[Location: Morningstar Manor, New York]

Zeraphira's voice cut through, dangerously low. "I will protect Darling with this power," she said, her tone trembling like a volcano moments before eruption. The molten glow around her armour pulsed, waves of crimson energy radiating through the courtyard, warping the air itself.

"Zera—wait—" I started, but Gabriel raised a single glowing hand, her halo spinning once like a warning light.

The world froze.

Not metaphorically—literally.

Air halted mid-sway, grass stilled like glass filaments, and even the dust motes hung motionless in the golden light bleeding from Gabriel's halo. The divine pressure radiating from her palm crashed against the raw, volcanic aura pouring out of Zeraphira's body. The collision didn't explode—it suspended. The courtyard became a vacuum of clashing intent.

And then—

BOOM.

The wave hit like a thunderclap. Conqueror's Will burst outward from me instinctively, invisible yet absolute. Reality snapped back into motion. Both forces—demonic and divine—folded under my will like curtains torn apart.

My breath burned in my lungs. My skin tingled as the Sovereign Haki flared out of my spiritual core, coating the entire manor with a pressure that wasn't meant for this world.

Dominion engaged.

Gabriel blinked—once—then tilted her head, halo flickering. "Ooooh," she whispered, childlike wonder dripping from her voice. "That's a strange shine, little one. You've got Brother's glare."

Zeraphira's molten wings hissed. "Do not—compare—Darling—to—Lucifer," she growled. The molten edges of her armour flared brighter.

"Ah, but he is Lucifer's blood," Gabriel said, utterly serene. "You smell like Helel's resonance. Even if you're… cracked."

My eyes found Azrael's as I motioned for him to handle Gabriel.

Azrael's expression didn't change. His eyes, pale and unreadable as moonlight over a corpse, merely shifted toward Gabriel.

"Gabriel." His tone carried no weight, no threat—just inevitability.

Gabriel froze mid-tilt, one finger still poking the air as though she were about to boop the nose of the apocalypse. "...Oh. Oops?" she offered sheepishly, lowering her glowing hand. "Did I almost make the world stop again?"

"Yes," Azrael replied flatly.

"Oh," she blinked. "Then that's bad."

Her halo dimmed a few tones, golden radiance sinking into a warm, butter-soft glow instead of its prior blinding blaze. The temperature around us normalised. Zeraphira's molten armour hissed down to a faint ember glow, though her eyes remained locked on Gabriel like a tiger ready to lunge.

"Darling," Zera muttered, still trembling with restrained wrath, "that woman—"

"—isn't trying to fight," I interrupted quickly. "Probably."

Gabriel gave an apologetic smile that could melt glaciers. "I wasn't! I just—uh—forgot how soft mortal reality is. It's like hugging a soap bubble. Poof!" She made a small popping sound with her lips, then clasped her hands earnestly. "I only wanted to say hello!"

Zera didn't look convinced. Selene, who had been watching from a safe distance behind a floating tea tray, whispered, "Ara ara… divine beings and their spatial awareness issues again~."

I exhaled slowly. My heart was still hammering from the surge of Haki, and I could feel the faint aftertaste of exhaustion in my limbs. The Dominion state faded, leaving behind a thin veil of pressure that hummed like static.

Azrael's gaze drifted past me toward the manor's inner hall. "There, injured one lies beyond, I can sense clouds of death still cling."

My entire body froze, then—

BOOOOM!

I lost my control—Raw, unfiltered, full of domination, Kingly Disposition— Conqueror's Will erupted like a supernova.

The ground cracked beneath my feet, and the air screamed. My vision bled white and black simultaneously, divine and demonic threads lashing out like serpents across the courtyard. The manor's wards flickered violently, symbols of old Luciferic geometry glowing through the stone for a heartbeat before stabilising.

Zeraphira's eyes widened, her armour retracting slightly in alarm. "Darling—!"

I didn't hear her. My heart had already fallen into a pit of ice and fire.

Grayfia.

The name echoed through my mind like a bell tolling across eternity.

In that sentence, I heard a threat.

Threat? To Grayfia? My Grayfia threatened?

My voice came out lower than I expected—soft, steady, and cold enough to freeze sunlight.

"Listen. Here. You. Filthy. Pigeon."

Gabriel's smile faltered, eyes blinking in mild confusion. "Eh?"

The air trembled.

My aura rippled outward again, not like an explosion but like the silent, suffocating pressure before a storm that erases continents. Every fragment of my will—every ounce of fear, rage, exhaustion, and possessiveness—coalesced into one singular command that the world itself dared not ignore.

"Do not speak of her like that," I said, voice sharp enough to cut creation itself.

Even Azrael's brows lifted a fraction.

Zeraphira moved instantly, appearing by my side. "Darling—calm yourself." Her molten armour flickered weakly, the heat from her body barely matching the frost crawling up my arms. The Conqueror's Will had bled into the Armament Core—Haki seeping into my flesh, veins tracing with black and gold light.

Gabriel raised her hands quickly, halo dimming to a faint shimmer. "Ah! No, no! Wait, wait! Brother didn't mean anything bad! Brother just meant there's, um, a bit of death essence! She's still breathing! Probably! I think!"

"Probably?" I hissed.

Gabriel winced. "Fifty-fifty? Sixty-forty? Okay, maybe seventy-thirty, but in a good way!" she babbled, waving her hands as if to fan away the killing intent.

Selene sipped her tea. "That's not how percentages of death work, Gaby-san~," she commented helpfully.

Azrael sighed. "Gabriel, step aside."

Gabriel squeaked and darted behind Azrael like a glowing toddler hiding behind a very patient parent. "But I was helping!" she protested.

Azrael didn't even look at her. He simply moved forward, shadows clinging to his robe like the trailing edge of a funeral procession. "The injured one… her thread still wavers between light and void," he murmured. "A soul stitched, yet bleeding."

"Don't act outsmart, they might not hear it, but I clearly did. You threatened her existence," I finished, my tone sharper than the blade of any Seraph. "You said it. You said she still bleeds between light and void. That isn't surviving—that's suffering."

Gabriel peeked out from behind Azrael's sleeve, wings twitching nervously. "N-no, no! Brother didn't mean threatened like, um, the bad way! More like—uh—ah—'spiritually inconvenienced'! But that's not important, what's important is that I CAN HEAL HER!"

Pressure vanished in that single moment.

The courtyard went silent again. Even the ambient hum of the wards quieted as every gaze turned toward the glowing angel now standing with both hands raised like a child who'd just remembered she had the answer in class.

"You… can what?" I asked, still half-caught between wrath and disbelief.

Gabriel beamed. "Heal her! Probably!"

The "probably" hung there like a ticking bomb. Zeraphira's molten eyes narrowed to slits. "Explain that word before I vaporise it."

Gabriel blinked. "Oh, that word means—uh—confidence! In angelic dialect! Very strong confidence! Ninety-percent confidence! Maybe eighty?" She looked thoughtful. "Depends on lunar interference!"

Selene choked on her tea. "Pfft—moon phase medicine, sugoi~."

I dragged a hand down my face. "Gabriel, you just made up a celestial language to cover up your uncertainty, didn't you?"

She smiled guiltily. "...Maybe!"

Azrael gave a slow exhale that could have been a sigh or a benediction for patience. "Show the way," he said at last. "The longer we stand here, the thinner her thread becomes."

That sobered me. Without another word, I turned and strode into the manor, the others following—the echo of their steps muffled by the magic woven into the halls. The tension still thrummed through me like an electric wire, but beneath it was a single pulse of hope.

If there was even the slightest chance…

We reached the sealed chamber where Grayfia lay. The door opened at my touch, responding to the Luciferic bloodline seal embedded within it. Pale light spilt from the runic circle enclosing the stasis bed; within it, Grayfia's form rested in perfect stillness, skin like frost over moonlight, hair cascading silver across the sheets.

Gabriel stepped closer, awe overtaking her usual flightiness. "Ohhh… she's so pretty," she murmured. "And broken in the same way Brother was when he fell."

I clenched my jaw. "Can you fix it or not?"

Her halo brightened until the runes themselves shivered. "I can try! But you mustn't get angry if something explodes."

Zeraphira turned to me. "Darling—"

"I know," I said quietly. "If she can bring Grayfia back, we risk it."

Gabriel clapped her hands once. "Okay! Everyone, stand back! Healing protocol number—uh—one? Wait, maybe two. The one with feathers!" She rummaged through empty air until light condensed into a staff taller than herself. "This one!"

Selene whispered to Zera, "She's improvising."

"I noticed," Zera muttered.

Golden motes drifted from Gabriel's wings, filling the room like lazy fireflies. The warmth was immediate, gentle—yet I could feel the structure of reality itself bending under the weight of her grace. For an instant, the air smelled of summer rain and distant choirs.

Then the light struck Grayfia's body.

The circle flared white. Symbols screamed. The mana barrier pulsed like a living thing. I felt the backlash crackle against my own aura and forced my Haki outward to stabilise the room. Grayfia's body arched, a silent gasp tearing through unmoving lips.

"Gaby—" Azrael warned.

"I know! I know! Almost there!" Gabriel's wings expanded to their full span, the tips brushing both ceiling and floor. Her voice softened, oddly solemn. "Wake, sister of frost. Return from stillness to the world that loves you."

The light folded inward like a collapsing star, sinking into Grayfia's heart.

Silence.

Then a heartbeat—faint, but real.

Zeraphira's breath hitched. "Darling—she—"

"I hear it," I whispered.

Gabriel exhaled in relief, wobbling a little. "See? Probably worked!"

Grayfia's eyes fluttered. For a second, silver irises met mine—distant, confused—and then they closed again, this time not in coma, but in sleep.

Azrael nodded. "Stabilised. Her soul resumes rhythm."

I swallowed the surge of emotion burning my throat. "Thank you," I managed, though it came out hoarse.

Gabriel smiled, tired but radiant. "You're welcome, dear grandnephew. She just needs rest now. Maybe a lot of snacks when she wakes up."

I brushed a strand of silver hair from Grayfia's face. "You've done enough," I said softly.

Gabriel swayed on her feet. "Yay, success probability increased to one hundred percent!" Then she paused. "Oh wait, that was today's miracle quota… oops."

"Quota?" I repeated warily.

She waved it off. "Don't worry! As long as nothing catastrophic happens in the next twenty-four hours, Heaven won't notice!" She blinked innocently. "Probably."

Zeraphira and I exchanged a look.

Selene muttered, "I'll start brewing calming tea. A lot of it."

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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