Vali Lucifer stood alone on the windswept plateau just outside Grigori's central compound. Cragged rocks littered the terrain, and jagged ridges marked the boundaries between the human world and the old realm of the fallen. Above him, the sky shimmered with a strange aurora—an unusual phenomenon that even his dragon heritage didn't understand.
He had been training here for two days without rest. Punches cracked stone. Kicks ripped through boulders. Each movement was measured, calculated—yet behind his focused expression was a growing storm of irritation.
"I know you're watching," Vali said aloud, not breaking his stance. "You've been peering through the seams for days. Show yourself."
There was no immediate response. But then, a breeze cut through the air, unnaturally cold. It carried a faint hum, like the distant ring of chimes played in reverse. The shadows nearby lengthened unnaturally.
A figure appeared—not stepping into the world, but peeling away the veil that hid it. A robed man, his features ever-shifting, eyes gleaming with serpentine amusement. His form flickered between priest, scholar, and beast. No footsteps, no scent. Just presence.
"I didn't expect you to notice so soon," the figure said with a voice both youthful and ancient. "You continue to exceed expectations, Vali Lucifer."
Vali didn't lower his guard. "You're one of the avatars."
The figure inclined his head. "I am Echo—reflection of Amon, voice of his intention. I do not persuade. I observe. I do not command. I imply."
Vali's aura flared with silver-blue light. His Divine Dividing wings appeared, thrumming with power.
"You've got the wrong target," he snapped. "I don't follow anyone's script."
"Oh, but you do," Echo said with a smile that rippled like melted wax. "You follow bloodlines, prophecy, vengeance. Chains of heritage and fate wrap around your heart, Luciferian prince."
Vali charged.
The space between them collapsed. Fist met mist, as Echo's form shimmered and danced around each blow. He wasn't solid—at least not consistently.
A shockwave cracked the plateau, but Vali kept pressing. "I'm not your toy!"
Echo laughed, backing away without moving his feet. "You are a variable, yes—but even variables fit within equations. You and the Red Dragon Emperor, together, are the fulcrum of divergence."
Vali halted, breathing heavily. "Get to the point."
The avatar's tone changed. "Amon once stood beside angels. He broke bread with Yahweh. But now he peers deeper than the root of sin—he seeks to unravel the very logic of existence."
"And I care because?"
"Because you are the shadow to Issei Hyoudou's light," Echo whispered. "Your existence is a key. If Amon cracks your will, the scales will tip. And Azazel will bleed."
Vali froze.
There it was. The real motive. Not manipulation. Not conversion. Revenge.
"You want him," Vali said slowly. "You're after Azazel."
"He defied entropy," Echo said. "He sealed one of us once. He delayed Amon's return. That debt must be repaid."
"But you can't reach him. Not directly."
"Not without consequences… But you? You are close to him. His apprentice. His legacy."
Vali narrowed his eyes. "You're trying to use me."
"No," Echo said with a cruel smile. "We're trying to break you."
Silver light exploded from Vali's form, and the avatar was forced back. A barrier flared around him, fracturing like glass.
Echo's last words as he faded: "He's already watching you from inside your mirror."
And then he was gone.
Vali stood alone once more, his fists trembling—not from fear, but from the weight of inevitability.
In Grigori, Azazel stared at the reports on his desk, hand tightly gripping his pen. He had expected Amon to aim at Vali eventually. What he didn't expect was the suddenness of the attempt—or the kind of avatar Amon had deployed.
"It was Echo," Baraqiel confirmed, entering the room with dark circles under his eyes. "One of the high-level avatars. Not destructive, but manipulative."
Azazel gritted his teeth. "He's moving faster than expected. Damn it. We don't have time."
"Vali resisted," Baraqiel added.
Azazel nodded slowly. "Of course he did. That brat's too stubborn to fall for words. But the danger's not over."
He stood, crossing to the wall. There, etched into metal, was a strange diagram—a relic from the old days. A sequence wheel, once used to track angels, now repurposed to trace avatar activity.
The symbol for "Echo" had flared red.
Azazel stared at it. "We need to activate the Mirror Seal. If Amon tries again, I want that avatar trapped. I want it dissected."
"And what about Issei?"
Azazel sighed. "Send a message to Sirzechs. We'll need to synchronize defense fields around Kuoh. This is no longer a precaution. This is war."
In Kuoh Academy, Issei sat on the rooftop during sunset, arms folded behind his head. Beside him, Koneko munched on a taiyaki, saying nothing.
The orange sky seemed peaceful.
But Issei's mind was anything but.
"He called me a 'fork of fate,'" Issei murmured. "And then he looked at me like I was some… test subject."
"You are," Koneko replied flatly.
"Thanks," he said dryly.
She looked up at him. "You're not a pawn anymore. You're not just some perverted kid who stumbled into power. Everyone's watching you. Not just us."
Issei clenched his fist. "I didn't ask for that."
"But you accepted it."
He paused.
Koneko stood. "We'll protect each other. That's what matters."
Issei smiled faintly. "Thanks, Koneko."
As she left, a soft breeze stirred. In the glass reflection of the rooftop door, Issei caught a glimpse—just for a second—of golden eyes staring back.
He turned. No one was there.
But the chill remained.
In the Vatican, Xenovia and Irina were reviewing older volumes of scripture—those forbidden to general clergy.
One passage caught Xenovia's eye:
"And lo, a false brother shall rise, wearing mirrors for skin and secrets for breath. He shall undo language, twist angels into serpents, and bend the spear of destiny to feed his shadow."
"Amon," she whispered.
Irina nodded. "If he's truly returned, then the world doesn't just face a war. It faces erasure."
Back in Grigori, Vali arrived at Azazel's chambers. The governor looked up, surprised at how quickly he returned.
"You fought him," Azazel said.
"Briefly."
Azazel nodded. "Then you understand."
Vali folded his arms. "Why didn't you tell me you expected this sooner?"
Azazel sighed. "Because if I told you, you'd become more of a target."
"I already am."
Azazel leaned back. "Then let me give you something."
He handed Vali a strange silver crystal—engraved with anti-avatar runes.
"This won't stop a true manifestation," Azazel said. "But it'll delay one."
Vali examined the crystal.
"Why me?"
Azazel looked serious. "Because I failed to stop Amon last time. I won't let him take you."
The moment hung in the air.
Then Vali pocketed the crystal. "Then let's break his script."
And in the shadows beyond both of them… another mirror opened, unseen.
Watching.
Waiting.
Author's Note:
Hey guys! If you're enjoying the story, toss a Power Stone my way—it really helps keep me motivated to write more. Thanks for reading!