In the ORC clubroom illuminated by soft lamp light, the night atmosphere had turned into an emergency meeting. No jokes, no casual conversations like usual. Only four people sat around the table—two Kings and two Queens.
Rias Gremory, her bright red hair contrasting with her tense expression, sat on the right side of the table. Beside her stood Akeno Himejima, hands folded neatly in front of her body, but her eyes narrowed sharply as if reading a battlefield.
On the other side, Sona Sitri adjusted her glasses with a slow yet firm motion. Her demeanor was always rational, but tonight there was a faint tension she couldn't hide. Behind her, Tsubaki Shinra stood like a loyal shadow, calm yet ready to move at any moment.
A long silence hung, as if even the air was waiting for an answer.
Rias was the first to break it.
"Raynare's group… was completely wiped out." Her voice was low, but carried unmistakable weight.
Even Sona, who usually appeared unshaken, drew a thin breath.
"This is not the work of a normal human," she replied flatly. "Or even a low-class devil."
Akeno lifted her chin slightly, trying to reorganize the memory of the pressure they felt at the church. "The aura he released… wasn't magic," she explained softly, yet full of certainty. "It was something different. It felt like… Qi. But the intensity wasn't normal, not the type usually possessed by supernatural beings."
The word Qi alone was enough to make Sona Sitri stop the subtle motion of her finger on the table's surface. She turned fully, her brows furrowing.
"Qi?" she repeated. "Is he… a yokai?"
The question didn't appear without reason. From the supernatural knowledge the young leaders possessed, only one race was known for using Qi as their main source of power—Yokai, inhabitants of Kyoto and descendants of Japan's nature spirits. Even in the supernatural world, the use of pure Qi was something distinctive and not widely practiced outside their kind.
But Akeno's answer only made the atmosphere heavier.
"No," she replied softly. "At least… not yokai Qi."
Sona stared sharply at her, as if forcing a more detailed explanation.
Akeno continued, "Yokai Qi is gentle, it blends with spiritual flow. It has a rhythm, like the breath of a living creature." Her eyes blinked as she recalled the crushing pressure they faced then. "But his Qi… felt like something burning from within. Brutal. Uncontrolled. Very—human, but not an ordinary human."
Rias responded, her voice low.
"As if his body is producing energy humans shouldn't have. Like internal arts."
Sona fell silent for several seconds after hearing that term. Not because she doubted the information, but because her instincts—which rarely failed—were slowly assembling possibilities far more unsettling.
If it wasn't yokai qi… then what was moving freely in human territory without detection?
Too little information, too many gaps, and each gap carried the risk of becoming a threat. Even Sona's expression—normally always controlled—cracked slightly under the calculations running behind her eyes.
She took a slow breath, realigning her thoughts.
"What was his name again?" she asked without raising her voice, but her flat tone indicated how serious the situation had become.
"Cheon Ma," Rias answered.
Sona repeated the name internally, as if analyzing its sound, structure, and possible origins. The name sounded old… yet unfamiliar. Not recorded in any major yokai clans, not aligned with East Asian mage lineages, and completely incompatible with angelic entities—fallen or otherwise.
"Cheon Ma…" she murmured again, this time deeper. A split-second later, she reached for the report papers on the table as if processing connections from unseen threads. "Wait. I'll ask my sister for assistance in tracking him in the underworld."
She was referring to Serafall, of course—the cheerful Satan who behaved very differently when an issue concerned her little sister. If there was one authority capable of digging into the darkness of the underworld's bureaucracy, it was Serafall.
"All right…" Rias replied, waiting for Sona's next reaction.
But Sona didn't respond immediately. Her gaze shifted, hardened, as though the room's gravity had intensified. When she spoke again, her voice dropped a level—heavier, more focused.
"But more importantly," Sona said with a flat tone containing a subtle tension, "is the fact that the fallen angels violated territorial rules."
The statement spread through the room like a thin line slicing the atmosphere. Silence followed—not an empty one, but one filled with diplomatic weight, as if the ORC clubroom walls had suddenly become witnesses to a matter that must not be misinterpreted.
Rias leaned back, expression still calm, but her gaze sharpened slightly. The burden of a young devil king was one she could never drop for even a second.
"Their objective is clear," Sona continued. "The Sacred Gears on Issei and Asia."
Rias nodded slowly, her red hair shifting gently. "Originally, their target was only Issei. They thought his Sacred Gear… was insignificant."
Sona closed the report she held, pressing it lightly with her fingertip. "But Boosted Gear is a Longinus. And a Longinus awakening in our territory is a problem for the entire Three Factions system."
She said it without dramatics; the calmness was what made the statement even heavier.
"That's why they turned to Asia," Rias added. "The girl had no protection, no reason to resist. Easier to exploit. In the end…"
She drew a thin breath, then continued in a quieter tone. "…this incident should serve as a catalyst for Issei to grow faster."
Sona tilted her head slightly, understanding. Rias wasn't the type to deliberately endanger her pieces, but she was smart enough to know that a Longinus wouldn't develop without real-world pressure.
But their conversation didn't end there.
"That man came," Rias said. "Cheon Ma."
The name added another layer of uncertainty. No records. No data. No clear race.
Sona interlaced her fingers on the table. "His presence… disrupts the structure of this entire incident. Your plan, the plans of others, even the diplomatic calculations. Everything has shifted."
Rias didn't deny it. She only stared into empty space—not seeking answers, but measuring the depth of the problem.
"If he's not a fallen angel… not a yokai… not a magician… and not registered as any underworld entity," Sona said slowly, "then we're dealing with something that doesn't fall into any official faction classification."
Rias exhaled—not weary, but cautious. "The power he displayed doesn't fit into any category we know. If he moves freely in our territory… it means something far beyond a minor disturbance."
Sona ended the discussion with a single heavy conclusion.
"We need to find out who he is," she said. "Before the other factions do."
Rias nodded—not because she wanted to, but because she had no other choice.
...
Meanwhile somewhere else—specifically in a small shack so shabby that even birds would hesitate to land on its roof—the man who had become the serious discussion topic of two young Devil Kings… sneezed.
"ACHOO!"
The sound echoed all the way to the small fire stove in front of him. Hot soup nearly splashed out of the pot, making the white-masked man jolt in panic like a murim master who forgot his basic stance.
"Damn—my soup almost got hit by my sneeze!!"
He stared at the pot as if he had just saved a sacred artifact from destruction. With a relieved breath, he wiped the bottom of his mask, then folded his arms while squatting in front of the fire.
A moment of silence.
Then his body slumped into a sitting position that was completely un dignified.
"…Why does it feel like someone is talking about me in a very serious tone?"
He grumbled, tapping the wooden floor with the same frustrated expression as a murim disciple who failed to memorize an internal cultivation mantra.
After a moment of thinking—and it wasn't deep thinking, more like the habit of someone who has too much free time—Cheon Ma straightened his back.
"Speaking of which… what identity should I use in society later?"
He scratched the cheek of his mask (a strange habit but somehow it made him feel smarter), then stood and paced back and forth in the cramped room. Like a murim master pondering a secret technique, even though the problem was just a nickname.
"A name… a name… a name that's not suspicious… but cool… but not too cool… but also not embarrassing when shouted out loud…"
He stopped.
Stared into empty air as if he had just found enlightenment from the heavens.
"Jun."
"Yes… Jun!"
Then he added with a tone that made it sound like naming himself was the most strategic move in a war between factions.
"Jun Mizushino."
He nodded proudly, as if it was a name destined to shake the three worlds.
"…Why does it feel familiar, though? But whatever."
Cheon Ma—the slayer of fallen angels, the new diplomatic threat, and the menace being seriously discussed by two heiresses of major devil clans—now returned to sitting in front of the stove, blowing on his soup peacefully, completely unaware that the whole Ksitigarbha, Heaven, and the Underworld might currently be preparing to face a "great disaster."
When in reality… he was only thinking about dinner and a fake name.