[Location: New York, USA]

"Why did we just leave, David?" Varek asked the calm man while still looking in the direction they had just left, his grin lingering—but thinner now, edged with something sharper than amusement.

The four of them moved across the rooftop in a loose formation, neither rushed nor relaxed. Just… aware.

David didn't answer immediately.

He stepped off the ledge first.

Not falling.

Not jumping.

Just stepping—

—and the space beneath his foot accepted the decision.

The others followed.

The world shifted subtly around them as they descended, not physically, but in layers—like peeling away from one version of reality into another where their presence mattered less.

By the time their boots touched the next rooftop down, the manor was no longer directly visible.

That didn't mean it wasn't there.

Varek clicked his tongue.

"Don't ignore me."

David adjusted his coat slightly, gaze forward.

"I'm not."

"Then answer."

The crouched woman landed lightly beside them, already scanning their surroundings out of habit rather than necessity.

"No sudden pursuit," she murmured. "No tracking signatures."

"Of course not," David said.

The man who had been chewing earlier rolled his shoulders lazily.

"She didn't need to."

Silence lingered for a second.

Varek exhaled through his nose.

"Yeah, no, I got that part. Ice Queen was dangerous. Congratulations, we all survived the obvious."

He stepped closer to David.

"But that wasn't the job."

David finally glanced at him.

Not annoyed.

Not defensive.

Just… acknowledging.

"The job," he said calmly, "was confirmation."

"And we got it," Varek shot back. "So why not push?"

David's gaze held his for a second longer than necessary.

Then—

"Because you would have died."

Flat.

Immediate.

Unarguable.

Varek's grin twitched.

"Bold claim."

"No," the crouched woman said quietly. "Accurate."

Varek shot her a look.

She didn't flinch.

"Did you not feel it?" she continued. "When she stepped forward?"

He paused.

Just for a second.

Then shrugged.

"Felt pressure. Big deal."

The man behind them chuckled faintly.

"That wasn't pressure. That was a preview."

Varek's eyes narrowed.

David resumed walking.

"Grayfia Lucifuge is not the target," he said. "She is the threshold."

The words settled.

Heavy.

Measured.

"And you," he added without looking back, "are not equipped to cross it."

That did it.

Varek's grin vanished completely.

For a moment—

Just a moment—

something colder slipped into his expression.

Not anger.

Not quite.

Something older.

"You think I can't handle one demon maid?"

David stopped walking.

The others did too.

He turned slowly.

"No," he said.

"I know you can't."

Silence.

Wind moved again.

Varek stared at him.

Then—

He laughed.

Short.

Sharp.

But there was no humour in it this time.

"…Alright," he said, rolling his neck. "So we don't fight her."

A beat.

"And don't pull the crap like 'we only wanted confirmation' when you just stood there and let her walk all over us," Varek finished, voice lower now, less bluster—more edge.

David watched him.

Not dismissive.

Not confrontational.

Just… patient.

"You think that was 'letting her walk over us'?" he asked.

Varek scoffed. "What else do you call it? She draws a line, we back off. She flexes, we fold. Sounds like a loss to me."

The man behind them snorted softly. "You'd call breathing a loss if someone else inhaled first."

"Shut up."

"No, really," he continued lazily, scratching the back of his neck. "You're missing the point."

Varek turned to him. "Oh yeah? Enlighten me."

The man tilted his head slightly, eyes half-lidded but sharp.

"We weren't in a fight," he said. "We were lambs fat enough to be—"

"—catalogued," the crouched woman finished quietly.

Silence followed.

Not the kind filled with tension.

The kind filled with understanding.

Varek's jaw tightened.

"…I don't like that wording."

"You're not supposed to," she replied.

David resumed walking.

The others followed.

Their steps echoed faintly across the empty rooftop, the city slowly bleeding back into normal perception around them—sirens in the distance, traffic murmuring, the illusion of ordinary life stitching itself back together.

But something had changed.

Not out there.

In here.

Varek shoved his hands into his pockets.

"…So that's it?" he muttered. "We just report back? 'Yeah, target exists. Also, don't touch the ice demon or you'll die horribly'? That the summary?"

David didn't respond immediately.

He moved toward the edge of the building again, but this time he didn't step off.

He stopped.

Looked out.

For a brief moment—

the manor flickered into perception again.

Just a glimpse.

Just enough.

Then gone.

David's gaze remained fixed on that fleeting, impossible silhouette of the manor—visible for a fraction of a second, then gone as if reality itself had decided they were no longer authorised to perceive it.

"…There is something that doesn't add up," he said quietly.

No one interrupted him this time.

Even Varek.

That alone said enough.

The crouched woman stepped closer, her voice lower now, analytical gears already turning.

"The signal?"

David shook his head once.

"Grayfia Lucifuge, herself."

"The Silver-Haired Queen of Annihilation," David continued softly, as if testing the weight of the title against the reality he had just witnessed. "A being who erased battlefields, froze legions, shattered uprisings."

He paused.

"—and yet…"

The crouched woman's eyes narrowed slightly. "And yet?"

David's gaze shifted—just slightly—to where the manor had flickered into existence moments ago.

"…she should be long dead, if the recent news from Hell is to be believed, which is something I myself verified."

The words lingered in the air.

Not dramatic.

Not explosive.

Just… wrong.

The kind of wrong that didn't shout.

The kind that quietly rearranged everything around it.

Varek frowned.

"…Okay," he said slowly. "I'm missing something."

"That's normal," the man behind them muttered.

"Shut up."

Varek looked back at David.

"You're saying Hell reports she almost died, right?"

"Correct, she fought seven satans—"

!!!

"HOLD ON A FUCKING SEC—SHE FOUGHT WHAT??!!!"

Varek's voice cracked across the rooftop like a gunshot.

The city noise below seemed to pause again—not because of power this time, but because of sheer disbelief.

The crouched woman winced slightly, rubbing her temple.

"Volume," she muttered.

The man behind them sighed. "Congratulations. You've alerted every pigeon in a three-block radius."

Varek ignored both of them.

His eyes were locked on David.

"Seven Satans?" he repeated, slower this time, like saying it carefully might make it less insane. "You're telling me that ice woman just fought all seven rulers of Hell—and is still walking around like she just finished morning tea?"

David didn't answer immediately.

Which, in itself, was an answer.

Varek let out a breath.

"…That's not a threshold," he said quietly. "That's a wall."

"No," the crouched woman corrected, her voice tight with thought. "That's a warning sign in front of the wall."

The man behind them chuckled faintly. "And we were about to headbutt it."

Varek ran a hand through his hair, agitation bleeding through now.

"So what, she got jumped by them, or she jumped them instead—"

David shook his head and said, "Neither, she walked through the front gate of Satan of Wrath's Palace."

Varek blinked.

Once.

Twice.

His brain attempted to process that sentence—and failed.

"…She what?"

David didn't repeat himself.

He didn't need to.

The words had already settled.

Heavy.

Absolute.

"She walked," the crouched woman echoed slowly, her voice quieter now, more careful, "through the front gate… of Wrath's Palace."

No one spoke for a moment.

Because that wasn't just reckless.

That wasn't just powerful.

That was—

Deliberate.

Varek let out a low breath.

"…That's not a fight," he muttered.

"No," the man behind them said softly. "That's a message."

David's gaze remained forward.

Unmoving.

"Exactly."

Silence stretched again.

The city noise felt distant now.

Muted.

Irrelevant.

Varek exhaled through his nose.

"Alright," he said, slower this time. "Let's say I believe that. Let's say she did walk into Wrath's domain, picked a fight with Satan of Wrath, but how did the other six get involved, as I remember, Wrath is quite a territorial one, he wouldn't allow the other six to—"

"—set foot in his territory without turning it into a second war."

David finished the sentence for him.

"Correct."

Varek blinked.

"…Then how?"

The question hung there.

Heavy.

Uncomfortable.

Because it wasn't just about power anymore.

It was about context.

The crouched woman straightened slightly, her earlier analytical tone returning—but sharper now, more focused.

"There are only a few scenarios where all seven Satans would converge on a single location," she said. "None of them casual."

The man behind them tilted his head. "War summit."

"Unlikely," she replied immediately. "Too unstable. They don't trust each other enough to gather physically unless absolutely necessary."

"It's neither, she had beaten the Satan of Wrath, to the point he unlocked Sin Tigger Transformation, and beat some more, so that the other six got alerted."

The words settled like something fragile.

Not fragile because they were weak.

Fragile because they broke everything they touched.

Varek stared at David.

"…She beat Wrath," he said slowly.

Not a question.

Not disbelief.

Just… repetition.

Trying to make it real.

David didn't respond.

He didn't need to.

The silence confirmed it.

"…To the point he triggered Sin Tigger Transformation," the crouched woman whispered, almost to herself.

Her fingers twitched slightly, like she was mentally reconstructing something far beyond what she had seen.

"That's not a threshold breach," she continued quietly. "That's forcing escalation."

The man behind them let out a low whistle.

"Meaning she didn't just fight him," he said. "She pushed him into survival mode."

Varek exhaled slowly.

"…And then the other six showed up."

"Yes," David said.

Simple.

Final.

Varek laughed.

But this time—

It wasn't sharp.

It wasn't mocking.

It wasn't even amused.

It was hollow.

"…Yeah," he muttered. "Okay."

He dragged a hand down his face.

"Yeah, no, that checks out. Of course the rest showed up. You don't ignore that kind of signal."

The crouched woman nodded.

"Sin Tigger release is not subtle," she said. "It tears through layers. Even suppressed, even contained—it leaks."

Her eyes shifted slightly.

Back toward where the manor had been.

"…And something like that," she added, "would ripple across every major network."

David's gaze sharpened by a fraction.

"Exactly."

Silence.

Heavy.

Measured.

Then—

Varek looked back at him.

"…Then explain something to me."

David didn't move.

"Go on."

Varek's eyes narrowed.

"If she pushed Wrath that far… if she forced a Sin Tigger release… if all seven showed up…"

He paused.

"…Then how is she alive?"

That—

That was the right question.

The wind shifted.

Colder.

Not from Grayfia.

Not anymore.

Just the absence of something warm.

David exhaled slowly.

"…That," he said quietly, "is the problem."

The crouched woman frowned.

"Problem?"

"Yes."

He finally turned.

Fully.

Facing them.

"Because by all known models," he continued, "she should not be."

No one spoke.

Because that wasn't speculation.

That was math.

Power scaling.

History.

Probability.

Everything they knew—

Said the same thing.

"She walked into Wrath's domain," David said.

"Provoked a full engagement."

"Forced Sin Tigger release."

"Triggered multi-Satan convergence."

A pause.

Then—

"And walked out."

The man behind them let out a low breath.

"…That's not survival."

"No," the crouched woman agreed softly.

"…That's an anomaly."

Varek's grin didn't come back.

Not fully.

Just a shadow of it.

"…And we just met her on a random rooftop," he muttered.

"Not random," David corrected.

Varek's eyes flicked up.

"Then what?"

David didn't hesitate.

"Proximity."

That word landed differently.

Heavier.

More precise.

"Grayfia Lucifuge does not linger without reason," David continued. "She does not guard without purpose."

His gaze shifted—just slightly—

Toward where the manor had disappeared from perception.

"She is there," he said, "because something is there."

The crouched woman's fingers tightened slightly.

"The target," she said.

"Yes."

Silence stretched again.

But now—

It wasn't confusion.

It was alignment.

Pieces connecting.

Varek exhaled.

"…So let me get this straight."

He gestured vaguely behind them.

"Inside that… thing…"

He didn't say house.

Didn't say manor.

Didn't say structure.

Because none of those fit anymore.

"…Is a guy," he continued, "who somehow triggered enough attention to get a global hunt notice—"

"Yes."

"—has a demon maid who just solo-walked into Hell and bullied Wrath into transformation—"

"Accurate."

"—and we're just supposed to… what?"

He spread his hands.

"Wait our turn?"

David looked at him.

Really looked at him.

"…Yes," he said.

Varek stared.

Then—

He laughed again.

Short.

Sharp.

But this time—

There was something else under it.

Not disbelief.

Not frustration.

Something darker.

"…I don't like waiting," he said.

"I know."

The crouched woman stepped forward slightly.

"There's more," she said.

David's gaze shifted to her.

"Go on."

She hesitated.

Just for a second.

Then—

"That wasn't the only anomaly."

Silence.

David didn't interrupt.

He just watched.

Waiting.

She exhaled slowly.

"The scan," she said. "Before it got… corrected."

Varek frowned.

"…Yeah?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"It wasn't just integrated."

A pause.

"…It was layered."

The man behind them tilted his head.

"Define layered."

She lifted her hand slightly, as if holding the memory of the device.

"There were multiple signatures," she said.

***

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