, the ice in his heart starting to thaw.
Rias smiled softly. "We'll give you two some privacy." With Aisha and Kiyome in tow, she left the room.
Shuo waited until the door closed, then leaned in. "Tell me, Kiba. We're friends. Whatever it is, I'll listen."
Yuuto searched Shuo's face, then finally spoke, voice low and heavy. He told of the Church, of being taken as a child for Holy Sword adaptation training, of watching his friends die—poisoned when they failed, escaping only thanks to their sacrifice. Of being reborn as a Devil by Rias, and of his hatred for alchemical Holy Swords.
Shuo listened, sympathy in his eyes. "You didn't deserve any of that."
What neither of them knew was that the Church hadn't ordered the killings—it was Balpa Galilei, acting on his own, harvesting Sacred Crystals from their souls. Those crystals could let even ordinary people wield Holy Swords; Xenovia herself had used one.
Shuo squeezed Yuuto's shoulder. "Trust me—and Rias. We're your allies. When the time comes, I'll make sure you get your chance to destroy those swords."
He knew Balpa would show up soon. Revenge would be Yuuto's.
Yuuto nodded, determination settling in. "I understand."
Later, as Shuo walked with Rias and the girls, he paused, making up an excuse about urgent business. He promised to be home late.
Urgent business? In truth, it was about rescuing his future wives. Shuo, who knew the story's twists, was well aware of the tragedy about to befall Xenovia and Irina.
This was his chance—a perfect opportunity to draw closer to them. He wouldn't let it slip by.
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