Azazel leaned back in his office chair, scrolling through his phone with a thumb while holding a half-empty cognac glass in the other. Nothing interesting on the supernatural scene, just the usual posturing and—
A post caught his eye, and he swiped back up, brows shooting up. Oh? A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth.
The Gremory brat was bragging on the DevilNet?
And here he thought she was just another boring Pillar brat playing schoolgirl with the humans.
My new friend flexed out of Forbidden Balor View. How cool is that?
Flexed? Azazel blew a puff of air through his nose, lips half-quirked in amusement. These kids and their leet speak—
The phone started ringing in his hand, vibrating against his palm. His brows furrowed at the unknown number flashing across the screen.
Hmm. Could be a prank call. Wouldn't be the first time someone thought they were being funny. Or it could be Odin inviting him to a nightclub again, using a random phone because he never bothered carrying one himself.
Azazel swiped a thumb across the screen and held the phone to his ear, taking another quick sip of cognac.
"Azazel speaking."
"Boss, you won't believe what I just saw."
A voice rapid-fired through the line, sounding a little out of breath. Young, female, and with a familiar enough accent that it didn't take him too long to remember her name.
Mittelt?
"I remember giving this number to Raynare."
"Yeah, but—sorry, I mean—you should've seen this." Her words tumbled over each other in a rushed and choppy mess.
Oh dear. Did Raynare mess up her mission?
"You sound a little shaken. Did something happen?"
They'd better not caused a political incident with the Devils. He didn't need any of that crap when the ceasefire was right around the corner.
"Yeah, and it was crazy. Like Big G levels of crazy."
Azazel's brows furrowed, mouth drawing a thin line. That wasn't a claim to make lightly. Especially not from someone who'd only been around for a few decades.
"I'll need more details than that, Mittelt," he said, taking a slow sip of his Hennessy.
There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by a deep, shaky inhale like she was steadying herself.
"I just saw a guy smash two Sacred Gears together into one."
Azazel blinked, the glass frozen halfway to his lips. "Can you repeat that."
"I just saw a guy smash together two Twilight Healing hard enough to fuse 'em."
Huh.
Azazel placed his drink back on his desk, gaze lingering on the amber liquid as the line went quiet. His lips pursed while his mind raced.
Combining two Sacred Gears by smashing them together? It sounded like something straight out of a fever dream.
But she sounded far too shaken for this to be a prank. And she was smart enough to know why she shouldn't lie to him about Sacred Gears of all things.
Azazel leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly as he crossed his legs with a sigh. "I think I need to hear this story from the beginning."
"Sure, boss, but there's not much to say." Mittelt's voice regained some of that usual playful quality, though an undercurrent of tension stayed. "We were just minding our own business with the mission, and then this baldy kicks down our door and just slaps our strongest exorcist into the afterlife 'cause he was being rude. Then he warns Raynare that she's about to 'eff up and get us in trouble with a Pillar Clan."
Azazel's eyes narrowed, fingers drumming against the armrest. Why would a random guy go out of his way like that? An angle with the Grigori?
And what on earth had that dumbass been doing there? Was that her idea of 'proving herself'? He'd made it clear that she had to keep things low-key.
"Which Pillar Clan?"
"Astaroth."
A frown settled on Azazel's face at the name.
Troublesome.
"Something about that Diodora guy collecting nuns and holy maidens, and how he had his eyes on that Asia girl we were supposed to fetch."
Oh. That one.
Azazel pursed his lips, tapping on the armrest in a slow rhythm. The Church's little cast-off with Twilight Healing. And she'd caught the eye of that Diodora brat.
Great. More headaches.
"What happened after that?"
"He just casually told us he has the friggin Holy Grail. Then we had a chat and he left. He seemed to like us—well, some of us," she said, a smug note creeping into her tone like honey sliding off a spoon.
Azazel blinked owlishly, jaw slackening for a moment before he caught himself, and his hand tightened around the armrest.
They found the Grail wielder? And he wasn't already part of the Church, or a broken, gibbering mess?
Azazel shook his head, gaze drifting to the window as he breathed out a sigh.
What were the odds.
"How strong is he?"
All the past wielders he could remember had been short-lived, but… a subspecies or a Balance Break could make things ugly.
The Grail might have little to no raw power compared to other Longinus, but the only reason why everyone didn't treat it like Annihilation Maker was simply because of its hefty drawback.
"Umm… I dunno… I couldn't even see him move, and he splattered a guy's head with just a slap."
Hmm… that could be a problem.
"Any signs of mental degradation?"
"Not really. He was complaining about the Grail giving him headaches, though."
Azazel's eyes narrowed. Headaches? The Grail never did that. It straight up took the mind to a shredder, added some juicy eldritch knowledge, and set the mix to a low simmer.
"And this is the guy who 'smashed' those Twilight Healing gears?"
"Yup." There was a pause as Mittelt exhaled quietly. "Just like a caveman smacking two rocks together trying to make fire."
Azazel's mouth twitched at the mental image, a short huff escaping him. Kids these days…
Still, if Mittelt wasn't just blowing this out of proportions like she often did…
Hmm…
"Anything else you can tell me?"
Mittelt paused again, a thoughtful hum coming from the other end.
"He said he knows you and has your number. That's how he made Raynare behave."
Azazel's brows climbed up a fraction. The balls on this kid.
"Looks like he was bluffing, though." Mittelt's tone carried a hint of disappointment, like she'd been hoping for something more dramatic.
A smirk worked its way onto Azazel's face.
"No, we happen to be acquainted. I suspected he had a strong Sacred Gear but didn't think it would be a Longinus."
"Wait," Mittelt's voice pitched up in surprise. "Forreal?"
"Mm-hm."
Well, he sounded like a fun guy. And this could be an opportunity if he played it right.
"Did he do anything with the Grail before combining those Sacred Gears?"
He'd never heard of any past wielder pulling off this exact kind of stunt, but merging two Sacred Gears wasn't anything novel. Some people had managed such a feat by absorbing the properties of a weaker Sacred Gear into their own.
"No idea. I showed up right when he was about to smash—"
"Yo, Mittelt!" A male voice sounded faintly from the other side of the line, distant but clear enough to make out. "Hurry up or we're gonna start eating without you!"
"Sorry, boss, I gottago," Mittelt spoke out in a hurry, words blending together before the line suddenly went silent.
Azazel stared at his phone, brows quirked in mild disbelief.
She hung up on him.
A short puff of air escaped through his nose as he placed his phone back on the desk with a soft clack.
Man, these kids were getting cheekier with each generation.
Smirking, he picked up his drink and took a slow sip. The cognac burned pleasantly on the way down, sweet, with faint notes of vanilla and oak. He sank deeper into his seat, swirling the amber liquid around the glass and watching the light play across its surface.
Kuō, huh?
Maybe he should pay a visit.
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