The silence that hung over the schoolyard after my lightning-fast intervention was almost palpable. Durandal and the Excalibur fragment lay on the grass at the feet of the stunned exorcists, like discarded children's toys. The blue-haired girl and her pigtail-wearing companion stared, first at their empty hands, then at me, then at the holy swords I had just so easily taken and tossed back. Shock, disbelief, humiliation, and fear—the entire gamut of emotions was plain on their faces.
I, however, ignored them, turned, and headed toward the spot where Issei lay on the ground. Rias and Asia were already fussing around him. Asia, pale but resolute, knelt beside Issei, her hands glowing with a soft, warm, emerald-green light—the power of her Sacred Gear, Twilight Healing. She carefully placed her palms on the puncture wound in Issei's side, from which blood was still seeping.
Kiba stood nearby, his face pale, his fists clenched white. He looked back and forth between his fallen friend and the exorcists, a mixture of rage and guilt burning in his eyes. He blamed himself for not being able to protect Issei, for his own emotions provoking the attack.
I moved closer and crouched beside Issei to assess his condition. His breathing was shallow, his face pale; he was unconscious. The wound in his side looked nasty—its edges seemed charred by the holy energy of the Excalibur, which was continuing to eat away at the demon's flesh. The rapier's strike, though it had hit his gauntlet, had clearly caused internal damage—his body was wracked with fine tremors.
"How is he?" I asked Asia, my voice level, showing no emotion.
Asia looked up at me, her green eyes full of compassion and focus.
"The wound is deep… The holy power… it's very dangerous for Issei-san," she answered quietly, not moving her hands. The green glow of her Twilight Healing intensified as it seeped into the wound, neutralizing the hostile energy. The edges of the wound visibly stopped blackening, the bleeding slowed, and the flesh began to slowly but surely regenerate. "But… I can handle it. My power can heal this. He just needs time… and rest."
I nodded. Twilight Healing. A rare and powerful gift, capable of working miracles even on wounds inflicted on a demon by a holy weapon. It seemed Rias had been smart to take this former nun into her family.
"The idiot jumped in front of the blow himself," I observed coldly, standing up. "He misjudged his own strength."
My words made Rias and Kiba flinch and look at me with reproach.
"Jin! How can you say that!" Rias exclaimed, her voice trembling with anger and concern for her servant. "They attacked him!"
"He got in their way, knowing they were exorcists with holy weapons," I parried. "Stupidity is punishable."
At that moment, the blue-haired exorcist, having finally recovered from her shock, took a step forward. She picked Durandal up from the ground, her hand, gripping the hilt, trembling with rage and humiliation. Her companion also got up, retrieving her Excalibur, her eyes full of tears and fear.
"You…" the blue-haired one looked at me, her voice hoarse with suppressed fury. "Who are you?! How did you dare touch the holy swords?! How were you able to take them from us?!"
"Easily," I shrugged, turning to her. "Your toys didn't turn out to be so impressive. And you were too slow."
"Don't you dare say that!" she shouted. "That is the weapon of God! It incinerates filth! Why didn't it harm you?! You… you're not a demon? But not human either! What are you?!"
"Someone who's tired of your games," I answered wearily. "You came here, caused a commotion, and crippled this guy. Your mission here is a failure. Get lost."
"We won't leave until we retrieve all the Excaliburs!" she declared stubbornly, though her voice didn't sound nearly as confident. She had seen how easily I disarmed her.
"You can search somewhere else," my voice turned to ice. "One more attempt to attack anyone on this territory, and I won't just take your swords. I'll break them. And I'll throw you off the grounds. Am I making myself clear?"
My aura, which I had been restraining, seeped out slightly. An invisible pressure that made the air tremble. The exorcists stumbled back, their faces growing even paler. They felt my power. Inexplicable, alien, overwhelming.
The blue-haired one swallowed. The fanaticism in her eyes warred with her fear. She knew I wasn't bluffing.
"We… we will report this to the Vatican!" she finally forced out. "They will deal with you!"
"Go ahead," I waved a hand. "You can send my regards to the Pope. Now, leave."
She shot me one last look, full of hatred and helpless rage, then spun sharply and stalked away. Her companion, sobbing, hurried after her. A moment later, they disappeared through the Academy gates.
I watched them go. Fanatics. Dangerous in their blind faith. But helpless against my power.
I turned back to Issei. Asia was continuing her healing, the green glow growing more intense. The wound in his side was already mostly closed, leaving only a pink scar that was also gradually fading. Issei's breathing began to even out, and some color returned to his face.
"We need to get him to the club," Rias said decisively. "He shouldn't be out here. Asia, can you maintain the healing while we move him?"
"Yes, Rias-san," Asia nodded, not removing her hands. "He needs rest, but the worst is over."
Kiba carefully lifted Issei into his arms. He was heavy, but Kiba, as a Knight, had the strength.
We headed for the old club building. I walked beside them, watching Issei's still-pale, but no longer lifeless, face. This guy was a constant trouble magnet. But there was something… stubborn about him. A desire to protect those he cared about, even at the cost of his own life. Stupid. But maybe that's what made him… alive.
In the clubroom, Issei was laid on the sofa. Asia sat beside him, continuing to gently channel her healing energy. Rias brought water and a towel. Akeno stood nearby, watching with concern.
I was about to leave, considering my part done, when Kiba approached me. His face was still pale, but the anger had given way to a strange mix of respect, fear, and… curiosity.
"Izayoi-san… a word?" he asked quietly, gesturing toward the window, away from the others.
I nodded, and we moved away. Kuro hopped off my head (he'd climbed back up while I was distracted) and settled on the windowsill, watching us with his ruby-red eyes.
"Thank you… for Issei," Kiba began, his voice tight. "And for… stepping in. I… I almost lost control again."
"Control yourself better," I repeated my recent advice.
"I'm trying," he ran a hand through his hair. "But those swords… the Excaliburs… They bring back too many memories."
He paused for a moment, gathering his courage.
"Izayoi-san… the way you held them… Durandal, Excalibur… You held them with your bare hands. With no visible protection. And they didn't harm you. How?"
His gaze was intense, searching. I saw more than simple curiosity in it; it was something deeper.
"Holy swords, especially ones as powerful as those… they reject those who are incompatible with their energy," he continued softly, his voice wavering. "Those with darkness in them, or those who just… don't fit. They burn, they wound, they drive you mad. The Church… they conducted horrible experiments… The Holy Sword Project… They tried to artificially create children who could wield the Excaliburs. Most of us… my friends… died."
He clenched his fists, his knuckles white. The trauma of his past was obvious.
"But you… you held them so easily. As if they were normal swords. How is that possible? Who are you, Izayoi-san? Are… are you compatible with them? Or is your power so great that it simply overwhelms their holiness?"
His questions were direct. He wanted to understand. To understand the nature of my power, which so easily ignored the very thing that had killed his friends.
"And one more thing…" he looked me right in the eye, and his gaze was almost a plea. "You said… you said you would break them. If they attacked again. Were… were you serious? Can you really… destroy a Holy Sword? One like the true Excalibur or Durandal?"
The question wasn't idle. For Kiba, the Excaliburs were a symbol of pain, of suffering, of his friends' deaths. The thought that they could be destroyed was, for him, both sacrilegious and… desirable?
I looked at him. At his pale face, at the pain in his eyes, at his trembling hands. I saw his trauma, his hatred for those "holy" pieces of metal. And I understood why he was asking.
I could have brushed it off. Dodged the question. But his sincere pain, his desperate search for answers… made me answer honestly.
"Yes, Knight," I said quietly, but firmly. "I was serious. To me, these 'holy' swords of yours are just pieces of metal with a strong energy signature. And if they become a problem… it's not impossible. It might take some effort, but I can do it."
I saw his eyes widen in surprise. And then… something else flickered in them. Relief? Hope? Or just the understanding that a power existed in the world that could stand against the thing he hated so much?
"It's possible..." he whispered, as if testing the words. "Then… they aren't all-powerful…"
He took a deep breath, as if an invisible weight had fallen from his shoulders.
"Thank you… Izayoi-san. For the answer. And… for everything."
He nodded to me and walked back to the sofa, where Asia was still tending to Issei.
I remained at the window, staring out at the schoolyard. The conversation with Kiba had been… strange. I wasn't used to sharing even hints about the nature of my power. But his pain had been too real. And my answer, it seemed, had brought him some kind of… peace.